conversation while Aalice is slathering him with such adulation, so he passes her to a staffer who’s more than happy to take her off his hands.
Puppies in the puppy program leave Lackland pretty early in life. They’re with their mom for several weeks, and then they get placed in foster homes until they’re seven months old, when they return to Lackland and go through a sort of puppy preschool to see which ones may have what it takes to become a military working dog.
Ask anyone who has fostered a Malinois puppy, and they’ll tell you two things:
1. It’s a great way to be an intimate part of helping the military working dog world.
2. Hide your shoes, socks, slippers, and furniture.
There’s a reason these pups are nicknamed “malligators.” They are all mouth and teeth. Arod has fostered three. “They ate our entire home,” he says. He and his family ended up adopting the last one, Ttrina, after she didn’t make the cut as a military working dog. Despite her propensity to malligator herself around the house, they took her in because they’d grown attached to her—teeth and all.
The puppy program is always looking for foster homes. To qualify, volunteers have to live within three hours of San Antonio so they can drive back for monthly appointments. A fenced yard is ideal. Fosters have to disclose how many other pets they have and what kind. “If you have five cats, we need to know that,” says David Garcia, dog program foster consultant. “We’ll find you a low-drive dog that will be a better fit.”
Foster homes aren’t expected to do formal training. That’s what dog school is for. But they do help a puppy become comfortable with various environments and stimuli, such as busy streets, stairs, loud vacuums, and crowds. Fosters can also work on increasing a dog’s desire to find a toy or a training treat; this is good for future training, when finding objects is a dog’s core mission.
When I met with Garcia, he was in a slight panic. He needed to find twelve homes for the A litter (Aalice and her brothers and sisters) within two weeks. It wasn’t looking good. The program had just expanded the distance limits for foster homes in order to include Austin residents, but word hadn’t gotten out yet. Garcia was going to be calling some previous repeat fosters and was planning on attending a puppy expo as well.
“Once you see them and know them, they’re pretty hard to resist,” he says. He adds that it’s not
Doc and his staff are investing heavily in making the puppy program a success. They’ve bought some frozen sperm from sought-after studs and also brought back a male named Arnold, who they hope will father some great pups. When Hilliard and staff go to Europe on future trips, he says they’ll be looking for some “interesting” dogs for breeding.
They recently purchased a female Malinois puppy named Boudin, whose dad is Robbie (Aalice’s father) and mom is Kyra (pronounced Keera). The pairing of Robbie and Kyra has produced some very successful working dogs in Europe. Doc wants the Military Working Dog Program to have some of this bloodline, some of these champion genetics, so the puppy program bought Boudin and a full brother named Bruno. Both are registered pedigree dogs. (They will not be paired, for obvious reasons.)
As a rule, Doc doesn’t like to get registered pedigree Malinois, because he thinks they don’t deal with stress as well as non-pedigreed dogs and because they tend to be smaller and less robust, more susceptible to stress. But these dogs are different, he hopes. I spent a few hours one afternoon with eight-week-old Boudin at her brand-new foster home near Lackland, with her foster dad, Air Force Technical Sergeant Joe Null. Despite her crazy puppy energy and frequent and high-pitched barking, she looks like she has the makings of an excellent dog: She’s strong, has a committed bite when playing with a tug toy, and doesn’t give up when hunting for a Kong.
But there’s more to becoming a military working dog than getting bred or drafted. That’s the easy part. Making it through the rigors of dog school is another matter altogether. Some dogs might decide to be draft dodgers if they knew what was up next.
16
A TATTOO, AND A LITTLE OPERATION
Veterinarian Ronnie Nye, a retired army lieutenant colonel, has an easygoing, friendly manner that would put most human patients at ease if he were an MD. But Fred, a Netherlands-born German shorthaired pointer, looks like he would rather be somewhere else. His stub of a tail stays tucked down even as Nye strokes him and tells him with a confident, knowing smile that it’s going to be all right.
After an injection of a cocktail of sedatives, Fred appears a little drunk and within a couple of minutes slumps into the waiting arms of a vet assistant, who helps steady him onto the stainless-steel operating table. When Fred is completely out, assistants turn him onto his back, withdraw some urine from his bladder via a needle and syringe, put an endotracheal tube down his throat for anesthesia, and secure his paws to the table with ties. His floppy ears, splayed out on the steel, make an easy surface for the vet tech, who spends about twenty minutes tattooing his assigned number (R739) on the underside of his left ear. As her tattoo pen buzzes away, Nye shaves the dog’s stomach, vacuums the loose fur off the dog, isolates the incision area with blue surgical drapes, and poises a scalpel over Fred’s bare belly….
Won’t hurt a bit.
17
BOOT CAMP
The world’s largest dog school—aka the Department of Defense Military Working Dog School, 341st Training Squadron—lies on a flat, featureless chunk of land on the outskirts of San Antonio, at Lackland Air Force Base. Sprawled out on nearly seven thousand arid acres, Lackland is a place for newcomers. Each year, thirty-five thousand air force recruits come here for basic training.
Also among Lackland’s newcomers every year are the 340 relatively young dogs who will be trained as military working dogs and the 460 two-legged students who come through Lackland to learn the basics of dog handling.
The boot camp program where trainers build military working dogs from the ground up is referred to as dog school. The program that teaches handler skills is called the handler course. Pretty much all soldier dogs and handlers across the military are trained here. (The exceptions are Special Operations dogs and dogs for the IDD and TEDD programs, which are dedicated to a faster turnaround time for certain explosives detector dogs. These dogs are trained by contractors.)
Dogs who are selected to go the dual-purpose route—and that’s the vast majority of the dogs—will have a total of 120 days to learn all the skills necessary to certify in explosives or narcotics detection as well as patrol work. Single-purpose detection-only dogs do it in about 90. Contrary to what many on the outside think, with the exception of a couple of smaller programs (combat tracking dogs and specialized search dogs), dogs are not matched up with handlers at Lackland; they’re assigned to handlers once they’re shipped to the bases that request them.
But before the dogs can even start to get the rigorous training they need in order to one day become soldier dogs, they have to go through a rather grueling initial time at Lackland—one that may make boot camp for their two-legged friends look like a walk in the park.
Every soldier, sailor, airman, and marine must go through some form of induction when entering the military. A haircut, health exams, reams of paperwork—all the less glamorous aspects of serving one’s country need to be taken care of before getting down to the business of boot camp.
Soldier dogs go through a more rigorous induction process, including time on the operating table. The road to
