The Dog Squad

by Vikki Petraitis

  As soon as the mob was gone, Nat wandered over to a tree and piddled. He was all business when it was needed, then, just as quickly, he returned to his normal laid-back self. He came to Matt for a quick pat and then a game of tug of war with his tattered old rope.

  Matt reckons that Nat saved his life – quite a few times. Before one shift, Matt wasn’t feeling well and had almost decided to take a sick day. But at the last minute, he headed off to the office to do some quiet paperwork. Almost as soon as Matt hopped in the car on the sunny Sunday afternoon, there was a call-out to search for an armed attacker. The man police were looking for had approached a middle-aged couple in suburban Reservoir with what looked like a bag of fish and chips wrapped in white paper. Suddenly, he pulled out a huge knife, which had been concealed in the paper, and held it to the middle-aged man’s throat, demanding his wallet. Before the man had a chance to hand it over, the attacker plunged the carving knife into the man’s neck.

  By the time Matt got to the scene, it was bedlam. The injured man had lost a lot of blood, his wife was hysterical and every resident of the street wanted to tell every new officer on the scene that they had witnessed the whole thing. Matt tried to avoid the heavy traffic areas – which affected the scent trail – and took his dog down the road in the direction the offender had fled.

  Nat picked up a scent and headed to a nearby reserve. He tracked to a fence line, stopped, and sniffed the air. The dog hopped up onto his hind legs and hooked his huge paws on top of the fence. Matt gave his dog a boost from behind to get him up and over, and followed him into a backyard. Nat sniffed around and headed straight to the next fence. Up and over again.

  In the second yard there was a shed that Nat seemed interested in. A closer search failed to find the assailant, but Matt suspected the man they sought had hidden inside the shed, leaving a stronger scent in the enclosed space.

  Up and over into a third yard, which had a shed too. Matt noticed a discarded fish and chip packet on the lawn. Matt looked inside, but it was empty – no knife. They were getting closer.

  Fourth yard, third shed. Matt opened up the door, not really expecting to find the offender. He and the dog entered cautiously. Even though there was some natural light from a side window, the shed was dim compared with the brightness outside. Suddenly, the door banged shut behind them.

  From out of nowhere, a man emerged from the darkness and came at Matt with a huge knife. Matt yelled at Nat to take the man down. The dog took hold of the man’s leg as Matt desperately tried to keep the knife away from him. All Matt could think about was that this guy had already stabbed someone. He knew if he lost the fight, it might be the last he ever fought.

  Though he doesn’t remember doing it, in the struggle Matt pushed the emergency button on his police radio, so everyone listening could hear him yelling the attack command over and over, and the crook screaming and the dog barking and growling and biting. But all his police colleagues could do was listen in horror. They couldn’t communicate with him, and they had no idea where he was. Matt and Nat were on their own.

  Finally, Matt wrestled the man to the ground and got his knee onto the man’s chest to hold him down. He manoeuvred his foot so he was standing on the man’s arm. Even though the attacker still had the knife, he couldn’t move his arm to do anything with it – like stabbing Matt.

  Matt could hear his dog growling and biting, but he only had eyes for the hand still holding the huge knife. He struggled desperately against the wild strength of the guy’s arm. Finally the guy dropped the knife, and Matt managed to kick it clear.

  Matt’s mind raced. If Nat had a firm hold of the guy, he reckoned he could jump clear, kick the shed door open, then use the dog to drag the man out. Which was exactly what he did. Matt dragged Nat – and, by proxy, the attached madman – out of the shed and into the bright sunlight of the suburban backyard.

  An elderly Italian lady came out of the house, and Matt yelled for her address so he could call for backup. Only after Matt had dragged the dog and the man away from the shed – and the knife – could he command Nat to leave. The dog immediately let go of the man’s leg and returned calmly to Matt’s side.

  Matt got a good look at the guy’s legs, arms and chest. Matt had never seen his dog bite anyone like this before. If the dog was ever required to bite, the crook usually gave up pretty much straight away and Matt could call him off. But this attacker hadn’t given up, and so neither had Nat. During the brawl, the dog had been a blurry black ball, biting and barking. The offender had suffered multiple bite wounds. Once the adrenaline rush subsided, the guy started groaning in pain.

  There was a banging over the fences as other cops arrived on the scene to see if Matt and the dog were okay. Once the attacker was handcuffed, Matt wandered over to the fence and sat down, heart racing. In the aftermath, something like shock set in. Nat followed his handler and laid his head in Matt’s lap for a cuddle.

  ‘We’re both okay,’ he seemed to say. Such was the intuitive nature of the dog.

  It reminded Matt of the time Nat had located a missing elderly woman in bushland near Epping. Nat had raced ahead to search, and when Matt called him to come back, the dog didn’t budge. In the distance Matt could see his Rottweiler sitting next to a tree, still as a statue. No matter how much Matt called, Nat did not move.

  ‘Come here,’ Matt muttered crossly as he covered the distance between him and his recalcitrant canine. As he got closer to Nat, he saw a pair of old-lady legs sticking out from behind the tree. Nat had not barked as he had been trained to do; he seemed to sense that would frighten the confused old woman. He simply sat by her side and wouldn’t leave her. She was wet and was clearly suffering from hypothermia; the last thing she needed was a huge barking dog beside her. And Nat seemed to know that.

  Matt later joked that on the few occasions he ever got cross at Nat, it always turned out the dog was right.

  One of the most amazing apprehensions happened when Matt and Nat were called to a violent domestic assault. A man had beaten his wife inside the family home, and then escaped somewhere in the neighbourhood. The man was well known to police because he had previously been charged with savagely attacking a policewoman.

  Matt and his dog arrived and were briefed by the uniform locals at the scene. Then dog and handler began their search. Nat picked up a track, and led Matt into a nearby backyard, indicating excitedly at the back fence. In fact, the dog got so excited he tried to dig under it. Unlike most suburban fences, this one bordered housing commission flats and was much too high for the dog to jump, so Nat ran up and down the fence line, barking his head off. Matt was sure the offender was on the other side.

  Then Nat did something incredible. He suddenly stopped, got his bearings, then bashed his head into the fence, smashing right through the wooden palings. His huge head disappeared into the adjacent yard, and then there was wailing, swearing and screaming from behind the fence. ‘Tell him to let go!’ yelled the man.

  Matt climbed to the top of the fence and saw Nat’s huge jaws latched firmly around the tattooed shoulder of the wife-beater. ‘I’m not calling him off till they arrest you!’ called Matt. ‘Stay still or it’s going to hurt a whole lot more.’

  Matt called for backup over the radio and the uniformed offi­cers came running from the other side of the fence. They took a quick moment to appreciate the dog’s artistry before handcuffing the wailing man. Then Matt commanded the dog to let go. Nat did, then he pulled his massive head back through the fence for a pat. ‘Did I do good?’ he seemed to say.

  ‘Good boy!’ praised the amazed handler.

  Nat lifted his leg on a nearby tree, relieved himself, and trotted off back to the car for his game of tug of war.

  On one job, Nat tracked a guy who had been breaking into cars at Macleod. Two offenders had been caught in the act, and each had run in a different direction. Nat picked up a scent and tracked the crook to the outside of a block of units. Nat stopped and sniffed up in the air; Matt t
hought the dog was indicating the roof of the long carport.

  There was a row of wheelie bins near the carport, and Nat started growling at them like he usually did. For some reason, Nat did not like wheelie bins. At home, if he was allowed anywhere near the wheelie bins, there would be rubbish strewn all over the street in seconds, and the bin would be dragged off into the distance. Usually Nat could ignore wheelie bins when he was on a job, in favour of catching crooks. Not this time, it seemed.

  ‘No! No!’ Matt shouted at the dog, trying to direct him to the carport where he thought the crook might be hiding. But Nat wasn’t to be diverted. He grabbed one of the wheelie bin’s wheels and knocked the whole thing over.

  Matt tried to call him off, but Nat wouldn’t let go. The bin hit the ground and the lid flipped open, and there was the crook, wedged inside. Matt told him to stay where he was and put his hands up. The crook stuck his hands out of the bin and begged Matt to call off the dog. The crook didn’t move, but the Rottweiler did.

  Nat grabbed the bin’s wheel and dragged it down the driveway with the crook inside, growling his guttural growl. Matt reckons he must have been in dog heaven; his two favourite things – crooks and wheelie bins – in the one package.

  Matt shouted at the dog to let go.

  Nat gave the bin’s wheel a couple more chomps and then reluctantly backed away. Matt pulled him in close on the lead. He asked the crook to crawl out of the bin and lie flat on the ground, arms outstretched. By this time the crook was so terrified that Matt reckons he could’ve asked him to tap dance and he would have danced like Fred Astaire.

  While waiting for the uniformed officers to come and collect the bin man, Nat sat by Matt’s leg, letting out a continuous growl with an occasional baritone woof – just to keep the crook in place.

  A big part of training for general purpose police dogs is being able to call them off and expect instant obedience if someone gets in the way during a pursuit. Once Matt and Nat were tracking a gunman and, when they got a visual on the crook, Matt released Nat for a chase-and-attack. After the dog bolted off in hot pursuit, a trainee constable joined the chase and ran in front of the Rottweiler. Nat was diverted by the new guy and took a flying leap towards his leg, jaws open wide.

  Matt saw it all from a distance. As Nat wrapped his jaws around the trainee constable’s leg, Matt screamed, ‘Nooooo!’

  Right on command, Nat stopped mid-bite. Matt redirected Nat, who continued chasing the crook, and quickly caught him. While the crook was being cuffed and taken away by the local police, the trainee constable was trying to stop shaking. He inspected his leg for damage; there was none.

  ‘Mate,’ Matt said, ‘this is your lucky day. You should buy a lottery ticket.’

  The only sign of the trainee constable’s close encounter with a police Rottweiler was a whole lot of dog slobber on his trousers.

  Once Matt was called to a psychiatric hospital in the western suburbs. A patient had gone on a rampage, trashed the hospital ward, and was holding police and hospital staff at bay with a jagged metal chair leg. The naked patient had been sprayed with capsicum spray, which had had little effect. While Matt was standing outside the ward, discussing tactics with the other police on the scene, Nat pushed his head around the ward door and gave his low, guttural baritone growl.

  ‘What the hell is that?’ screamed the patient. The man might have been crazed, but he wasn’t stupid. He dropped the metal weapon and lay straight down on the ground with his hands behind his back. For Matt, this typified what the job was all about. Bad situation meets dog; dog stops the bad situation.

  One night, luck was not on Nat’s side. Matt had been called to a job in Preston where a guy had tried to rob two other guys in a car. He had smashed the car window with a screwdriver, and then tried to stab the occupants before they had the presence of mind to drive off. Coincidentally, the Preston divisional van drove around the corner during the attack and quickly put out a call. Matt was nearby and headed straight to the scene.

  ‘Tell the members not to get out on foot,’ he said over the radio. He didn’t want the scent trail spoiled. It was early evening in Preston and there was lots of pedestrian traffic, but Nat picked up a scent straight way. He tracked through a railway station, under a tunnel and past a bunch of busy roads, pulling strongly on the lead. He didn’t miss a beat, didn’t hesitate for a second; Matt knew he had a strong scent. After a couple of kilometres on the dry, hard surface – not usually ideal conditions – Nat came to St Georges Road and a house with a really high fence.

  Nat raised his head and sniffed, air scenting. The offender was close enough for his scent to fill the air, not just leave a trail. Matt called for backup.

  The front gate of the house was locked, so Matt lifted Nat over the fence – nothing there. Nat tracked across the yard to the next house, which had a low fence. Nat put his paws up on the fence, and Matt checked out the situation before he let the dog go over. The coast seemed clear, but Nat was pulling hard; the tracking line almost burned through Matt’s fingers.

  Nat galloped across the yard and stopped metres from his quarry. Using his torch, Matt caught sight of the guy crouching near the opposite fence. He could see that the man was still armed with the screwdriver. ‘Stop! Stay where you are!’ Matt called out.

  When an offender doesn’t comply, it usually means he is considering other options. The man turned and started to run.

  Matt couldn’t let him get away – he had already attacked two people. Even though it was hard to send his dog towards an armed man, Matt knew it was Nat’s job. And a bite from a dog now, followed by a safe arrest, might stop a police shooting minutes later. He commanded Nat to take him down.

  Matt let go of the strained tracking line and Nat shot off like an arrow. A flying ball of black muscle slammed the crook into the fence.

  Matt came racing over and saw the screwdriver safely on the ground. While the guy was still trying to fight the dog, he was now unarmed, and Matt called off Nat. At that moment, backup arrived. Police stormed into the yard and, as they cuffed the guy, Matt could smell the alcohol on him. It brought to mind another long track Nat had done where the crook smelt of alcohol. Matt wondered if his dog had become particularly adept at following alcohol fumes.

  The man wasn’t injured badly enough to stop him walking out.

  After the take-down Matt gave Nat a big pat, and it was then he noticed blood on his hand. Oh great, Matt thought, sourly. Crook’s blood! That meant a trip to the hospital, Hep C shots and HIV testing. He’d been through the tedious and slightly nerve-racking process before, when he’d chased a crook through thistle bushes that had drawn blood and then tackled the crook, who was also bleeding.

  Then Matt pulled up short. Could it be Nat’s blood on his hand? Under the golden glow of the streetlight, the handler inspected his dog. The crook had stabbed Nat in the head, right above his eye, leaving a small puncture wound.

  It didn’t seem to worry Nat; he happily head-butted Matt for more pats. Matt hitched a ride back to his own car with another handler who had arrived on the scene. He had a first-aid kit in his car and dabbed the wound with Betadine. Matt kept a close eye on the dog, even though he didn’t seem bothered by it – his tail didn’t stop wagging. Matt also knew that Nat’s head was hard as a rock. It was lucky that the crook had aimed for his head, and not anywhere softer on his body that might have proven more dangerous.

  ❖

  In March 2010 drag races scheduled at Calder Park Raceway were cancelled. Protestors vented their rage at the Oakleigh store of the race sponsor, Bob Jane. The first hint that Matt got of the rising trouble was a report over the police radio that some youths had gathered at the corner of Warrigal Road and the Princes Highway and were causing some problems. And then a call came over the canine channel: things were getting out of hand.

  Matt spoke to the sergeant, who reported that the crowd had swelled to around 3000 people. Matt could hardly believe that a riot could occur in the suburb b
est known for the sprawling Chadstone Shopping Centre. Just in case, Matt called on a couple of other handlers to make their way to the scene.

  It was early in the evening when Matt got there, and it turned out the sergeant wasn’t exaggerating. There were even families with their children in the group; perhaps they had come to watch, but had gotten caught up in what was fast becoming a full-blown riot.

  It was Matt’s experience that the biggest danger in such situ­ations occurred once the rioters started getting organised. While the police had formed a perimeter around the protestors, they hadn’t moved in. There are a couple of schools of thought in such situ­ations: either let the protestors protest and see how things play out, or come in with a strong police presence and confront the crowd. Early in the protest it seemed to Matt that the police on the scene had taken the ‘softly softly’ approach, but it hadn’t worked. Up ahead, a thuggish element of the crowd had started rolling cars and smashing windows. Once the riot got underway, the thugs didn’t just focus on the Bob Jane store – adjoining businesses were targeted too.

  This is crazy! thought Matt. People were running up to the police, screaming that hoons were looting stores and rolling cars. Matt and the other handlers took in the mayhem, then approached veteran Dog Squad member Steve Evans for advice. Steve had worked at more critical incidents than Matt had eaten hot dinners. ‘So, what do you reckon?’ Matt asked.

  Steve suggested a formation of dogs to advance on the crowd. While the amped-up thugs might play hero and take on advancing cops in riot gear, no one would take on the dogs. Matt bowed to Steve’s greater experience in such occasions, and all the handlers lined up, ready to face the thousands of rioters.

  As the five handlers spread out in a line, they formed a powerful image: big men in dark overalls and heavy boots, helmets on, batons raised, and flanked by powerful police dogs. The dogs picked up the atmosphere; they barked ferociously and pulled on their leads. The five dog handler teams lined up across the incoming lanes of the Princes Highway.