“We’ll talk about that,” Jazz promised. “And I’ll show you how some of that training is done. But before a dog is ready to do that kind of work, it has to know basic commands. Even if you have a dog that isn’t going to be a cadaver dog, you’re going to want it to listen to you. Not just so you can show the dog who’s boss, but so you can keep it safe. One of the first things you’re going to teach it is to come.”
She unhooked the lead from Wally’s collar, signaled him to stay and was stunned when he actually did it, and took ten steps back, then opened her arms and called, “Wally, come!”
He did, and Jazz pulled a tiny dog biscuit from her pocket and gave it to him along with a whole bunch of praise.
“You see what I did there?” she asked the girls. “I told him what I wanted him to do, and when he did it, I told him what a good boy he is.”
“My dad yells and screams when our dog doesn’t listen,” someone in the back row said.
“It’s only natural to get frustrated with a dog that doesn’t obey.” Jazz swallowed down what she would have liked to add, which was more in line with what a jerk the girl’s dad must have been. “But you never want your dog to be afraid of you. And a dog…” She bent to scratch Wally’s head. “All a dog wants is to make you happy. So you always have to be positive with a dog. You’re always going to be upbeat. When it does what you want it to do, you give it a reward and a great big smile. Does anyone want to try it?”
A dozen hands shot up.
Jazz scanned the group. She knew one of the girls was particularly shy, and though her hand hadn’t gone up, Jazz called on Bella Tamarin.
“Bella, would you like to give Wally a command?”
The girl’s cheeks paled, but with some urging from the girl next to her, she pulled herself to her feet.
“Right here,” Jazz told her, and stepped aside so Bella could take her place while she re-hooked Wally’s leash and walked him ten feet away. “Now look right at Wally, smile, and tell him what you want him to do.”
Bella’s voice was no more than a whisper. “Come.”
“A little louder,” Jazz told her. “And make sure you smile.”
Bella did. “Come, Wally!”
And when he did and he got the treat Jazz handed to Bella, the other girls applauded.
Red-faced, Bella sat down, and Cissy gave Jazz a thumbs-up.
“Besides come, you’re going to want your dog to know how to sit and stay and lie down.” Because Wally wasn’t especially good at any of those things, Jazz didn’t demonstrate. “And once your dog is good at obeying you, then you can train it to do other things. Some people like to do agility with their dogs. Anybody know what that is?”
“Running and jumping over stuff,” one girl answered, and Jazz nodded.
“And some people train their dogs as therapy dogs. They visit people at hospitals and nursing homes and they offer comfort and companionship. And search and rescue dogs…” She couldn’t help herself; Jazz’s voice choked over the words. Her dad had been, in her humble opinion, the best search and rescue dog trainer and handler on the planet. A firefighter, he’d died in an arson blaze a little more than a year earlier, and she missed him, especially when she was working dogs.
She cleared her throat. “Search and rescue dogs find people after disasters like a tornado or a flood. They alert first responders so they can get those people to safety. Then there are human remains detection dogs.”
Jazz hooked Wally to the radiator and brought the other dog to stand in front of the girls. “This is Gus,” she told them. “And Gus is retired now, but when he was working, he had a very important job. Gus helped find dead people.”
She expected the “Ewwws” and twisted faces, so she didn’t take it personally. “Why do you suppose that’s important?” she asked the girls once they’d settled down.
Not one of them had an answer, but then, Jazz wasn’t surprised. Death was something a lot of adults didn’t even want to think about. She couldn’t expect it from seventh graders.
Cissy stepped in. “Every life is precious. And when they lose a loved one, every family deserves closure. So if someone you knew went walking in the woods and never came back, wouldn’t you want to find out what happened to them?”
“Or if somebody got murdered,” one girl said. “Like that girl who went to school here and Ms. Ramsey found her.”
“But murder isn’t the norm,” Jazz was quick to point out. “It’s more likely that we’re sent out to find someone who fell and got hurt out in the park and no one knows where to look for them. Or a person has a heart attack and never makes it home. So when something like that happens, the police call in volunteers like me, and the volunteers, we bring our dogs. Gus is one of those dogs, and once he’s trained Wally will be, too.”
She slipped Gus’s red “service dog” vest on him and the dog stood at attention, his ears pricked and excitement vibrated through him. “Did you see that?” she asked the girls. “As soon as I put on his vest, Gus knew it was time to work. What Gus doesn’t know is that I hid a couple things here in this room for him to find. A bone and a tooth.”
She ignored another round of “Ewwws.”
“So now I’m going to tell Gus what I want him to do. When the lady who trained him worked with him, she had certain words she said to Gus, and I’m going to use those words, too.”
She unhooked the dog from his lead. “Gus”—Jazz swept a hand along her thigh—“find!”
The dog took off like a shot, crossing the room in a zigzag pattern, his nose going up to sniff the air, then down to the floor in the hopes of catching a scent. It took him less than a minute to locate the tooth on the other side of the room, sit down next to it, and bark three times. He waited there patiently and didn’t touch a thing (Jazz prayed Wally was watching) until she went over and got the tooth.
The girls applauded, and Jazz rewarded Gus with a lot of praise and his favorite tug toy.
“What do you think?” Jazz asked them. “Think Gus can do it again?”
They agreed that they wanted to see him try, and with another command to “Find,” Jazz sent him on his way.
Jazz watched Gus sweep the room as he’d done the first time, all business, and getting closer and closer to the radiator on the other side of the room where she’d stashed the metacarpal.
And then he stopped.
Jazz stifled a groan. She was eager for the girls to see how capable a cadaver dog was, and she didn’t want Gus to blow it. She forced herself to keep her place, reminded herself that giving Gus a hint was as good as cheating.
Gus had his own ideas. He lifted his head, pulled in a scent only the sensitive nose of a dog could detect, and went straight to the access door for the old heating system, where he barked three times and sat right down.
“Is that where the bone is?” one of the girls asked.
Jazz managed a smile. “No, Gus is a little off. But he’s pretty excited being here with all of you. Maybe we should try again.”
She called him over.
Gus didn’t budge.
How Jazz managed to keep smiling she wasn’t sure. But then her blood was suddenly frozen and maybe her expression was, too. She took two steps in Gus’s direction, then forced herself to stop and turn to the girls.