Section of oil painting by Pam Cundiff
How I Began Training Dogs
Although these aren't the actual photos, the dogs we worked with were trained to attack on command. I loved watching how a dog could go from gentle and loving, to a rip-you-apart rage in the blink of an eye!
When the handler shouted, "Out!" the almost rabid acting attack dog would immediately change back to calm! When told, "Okay," the dog would allow the 'enemy' to pet it. I'm talking about the same 'enemy' the dog was trying to eat alive just a second before! |
The military used dogs, but they weren't used by schools or in very many police departments back in the 70's.
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Putting Two and Two Together
By Using One Small Talent
I knew God put me and Sherry at the same restaurant at the exact same time, because He was giving me the opportunity to use what I had to give, which seemed almost worthless to me at the time. After all, the only ability I felt I had left was to train a stupid dog to pick up something and bring it to me. I offered up that simple, basic talent to God, saying, "Lord, all I can do is train a stupid dog," God knew Sherry only needed a dog to do one job: pick up her keys if she dropped them so she wouldn't die in the heat. He took the 'one thing I could do' and gave me the opportunity to give it to Sherry, from Him, so she could have the peace of mind she had prayed for.
He put me and the Evans at Starbucks with The Goodsons so we would be introduced. When we talked, I had no idea Pam Evans was hoping for a Service Dog for her son Michael. I could only train Service Dogs for certain tasks. When we talked, I couldn't train a dog to detect seizures, but I could train a dog to be obedient to help calm Michael. That's really what he needed more than anything else. God's plan is perfect.
The fact I was able to train a Service Dog, and she needed one, is as easy to see as putting 2 and 2 together today. It didn't work out quite the way I thought, because Pam Evans literally asked questions, watched me work with Ellie Mae a time or two, then she trained Ellie Mae herself! God mystifies me. I can't figure Him out, but He is always good and He always blesses. Maybe Santa got the biggest blessing of all, because he and Ms. Claus literally ate in the car after work in order to get there in time to make a little boy's Christmas absolutely perfect!
Today as I look back 50 years, I had no idea God would use me for Service Dog work. Now, as I reflect over those many years, I am amazed at how He had been working, quietly, orchestrating the desire in me to work with dogs since I was a barefoot little girl trying to teach my dog to 'sit pretty'.
When I was young, I stood at bat dreaming of a home run: Maybe I'd be a doctor or a veterinarian. Maybe I'd be a famous artist or writer. Maybe I'd be a wife and mother.
I became a wife and mother. But when the kids were all in school, I wanted to do more with my life. I struggled to become an artist, but God didn't bless my artistic skill. Strike one. When I tried my hand at writing, He didn't answer my prayer for a publisher. Strike two. When I had one chance left, when I was about to strike out, that's when God said, "Now I can use you. You aren't going to make the home run you dreamed of, but you can make it to first base if you just punt the ball." There were no home runs, but I found peace and joy!
You can each do the same thing. Take the opportunity to tell someone something personal about you and God. Share your story. God will use it to create a stirring in their soul, like a pebble thrown into a lake creates a stirring.
When you toss a pebble into a lake, it makes a sound: kerplunk. You immediately hear it. Then it's quiet. But ripples silently stir the surface spreading farther and farther. Toss your pebbles, not just for the kerplunks, but for the ripples! God will take it from there.
Being At The Right Place At The Right Time
When I was a young mother, we lived within walking distance of a large dog kennel in Lomax, Texas. While my kids were at school, I would go there to pet the poor dogs who stayed caged up for the better part of the day.
At about the same time, a group was forming who would work with those dogs. The group was the first legal drug interdiction team in Texas. They were going to be using those dogs in the kennel to go into schools to patrol up and down the halls for illegal drugs. Some of the dogs would be used by the officers to search houses for drugs. Until then, dogs hadn't played a big role in public schools in Texas. The group was made up of professional dog trainers, police officers, undercover narcotic agents, professional dog handlers, and one housewife, me.
At about the same time, a group was forming who would work with those dogs. The group was the first legal drug interdiction team in Texas. They were going to be using those dogs in the kennel to go into schools to patrol up and down the halls for illegal drugs. Some of the dogs would be used by the officers to search houses for drugs. Until then, dogs hadn't played a big role in public schools in Texas. The group was made up of professional dog trainers, police officers, undercover narcotic agents, professional dog handlers, and one housewife, me.
I can't remember exactly how I got to be part of their team. Maybe they were short a set of hands and since I was there hanging around anyway, they asked if I would like to participate in their dog training exercises. Or maybe I asked them if I could help. Either way, I was low man on the totem pole, so I didn't get to choose a dog. The trainers already had their own personal dogs, the police officers chose theirs according to their rank I suppose, and I got what was left over. I secretly wanted a nice compact little red female Doberman. My heart sank when she was chosen by a woman officer who I will refer to as Tiffany. I don't remember her name, but I sure remember her.
What was left, when all the others had chosen their dogs, was an oversized lanky black male Doberman who had one erect cropped ear and one that just flopped over. He didn't look scary. He wasn't beautiful. He just looked kind of goofy. His name wasn't even interesting. Jake. Just plain Jake.
This picture, which I found online, will give you an idea of how much larger Jake was than the other dogs. I was disappointed in him. Jake should have been disappointed because he got stuck with the young mom who knew nothing, had no credentials, and was disappointed in him being big and goofy looking.
Instead, Jake was delighted to be out of his chain link run which always had a urine smell because of the porous cement floor. He learned quickly I was his key to freedom. He was grateful to walk in the fresh air on the soft grassy ground.
We were introduced to our trainers and told the dogs already had been trained. Our title was 'handlers', not trainers. Our purpose was to refresh the dog's training and help get them on top of their game, polished and refined.
The first thing I was taught, along with the group, was how to properly put a choke chain around a dog's neck. We were instructed in many common sense rules, like never let your dog get in another dog's space. Keep a 10 foot distance from one dog to the next. If we weren't able to control our dog, we wouldn't be able to participate in the exercises.
His chain link kennel was the last one in a long row. He couldn't see who was at the gate because of all the other runs between his cage and the gate which led into the kennel . All the dogs barked and charged their individual gates when I or anyone entered the kennel. The trainer would yell at them to settle down.
I remember the first time I took Jake a T-bone. It was after hours so every dog was barking and charging their gates including Jake. They didn't listen to me telling them to hush. But something changed the third time I took Jake a treat.
Instead of barking, I could see Jake's lanky frame leaping as high as he could propel himself to see if it was me opening the gate at the far end! He was looking for me!
I was given permission to take him to my house for short visits since I lived next door. He and I would walk the few blocks to my house whenever we could. The boys and I gave him baths in the yard. He was so proud of the way he shined and smelled that he strutted back to the kennel. My boys were little and I remember how excited they were to see him. They thought he was magnificent. And, I guess I was beginning to think he was magnificent, too.
After a few weeks of dog maneuvers, a karate instructor came to teach us some self-defense moves. Since we were being groomed to handle dogs for drug interdiction in schools, I was taken to the police department, fingerprinted, and my background checked.
While at the LaPorte Police Department, a policeman passed around a 5 pound cellophane-wrapped package of what appeared to be marijuana and asked us how much we thought it was worth on the street. We all wrote down our guesses and everyone flunked the test. It was worthless because it wasn't marijuana. We hadn't noticed there were no seeds. It was an herb they packaged like marijuana to trick us. If we had been in a real situation with real drug dealers, they would have seen the red flag of inexperience. That's what the policeman told us.
They gave us an exercise on observation that day, too. With out telling us it was an exercise, a man ran though our classroom, shot a gun (blank), then ran out. Afterwards, with my hands still shaking, someone explained it was a drill. We had to write a description of what the gunman looked like, of exactly what happened before and after he shot the gun, etc. They got very few details from me. I was out of my element and more than a little uneasy.
Another day the police set up a phony drug house for the dogs to search. They needed some of us to pose as drug dealers. I was instructed to wear old clothes and I would pose as a drug addict.
The officers came in with their dogs, shouting for us to get our hands up. A policeman handcuffed me behind my back and he roughly shoved my face against a wall. I remember saying, "Hey, this is pretend! Lighten up!" The policeman didn't lighten up, and I began to have second thoughts about what I was getting myself into.
Most of our time was spent at the kennel working individually with our dogs, refreshing their training. Then one day we were given a big test. Our trainer instructed us to form a huge circle with him in the center. Our dogs were spaced a safe distance apart and positioned male, female, male, female to help prevent fights among dogs of the same sex.
There were at least a dozen or maybe more of us. The trainer said he would call out a command. We were allowed to say the dog's name once and repeat his command once. If the dog failed to follow our command, or if we said the dog's name or the command twice, we would be kicked out of the circle.
Guess who was the last dog in the circle when the test was over? Yep! One ear up, one ear down, goofy Jake had turned into the sharpest, fastest learner. Those T-bones, family time, and afternoon walks paid off. The trainer retested our group the next day. Jake wanted to please me and he won that time, too! Jake was doing the best of all the dogs!
After Jake won both contests, Tiffany had second thoughts about the dog she passed over. She told our trainer she had changed her mind and she wanted Jake. I wasn't aware of her request at the time, but she was told no. A few days later, I had Jake beside me, and the next thing I knew he was fighting another dog. It was Tiffany's dog!
Jake was so big and strong that once he and the other dog were fighting, I couldn't get him off! Jake was bigger than the other dog and he was also bigger than I was! I was pulling as hard as I could. The trainer was a big man. He grabbed Jake's collar and lifted him up and off the other dog. I can still hear Tiffany screaming that I was obviously not able to control my dog. Her face was contorted by rage or maybe hate, so her stance plus her status intimidated me. I remember just standing there trembling, waiting to see if Jake would be taken away from me and given to her.
I'll never forget what the trainer said, in a condescending tone he looked down at her, "Well, Tiffany, if she can't control her dog, how come she and Jake are the last pair standing in the obedience contests?"
Red-faced with adrenaline, he leaned in toward her and shouted like a drill sergeant, "You shouldn't have let your dog in Jake's' space! I don't blame him for defending himself! Don't let it happen again! Do you understand me?" Tiffany never said a word.
A week or two later, two or three Asian businessmen came to the kennel. Our trainer called me and Jake over. He used Jake to search for marijuana hidden on one of the business men. We didn't know where the marijuana was hidden. It turned out he had taped one seed on the under side of his shiny black dress shoes in the gap between the heel and the sole.
Next the trainer asked one of them for their wristwatch and handed it to a helper who walked around the big 2-acre grassy front yard and hid it as he walked. The trainer gave a verbal command to Jake to find it, turned him loose, and Jake found it. I was so proud of him!
They went inside to talk and when the men left, Jake went with them. The kennel owner had sold Jake for $7,000! Back in the late 70s that was about the sticker price of a nice middle-class car. My pride in showing him off suddenly crashed into despair. My dog was sold! What would I do now?
I wasn't expecting Jake to just suddenly be gone. I knew he wasn't mine, but I wasn't prepared for them to sell him. For me, it was like he died. When the flop-eared goofy Jake left, I left, too. When I left, I took a lot of education with me.
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