BUREAU TRAINS DOGS TO DETECT DRUGS, MONEY

For months after Max the cocker spaniel came to live with her, Estelle
Cappony-Stroud played ball nonstop during the day and struggled to
sleep with a slobbery ball under her chin at night.

"The first night, I knew there was something. He was really obsessed
with his ball. ... He couldn't do anything without a ball in his
mouth," said Cappony-Stroud, Oklahoma City representative of Okie
Dokie Cocker Spaniel Rescue.

She picked up the black-and-white spaniel Memorial Day weekend from
the Norman Animal Shelter and took him in as a "foster mom" for the
Grove-based rescue group. She initially thought his frenetic behavior
might be a reaction to the transition from the shelter to her home.
So, she locked herself with him in her bedroom for three days and
tried to calm him.

"Max didn't settle very well. He just kept playing ball," she said. "I
just didn't know what to do with him because he couldn't get adopted
because he was so busy."

But Max's obsessive behavior has gained him a job as a drug dog. He is
one of two canines training with the Oklahoma Bureau of Narcotics and
Dangerous Drugs.

"It's bad dogs gone good. ... A lot of these dogs have been told no,
no, no all their life, and now we're telling them yes, yes, yes. We
encourage that behavior," said Cindy Cunningham, chief agent for the
bureau's canine division.

Obsessive-compulsive canines The bureau often gets canines to train as
drug dogs from animal shelters and rescue groups, Cunningham said. In
some cases, the drug dog program is the only thing standing between an
unwanted dog and euthanasia.

"There's no particular breed that really retrieves any better than any
others, and the dogs who are strays are not afraid to be out there
dodging cars and wading through traffic. ... They're used to outdoor
environments," she said.

She looks for "obsessive-compulsive retrievers," dogs who are obsessed
with balls or toys. Only one in several hundred dogs will have the
obsessive trait.

"Then you can train the dog to go after drugs no matter what's going
on. ... Not any old dog from the shelter or a rescue can do it. It's
just a very rare dog that can do this," she said.

The bureau trains dogs for its three canine interdiction handlers and
helps police departments and sheriff's offices around the state find
and train drug dogs, Cunningham said. Many departments can't afford to
pay a company $3,000-$5,000 for a trained dog.

For the training, which lasts about a month, the trainers attach a bag
of marijuana to a toy and hide it in an open field. The dogs associate
the marijuana smell with the toy, and they learn to search for the
scent in automobiles, freight, luggage and outdoor places. The agents
test the animals in drug-free circumstances so they learn not to give
false alerts, Cunningham said.

Once the dogs have mastered the idea with the strong odor of
marijuana, the agents introduce them to heroine, methamphetamine and
cocaine. The dogs also learn to sniff out drug money.

"It's a simple concept," she said. "And the longer we train them, the
better they get."

"The Chicken Killer" Allen Lane, a senior agent with the bureau, waves
the chewed-up ball from side to side, then up and down. But even
faking a few throws and hiding it briefly can't fool Brandy. As soon
as Lane tosses the ball, the Belgian Malinoise snatches it out of the
air.

The bureau's newest canine team has been working together since
December, when Lane was assigned to the canine division. They have
about a week of training left.

"Brandy and I are doing great. She lives with me. All our dogs stay
with the handler so they have that one-on-one attention all the time.
. I've got two other dogs at home, and she just rips and runs and
plays," Lane said.

Cunningham said dog trainer Jerry Busby of Waurika referred Brandy to
the bureau. Brandy's owner was searching for a new home for the dog
because she was killing his wife's chickens. After taking her in for
training, Cunningham jokingly nicknamed the dog "the Chicken Killer."

"She's always looking for something," Lane said. "They calm down at
night once they're on the job because they're worked all day. We work
10-hour shifts, and at the end of it, they're tired."

Max's purpose After hours of working with Cunningham, Max still darts
around her office, chasing a miniature basketball. He often stops to
sniff a box containing drugs and looks at her expectantly.

"Max, are you done yet? He says, 'If I have breath in my body, I'm
going to use it looking for my ball,'" said Cunningham, who has
playfully dubbed the dog "Maximum Sentence."

In the past eight months, Cappony-Stroud said Max has patrolled
countertops, raided her makeup bag and followed his ball to the top of
her entertainment center. His owner turned him in to the Norman
shelter because he kept climbing her fence.

"Max just has to stay busy, and if you don't give him something to do,
he'll find something to do," Cappony-Stroud said.

The rescue volunteer heard about the bureau's drug dog training
through the Moore Animal Shelter. She was initially reluctant to have
Max tested for the program. But Max's first and only adoption attempt
lasted only two days, and she realized finding him a good home was
unlikely.

"This isn't what I wanted for Max. I wanted him to be a normal dog and
live in a home, but I had to come to the realization he's never going
to be," Cappony-Stroud said. "He needs a job."

After he completes his training, the cocker spaniel will be placed
with the Craig County Sheriff's Office in Vinita. The officer who will
work with Max is coming to Oklahoma City next week to work with the
dog, Cunningham said.

Cappony-Stroud said she plans to meet Max's new handler and keep tabs
on the dog. Max has continued to live with her throughout training,
and she expects the day he leaves will be emotional.

"I hope and pray the handler and him will be partners and this will be
good for both of them," she said. "I worry about Max. ... but he has a
purpose now. That's who he is. His little tail wags. He's happy. He
loves it."