Prey Bite

Why one good dog never became a police dog.

North Carolina, Midsummer 2021

By the time we reached the area search portion of the certification, we’d spent most of the day together. We worked through obedience that morning, followed it with narcotics detection, and after lunch moved into patrol.

Before we started, I gathered the handlers and briefed them on the scenario and the area they’d be working.

The first handler stepped up with his dog, gave his warnings, and released him off leash.

The dog exploded into the search area. He ran straight to a small hot water tank storage closet attached to an old white brick laundry facility, hit the door hard enough to knock the lower vents out, and bit the hidden decoy through the opening.

I moved in with the handler as his backup officer while he cleared up to his dog. Once the decoy was taken into custody, we escorted him out of the search area and secured him in a patrol car.

“Next dog.”

The next team stepped up.

For this story, we’ll call the dog Quail.

Quail’s handler stepped up and brought him to the starting point just like the team before him. He gave his warnings, then released him off leash.

Quail started hunting the search area and eventually hit the scent cone. He drifted out of it once, then picked it back up and continued toward the old white brick laundry facility. He reached the hot water tank storage closet, sniffed along the door seam, then nudged the door open with his nose just enough to look inside. He gave a quick little startle, darted away from the doorway, then glanced back over his shoulder as he fled.

I remember thinking, “What the hell happened?”

“Prey bite!”

The decoy came running out.

Quail heard the movement, looked back, and took off after him. About ten or fifteen feet later, he caught him.

From where I stood, it looked like his mouth barely opened. Only the front of his teeth caught the bite suit before he let go on his own a few seconds later.

Instead of re-engaging, Quail wandered over to a nearby bush, hiked his back leg, and took a piss.

The handler and I started walking toward him. By the time we got there, Quail had already finished and casually made his way back to his handler like nothing had happened.

“Let’s terminate. Go put your dog up.”

After they walked away, I looked over at the decoy.

“You good?”

“Yep.”

“Get back in the hiding spot.”

“Next dog.”

Once we finished certifying the rest of the teams, I helped the decoy out of his bite suit and handed him a bottle of water.

Then I walked over to Quail’s handler and asked him to step off to the side with me.

“Hey, brother, you know that ain’t gonna pass, man.”

He nodded.

“Certification’s not the place for us to be fixing dogs. We’re here to certify dogs.”

I explained that we could continue with narcotics detection and tracking, but his patrol certification was over. I also asked him to call his leadership, let them know what happened, and tell them we had the entire scenario on video if they wanted to review it.

He looked at me and said, “Yes, sir.”

After he spoke with his leadership, they wanted to hear directly from me about what happened.

I told them exactly what I’d seen during the certification and answered their questions.

Based on everything I’d seen that day, Quail wasn’t meant to be a police dog.

A couple of months later, I heard from Quail’s handler.

His agency decided Quail wasn’t the right fit for police work, and the handler actually adopted him.

Several months later, Quail’s handler was back for another certification with a new police dog. When he walked up, I gave a little laugh and said, “Man, I bet you’re glad to see me.”

He laughed, gave me a hug, and we got to work. The new dog passed with flying colors.

We still keep in touch. Every month or two, one of us will check in to see how things are going. Every now and then, he’ll send me pictures of Quail.

Not every good dog is meant to be a police dog.

Quail wasn’t.

But he turned out to be a phenomenal pet.