Gordon Thorburn - Cassius--The True Story of a Courageous Police Dog

F or a January night on the edge of the moors, it could have been colder. Even so, she was more likely to be found dead than alive. The other possibility, more likely still, was nothing. The old girl had done this before gone missing. Someone had rung the police that time saying there was an ancient and dotty lady on the bus to Clufford, a large northern industrial town, telling everyone she was meeting her fianc, home from the war, and hed be taking her for a stroll along the prom to see the pierrots.

On balance, thought PC Sleightholm, as he turned his van into the lane leading to the nursing home, it was not a promising job. This would be the first find-and-speak he and Cassius had done where the item to be found was not a car thief, burglar, armed robber or other criminal type. When Cassius found and spoke, bouncing on his front paws and showing his magnificent set of teeth, criminal types tended to stand still and tremble. If they didnt, Cassius bit them hard and ripped their clothes to shreds, as he was trained to do. This would not be quite the thing for a frail 96-year-old woman with angina and Alzheimers. Finding without terrifying would be a challenge for both dog and man.

The bad news was that the nursing-home grounds had already been searched, three times. Any tracks the missing person might have left would have been confused with those of the staff, the two section officers who had answered the original call and two from Traffic whod turned up as well. At least the other worst enemies of scent strong winds and hot, drying sun had not been operating, but the obstacles were still sufficient to defeat some dogs. Most dogs, even, muttered Sleightholm to himself. But not his Cassius, at that point sound asleep in the back of the van.

The grounds would be extensive, too, he thought, as his headlights picked out the enormous and fancy wrought-iron double gates between gateposts surmounted by stone lions couchant; then they revealed a wide shingle drive that took a long, gentle, spacious curve with, on either side, grassland leading to woods, then up to a pillared portico big enough to hold a board meeting. In the old days, he thought, thered have been footmen to answer the door to the gentry while he, a common copper, would have gone around the back to the tradesmens entrance.

A neat and tidy girl a bit tubby, aged about eighteen, dark hair in a bun opened half of the oak double doors and ushered the police officer into the hallway. Panelled walls, parquet floor, paintings up the staircase; if it hadnt been changed into a nursing home it would have to have been a country-house hotel. Or maybe a pop star would have bought it.

Suppers over and cleared away, the girl explained,so most of the staff have gone, and the manager. She was the one who called you. But Ill show you round outside if you like.

Sleightholm politely declined the offer and went back to his van on the drive. A thin, hazy layer of cloud blocked most of the light from a half moon and, with curtains drawn, little help came from the house. Behind it there were vague shapes of buildings, a barn or an old cart shed, perhaps; to the front, open expanses sloping down to the lane, and trees, plenty of trees. He had no idea how far the grounds went. It wasnt a great estate, but there seemed to be enough of it to provide a thousand places for a small person to hide. Nursing-home owners like a lawn and a few sheltered spots for the residents to sit in the summer sun and, for a home as upmarket as this, a few quid could be added to the tariff for panoramic vistas across its own parkland to the valley below.

Maybe therell be bluebells in the spring, mused Sleightholm to nobody as he opened the van door without much optimism. Come on, Cass, he said, softly. The dog leaped out, instantly awake, eager as ever, anticipating, ears up, tail going. His master led him to a corner and said, Empty. Obediently, on this occasion, Cassius lifted his leg.

The light breeze was south-westerly, so the pair of hunters made their way into it, to the wrought-iron gates. At the boundary, a high stone wall, Cassius was told to sit at his masters side. It made sense to divide the ground up and here was the obvious first area, to the left of the driveway: roughly half-and-half mown meadow and unkempt woods. The dog would need six or eight sweeps to check it out.

Cassius was on his toes, ready to go. Had it been an urgent, difficult search with a dangerous criminal at the end of it, Sleightholm would have geed the dog up a lot more. Here it was urgent and difficult all right, but the target was a small, fragile, possibly hypothermic old lady with a bad heart. That is, if she was still alive. Thoughts of Little Red Riding Hood went through the policemans mind. Cassius, what big teeth youve got.

Cassius listened to his orders being whispered. Normally he would have heard, Hey you, this is the police, come out or Ill send the dog, twice, in a loud and threatening tone. Tonight, Sleightholm cut it down to one Come out or I will send the dog and struggled to say those familiar trigger words in a quiet, soothing way. The second trigger followed almost by way of an apology. Where is he? was almost inaudible. Even the wave of the arm in the desired direction was hardly demonstrative.

What? Cassius, like all good police dogs, was a conservative. He could adapt to change but that didnt mean he liked it, and yet again his master was asking something new of him, or at least the old familiar thing in an entirely new way. Still, he knew what was required and he was off, questing this way and that, his nose sifting through the thin layer of air just above the ground that would hold any remnant of the smell that shouldnt have been there, the smell that didnt fit, the smell that said follow me.

Sleightholm stayed as close to the dog as he could, also looking with his torch, giving the odd prompt of Where is he? but sotto voce. Any little alteration in Cassiuss demeanour might show he was on to something but, for the first search, he was going through the motions and no more.

The pair went to another starting point on the opposite side of the drive. It was similar ground, grassland rising and falling, woods towards the boundary wall. Cassius went away with his usual enthusiasm, quickly decided there was no fun to be had here and came back, as if to say, OK boss, done that. Next?

Sleightholm wasnt satisfied, snapped his fingers and pointed the dog back to work. Cassius looked, saw and went. When he tried to cut another corner, because he knew there was nothing there, his methodical master, who didnt know there was nothing there, redirected him with a Cass. Where is he?