I am begging SPCA International to help me get my beloved dog out of this horrible place. I don't have much time before I leave Iraq. It would kill me if I had to leave my best friend behind, knowing he was wondering where I've gone and when I'll be back. Please help me save Iraqi.
-Alishia
The buildup to the next moment was riveting. Not a shuffle or cough was heard as I left the room to collect Iraqi from Sheri. After a few quiet words to Alishia's dog, I returned to the lobby with Iraqi at my side and walked him up to Melissa. Everyone waited in silence. Handing her Iraqi's leash, I backed up and stood to the side. Melissa bent down and wrapped her arms around the dog her daughter had saved. The onlookers finally got what they had been waiting for. Waves of emotion spilled out across the room; several people pulled out tissues and wiped their eyes.
After taking a moment to collect herself, Melissa stood by the microphone and addressed the crowd: "Iraqi brought joy to my daughter everyday in a place where there is little happiness. I don't know how Alishia would have endured if not for this animal's loving companionship." Melissa looked at Alishia's dog, placed her hand on Iraqi's head, and the dog looked back into Melissa's eyes as if she understood their connection. A tear rolled down Melissa's cheek and she turned back to the microphone. "Our family will always be grateful to Terri, to SPCA International, and to all the people who gave so much to make this possible. Thank you all so much." A bright smile flashed across Melissa's face and she straightened her shoulders. "Well, it's about time I get a move on and bring this puppy home!"
People stepped back and cleared a path as the mother of one American soldier turned to leave the room. Proudly trotting beside her was the dog that carried her daughter's heart.
When it came time for me to close the news conference with a few words, I stepped over to the microphone. I had not prepared a speech like the speakers before me had. My usual way is to talk from the heart.
At first I just stood there, scanning the room. But my attempt at forming words, with nothing coming out, confirmed I was in trouble. I found it impossible to talk. Each time I simply tried to say, "I want to thank all of you for coming," my voice cracked and stayed in my throat. I paused and took a deep breath, but it was no use. My emotions had finally caught up with me.
For the previous twenty-two days, I had remained strong and focused. Sure, there were those moments when the tears appeared, but they did not stay for long. There was always something more pressing to attend to, so I'd suck it up and get on with it.
Now, with tears in my eyes, all I could do was gaze at the crowd of assembled people and then at the two Operation Baghdad Pups dogs standing beside me. My gratitude enveloped every single person who had turned an impossible mission into an amazing rescue. Working together, we had pulled off a miracle for twenty-six dogs and two cats. No wonder the words could not come easily. Finally, in a trembling voice I just said, "Thank you."
Dr. Alan Pomerantz and his team from Franklin Lakes Animal Hospital preparing to do vet checks on all the animals Bev Westerman
Bev and Pooty inside Building 95 in New Jersey Terri Crisp
Andy Showers with Caramel at the New Jersey shelter Bev Westerman
The crowd began to applaud. Catching a glimpse of my longtime friend, Sheri, with tears streaming down her face, I stepped away from the podium as the applause continued. It was time to find a Kleenex and start making the arrangements to send the animals to their homes.
As a result of that news conference, word of our mission spread farther than we could even keep track of. Publicity raised by the media event quickly began to bring in the necessary funds to pull off the next series of rescues when the travel embargo lifted in October. The lessons I'd learned in the four months since rescuing Charlie would prove their worth in the months to come.
Siha and Bev taking a break at the New Jersey Shelter Terri Crisp
ppearing on the CBS Early Show the next morning with five rambunctious pups and their mother was not something I had ever imagined doing. After dodging New York traffic and a mob of pedestrians, Sheri, Stephanie, and I put up a small exercise pen for Beatrice's pups in the plaza outside the CBS studio.
Maggie Rodriguez, one of the show's hosts, held onto one puppy's leash throughout the interview, while I kneeled beside Beatrice, the proud mom. In seconds we were surrounded by a throng of tourists who had come to be seen on TV, but on June 7, the cameras were not scanning the crowd. The massive lenses stayed down at knee level instead, recording nonstop movement of tan and white fur, floppy ears, question-mark tails, and oversized paws. Maggie's pup became so intrigued with one camera that she walked up to the lens and gave America a close-up view of the inside of her nose.
Throughout the interview, the puppies did what animals in the spotlight always do-they stole the show and everyone's hearts as well. With every heart they won, another donation would surely come in, helping to bring home another soldier's beloved animal. Grateful that the media event had great potential for producing a fundraising success, we packed up the puppies and headed back to the shelter.
"I wonder how Tom is doing," I said as Sheri and I got into the car. "I haven't heard back from Bev yet."
"Did you manage to get hold of Tom's owner?" Sheri asked.
"Not yet." I had been in touch with Kevin while we were still in Baghdad but hadn't heard back from him since we left Dubai. I kept hoping that Tom hadn't used up his nine lives yet, but in Iraq, cats go through them pretty darned quick. That morning I had sent Kevin another e-mail to let him know Tom's condition was grave.
A few minutes into our drive, Bev's name appeared on my Blackberry screen. Something in my gut told me that this was not going to be good.
"Tom was just euthanized" she said.
"Oh, no," I said, too stunned to take the news in. Bev and I sat with the silence between us, thinking of Tom and all he'd been through. Finally I needed to comfort my heart-broken friend. "Bev, I will always remember how well you took care of Tom in the time we had with him. In the last days of his life, Tom knew he was loved, right to the end. No one could have loved or cared for him better."
After we returned to Building 95, I got out of the car, sat down on the curb, and sent an e-mail to Kevin. With the way things happen in a combat zone, I knew I might not hear back from him for days.
Dear Kevin,
I am truly sorry to have to tell you this, but we made the tough decision this morning to have Tom euthanized. He had a systemic infection that overwhelmed his body's immune system.
The vet and her staff did everything they could to fight it, but without any sign of improvement. Tom was suffering, and I knew you wouldn't want that.
It's just not fair that Tom didn't get to know the life he would have had here in the States. Thank you for wanting to give him that life. I know he appreciated everything you were able to do for him. He was indeed fortunate to have you as his friend! I just wish your time with Tom could have lasted much longer.
-Terri
The volunteers were starting to bring the dogs out for their noon walk. As I sat on the curb watching them, I couldn't help but smile through my tears. These were the lucky ones, the ones that would never again experience the kind of pain inflicted on animals in Iraq. I guess in a way Tom was lucky, too.
Our shelter residents were settling in nicely. They were thrilled with all the attention the volunteers were giving them, especially Patton. He still knew how to get his way, and he figured out that the volunteers were real pushovers. People constantly remarked how the puppy lived up to his famous namesake. At one point Patton grabbed someone's duffel bag and ran off with it. The fact that the bag was bigger than Patton never slowed him down for a second.
"Lead me, follow me, or get out of my way!" a visiting Port Authority worker quoted the famous general and laughed at the puppy. He respected strong character when he saw it.
Another dog soaking up the attention was Mama Leesa. When Bev and I first met Mama Leesa, she seemed to have
lost her desire to live. During our time in Baghdad, whenever we took her for walks, she'd barely move, and her head hung low the entire time. She never once made eye contact with us or anyone else. Seeing a dog so emotionally beaten was heartbreaking, but now she was slowly coming to life and telling us what she needed.
When Linda Pullen, one of the volunteers at the airport shelter, took Mama Leesa out for her walks, the dog would refuse to come back inside, unlike the others that wouldn't leave the air-conditioned building for more than five minutes. They would walk to the edge of the grassy area, do their business, then turn around and drag whoever was walking them back inside. They loved American comforts!
Not Mama Leesa. She just wanted to lie in the sun. Even in the mid afternoon, when temperatures teetered around ninety-five degrees, Mama Leesa preferred the heat. She'd collapse on the grass, stretch out like a true sun worshipper, close her eyes, and refuse to move. We were all concerned that she might succumb to heat stroke, but she never did.
Linda tried to tolerate the heat as long as she could but would soon reach a point where she had to find shade. Out of necessity, she came up with a solution by tying two leashes together, end to end, so she could stay out of the sun while Mama Leesa basked in the blissful sleep of contentment. Linda marveled at this dog that had been through hell and survived. Many things were about to change for her, but one thing Mama Leesa was determined to keep was her love of scorching hot days.
Stubbs had also become a real attention getter. He moved into the volunteers' room on his second night and took over one of the girl's sleeping bags. A wise and gentle soul, he had suffered extensively at the hands of Iraqis. Believing that a dog grows tougher when his ears and tail are cut off, they hacked Stubbs several times in preparation for fighting other dogs. His torture became their pride and entertainment. Everyone at the shelter took one look at Stubbs's horrible scars and wanted to smother him in love. No dog deserved what he had endured.
Veterinarians also donated their services and equipment for our temporary shelter. A holistic veterinarian who ran a mobile service saw the animals first and issued domestic health certificates for those that had to fly within the United States. The next day Dr. Alan Pomerantz and eight of his team from Franklin Lakes Animal Hospital spent the entire afternoon giving the animals a thorough exam. Their comments during the examinations indicated how extraordinary these Iraqi animals were.
"These are some of the healthiest animals I've ever seen," Dr. Pomerantz said with clear admiration. "I really didn't expect this, considering where they came from."
One of the vet techs added, "And they just let you do whatever needs to be done, without objecting. They're a joy to work with."
It was time to start getting the animals onto the final stretch of their journeys. Instead of coming to New Jersey to help, volunteer Barb Hartman had stayed at home in Virginia in order to coordinate flights for the remaining dogs and our one cat, Caramel. Barb called me in New Jersey with regular updates. Her latest report was not good.
"The record-breaking heat wave that started yesterday along the east coast has brought airline travel for animals to a halt. I just can't get any flights; the airlines won't take them. That's not all," Barb continued, "I'm afraid the weather reports are predicting the heat wave won't be ending any time soon."
Checking airline schedules and reporting back to families were much more time consuming than people realized. So many questions came up, and the families all wanted to talk. This was a big deal for them. On top of her full-time teaching position, Barb was on the phone for hours every night. Since I had more time on my hands, I offered to help her with the flight arrangements. Over the next few days, many flights had to be rescheduled, some seven or eight times, due to the continuing heat wave.
"I can't believe how grateful these people are," Barb said. "Their stories prove how important the animals are to them. When I called Jolene about scheduling Charlie's flight, she mentioned making her preparations. I asked what she meant, thinking she was planning a welcome party or something. But it seems North Carolina has strict rules about imported animals from Iraq.
"Jolene said they have to put Charlie in quarantine for six months and there was no way she was going to part with that puppy for a single day. So guess what-right now she is having a quarantine kennel built on their property. It has to be made of chain link, one ten-foot-by-ten-foot enclosure inside another twelve-foot-bytwelve-foot enclosure, set on concrete, and padlocked. This is costing them nearly $7,000, but Jolene says that for Charlie they're glad to do whatever it takes."
"Wow, talk about commitment," I responded. "It sounds like Charlie is going to have a really good life with that family."
"Has anyone else had to quarantine their dog?" Barb asked, curious about the other owners.
"Not so far," I said. "Health regulations are set according to state law and sometimes county. In some places people are allowed to quarantine in their home, while others have no quarantine requirement at all. In those places our veterinary health certificates are considered enough."
"Changing the subject," Barb continued, "did I tell you about Wilma Lacey's reaction to the CBS Early Show?"
Wilma was the mother of a soldier named "Sandy" who had agreed to give a home to Taji, one of Beatrice's five puppies.
"No. I hope she wasn't upset about us bringing the puppies to New York."
"Not a bit! The minute the show finished airing, she called me right away, saying, `Barb! My grand-puppy is a celebrity!' She was so excited, you should have heard her. Over the last few years Sandy has been on several deployments to Iraq, so she's missed years of birthdays, Christmases, and family holidays. That's been awfully hard for Wilma. Now she's thrilled. She is looking forward to hugging Taji, she told me, because she'll be hugging a little piece of Sandy."
The steady stream of e-mails and calls on my Blackberry was like a constant ringing of bells and whistles. While I enjoyed dealing with all of them, I missed receiving messages from the person whose hard work and friendly banter had filled my previous weeks. It was high time to send Dave Lusk another e-mail.
June 8, 2008
Hi Dave,
I have missed our daily discussions! Most of my conversations since I arrived in New Jersey have been with airline agents, trying to arrange flights so our four-footed passengers can finish the last lap of their long journeys. Booking flights has been a challenge due to the extreme heat. After this is over, I believe I could find work as a travel agent, claiming my on-the-job training.
A few of the animals have arrived home, so I've been reaping the rewards of hearing those peoples' happy voices after they meet the new addition to their family. It's difficult not having my soft buddies around, though. Our mutual attachment grew, and we bonded during this incredible journey. They will always feel like my own.
Please keep in touch. In the meantime, stay well, and, as you have said many times in the past few weeks, may there never be flies in your ointment again.
-Terri
I was delighted when, only a few minutes later, Dave's e-mail popped up on my screen.
Hi Terri,
It's good to hear from you. I'm still buried with work after being gone for that last week at the Army College, and as you know, we were both a little busy before that. But I'm not complaining; I had the time of my life.
I've seen and read all the media reports that Stephanie sent, and I've shared them with everyone here at FedEx. You and your team have done an amazing job. You are the real heroes in this story.
Your friend,
Dave
Dave was right. All the members of the Operation Baghdad Pups teams showed an unmatched level of commitment and compassion toward the twenty-six dogs and two cats.
One example of that commitment was shown by the volunteers who stayed overnight at the shelter. Their attempts at undisturbed slumber were constantly foiled. Sleep was next to impossible when sharing living accommodations with dogs that seem to bark all night a
nd sleep all day. We joked that the dogs were still on Iraqi time. One afternoon I found Sheri asleep on the concrete floor with no pillow or blanket, doing the same thing a smart mother does when there's a baby in the house: She snoozes when the kid does.
As the weather finally began to cooperate, we rebooked flights, and, one by one, the animals headed home. Each time I accompanied another dog to the airport and handed it over to the animalcargo handler, it was equally difficult to say goodbye. Every single animal had moved into my heart and staked a claim.
But it was time to let go. Families had waited a long time to meet the four-footed friends they had heard so much about, and some of the owners were due back from Iraq any day. What better homecoming than to see their wartime buddy waiting alongside everyone else in the family? These were the moments we'd all been working so hard to make possible.
By June 12 all the volunteers had gone home except for Sheri, who stayed behind to help clean and make sure that we left Building 95 in tiptop shape. On our final morning, I dropped Sheri off at the airport to catch her flight back to Oklahoma City, leaving her with heartfelt thanks and hugs of goodbye.
At long last I loaded up my car with Tippy, Stubbs, and Patton, and the four of us hit the road. Our destination was Bev and Barb's house in Virginia. In two day's time, Tippy was going on a flight from Washington, D.C. to Texas, and later in the week I would be driving Stubbs and Patton to their respective homes.
With Patton riding shotgun and Stubbs and Tippy crated in the back of the SUV, we cruised along the New Jersey Turnpike. My iPod started playing Lee Greenwood's song, "God Bless the USA." I turned the volume way up and listened to the words with new appreciation for how lucky we are. As the song played, it evoked images of countless stories that soldiers had told me-heart-breaking tales of young men and women they'd known and loved, the ones who died in Iraq and Afghanistan-the ones whose names were tattooed on their bodies and hearts.
No Buddy Left Behind: Bringing U.S. Troops' Dogs and Cats Safely Home From the Combat Zone Page 22
