Biology Reference
In-Depth Information
Cops and courts weren't alien territory to me. As a newspaper reporter, I had covered
crime and law for years. Several detectives had asked if I'd ever considered entering law en-
forcement. I had thought about law school, but I'm not sure what side I would have landed
on: prosecution or defense. Ambivalence defined my relationship with any number of insti-
tutions, though, including the places that cut my monthly paychecks. I was simply adding
more ambivalence to the mix. It goes both ways. Law enforcement is reasonably and notori-
ously suspicious of volunteer dog handlers. We can be an eager lot, with more verve than
sense, overly sentimental about dogs, naive about the complexities of the law.
Lisa Mayhew, who investigates children's deaths across the state for the medical examiner's
office, wanted me to take the next step, too. She had handled cadaver dogs and knew a great
K9 trainer who happened to work in my city. It took me an hour to compose the e-mail to
Sergeant Mike Baker, head of the K9 unit for the Durham Police Department, asking wheth-
er I could meet with him. It was less than a month after my birthday epiphany.
“Sgt. Baker,” my e-mail began. The hierarchy of academic life made the title easy for me
to use. Paramilitary organizations have nothing on higher education. Despite the perception
that English departments are bastions of leftist anarchy, we have as many ranks, even more
forms and reports to fill out, and a stricter definition of who counts and who doesn't, from
adjunct lecturers to vice provosts. I made my tone formal, respectful. No humor. No mention
of my academic life. Sure, I was an associate professor at a land-grant university, but in the
world I wanted to enter, no one cared. On the contrary, it would be best to avoid mentioning
it.
Solo and I, I wrote, “have been training fairly steadily since he was eight months old.”
“Fairly steadily” was fairly accurate. I had set Solo's training aside for just three months when
Dad died. It had felt like so much longer.
I waited. Five days.
Mike Baker e-mailed back, apologizing for the delay, since he'd been out of town. “Hi,
Cat. My specialty is in law enforcement dogs, but many of the same theories/principles ap-
ply to what you do. If nothing else, I'm sure we could expose Solo to new training areas and
obstacles.” He signed off: “Take care, Mike.”
So much for hierarchy. Solo wasn't the only one who would be exposed to new training
obstacles. I would soon learn to introduce myself as a negative: “I'm Cat Warren. I'm non-
LE.” Not law enforcement.
Defining myself as not something felt like a huge promotion.
• • •
The city of Durham, North Carolina, for all its virtues, has a relatively high homicide and
manslaughter rate—a fact that city leaders avoid in the promotional literature. “Durham.
