When the automatic security doors opened, my cohorts and I headed straight for the closest terminal exit without looking back. After we were out of the Customs officer's sight, I put up my right hand to give my partners a high-five, exclaiming, "We did it!" The porters knew immediately how to respond, and they understood we had just accomplished something, though they weren't quite sure what. I couldn't have found two better men to help execute my plan.
My victory, however, was short-lived. Standing outside the airport with two hungry dogs, waiting for a flight that wouldn't leave for twenty hours with no place to sleep did not sound appealing. On my second trip in nine days, halfway across the world and miles from family and friends, I had reached the point of exhaustion. This was no good; I couldn't succumb now.
Looking at the dogs, I pulled myself together and motioned to one of the porters to follow me back into the terminal and for the other porter to stay with the dogs. Thank goodness those men didn't abandon us but showed instead that they were willing to do all they could to help.
Earlier that day when I had entered the terminal, I had passed an entire row of hotel counters and noticed a sign for the Sheraton. This gave me hope, considering how kindly the staff at the Sheraton in Washington, D.C., had treated Charlie. My porter and I approached the hotel agent.
"Excuse me."
The sleepy man, slouched in a desk chair behind the counter, stubbed his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray, slowly rose to his feet, and shuffled toward me as if it pained him to do so.
"How can I help you?"
"Does your hotel allow pets?"
His puzzled expression was accompanied by, "What are you asking?"
"Does the Sheraton allow dogs?" I rephrased my question, sensing he didn't know what the word pet means. This was not a good sign.
"No, no, no, no, no!" He emphasized every word each time he blurted it out. "Dogs are dirty."
One down, seven to go.
My next stop was at the Radisson counter. This man didn't even get up from his desk, but his response was the same. Strike two.
Working my way down the row, I asked the same question. JW Marriott, Hilton, Holiday Inn, Crowne Plaza, and Four Points all responded in the negative until I reached the young man who represented the Courtyard Hotel.
"No, we do not allow dogs, but let me call the hotel, and I'll see what I can do."
Porter 314 had been listening intently to each of the conversations between the hotel representatives and me, and I think he now understood what I was trying to do. He smiled encouragement.
"This is Ahmed," the young man said into the phone. "I have a good friend of mine here at the airport. She missed her flight, and she needs a room for tonight."
I looked at this man in amazement. He was making up a story to help me and what he thought was my one dog. I hadn't broken the news to him yet that there were two. We'd cross that bridge when we got to it.
"Great. She'll take that room. Oh, one other thing, she has a dog with her. It's just a small, well-behaved one. I know he won't be any problem."
I held my breath and watched my new friend's face.
"Are you sure we can't put her in the old wing, in a room at the end of the hall? There is the entrance no one uses. She could take the dog in and out from there."
Finally, as he hung up the phone, his defeated expression preceded the words, "I'm so sorry; they just won't allow a dog."
"You were the only person here who went out of your way to help me find a room. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that you tried." I reached out to shake his hand and, remembering the taboo, started to draw it back. "I'm sorry," I said. Once again he surprised me and offered his hand, so we shook. "You're a kind man. Thank you for everything."
My search may not have resulted in my getting a room for the night, but I did meet a Muslim who went the extra mile to help me and my dogs. He had indeed acted like a good friend, and he proved that not all Muslims hold the same attitude toward dogs.
As my porter and I walked back to where his colleague and the dogs were waiting, I came up with another idea. Searching through my briefcase, I found the business card that Linette had given me. Calling someone in the middle of the night can be a real test of a friendship, but I was desperate. I phoned Linette two times, only to have someone pick up the phone and immediately hang up again. The person at the other end probably thought it was a crank call. I phoned her several more times but no one picked up. All I got was a recorded message in Arabic. Now what was I going to do?
As we stood outside, I couldn't believe how busy the airport was at this time of the night. Car horns and exhaust fumes gave me a nauseating headache. Loud music from the open windows of passing vehicles reverberated against the concrete buildings and buzzed through my tired bones. Never-ending groups of shrouded, robed, and uniformed people said their greetings and goodbyes in a stream of Arabic and other foreign languages. The taunting aroma from a nearby vendor's stall reminded me I hadn't eaten since lunch. A yawn escaped me. Tired, hungry, and desperately wanting to be somewhere safe with the dogs, I tried ringing Linette's number one more time.
I couldn't believe my ears when a sleepy voice answered, "Hello."
"Linette, this is Terri, and I'm at the airport." I talked fast, afraid she was going to hang up again. "I have Liberty and K-Pot with me." There was a long pause.
"Is your flight delayed?"
"No, it left without us. My debit card wouldn't work, and I couldn't pay the dogs' freight charge."
"Where are the dogs now?"
"We're standing outside the airport in the baggage claim area."
"You got the dogs through Customs? How in the world did you do that?" Linette was now wide awake.
"With timing, a bit of psychology, and divine intervention in the form of a cat. But we desperately need a place to stay. We're exhausted."
"I'll come and pick you up. It'll take about forty-five minutes."
"Thank you, my friend," I said in relief.
It was time to celebrate. I looked at the porters and pretended to sip from a cup. "Coffee?" They both nodded yes.
Motioning for them to stay with the dogs, I went back inside the terminal and purchased an assortment of pastries and three Starbucks Grande White Mochas, with an extra shot of espresso in mine. While the coffees were being made, I went to KFC and bought Liberty and K-Pot large chicken sandwiches, grateful I could finally keep my promise to feed them.
When I returned, we sat on the trolleys and ate our picnic, making what small talk we could while learning a little bit about each other.
When Linette finally pulled up to the arrival area, I stood and waved. Amazed to see me there with the dogs, she forgot to brake and nearly drove over the curb. By the time my porters pushed the trolleys to the waiting vehicle, Linette was standing by the open rear door of her SUV.
"You really did it," she said, giving me a big hug.
"And I hope I never have to do it again! I was so afraid I was going to lose the dogs." The sight of her was such a relief that I would have cried if I had not been too tuckered out.
It was time to say goodbye to my Sri Lankan porters, and I handed each of them a generous tip. The money seemed inconsequential in comparison with what they had done for me and the dogs. I would never forget their kindness and the comfort it bestowed. Looking both of them in the eyes, I placed my hand against my chest as a gesture of my deepest thanks. Their responding smiles revealed that we had left an impression on each other's lives that would not soon be forgotten.
When I slid into the comfort of Linette's car, my exhaustion took over. I closed my eyes for just a few seconds only to open them and discover that we had reached our destination. Linette's dogs, along with her husband and their two daughters, were asleep upstairs. As quietly as we could, we released Liberty and K-Pot into the courtyard. They wasted no time sniffing out the best spot to pee. Each one stood in the grass for at least a full minute while relieving a ready-toexplode bladder.
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A few minutes later, when the dogs and I were snug in Linette's guest room, she stuck her head in to wish us goodnight.
"Sleep as long as you can, and once you're up we'll plan how to get the export documents you need."
"More documents? I had no idea we needed more. How difficult will that be?"
"Go to sleep and don't worry. You three are safe for now, and that's all that matters."
Giving Linette a grateful goodnight hug, I did as I was told. Worry could wait for tomorrow. I sat down on the bed; both dogs came over and leaned against my legs. Liberty gently licked my hand as if to say, "Everything is okay."
Pulling out my Blackberry, I sent a short message to the soldiers' waiting families and to JD and my family, saying that the dogs and I were fine and that we would be arriving a little later than originally planned. I promised to send our new flight information as soon as the details were confirmed.
Liberty and K-Pot were already stretched out on the cool tile floor. One of them let out a long sigh. As I lay down in the dark, my weary mind and body began to relax. Drifting back over the strange events and the people who had helped along the way, the thousands of miles that separated me from home and family seemed to dissolve into nothing. By the time the clock struck three, the dogs and I were fast asleep.
The nasal-toned call to prayer, broadcast on loudspeakers throughout Kuwait, woke me at 5:00 a.m. I dozed on and off for about an hour, and when the dogs began to stir, I got dressed and took them into the courtyard, where I found Linette and half of her menagerie.
"How about some breakfast?" Linette asked as she herded her dogs back into the house. Later, over coffee and croissants, Linette cast her eyes over Liberty's and K-Pots' vaccination records that I had fetched from my bag while she made the coffee.
"These look good. We shouldn't have any problems."
The "should" part of that sentence hit me like a hammer.
Please make this go easy, I thought. I don't know how much more I can stand.
Linette took one look at my worried expression and suggested I should stay with the dogs and rest while she ran the paperwork to the veterinary clinic.
"Once I've got their health certificates, I'll take them to the Ministry of Agriculture to be stamped. I should be back in two hours if there are no delays."
I spent the time throwing tennis balls for K-Pot and Liberty and playing with Linette's dogs. Every once in a while my two would come and lie beside me as if confirming I was their protector. Noth ing is as gratifying to me as the look in a dog's eyes that says, "I trust you" and "thanks." No matter how difficult my two journeys to Iraq had been, the dogs' faith-filled faces erased all the stress and worries. I understood a little better how much the presence of such dogs helps our soldiers.
When Linette returned with the official paperwork, I made reservations for the United flight leaving that night. I asked about the previous day's problem with my debit card and was told that a computer glitch that had caused the error had been corrected. Even so, we took no chances. Not only did Linette drive us to the airport that evening, but she also came inside to the counter and stayed until my card was authorized and the receipt was in my hand.
"Travel safe, my friend," she said with tears in her eyes. Already the adventure had bonded us two women, each of whom, only two days before, had not known that the other existed.
"You saved us last night, and I will never, ever forget that."
K-Pot and Matt's sister, Danielle Danielle Berger
"Anything for the animals," she laughed.
Liberty, K-Pot, and I left Kuwait just after 11:00 p.m. on February 22. We arrived at Dulles International Airport the next afternoon to find Danielle Berger and Amanda Byrnside already waiting to greet us among a crowd of reporters, cameras, SPCA International staff, and volunteers.
Having family members who were dog lovers and who served together in Iraq made for an instant friendship between Amanda and Danielle. They had supported each other with e-mails, phone calls, photographs, information, and anything else they could to ease the worry of having a loved one at war. Whenever Amanda heard from her husband, she'd pass on the latest news to Danielle, and when Matt wrote to Danielle, she would do the same in return. Not only did keeping in touch help minimize the sleepless nights, but their common goal of saving the dogs sealed their friendship. When I agreed to take on K-Pot's rescue, leaving Liberty behind was out of the question.
Although we hadn't met in person, my greeting with Danielle and Amanda was as warm as if we were reunited sisters. "I can't believe the blizzard I drove through to get here," Danielle laughed with tears rolling down her cheeks. The atmosphere was full of jubilation. But now it was time to let these women properly meet their loved ones' dogs.
Without being prompted, everyone moved back and watched in silence while two women -a soldier's sister and another soldier's wife-squatted down to open the crate doors. After the women clipped on the leashes, the dogs stepped out of the crates, sniffed the new faces, and wagged their tails. Everyone remarked that the dogs seemed to understand that they were carrying the hearts of the men they had left behind.
As much as it hurt to say goodbye to my traveling companions, the satisfaction I got from watching the puppies bridge the physical gap that separated U.S. soldiers from their family made it all worthwhile.
Socks looking for his buddy at the Welcome Home ceremony Terri Crisp
he dogs of Iraq come from a gene pool of animals that have learned to survive in some of the world's harshest conditions. They have to be resilient and sharp witted. Those that are born sickly, deformed, weak willed, or mentally slow are quickly weeded out by nature and by man. Time and again soldiers' e-mails mentioned the all-too-common sight of lifeless animals strewn along roadsides and rotting in neighborhoods. Carcasses lay where the animals had died from culling, torture, starvation, or disease.
The U.S. military had implemented sanitation practices for collecting and disposing of the dead animals, but with the thousands of additional animals struck down by vehicles every day, there were just too many.
"One day I counted 286 dead dogs in just the sector we were patrolling," a Marine wrote to me in disbelief. "These animals are definitely the uncounted casualties of this war."
I was shocked when another Marine wrote, "We are forbidden to provide any kind of assistance to an injured animal we come across. The enemy discovered Americans can be real softies when it comes to animals, especially dogs, so they use that knowledge to their advantage. They have been known to purposely injure a dog, making it unable to move, and then they place a booby trap underneath its body. When a kind-hearted soldier sees the animal, feels sorry for it and goes to help, guess what happens next? Boom.
Wow. I never realized. So that's why the military has these rules.
Witnessing culturally based attitudes that showed little compassion or respect for animals was especially hard on Americans who came from a different background. Although soldiers rarely went out of their way to befriend a stray, many found themselves adopted by one that had come to their compound for food or protection.
Stray animals are not part of military veterinarians' mission in Iraq, but when these animals start living with the troops, the spread of disease becomes one of their concerns. Veterinarians responsible for the care of American working dogs in Iraq sympathize with soldiers whose befriended strays come under threat of destruction or abandonment when the soldiers redeploy. One veterinarian introduced a program for classifying a select number of stray dogs. These animals were registered as "force protection canines," which allowed them to be micro-chipped, vaccinated, spayed or neutered, and given parasite-prevention medication. The animals got access to betterquality dog food as opposed to MREs, and they received full veterinary care at no cost to the units.
According to one veterinary officer I talked with, "The job of a force protection canine is to hang out with the troops at some of the more remote military installations and bark when int
ruders, human or animal, come around. In addition, the dogs provide much-needed companionship. We now find that instead of hiding potential carriers of disease, the soldiers can take action to make sure the befriended dogs are healthy. This has taken up a lot of our time, but it has been well worth it, not only for the animals but for military personnel as well."
In February 2008 I learned about one stray dog that had gained the respect of both Marines and Army soldiers thanks to an e-mail sent to me by SGT Andrew Bankey, asking for help to get the dog to the States. Andrew was stationed at an outpost in an Iraqi province west of Baghdad. I asked Andrew to explain why it was so important to rescue this dog, and here is his response:
Socks is about three years old, which makes him an old-timer by Iraq standards. When I met him, he was already a permanent fixture at this outpost. No one really knows how Socks actually got here. When my unit took over the outpost, the Marines who were leaving recommended that we keep Socks around. His sixtypound presence was a good deterrent against intruders, and they said his courage was especially appreciated at night.
Our purpose here is to train Iraqi soldiers so they can take over the job of protecting their own country. Although there are 1,500 Iraqi soldiers at this outpost, there are only twenty Americans. We don't know how many of the men we train are enemy infiltrators, but we do know they're here. So, although most Iraqi soldiers are allies, at any given moment U.S. soldiers could be sabotaged by one of the men from this outpost.
Socks has always been fed and cared for by Americans, so he considers us his family, and all Iraqis potential enemies. He doesn't trust any of them. Whenever an Iraqi approaches our section of the outpost, Socks won't let him in until one of us has checked him out and said, "He's okay, Socks."
No Buddy Left Behind: Bringing U.S. Troops' Dogs and Cats Safely Home From the Combat Zone Page 9
