Page 49 of Home Changes
“Exactly. We nail down the basic commands like heel, down, stay. It’s not just about manners. It’s how we build trust. These dogs have to listen, even when everything around them is chaos. Once that’s solid, we imprint them on a target scent. Could be narcotics, explosives, even people.”
Frank raised an eyebrow. “Imprint?”
“Means we pair the scent with something they love, which is usually a toy. For Gomer, it was a tug towel. He’d catch a whiff of cocaine, and boom, he was ready to play. Over time, he learned that findingthe scent meant a reward. One plus one equals two, and these dogs quickly figure out the math. Then we ramp up the complexity. We hide the training aid in harder places, throw in distractions, conflicting odors, and different environments. Keeps their brains sharp.”
Frank nodded and gestured to the field beyond the mechanics’ garage. “What about tracking?”
Seth leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees as he scanned the dusty road that cut through Hollister. The scent of weathered wood and sunbaked prairie grass drifted on the breeze, mixing with the faint tang of machine oil from the nearby garage. The low hum of insects rose from the dry field beyond the mechanics’ building.
“Gomer was trained to track after he’d been certified in drug detection. He was between handlers, and I had time. He was a natural. All he wants to do is please his handler. In training, we teach them to follow ground disturbances and the skin cells a person sheds when they move,” Seth said, nodding toward the golden field. “At first, it’s short tracks with food drops or play as rewards. I prefer play, and food rewards are growing less common nowadays. Then we go longer. We throw in cross-tracks, wind shifts, and real-life variables. Gomercould follow a track that was several hours old. Still might be able to, honestly. He’s slower now with arthritis, but that nose still works.”
Frank nodded slowly, gaze resting on Gomer. “What does he do when he finds something?”
“He alerts,” Seth answered. “We train dogs with a passive alert. Meaning they’ll sit or freeze and stare at what alerted them when they find something. You never want an aggressive alert. Not when you’re talking bombs. Scratching at a live explosive isn’t exactly a great idea.”
Frank gave a dry laugh. “No, I reckon not.”
Seth shifted, leaning against his thighs. “After all that, we certify them. Blind tests. Vehicles, luggage, buildings. No help from the handler or anyone in the scenario, not even the slightest look. We have QC people watching the handler just as hard as the certifier is watching the dog. Dog’s got to do the work on its own. If not, it can cost lives. Theirs and ours.”
Frank studied him for a long moment. “Sounds like the handler and the pup have a hell of a bond.”
“It’s true. It develops fast. They trust us, and we trust their noses more than our own eyes.”
Frank looked out toward the field again, sagebrush swaying under the big sky. “So, to start thisprogram, you’d have to know where to get the right kind of pups.”
Seth nodded. “That part’s not hard. There are breeders who specialize in working dogs.”
Frank scratched his jaw. “I’m looking for someone who knows how to build that kind of bond the right way. Someone who knows how to train a dog, not break one. I won’t stand for abuse. Not on my land.”
“It’s not my way either, sir,” Seth replied firmly.
“I need someone like you out here. Not just for the dogs, mind you, but to help train the handlers. We want good people. Could you do that?”
Seth’s jaw tightened, and he rubbed the back of his neck before casting a glance toward Chester, who was still happily whittling beside Delbert. The old man’s laughter carried faintly across the dirt street.
Seth looked back at Frank. “I appreciate it, sir. I really do. But I can’t.”
Frank’s brow lifted. “Why not?”
Seth exhaled and lowered his voice. “It’s my dad, sir. He needs me. Full time. It’s not just memory lapses anymore. He gets turned around. Sometimes forgets where he is. I won’t go into detail, but he can’t be left alone.”
Frank nodded solemnly. “Heard he had Alzheimer’s.”
“Yeah. And it’s progressing. The meds help, but they’re not stopping it.”
A quiet settled between them, filled only by the breeze rustling through cottonwoods that lined the distant creek bed.
Frank reached into his pocket again, drew out another piece of taffy, and handed it over. Seth took it, waiting until Frank unwrapped his before doing the same.
“You got him on insurance?” Frank asked.
“Yeah. He’s also on Medicare. Doesn’t mean much when he needs someone with eyes on him all day.”
“Well, here’s a thing,” Frank said as he leaned in. “I know the state offers in-home nursing services during the week. Monday through Friday. They’ve got contracts with solid folks. His insurance would cover most of it. Wouldn’t cost you much, if anything.”
Seth frowned. “I don’t know, sir. Leaving him alone makes me twitchy.”
Behind them, the town remained still. The flags on the lampposts by the post office fluttered a bit. Somewhere, a dog barked in the distance, and thefaint scent of someone grilling carried faintly on the breeze. It was just another quiet day in Hollister, but Seth’s world was anything but quiet.
