Ned Heasty was supposed to retire three years ago.
Though he enjoyed his job as a Sacramento County sheriff's deputy, he was really looking forward to the next chapter: He and his wife would buy property in Baja, Mexico, and build a house.
For years, that was the plan, but then things changed. Instead of a 2005 retirement, Heasty, 61, will retire Thursday.
His departure was delayed because in 2002, a big dog that seemed to be all business walked into Heasty's life.
Heasty and Tyson, an 85-pound German shepherd, became a team, patrolling the Sacramento International Airport looking for explosive devices.
Tyson was the talent, a genius, really, when it came to subdividing scents. His incredible nose could sniff out the ingredients of a bomb better than any human contraption.
Heasty was simply there with the leash, marveling at his dog's work ethic, his seriousness, the abundance of loyalty, that unconditional love. It was all very humbling.
The two are together 24 hours a day.
"Ned and his dog are really committed to each other. That dog follows Ned around and watches everything he does," said the deputy's mother, Barbara Heasty of Citrus Heights.
As Heasty's original retirement target date crept nearer, this burly ol' dog was tugging at his heart.
It had been that way since the second week of training at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, when Tyson would be looking for Heasty and Heasty couldn't wait to get to the kennel to get his dog. It wouldn't be long before he would put those Baja plans on hold.
Ned Heasty realized that if he retired, he would have to turn Tyson over to another handler when the dog was in its prime. The impeccable pedigree combined with intensive training makes Tyson worth about $50,000.
Besides, his mother and wife and practically everyone else who got to know Tyson were ready to put the kibosh on giving up the dog.
So no one was startled when Heasty one day made an extraordinary announcement. He informed his superiors that he wanted to work three more years and go out when Tyson was ready to call it quits, too.
By then, Tyson would be 8 and ready to slow down.
"Ned told me, 'This dog is so full of energy that I want to see it through,' " recalled Lt. Paul Tassone, a supervisor with the Sheriff's Department's airport division. "He could have retired, and instead he stayed on board."
"I would have been very depressed if I had to send him back to the kennels and he was assigned to someone else," said Heasty, looking over at Tyson as the dog rested under an office desk at the airport. "To have to say goodbye to this dog would have been very tough. I spend more time with him than I do with my wife – and she has pointed that out."
Dena Heasty, a retired elementary schoolteacher, understood right away.
"You're never going to be able to give him back," she said. "It would be like reading a really good book and not having the last chapter."
Turns out, a spinal condition sped the process for Tyson. The dog now works doubly hard to stretch and stoop and stand on his hind legs during his workday.
Heasty and Tyson have scoured the airport and the aircraft for signs of explosive devices. Their ability to get it right every time has been a matter of life and death.
In order to keep the dog sharp, Heasty would routinely hide something that contained the scent of explosives. When Tyson sniffed it out, the dog got to play with his Kong – a big chunk of hard rubber.
"I really enjoyed what I was doing. I got to come to work every day and try to outsmart this dog," Heasty said.
Those who worked around the airport loved to see Tyson. Passengers would stop and watch and point and smile. Heasty noticed that everyone seemed to know Tyson, but few knew the deputy by name.
The first member of the Sheriff's Department's Canine Explosive Detection Team was a mixed-breed dog named Runway. Once a stray, Runway became something of a celebrity and never missed a day from Sept. 10, 2001, her first day, until she retired last May at age 10.
Her handler, Deputy Larry Berwick, was so attached to the dog that he remained in the airport detail but opted not to get another working dog.
By the time Heasty was paired with Tyson, he and his wife already had a dog, an aging Labrador retriever named McGee. Whereas Tyson is a one-man dog, McGee loves everybody. Tyson is fearless. McGee is afraid of his shadow.
Tyson and Heasty didn't hit it off right away. Typical of German shepherds, the dog was aloof to a stranger.
"I was disappointed at first," Heasty said.
In retirement, Tyson will likely go through an adjustment period. Even with his aching back, the dog still loves to work. On walks, he can soon sniff for sniffing's sake. He'll get treats for the first time in his life.
At the farewell gathering Thursday, Tyson will wonder what all the fuss is about and why everyone is scratching his head more than normal, why folks keep telling him how wonderful he is.
Tyson is a product of operant conditioning – when he does something good, he's rewarded. He understands nothing about how Heasty put off retirement.
But he knows they will be together tomorrow and the day after that. To this dog, that's what matters most.
Call The Bee's Blair Anthony Robertson, (916) 321-1099.
