This is PD Chum my last Police dog. I was an instructor at the dog school when I first saw Chum, a nice looking dog but just such a wimp and due to be disposed of as unsuitable (given to a good home). In those days sergeant’s were largely managerial and therefore weren’t allocated dogs, and I heard through the grapevine I was to be promoted to SGT and posted north very soon. Armed with this information I approached the boss and asked if I could make something of one of the recruit failures could I reteam, the boss agreed and so I went through the kennels for a look see. At that time there was only one failure ‘Chum’. When tested in his home environment Chum had passed with flying colours and been recruited, but on removal from his home had dropped his bundle and become a great wimp.
In the two weeks he had been at the school he had hidden in his kennel refusing to come out. For the next week every lunchtime I took my lunch and went and sat in the kennel with him, me on the floor Chum in his box. Once or twice he poked his head out to see if I was still there but then abruptly ducked back inside again refusing to come out until the coast was clear, and so it went for a little over a week. After that he managed a little courage and came out to sniff at my feet but refused to come close or let me touch him. Another few days passed and at last he allowed me to pat him a few days more and he would greet me at the gate and a few days after that after that he would rush at me when I entered his kennel, barging into my knees and falling to the ground a great quivering, whimpering, excited wreck at me feet. From that day on until we were parted he greeted me the exact same way, barging into my knees and falling on the ground at my feet a quivering, wriggling excited heap.
After that I began taking him for walks; unfortunately, being taken away from his home and familiar surrounding had a profound affect on Chum, everything new was to be feared: A stick on the ground, a fluttering shopping bag on the fence, an old tyre, someone walking in the distance, but most of all those large white LPG cylinders - he was terrified of them.
I enlisted the aid of one of the sergeants, giving him instructions to sneak around, looking suspicious scampering off and behaving cowardly whenever Chum half barked. Eventually Chum began to grow a couple and wanted to give chase, barking loudly and straining at the leash. Over the next few months Chum gained greatly in confidence; but, only as long as I was by his side. Chum had plateaued just short of being acceptable as a police dog and so I started to look for a home for him, sure he just didn’t have what it took to become a police dog. One day, out of the blue, Chum dogged up and lashed out at someone passing by, and all when I wasn’t there, from that day on he became a real threat, knocking aggressors down and biting so hard nothing less than a thick leather protective arm could protect the aggressor from his bite. Chum was also extremely fast and as he ran his long hair seem to float about him and thus he became known as the flying rug, I simply called him Choo Choo or Chewy. We achieved a staff pass for the reteam and were posted north, I to take up the position as head of training and husbandry, Chum as my police dog and training aid. Chum was now Police Dog Chum and was allocated his service number.
Over the next few years at our new base I continued to train Chum and although we never performed patrols of the base we did many, many demonstrations for school kids. Letters from schoolkids would arrive addressed to PD Chum, in the letters the kids would thank Chum and say how much they enjoyed him demonstrating his skills, I was jealous not once did I get a mention. As it turned out, of my three dogs, Chum was the hardest hitting and hardest biting of all, on a number of occasions managing to knock aggressors off their feet whereupon I had to hastily step in to prevent injury to the aggressor, Chum had truly become a real police dog.
Eventually I was posted overseas and knowing this was a death sentence for Chum, I opted not to take him and scouted for a suitable handler to reteam with Chum before I departed. Unofficially I oversaw Chum's reteaming with his new handler before they departed for an official reteam at the school, but all the while Chum could not take his eyes off me.
Move on 5 years, three postings and one more step up the ladder - Flight Sergeant. On the grapevine I heard Chum’s handler was discharging so hastily made enquiries regarding Chums health and suitability, I was assured he was in excellent health and temperamentally sound and so I applied to HQ to have Chum shipped over from the east to take up the position of pool dog at my new base (pool dogs are standbys to be used when a handler’s dog dies or is ill). Although I could in no way reteam or be allocated another dog due to rank and position I was happy that we would be reunited. Two weeks later a Herc landed with Chum on board and I was waiting on the tarmac for him, all set for our happy reunion.
Reunions aren’t always what they are cracked up to be, after all Chum and I had been through he didn’t recognise me and didn’t until the day he died. When I went to the kennels to see him I greeted him in the same way I always had, he would cock his head and wag his tail seeming to say ‘that seems familiar‘, but never again did he greet me with the same unbridled excitement and passion he once had. When I took him in the exercise yard and set him off lead he would remain aloof and wander to the other side as though I was just another handler, when I trained him or put him through his paces he performed faultlessly but never again did we share that close bond we forged together earlier in our careers - this absolutely shattered me.
Still, I was happy to be reunited, I continued visiting Chum whenever I could, taking him out at night to run him through his paces, bathing and grooming him or just simply sitting in the exercise yard with him. It was obvious that Chum was not in such good health as I was told, he was now 10, a great age for a police dog, but he had late stage hip dysplasia and a few rather large lumps over his torso. He continued to work well but unfortunately could not walk far or put too much pressure on his hind quarters. I realised I was going to have to make 'that' terrible decision but decided to wait until I returned from leave, I have always insisted on taking my dogs for their last walk to the Vet so I could hold them as they took their last breath. Extremely upsetting for me but this I always considered was my responsibility, my right and most of all my mates right. When I came back from leave I found Chum had been euthanised in my absence by the Ahole I had put in charge of dog section., a sneaky trick I thought- shattered once again. Chum departed this world 21 years ago. But he lives on in my memory and on my study wall with Dante and Shinta.
In the two weeks he had been at the school he had hidden in his kennel refusing to come out. For the next week every lunchtime I took my lunch and went and sat in the kennel with him, me on the floor Chum in his box. Once or twice he poked his head out to see if I was still there but then abruptly ducked back inside again refusing to come out until the coast was clear, and so it went for a little over a week. After that he managed a little courage and came out to sniff at my feet but refused to come close or let me touch him. Another few days passed and at last he allowed me to pat him a few days more and he would greet me at the gate and a few days after that after that he would rush at me when I entered his kennel, barging into my knees and falling to the ground a great quivering, whimpering, excited wreck at me feet. From that day on until we were parted he greeted me the exact same way, barging into my knees and falling on the ground at my feet a quivering, wriggling excited heap.
After that I began taking him for walks; unfortunately, being taken away from his home and familiar surrounding had a profound affect on Chum, everything new was to be feared: A stick on the ground, a fluttering shopping bag on the fence, an old tyre, someone walking in the distance, but most of all those large white LPG cylinders - he was terrified of them.
I enlisted the aid of one of the sergeants, giving him instructions to sneak around, looking suspicious scampering off and behaving cowardly whenever Chum half barked. Eventually Chum began to grow a couple and wanted to give chase, barking loudly and straining at the leash. Over the next few months Chum gained greatly in confidence; but, only as long as I was by his side. Chum had plateaued just short of being acceptable as a police dog and so I started to look for a home for him, sure he just didn’t have what it took to become a police dog. One day, out of the blue, Chum dogged up and lashed out at someone passing by, and all when I wasn’t there, from that day on he became a real threat, knocking aggressors down and biting so hard nothing less than a thick leather protective arm could protect the aggressor from his bite. Chum was also extremely fast and as he ran his long hair seem to float about him and thus he became known as the flying rug, I simply called him Choo Choo or Chewy. We achieved a staff pass for the reteam and were posted north, I to take up the position as head of training and husbandry, Chum as my police dog and training aid. Chum was now Police Dog Chum and was allocated his service number.
Over the next few years at our new base I continued to train Chum and although we never performed patrols of the base we did many, many demonstrations for school kids. Letters from schoolkids would arrive addressed to PD Chum, in the letters the kids would thank Chum and say how much they enjoyed him demonstrating his skills, I was jealous not once did I get a mention. As it turned out, of my three dogs, Chum was the hardest hitting and hardest biting of all, on a number of occasions managing to knock aggressors off their feet whereupon I had to hastily step in to prevent injury to the aggressor, Chum had truly become a real police dog.
Eventually I was posted overseas and knowing this was a death sentence for Chum, I opted not to take him and scouted for a suitable handler to reteam with Chum before I departed. Unofficially I oversaw Chum's reteaming with his new handler before they departed for an official reteam at the school, but all the while Chum could not take his eyes off me.
Move on 5 years, three postings and one more step up the ladder - Flight Sergeant. On the grapevine I heard Chum’s handler was discharging so hastily made enquiries regarding Chums health and suitability, I was assured he was in excellent health and temperamentally sound and so I applied to HQ to have Chum shipped over from the east to take up the position of pool dog at my new base (pool dogs are standbys to be used when a handler’s dog dies or is ill). Although I could in no way reteam or be allocated another dog due to rank and position I was happy that we would be reunited. Two weeks later a Herc landed with Chum on board and I was waiting on the tarmac for him, all set for our happy reunion.
Reunions aren’t always what they are cracked up to be, after all Chum and I had been through he didn’t recognise me and didn’t until the day he died. When I went to the kennels to see him I greeted him in the same way I always had, he would cock his head and wag his tail seeming to say ‘that seems familiar‘, but never again did he greet me with the same unbridled excitement and passion he once had. When I took him in the exercise yard and set him off lead he would remain aloof and wander to the other side as though I was just another handler, when I trained him or put him through his paces he performed faultlessly but never again did we share that close bond we forged together earlier in our careers - this absolutely shattered me.
Still, I was happy to be reunited, I continued visiting Chum whenever I could, taking him out at night to run him through his paces, bathing and grooming him or just simply sitting in the exercise yard with him. It was obvious that Chum was not in such good health as I was told, he was now 10, a great age for a police dog, but he had late stage hip dysplasia and a few rather large lumps over his torso. He continued to work well but unfortunately could not walk far or put too much pressure on his hind quarters. I realised I was going to have to make 'that' terrible decision but decided to wait until I returned from leave, I have always insisted on taking my dogs for their last walk to the Vet so I could hold them as they took their last breath. Extremely upsetting for me but this I always considered was my responsibility, my right and most of all my mates right. When I came back from leave I found Chum had been euthanised in my absence by the Ahole I had put in charge of dog section., a sneaky trick I thought- shattered once again. Chum departed this world 21 years ago. But he lives on in my memory and on my study wall with Dante and Shinta.
