The explosion ripped through the parking garage early on a chilly November morning in 2007. Police and fire crews rushed to the scene, just east of Toronto’s Pearson International Airport, and quickly began setting up command posts as they tried to get a handle on the disaster they suspected was the result of a car bomb. Rescuers had no way of knowing how many people were trapped inside, nor where they might find them beneath the massive pile of broken concrete and twisted metal. What they did know was that the longer it took them to reach the victims, the less likely they were to get them out alive.

Because collapsed buildings are inherently unstable, rescuers risk becoming victims themselves if they rush in. But it can take days for crews to stabilize the structure and make it safe enough for rescuers to enter, so it’s critical that they know exactly where victims are located if they’re to have any hope of reaching them in time.

The best tool for locating victims in disaster situations is an urban search and rescue (USAR) dog, and four of them are on the front line of the Ontario Provincial Police Emergency Response Team, a specialized unit created in the wake of 9/11 to respond to terrorist threats. “Without the dogs, it could take days or even weeks to peel away the debris in the search for survivors,” says Staff Sergeant Wayde Jacklin, head of the OPP canine unit. “Dogs use human scent to pinpoint the location of victims, allowing searchers to focus rescue efforts and resources.”

Human searchers can’t enter the “hot zone” until they’re given the okay by structural engineers, so USAR dogs make preliminary searches on their own. With their speed and agility, they make quick work of locating victims and pointing rescuers in the right direction.

“They allow the search to be concentrated rather than broad,” explains Const. Mike Dallaire, whose dog ‘Moose’ made the initial search of what remained of the parkade. Searching is a game for the large German Shepherd cross, and with the confidence gained from hundreds of practice searches, he quickly dis-
appeared into the rubble. Minutes later, the dog be-gan to bark insistently, indicating that he had located a live victim.

A brilliant idea
Normally a search dog would stay with the victim, barking until its handler arrived. But without permission to enter the structure, the best rescuers could do was direct their efforts toward the area where they had heard the dog bark. Once the dog returned to its handler on the outside, they would have no way of knowing exactly where the victim was located. Information about the victim’s condition, and what obstacles they would encounter during the rescue, would take them days to ascertain. That is, until a computer science professor from Toronto’s Ryerson University came up with an idea that was as improbable as it was brilliant.

Alex Ferworn, director of research for Ryerson’s Network-Centric Applied Research Team, was familiar with robots designed to search disaster scenes and transmit information wirelessly to rescuers on the outside. “But robots never manage to penetrate the rubble pile, while dogs can go in and find victims in minutes,” he reasoned. What if there was a way to combine the abilities of the dog with the technology of robots?

Ferworn contacted agencies across Canada with his idea, but although there was interest, no one could commit to the years of research and development. Then OPP Const. Kevin Barnum replied to Ferworn’s e-mail: “Tell me what you need and I’ll be there with my dog.”

In October 2005, Barnum and his black Labrador Retriever ‘Dare’ (which stands for Disaster Assistance for Rescue and Evacuation) made their first visit to Ferworn’s lab. There, they tested a remote-controlled camera that was mounted in a Sucret’s tin and duct-taped to the top of a sun visor. “It didn’t work at all,” Barnum says, recalling how it had a tendency to slide off the back of his dog’s head. As for the prototype of an audio link meant to allow handlers to communicate remotely with their dogs, Dare was less than impressed with the electronic rendition of his master’s voice. Sensing that the professor needed a better understanding of how USAR dogs work, Barnum invited him to play the part of victim during a day of search training at a demolished building. “I came away with an excellent sense of what their needs were,” Ferworn recalls. And he went back to his lab to begin modifying the designs.

One of the requests Barnum and his fellow handlers had was for a system that would allow the dogs to carry supplies in to victims, to tide them over until rescuers could reach them. They had tried attaching water bottles to their dogs’ collars using Velcro, but victims were unable to remove them. “What I need is something like a garage door opener,” Barnum explained to the professor. “I want to be able to press the button and have something drop from my dog’s harness.” Ferworn had the prototype ready within a week.

Testing the CAT
Two years later, at the parkade disaster site, Const. Denis Harkness strapped the latest version of Ferworn’s design onto his German Shepherd Dog ‘Darby.’ He loaded medical supplies and a radio into a waterproof, fluorescent pack – dubbed the “underdog” because it hangs under the dog’s chest – and attached it to a remote-release clasp between her shoulders.

“Search,” Harkness instructed, and Darby made her way into the rubble pile. Within minutes she began to bark and Harkness pressed the button on the remote control, dropping the underdog pack within the victim’s reach. Moments later, an EMT doctor was able to establish radio contact with the victim.

As the doctor took notes, Darby exited the pile and Barnum slid a different harness onto Dare, this one sporting a remote-operated, infrared camera on each
shoulder. He powered up the cameras, then gave Dare the command to search.
As the dog made his way through the pile, the cameras transmitted live video footage of what rescuers would soon be facing. When the barking began, Barnum used the fluorescent orange underdog Darby had dropped as a visual guide to focus in on the vic-tim, who appeared to be trapped beneath a fallen wall. A mere 30 minutes after the search had begun, rescuers had located their victim, delivered life-saving supplies, made radio contact and gathered enough information to direct their efforts towards extricating him as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Thankfully, the scenario at the parkade wasn’t a real disaster but a training exercise – the largest structural collapse exercise in Canadian history, with over 500 participants from organizations across Canada – and the “victim” was a firefighter who had volunteered for the part. It was also the first time that CAT (short for Canine Augmentation Technology) had been deployed operationally, and although the camera suffered damage during testing, the underdog pack was an overwhelming success.

Back in the lab at Ryerson, Ferworn and his researchers continue to refine their designs. Their most recent development triggers a WiFi node to drop automatically from the harness when the dog begins to bark, providing an instant wireless access point over which CAT can communicate. Graduate student Cristina Ribeiro is putting the finishing touches on a system that uses sensors incorporated into the harness to estimate the dog’s body position, allowing handlers to see a computer-generated model of what their dog is doing. Ferworn has also received a grant to develop a canine brain sensor that will measure the dog’s physiological reaction to conditions in the rubble pile.

How big an impact does this have on USAR operations? “CAT makes it possible for us to do reconnaissance in areas where searchers don’t yet have access,” explains Const. Mike Dolderman. “It allows us to make contact with the victim and share information with engineers and doctors within minutes instead of days,” Barnum adds.

Shortly after Ferworn and the canine handlers had finished their testing, the rest of the rescue team began the painstaking job of searching in the conventional way, by digging their way through the rubble pile. It took 65 searchers 33 hours to make contact with the victim.

Natalie Ann Comeau is a freelance writer with a special interest in working ca­nines. She lives in Oakville, Ont., with her family and two unemployed dogs. E-mail her at nacomeau@cogeco.ca.

(Originally appeared in our March 2009 issue)