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Close encounters of the canine kind
What is it like to be the bad guy when the good dog clamps its jaws down on you? A reporter gamely dons a "bite suit" cocoon to find out.
By TAMARA EL-KHOURY
Published June 4, 2006
I don't know what I did. Maybe I was a bit of a diva when he asked followup questions on a story. Maybe I filed too close to deadline.
Either way, my editor showed way too much enthusiasm when I pitched a story requiring me to be attacked by German shepherds.
"You should wear the bite suit!" he said.
The bite suit?
The Pinellas County Sheriff's Office was giving journalists a chance to see the latest canine class in action.
I got an overly enthusiastic go-ahead.
I was greeted at the sheriff's canine training center by the dogs, their handlers and their instructor, Frank Campbell. They brought out Jett.
Oh, what a cute dog, I thought. He's little and fluffy. This won't be so bad.
Jett is Campbell's personal dog. He's 45 pounds and 6 months old. Jett didn't stay out long.
Out came Valor, an 84-pound, 2-year-old German shepherd from Belgium. Valor wasn't cute nor was he fluffy.
Only one out of 100 German shepherds are police-quality dogs, Campbell said. They cost, on average, $7,000. Trainers are looking for something called "prey drive." Through training, they build upon that natural instinct to bite the rabbit.
"We want the dog that's tearing up the couch and biting on your ankles when it's 7 weeks old," Campbell said.
Apparently, today, I had agreed to be the rabbit.
I was asked if I wanted to let Valor attack my arm as I wore a leather and burlap sleeve that they swore Valor couldn't bite through.
"One of you go first," I not-so-bravely declared.
Then it was my turn. I put my left arm in the sleeve, which had a handle for me to hold onto. Sgt. Clark Wagner, supervisor of the canine unit, held my waist so Valor wouldn't knock me over as I took a football stance. Valor leaned forward, ready to pounce. His head was low, his eyes focused, his drool dripping.
At that moment, I realized you are never too old to want your Mommy.
Wagner told me to nod when I was ready. The handler, Deputy Jake Viano with the Sheriff's Office, barked a command, and Valor sprung forward, his jaws clenched around my arm. Wagner told me to move my arm from side to side. We were playing tug of war with my arm. Valor's mouth was locked on the sleeve.
Viano ordered Valor to release the journalist.
Good boy.
I felt the pressure of Valor's bite, but it didn't hurt. Hey, that wasn't so bad. I could do this. I'm confident, bold, just like the dogs picked to spend 15 weeks being trained here. Valor is no match for me. I am the ultimate alpha dog!
"What's this I hear about a bite suit?" I asked with a little swagger in my step.
I had defeated Valor so out came Reno, a 2-year-old, 87-pound German shepherd and his handler, Mike Cieslak of the Clearwater Police Department.
I was put in a body suit that smelled like my shinguards after a weekend soccer tournament in the dead of summer. My swagger turned into a waddle as I made my way to Reno.
Like Valor, Reno was eager to pounce. This was his play time, the foolish reporter his toy.
I turned my back to Reno so when given the command, he would bite my back leg (and so I wouldn't freak out when I saw him coming). Looking mean and tough, Reno sprang forward, but before he could lock his jaws around the suit's leg, I turned around and gave him Tamara's Ultimate Death Stare. With a whimper, Reno retreated to his handler, his tail between his legs.
(Editor's note: What really happened is that Tamara begged Wagner to stand next to her to make sure she lived to make this deadline. Then Reno grabbed the leg of her suit and dragged her to the ground as she once again asked for her Mommy.)
We did two simulations after that - a simulated felony traffic stop where a dog named Knight leaped into a van's open window and grabbed the suspect and another where Knight tracked me and Campbell as we hid in a shed.
I learned you can run from Knight but you can't hide. I learned that police dogs are well-trained and confident. Their tails are wagging. To them, getting the bad guy is a fun game.
I learned that I don't want to be a bad guy without a bite suit, and I learned that maybe I'm not the ultimate alpha dog after all.
[Last modified June 4, 2006, 01:17:19]
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