This week’s innerview was with a K-9 officer who has devoted his entire life to Serve an ProTECT! Me an my assistant met up with Deputy Doc Joerger at the Sheriff’s compound, in this very big building called a hanger, where there were three helly-copters. It was also headquarters for Special Ops and the K-9 Unit, and there were classrooms, where we waited to meet Deputy Doc.
I’d never met a K-9 officer in the fur, an I was very excited an a liddle nervous. I stood up straight and put on my Serious Face (which isn’t easy when you have long curly ears). We heard toenails clicking down the hall, and into the room burst this BIG, hansome, black German Shepherd, 100 pounds of muscle, wearing a collar and olive-green uniform halter, on a lead held by his human partner.
“G-Good afternoon,” I gulped. “I’m Bonzo, an this is my assistant. I greatly appreciate your agreeing to an innerview.”
Doc was carryin’ a long red stuffed something-or-other, which he later explained is called a ‘Tug.’ (I think it’s something to keep his mouth busy when he’s not apprehending bad guys.) He peetoo-ied it out. “How’s it going, Bonzo? This is my partner (an my Dad), Deputy Shane Joerger. We’re happy to meet with you. Most pooches aren’t aware of what we do. Please, have a seat.”
We all sat. “I’m honored to have the opportunity to share your story,” I told him. “I’m intrested in how you got into law enforcement and how you an your partner got together.”
“First,” Doc said, “I must tell you that dogs like myself do not socialize much with the general pooch population. None of the usual stuff like tumblin’ around or that wag-an-sniff thing. We have to be laser-focused and always ready for our partner’s commands. No matter how big an strong an scary we are, our partners are always the One-an-Only Boss of Us. All seven Sheriff’s Office teams are like a brotherhood: Dep. Reimsnyder an Kobi; Dep. Adamson an Bud-D; Dep. Henson an Falko; Dep. Curby an Bane; Dep. Holly an Ruckus; Sgt. Mathisen an Marco; an me an Dad.
“I’m originally from the Netherlands: Born an raised for law enforcement. My name back then was Okar. When I was 1, I got my shots an my passport, an traveled to Southern Coast K-9 here in Florida, where they supply dogs for law enforcement. Me an my classmates started training right away. I’m what’s called a dual-purpose dog, cuz I do regular patrol and also bomb or drug detection.”
“Woof!”
“My Dad was at Southern Coast K-9 lookin’ for a partner: a dog with lots of energy, enthusiasm an the right attitude; an I was hopin’ for the same thing in a human partner. We found all that an more in each other. At first, we worked for the VBPD. My name got changed to Doc because a nice human, Dr. Ioannides, donated the money to buy me. (We usually cost about $7,000 to $10,000.) When Dad went to work at the Sheriff’s Office, I was concerned that we’d be split up. Dad was the most important person in my life. But I shouldda known Dad couldn’t do that. He bought me from the pleece department so we could keep bein’ a team. We went through 3 months of training – sniffing, tracking, apprehending, bitework – 480 hours, for certification.
“The K-9 teams’ vee-hickles have special a/c, fans an electronics so our partners can monitor the tem-puh-chur when we’re inside waiting for them. If it gets to a certain level, alarms go off an the windows automatically open.”
Doc looked me right in the eyes. “It’s hard to describe the bond between a K-9 an his partner, Bonzo. We always have each other’s backs. We know each other like nobody else does. We do regular stuff like patrol, tracking and search warrants, but we’ve also gone through some scary stuff together.”
“What sorta stuff?”
“Well, earlier this year, we were on patrol in the truck. We’d stopped a driver for DUI …”
“Um, DUI?”
“Sometimes humans drink stuff that makes ’em act goofy, if they have too much. Then they do things they usually wouldn’t, like talk real loud or drive real fast. It’s called Driving Under the Influence or drunk driving. Dangerous, dumb an against the law.”
“Why do they do that?”
“I’ve never understood that. It’s a human thing. So, we’d pulled this guy over on the side of the highway. Dad was givin’ him a ticket, an I was waiting in the truck. Then, BLAM! this other DUI guy slammed into the back of the truck. Totaled both vee-hickles. I got knocked around pretty good (an was off duty for a while). Then another DUI human got involved, too. There were patrol cars an ambulances. It was Crazy Kibbles.”
I was speechless.
“Then,” Doc continued, “a few months ago we gotta call about another human driving drunk, being pursued by Brevard County officers. Me an Dad an lotsa other units responded. We put those pointy Stop Sticks on the highway to slowly deflate the guy’s tires. But even with two tires gone, he just kept going. Then he tried to cross over and go the other way. Our lanes were closed but there were lotsa cars still going north. We hadda stop him so me an Dad rammed his vee-hickle. Then we jumped out and started toward the suspect. (That’s what we call ’em, The suspect.) That’s when he started shooting.”
“Wha-aat?”
“We took cover and returned fire. (That means shooting back.) The suspect got off about 10 rounds before we grabbed him.”
I took a breath. “What do you do off duty?”
“Dad says I’m a Big Bowling Ball. We take walks; I hang out with Mom, she’s Bethany; I play with my human sisters Ellie, 1, and Zoey, 6. When Dad’s home, us guys stick together.”
Heading home, I thought about Doc an the other brave K-9s who devote their lives to protecting the rest of us. I was moved. An I decided I’d swim more laps, eat less bread and go for a daily run. Maybe every other day. Or weekly.
Till next time,
The Bonz
