Cadaver Dog Read Online Free PDF Page B

“zombie-hunting,” Murder only had the one smell to imprint upon. Once he understood the concept of being rewarded for finding a wasp, he could begin tracking.
    Angie started the search phase of Murder’s training by hiding the box behind the corner of the warehouse or behind the trunk of a really thick tree. Murder found them easily, running straight to the box. Then she moved the box out on a path leading into the woods. Each time she placed it off to the right side of the path, and each time Murder found the box, coming back for his chicken. She praised him, then moved the box farther away. After about four attempts, she got what she was hoping for. She placed the box behind a tree on the left side of the path. Murder flew past the box. He spun around, confused as to why the box wasn’t where he thought it should be. Murder stuck his nose in the air, turned around, and went to the box. Then he came sprinting back for his chew toy. He barked as he ran toward her, a brief shout of displeasure because Angie had tricked him.
    Angie beamed. Murder was tracking the wasp.
     
    Once Murder knew the game, it was only a matter of extending the game and presenting him with new challenges. In her mind, Angie started to map out a training plan that would slowly introduce new challenges to Murder, concluding with tracking the wasp to buried locations, which were her best determination for what they might encounter in the field. She wished she had a larva to track. That would be a better source material than the wasp, but the whole point to this was that nobody had found giant crimson wasp larvae yet. Hell, almost nobody knew the larvae existed, and even then, they only existed in theory since none had been seen or documented.
    Within three to four months, if everything went well, she predicted she could have Murder field-ready. If he learned well, she could have him ready in only two to three months.
     
    She should have known better.
    A family had dropped off their dog, a friendly six-month-old bull terrier named Vader, for a three-week intensive obedience training course. The kids, who had brought donuts with them, left their bag of donuts on the outside table by the porch. After they left and Angie put Vader away, she brought out Murder to work in the front yard where the family had walked. The idea was to challenge him with new smells. The trail was short because she was introducing a new challenge. It led across her front yard and to the carport, where the wasp was hiding behind her pickup. But as soon as Angie commanded Murder to go search by saying “Find buzz,” he turned away from working dog to crazy, unhinged dog with a food disorder. Seventy pounds of dog charged directly for the donuts.
    Angie yelled after Murder. He leaped up on the table and stuffed his head deep into the bag of donuts. His body jerked rhythmically as he inhaled any leftover donuts.
    “Murder! Off!” Angie yelled. The bag of donuts rose in the air and turned from side to side. Murder shook off the bag like a bad cold and galloped up to Angie, grinning with glee. His grin looked maniacal, like a joker hiding a deadly trick. The dog had no evil intentions. He just a lip disfigurement on one side that gave him a sawtooth grin and made him look absolutely diabolical whenever he was overly happy, like he was now with the donuts. She commanded him to sit. He circled her, his butt wagging feverishly, but he did not sit. She waited and glared, her finger pointed to where his butt needed to be resting. Murder circled her again, but this time he rose up and licked Angie’s face like it was covered in icing.
    It took every ounce of control she could muster not to laugh. Later, she would pride herself on her stoicism in the face of such disobedience. Right then, though, she screamed her disgruntlement. It was a sound more than anything else. No words were given. None were needed. Murder knew he was wrong, but he didn’t want to admit it.
    Murder was a