Todd Bartelstein’s first student is a German shepherd named Jordan. As Bartelstein pulls padded overalls over his clothes and adds a knit cap and arm pads, Jordan begins to whine insistently, like a car alarm.
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Bartelstein has been training dogs this way for more than 13 years. He suffered his first serious bite while training a police dog ten years ago. The dog clamped down on his forearm for a few seconds, and he couldn’t open or close his hand for two weeks afterward. He says your first really bad bite is make-or-break in this business. He’s had plenty of them since; his fingers look like they’ve been through a food processor. “I don’t know,” he says. “I enjoy it.”
Trained dogs “have been taught what a real threat is,” says Elana. “Some old lady tripping on her cane that startles you doesn’t mean turn and nail her, which many dogs do.” Her husband maintains that protection training is “a higher degree of obedience, because now you have control over what your dog naturally will know how to do. It’s the same as if you were to send your kid to karate. It’s actually going to make more of a gentleman out of him, not a bully.” For the dogs, Bartelstein says, “the reward is the fight.”
Dog trainers, like dogs, don’t need a license to train. They can go through certification programs such as those offered by the Association of Pet Dog Trainers, but they don’t have to. The risks that come with teaching your dog to attack are big: If a dog hurts someone in a nonthreatening situation, the owner is liable. The dog may be killed, and the owner will at least pay a fine.
Robin, another bulldog owner, nods. “He’s broad, yeah,” she says. “That’s it.”
As soon as Anaya gives the order and releases him, Blue leaps at Bartelstein, knocks him down, and stands on his chest. Then, with the man writhing underneath him, Blue shakes his snout repeatedly back and forth against his throat. If the muzzle weren’t on, Bartelstein would be severely mangled, at least.
