Biology Reference
In-Depth Information
not just Schutzhund-trained dogs who do this; police K9s can all too easily become sleeve-
dependent. As one K9 trainer noted of bite sleeves, they should come with a warning label:
“Use sparingly for best results.”
Steve's cast had a bone-growth stimulator that gave his reconstructed arm regular electro-
magnetic shocks, a kind of human e-collar reminding Steve of his primary job: Train the dog,
train the dog.
Man and dog went back to work in 1990. The first night back on patrol, Steve got a call: a
suspect attacking an officer. Steve responded and sent in Rick. Rick bit the suspect. Rick held
the suspect. He did his job. And he kept doing his job for a good number of years, until he
retired.
Thanks to Rick's initial failure, Steve Sprouse is now a bite specialist, considered among
the top aggression trainers in the Southeast and perhaps the country. More important than
all the national awards he's garnered, Steve has used his patrol dogs in hundreds of apprehen-
sions without getting shot and without having to use a bone-growth stimulator again.
Steve passes on his hard-earned dog knowledge. He trains his fellow Broward County of-
ficers and nearby police units. He also travels across the United States and the world, teaching
patrol-dog scenario work, tracking, bite work, and the critical importance of obedience work.
• • •
As Steve Sprouse and I arrived at our final training spot for the night, the automated cyclone
fence gate squeaked and whirred. We were at the deserted water treatment plant in Oak-
land Park, Florida, with its huge stucco buildings and massive wastewater treatment basins.
A street light cast bluish light on a strangler fig that embraced one of the fat water treatment
basins, inserting hundreds of loopy roots in every crevice. It looked like a vegetative squid,
the same species of ficus that pulled apart the stone temples of Angkor Wat in Cambodia.
Instead of Buddhist ruins, we were standing in the shadows of a 1940s-era wastewater
treatment plant. Feral cats and raccoons slipped through the shadows. Ferns spilled out of
the open ends of cast-iron pipes that once sent treated water back into circulation in Fort
Lauderdale. On the tops of the treatment ponds, where paddles once stirred the city's sludge,
dirt had settled, creating Jolly Green Giant-sized planters. Forty feet up, it was a jungle. “It's
very cool up there,” Steve said. In front of us was a huge building, open doors gaping, old
equipment everywhere. To our side were a couple of acres of landfill equipment: bulldozers
and concrete blocks and massive garbage cans—and more shadows.
Dave Lopez's kids were almost recovered from the flu, and he was less sleep-deprived.
Lughar was back to almost perfect, although he was a bit softer on the bite than Steve ulti-
mately wanted him to be.
