Commentary: Falling in love with the puppy who will grow up to save lives

I fell completely in love this week. The night before I met my new beau, I slept in the running clothes I’d wear next morning, hoping to leave my indelible imprint upon his consciousness.

In fact, there were many ways I prepared for our first meeting. Besides the running (bed) clothes, which were not a requirement, I wore a paper towel under my shirt for two hours and rubbed another vigorously on the back of my neck. Then, I double-bagged the towels and set them on my front porch.

That next day I was to participate in training Ekko, a 17-month-old German shepherd search dog. Besides instructions regarding the paper towel, Laurence Sandu, his handler, provided me with a one-mile map, starting and ending at my home, traversing the park across from my house.

Laurence told me to “lay a single path” following the map in the morning, then stay away from the area until after that evening, when Ekko arrived to track.

However, the morning brought fresh worries to mind: At 110 pounds, did I weigh enough to leave sufficient skin particles for a good scent trail? Would the misty morning’s wet sidewalk wash away my scent? Would the scents of dogs and people who walk through the park distract Ekko?

As I traced Laurence’s map, I stamped my feet hard, hoping to dislodge a veritable shower of skin-flake detritus from my running clothes/pajamas.

Retuning to my house after following Laurence’s diagram, I did not allow my feet to touch the ground outside my dwelling for the rest of the day. I went out the back door to my car, which I drove with the air-condition dialed to “recirculate mode” as Laurence instructed. Search dogs have been known to follow vehicles for miles, tracking a scent through an open window.

About 5:30 p.m. that evening, Laurence, along with a mutual friend, Jim, knocked at my door. After I reached up to give Jim a hug, I closed the door so they could get Ekko out of the car and cross the street to the park, beginning Ekko’s search.

I hid, peaking at a slim black form, big ears erect, jumping in anticipation the instant Laurence opened the plastic bag and gave him a sniff. Even from my vantage point half block away, I could see that Ekko loved to work.

Then devastation! Instead of following my path, Ekko went to Jim, then began sniffing the grass.

“It’s not going to work,” I told my husband who joined me. “Ekko’s smelling the grass but I didn’t walk there. I walked on the cement sidewalk!”

Later, Laurence explained that Ekko is trained in “trailing” where the dogs sniff for scent the subject has left behind.

“We have to keep in mind that it was 12 hours later, and your scent had lots of time to get blown around by the wind,” Laurence said. “Also, scent deteriorates much faster on concrete and asphalt then it does on grass or other vegetation, which traps scent much better.”

He added, “It’s common for Ekko to choose to work in shady areas adjacent to the path the subject walked, since that’s where he finds scent molecules that have deteriorated less. Heat from the midday sun and UV rays deteriorate the scent particles, and Ekko instinctually knows this.”

Laurence also trains Ekko for a different type of search called “tracking,” where Ekko follows footprints on grass and dirt. In tracking, the dog smells the ground for disturbance — where someone walked and for crushed blades of grass exposing fresh dirt — not like “trailing” where the sole emphasis is the scent of the human.

Back to the evening of my “trailing,” I awaited Ekko’s return anxiously. Forty minutes after I’d sneaked my surreptitious look from the porch, he came though my open front door.

As Laurence instructed, I looked straight ahead, never initiating eye contact with Ekko, who gave my husband a quick sniff, then sat before me, eyes glued to my presence, ears erect, signaling “The Alert” pose. “This is the one!” he showed Laurence.

“Good dog!” Laurence called out immediately, and nodded to me. I gave Ekko his dinner of kibble and raw meat.

Dinner devoured in a millisecond, I now looked down at the stunning black face, soft amber brown eyes, long sleek body, and bushy tail. “I love you Ekko,” I said.

Ekko was aloof, still in working mode, so I served Laurence and Jim bowls of chile while Ekko curled up under the table.

Over dinner, I asked Laurence, “Is every subject who lays a path as neurotic as I was?”

“Every person who works with us wants Ekko to be successful,” he said. “When we started today, Ekko went to Jim because your greeting hug left fresh scent on him. Ekko probably went to Paul on his way to “alerting” on you for the same reason.

“But don’t worry about competing scents on the path, because Ekko always goes to the freshest scent-path, and besides, real search conditions are not ideal — scents are often mixed when we seek lost hikers, Alzheimer’s patients, and children — and by the way,” he added, “children weigh less than you, so no worries about your weight, either.”

By the end of the evening, Ekko relaxed into regular puppy-dog mode, peeing in my front yard, straining to bark at a passing canine. Yes, I was even more deeply in love, but also my respect grew.

Laurence, who owns a contracting business, puts in 20-hours-a-week training. “Ekko came to me from Germany. We’ve worked together from the first day.”

“I own a library on ‘scent theory,’” he explained.

Holding up a finger to the wind, he said, “I recognize which way the wind moves the scent trail and why Ekko’s path meanders. Ekko has a great nose, but it’s my job to read his body language, help him, and most importantly keep him safe when he’s working.”

Jim described how Ekko kept trailing down residential driveways, following my scent which blew to low spots, scattering from my street-level path, toward neighborhood garages. In other cases, scent gathers against high spots such as street curbs. Laurence’s insight into scent theory works along with Ekko’s 300 million olfactory receptors to trace the trail.

We said goodbye as Jim and Laurence moved toward their cars, but I followed Ekko, unable I stop petting him. Then, in the midst of my strawberry patch, Ekko rolled over on his back for for a tummy scratch. My heart’s forever bound to Ekko, the puppy who will grow up to save lives.

Laurence welcomes volunteers who will have the same rewarding experience I did. Please contact: search9ekko@gmail.com.

Former Daily Pilot columnist CARRIE LUGER SLAYBACK lives in Newport Beach.