The following story appeared in an EDITED
version in the Oct. AKC Gazette.

Molly

The small Schip sat quietly on the shore. The morning was already hot. He moved to sit in the shade cast by his handler.  They were about to go to work. He shifted to allow the child to touch him. He could smell the tension and fear. His eyes looked up for his human partner...ready?

It had been a long 4 hours in the car. Wooly was rested and I was tired. The sadness surrounded us and made us quiet. No one played, the lake was calm and tranquil. Death waited.

I listened to the briefing. Molly was blonde, blue eyed, 8 years old, and missing. A boat outing turned tragic, when upon reaching the shore, the loving parents found the child had somehow slipped from the ski boat.

That was yesterday. Today we were here to locate the child for the divers to recover her. The gift of closure from our team. Wooly moved to the water and sniffed, as they brought out the search boats.

There were four teams of handlers and two scouts. One by one we took to the boats. First was Clay and Moose, a Golden. Then Sharon and Bubba, a Dobie. Next Janie and her Curly coat, Opie. I scented Wooly on the little girl's doll, and told him our command..  "FIND MOLLY!". The Schip drew looks as we pulled out to start the search.

ALERT! The minute I had pulled away from the dock to take my position on the search grid, Wooly had gone to hang over the side of the boat! I called to the team to my left and they too had a dog showing an alert. Was it going to be this easy? We had a mile square to search. This was only 150 yards off of the boat docks.

Back and forth we sent the boats. Each time Wooly crossed that sector, we had his alert. "MARK"  I called to my scout. He would take a bearing from the compass and landmarks to see if we had stayed within the zone. "Yes..yes," his quiet answer came.."It's the same."

I returned to the shore to report. We made a plan to blind search it one at a time. Clay checked the alert area first. As he returned to shore, it was Sharon and Bubba's turn. I could hear Bubba's deep bark of alert.  Then it was my  turn again, and Wooly once again marked the same zone.

Three of us then went together with Bubba, for the placing of the marker. All of us had indicated in a 100' zone. The marker was placed in the middle, close to where Wooly had hit. His accuracy was legend, and he never missed his mark by more than 30 feet.

The State police came in with the cameras and the search began in earnest. Several boats used drags. Shore markers were set up. The water was about 80 to 90 feet deep at that spot. We sat in the hot sun of August and waited.

A storm rolled in late in the afternoon. We took shelter with the dogs on the covered boat docks. It raged around us with thunder and winds shaking the floating docks. Wooly lay sleeping next to me, waiting. Bubba amused himself with chasing fish that swam about the docks. Quiet and peace lay like a blanket around us as the elements raged.

Soon a new searcher appeared. Booker had been with Sharon and Bubba that past spring. He and his dog had never worked water, but understood scent work. He asked Sharon and me to recheck in case the storm had changed the mark. We invited him along to ride with Wooly.

The rain gently fell as we moved out from the dock The Schip looked off to his right from his bow position. We turned to the left and he lost interest. First he sat, then curled against the rain as we moved up the far side of the channel. Nothing.

"Swing into the east side," I called to my boat driver. He was a great handler for me, and seemed to know just which way to turn to put my dog into the wind. Wooly sat up. Looking far into the wind, he shook the rain from his shiny black coat and sniffed the water. Searching. ALERT! and I looked up to see the marker not 20 feet away. Once again he had told us "THIS IS IT" with his soft whine and touching the top of the water.

Our work finished, Booker assured me he would call me as soon as they had a recovery. We headed home. Both dogs slept, as it had been 9 hours. They had served us well and enjoyed the partnership of the search.

The call came at 7:30 a.m. the next morning. Molly had been recovered 20 feet west of the marker in 83 feet of water. The gift of closure had been once again given by my small black Schip.

[Stories Home]  [Burning Need]  [The Flood]  [Molly]  [Aaron]  [Just Another Day]  [Water Search]  [Mock Search]  [Murder Most Foul]  [Gone Fishing]  [Once Again]  [Cossatot River Search]  [Return to Life]  [Too Old for This]  [Lord Vincent] [Up From The Depths]  [Citizenship]    [Search Schip]  [Marmaduke Search]  [Lilly and Jamie]  [White Water Killer]  [Blood, Sweat 'N Cheers]