Colt excelled in narcotics detection and tracking. He loved to find narcotics and never failed. When put out to track, he would always locate the person he was tracking. I remember one time down south on I-25, we were tracking a shooting suspect who had run from us in Highlands Ranch. The state patrol ultimately used a TVI (tactical vehicle intervention) maneuver to stop the vehicle. The driver fled on foot and was believed to have a gun. I put Colt on the track, and as we tracked, I realized he was getting tired. I carried him up one final hill and decided to take him off his long leash. I remember saying, "Okay, buddy, steak dinner if you find this guy." I gave him his command to search, and within another minute, I watched him jump into a bush and grab the suspect by the leg. Yes, he got his dinner.

In his lengthy retirement, Colt became a huge part of my family. He still wanted to work, but took on the responsibility of being the family dog and house protector. He never once got nasty, but was always there for my kids and wife. He would just lay with them and act as any normal house dog would. He still did things to me around the house and property that I think he knew would upset me, like stealing tools when I was using them and then not giving them back. A Malinois with a shovel or hammer in his mouth does not become a helper but a dangerous situation. I think he was determined to be my aggravating teenager until his last few days and weeks when he just wanted his family and dad around. Colt, no matter how trying, was the best friend and partner I could ask for. Always loyal, sometimes annoying, but always there if I needed him. He is greatly missed in my home by my entire family and often comes up in all our thoughts more than we admit. He will always be loved and missed by the department and my family.

Colt, you are loved and missed. We hope you are enjoying all the toys Dad would take from you without disagreements over you having them.

Throughout K-9 school, I felt good about myself — I didn't struggle like other students did with their dogs. I later realized that it wasn't me that was good — it was all Atlas. He was born to be a police K-9.

He had numerous apprehensions and narcotics finds throughout his career. Once, he tracked a suspect for over a mile before finally apprehending him in a wooded park. Another time, I “door popped” him out of the cruiser when a stabbing suspect started fighting another Deputy and me. Atlas clamped onto the suspect's leg and wouldn't let go, even when he kicked Atlas several times in the head. His determination amazed me.

Atlas had a calm demeanor and always seemed to know when it was time to get to work or when it was time to be a dog. He was very social and would greet everyone with a special nudge to the sensitive parts. I'm sure he thought he was saying, You're not done paying attention to me!" but I'm not sure everyone saw it that way.

Some of our best times were spent at a school field in the middle of the night to work on obedience, play fetch, and lay in the grass together.

I had many nicknames for him over the years. I often called him "Dude" — and occasionally, other words not fit for print. As he got older and slowed down, he became "Old Man." It took some time for him to acclimate to retired life, but he quickly learned who the real boss of the house was — my wife. Eventually, the Old Man settled into being a house dog. He found his favorite spots in the house, enjoyed going for walks, and especially loved following my wife into the kitchen because he knew he would get a treat every time.

He had the bushiest eyebrows, loved beef jerky, chose terrible locations for bathroom breaks, enjoyed biting bad guys' legs, and was incredibly obedient. I'll especially miss the sound of his soft snoring in the back of the car while I was writing reports.

Atlas, may you enjoy endless beef jerky and undisturbed naps, and I genuinely hope that everyone you greet in heaven is wearing a cup.