Zeke--my second Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever (Toller) joined our family in late September. The plane trip home deserves a blog on its own, so I'll leave that to another post. In my life BC--before children--I had a yellow lab named Mac that I certified as a SAR dog with Maine Search and Rescue Dogs (MESARD). We had about 6 glorious years together as a team before a combination of children and what I now believe was Exercise Induced Collapse retired us as a SAR team. I decided to switch breeds in 1997 with Casey--my first Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever. We worked hard to become an operational team, and in fact completed 3 of the 4 certification tests, but I was never completely happy with Casey's re-find and my family and work responsibilities kept me from putting in the extra hours we needed to really work as a team. Looking back, I realize I couldn't let Casey be his own SAR dog. Mac and I had been an exceptional team. I kept comparing Casey's work to Mac's work--unfair to both dogs. So I took a break from SAR Dog work. I think the hardest part was giving up my vanity license plate--I'm so shallow!
Mac lived to be 14 and Casey died July 4, 2009 from congestive heart failure. In the meantime, Buck--a beautiful blockhead lab--had joined our crew as the "family dog" and the first dog I've ever owned that hasn't been meticulously trained. My kids are both teenagers and I was ready to get back into SAR Dog work.
Two of my dear friends--one a SAR Dog handler--joined me for a few days of R&R on Pond Island. Thanks to the amazing capabilities of Smart Phones, I had found a breeder and was lined up for a male puppy by the end of our stay. There we were first peering at tiny pictures and pedigrees of dogs on my Blackberry and then there were several lengthy phone calls with potential breeders.
What was I looking for? Well, I really liked Casey even if he never made it to full operational status. His full brother Clipper was an exceptional dog, both conformationally and in the field, so my first thought was I'd like one of Clipper's sons. Unfortunately, Clipper's parents weren't having any puppies in the near-term. Then I found a kennel where Clipper had been used as a stud and there was a beautiful boy (Chase) who wasn't a Clipper son, but actually had the same dad as Casey and Clipper. He had been bred to a spitfire of a bitch named Valor. Could they produce the type of puppy I sought?
I called Barb--Valor's owner--and we talked for hours. She was excited at the prospect of one of Valor's puppies being used for SAR Dog work. What characteristics was I looking for in the puppy? Well, first I knew I wanted a male. Second, I wanted the dog to be conformationally correct so that he would have the structure needed for a very active lifestyle. For personality, it became a matter of degrees. I needed a dog that was attached to and liked people, but could work and think independently. He needed to be a problem solver, but not to the point that he wouldn't look to me for some guidance and direction. He needed to have a strong prey/play drive but would preferably have an on/off switch. Mac didn't have an "off" switch, making him a rather miserable house dog. I needed a dog that I could crank up when needed, but one that would continue to think. I didn't want an aggressive or dominant dog, but nor did I want a submissive one. Above all, I needed a dog that would keep trying until he got the job done.
Barb tells me that she knew within a few days that Delano (Zeke's litter name) was the right dog for me. He was the first in his litter out of the whelping box--and the youngest dog out of all her litters to have ever made it out of the box. He didn't whine, cry or whimper when he failed or was frustrated, he just kept coming back for more. He wasn't the most dominant puppy, but he also didn't back down from his littermates either. The more Barb watched the puppies over the 8 weeks she had them, the more sure she was that Zeke was the dog for me.
Those 8 weeks went by so slowly. I lived for the pictures that Barb posted each week showing how the puppies had grown. Never in all my summers in Maine had I ever wished a summer away--until this year. Finally, the last weekend in September (2009), I flew to Minnesota to meet and pick up Zeke. He was indeed everything for which I could ask.
No comments:
Post a Comment