Sheepdogs: Keeping the Wolves at Bay by Gordon Carroll (tools of titans ebook .TXT) 📗

29

Max

Max stood on the highest point of the hogback, watching as the sun crept above the flat plane of the east, conquering darkness as it continued its slow, steady climb; unrelenting, unstoppable, magnificent in its power and glory. The gray shade of night that paled the land blossomed with color as the morning star raised its head high, burning away the dark thoughts of the Gray Wolf that weighed heavy on Max. The new heat warmed his blood and his spirit.

The Alpha had stopped him from attacking his prey. Max could have accepted this if the Alpha had destroyed the prey himself, as was his right as the leader. But to let the prey go unharmed was too much.

Max’s hunt drive was satiated once he actually found the man hiding under the porch, but his prey drive and fight drive were left unsatisfied, leaving him tense and unfulfilled. The experience brought back his feelings and memories of the Gray Wolf and that had driven him to the hunt.

As soon as the Alpha let him out of the car at the garage, Max escaped into the last of the night’s darkness. He searched hard for sign of coyote spore but found none. He hunted, outran and killed three rabbits and a possum.

It didn’t help. Nothing did, until the splendor of the Sun’s heat shined upon his face, dissipating the gloom of despair that threatened to crush him.

In the primitive way canines think and reason, Max found himself questioning again the Alpha’s place in the rank structure of their pack. He thought of the weaknesses he saw in the Alpha; his lack of speed, and vision and hearing. The Alpha seemed incapable of tracking as Max did, of smelling the path and ways taken by other animals. The Alpha’s teeth were useless in battle.

But then Max remembered the way the Alpha killed the bear and fought the men. The weapons he used and the raw strength in his arms and hands. And the way the Alpha could read him.

Max also wondered at the strange feelings he was experiencing toward the Alpha. Feelings he didn’t understand. This uncommon urge to surrender to him, to obey and accept him as the Alpha.

A sound. The Alpha calling for him. Far away but Max could easily hear him. If he barked or howled in response would the Alpha be able to hear it? Max didn’t think he would and that knowledge burned inside him.

Only the strong could lead. And Max was the strongest member of the pack.

He turned and headed to the house.

30

Gil

I loaded the cooler into the Escalade. I’d have to let my usual morning routine slide if I was to have any chance of tailing the boys today.

Pilgrim bounded out the doggy door and jumped up on me. I wrestled around with him for awhile then found his Kong toy and tossed it as far as I could. It hit and bounced in about nine different directions doing a good job of imitating a rabbit’s flight path. Pilgrim caught hold of it before it came to a stop and ran it back to me. He dropped it and backed away, smiling hugely and waiting for the game to begin anew. I tossed it far, in a different direction and he was off again.

Turning I saw Max standing about ten feet away, staring at me. I didn’t like the look in his eyes.

I’ve dealt with my share of rank dogs before. Rank in K9 lingo refers to the natural drive in a dog to advance his position in the pack. Different dogs, different drives. My old dog Samson, a hundred pound German Shepherd, used to try and take control of the pack from me every six months like clockwork. I would usually see the signs and take care of it before it got out of hand. The signs were things like, obeying commands slower than usual. I’d give him a platz and he’d look up at me from the side of his eyes and slowly go to the ground, as though saying, well, okay, but only because I want to anyway. If I didn’t catch it right away it would get worse. He might grumble with a small growl or a curl of his upper lip before obeying. If I still didn’t catch the clues, which actually only happened twice, but that was twice too many, the fight would be on.

The correct and less painful way to handle a dog exhibiting rank behavior is to put him in muzzle, then work him hard in obedience, making him heel, sit, lay, stay, over and over again at different paces and switching up commands from verbal to hand and back to verbal again, correcting him with a sharp snap of the leash if he doesn’t obey instantly, until the dog reaches the point of frustration and tries to attack you. If the dog is really exhibiting rank behavior it usually doesn’t take long. Once the dog attacks, you take hold of him by the sides of his jowls and flip him over your hip in what is called an alpha roll. You throw the dog onto his back, straddle him and scream in his face as loud as you can — nine — nine — fooey — nine — until he looks away and his tail curls up between his legs. This is a sign of absolute submission and the exercise is over. If you continue to push past this point the dog might easily go into survival mode and then you have created a problem.

The real trouble comes in when you don’t recognize the signs of a dog going rank. Once when I was on a track with Samson, looking for two burglars that fled on foot when the homeowner surprised them, he started to mark a bush. Handlers don’t let their K9s leave a track to mark… pee… because this is a distraction and can throw the dog off. I snapped the lead as