Biology Reference
In-Depth Information
in a dog and handler's week to train all the different tasks. And even if a police department
does decide to commit to a bloodhound, it takes a special kind of K9 cop to want one. Here's
the most delicate way to put it: It takes a handler who doesn't think the dog is responsible for
carrying the handler's masculinity credentials for him.
One glorious fall morning, I watched with Roger while a young female bloodhound
bounded right past the human scent trail laid for her four hours before, dragging her equally
inexperienced handler behind.
“That little pissant,” Roger said. Her galumphing leaps took her right out of scent. “She's
going to have to slow her little butt up and try to concentrate.” It wasn't just the young dog
who was the issue; it never is. “I believe the boy wants to be a patrol dog handler,” Roger said
in a mild and almost nonjudgmental tone.
That's a pity. Despite all the myths, I've fallen for bloodhounds. Not only for their noses,
but for their slobber that flies in big goobers, the concurrent flopping echo from their cav-
ernous jowls every time they shake their heads, the red haw under their eyes that's punish-
ment for those heavy jowls, their oily kennel stench, their tendency to gaze at you with a kind
of walleyed abstraction, and the way they delightedly snorkel up hot dogs or Vienna sausages
as a reward at the end of a long trail, like big wet vacuum cleaners. Later in their training,
good bloodhounds don't need hot dogs. Running a good trail is itself the reward, just as the
act of herding rewards an experienced border collie. Bloodhounds' doleful baying from the
backs of trailers and pickups, with metal crates amplifying the bass tones, sounds like the
essence of North Carolina foothills in the morning. Just to get rid of another myth: They
don't trail together and bay like fools, “opening up” on the trail. It's a physical impossibility
to sniff scent and vocalize at the same time. Try talking or laughing and inhaling simultan-
eously. Bloodhounds make noise if they lose a trail and get frustrated; when they pick it up
again, they fall silent.
I've also fallen in the love with the fact that bloodhound personalities are all over the place,
as dog personalities should be—don't buy the AKC bloodhound lobbyists' line that all of
them are slow, gentle, and mellow. Nonsense. How boring that would be. The dogs should
be able to run hard and pull hard; if a dog is any good, her handler should be a poster child
for rotator-cuff surgery. Some working bloodhounds have a decided edge. I don't walk up to
an unfamiliar bloodhound anticipating automatic adoration any more than I do a German
shepherd I don't know.
It's understandable that a few bloodhound lovers will try to sell the public on the notion
that they are harmless goofballs. Liberal dog lovers like myself, even more than dog lovers
generally, can twist themselves into knots trying to explain the Byzantine history of a breed
and its uses and misuses. (Trust me, I know: I have a German shepherd.) So a certain genre of
breed fan will spend futile time explaining how incredibly sweet a breed is, trotting out docile
