I had worked as a K9 handler with the Seattle Police Department for eight years, and my partner Titan had never once ignored a direct command.
He was a ninety-pound Belgian Malinois with a flawless service record. On duty, he was relentless and precise. Off duty, he behaved like an oversized family dog.
That freezing Sunday afternoon at Centennial Park was supposed to be routine.
Families filled the park. Children played across the lawn. Parents pushed strollers along the paths. Titan walked calmly beside my left leg with a loose leash and no sign of unusual tension.
I was completely relaxed.
Then Titan suddenly stopped.
His entire body became rigid.
The fur along his spine rose.
A deep growl came from his chest.
I had heard that sound only once before.
Something was wrong.
I gave the command.
Titan, heel.
For the first time in five years together, he ignored me.
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