Chapter 15 #2
“That being said,” Frank continued, “the powers that be are looking at training dogs to deploy with our teams. Not all the teams. Some are too specialized, but teams working in urban warfare or search and rescue missions. Dogs like yours could change the outcome of an operation.”
Seth nodded. “Early detection saves lives.”
“That’s what I figured.” Frank tilted his head toward Gomer, who was dozing beside Seth’s boots. “Tell me a little about this one.”
“He’s a tracker and a drug dog. His nose is his superpower.”
Frank chuckled, nodding thoughtfully. “Always wondered how they train for that. Can’t exactly hand him a textbook.”
Seth grinned. “Nope. It starts before they even learn to sit. First thing is selecting the right dog. You need one with drive, confidence, and curiosity. You want a dog that’ll chase a tennis ball through fire and won’t flinch at a gunshot.
Focus is essential. Gomer passed all those tests in about twelve weeks.
But that initial selection? That’s everything. ”
“So, what’s next? Obedience?”
“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 finding the 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.
Gomer could 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 this program, 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 the faint 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.
Seth didn’t answer right away. Instead, he watched his father laugh with Delbert, Gomer’s head resting on his paws like a contented old soldier. The weight of responsibility tugged at him, but so did something else… a possibility.
He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees as he scanned the dusty road that cut through Hollister.
“Son, you wouldn’t be leaving him alone.
You’d be giving yourself a break,” Frank said, his voice softening.
“You think I don’t see it? Hell, you think your dad doesn’t see it?
There’s a strain in your shoulders, son.
Your face shows it. You love that man, but being a full-time caregiver will eat you alive if you don’t carve out space for yourself.
And maybe space for yourself and Allison. ”
Seth snapped a glance in his direction.
Frank almost smiled. “I’m old, not blind.
That woman lit up when talking about you.
But back on topic. You’d still be home every night.
Maybe start with part-time if that helps.
From what I’ve gathered, you’re good at this work.
And I may or may not have reached out to people I know in the military to verify that fact. ”
Seth exhaled, voice rough. “I’ve been holding it together. Taking it one day at a time.”
“You don’t have to do it alone,” Frank said. “No shame in accepting help. Shame is burning out before your dad really needs you the most.”
That hit Seth hard, like a punch to the breadbasket. He’d heard that statement in so many variations. Perhaps he needed to let it sink in. He nodded slowly, swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat. “Will you let me think about it?”
“Sure. You take your time,” Frank said, clapping a hand on his shoulder and stood up. “But just know the door is open. And you’d be doing more than training dogs out here. You’d be giving some of the nation’s finest an edge. An edge some of them desperately need.”
The weight of that statement settled around Seth’s shoulders. It was one of the reasons he loved working with the dogs. It was extraordinary what they could do for the humans they served. But only if the humans treated them right.
He stood and looked at Frank. “I’d have a condition to your offer, should I accept it, sir. One you need to consider before you agree because it’s non-negotiable. ”
Frank Marshall looked at him, his brow furrowed. “Like what?”
“If you send a handler in for training, and he doesn’t mesh with the dog, or I don’t feel he’s a good fit for the animal, I’ll wash him out of the program. Immediately. He goes back to his team, no harm, no foul, but he does not stay with my dogs.”
Frank smiled. “I knew I liked you, son. That’s a guarantee. You call me when you have an answer.”
He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a white card with nothing but a cell phone number hand-printed on it.
“I’ll be looking forward to hearing from you.”
Seth pocketed the card and sat back down, patting Gomer on the head.
Across the porch, Chester called out, “Whatever that man just told you, you pay attention to it. One of the best damn men on the face of the planet.”
Seth smiled at his dad. “You got it, Pops.”