I thought about Jennifer Mann, Patton's owner, and of all the soldiers her mental health team had struggled to help, some so emotionally shut down that it took a puppy named "Patton" to start them talking, yet they continued to serve and sacrifice for the sake of us at home.
I had been to Iraq. I had felt the undercurrent of constant tension throbbing through the air of that country of extremes. Despite the camaraderie of wonderful people, it was always there, that unspoken fear of soldiers, and animals whose thoughts still whispered in the parched, gray soil, don't leave me here-don't forget to bring me home.
"We won't forget them, will we, Patton?" I asked. I began to sing the chorus again, joining the iPod song with all the volume I could muster.
Patton suddenly raised his muzzle, stretched out his chin, and his voice resounded with the loudest, most exuberant chorus of howls I'd ever heard a puppy make.
My little friend had seemed to epitomize General Patton's maxim, "You're never beaten until you admit it." The strong-willed puppy's spirit never admitted defeat, and neither did Stubbs, the gentle dog who still trusted people after the horrible things human hands had done to his body. Tippy didn't know what beaten meant. He knew where he wanted to be, and he always found a way to get there. These three dogs had pulled me through some of the toughest times in Baghdad and during our long journey home.
Patton continued to howl, throwing his little chest from one side to the other, as if his heart was leading his body. "Are you singing along?" I asked. "Or are you just complaining about my singing?"
As I drove south, each passing mile seemed to fill with its own set of memories, some funny, others sad, and many full of frustration or jubilation. What an amazing journey it had been.
Although grateful for what we had accomplished, I was also aware of the tremendous number of rescues yet to be achieved and of the greater need for world attitudes to be changed with education and healthy exposure to these precious animals. The upcoming partings and goodbyes for my three canine companions would not be the end of Operation Baghdad Pups. If anything, I knew more than ever, it was only just the beginning.
Stubbs, a true survivor and gentle friend Bev Westerman
Mama Leesa and me SPCA International
By Cynthia Hurn
Barb and Tippy in Virginia Bev Westerman
bile it's difficult to say goodbye to an animal you've traveled thousands of miles to bring home, it is also hard to leave behind the ones who've captured your heart through their stories. When working with Terri on this book, I had the wonderful opportunity to interview many of the people included in these pages. I heard the emotion in their voices, felt the love they have for their country, and especially the incredible devotion between them and their buddies.
As Terri and I completed our final edits on the last chapter, it was hard for me to put the pen down and say goodbye to my new friends, both human and animal. I couldn't help but wonder, "How are they doing now?" If your heart was moved by their stories, you may be wondering the same.
Almost all of the dogs and cats in No Buddy Left Behind are alive and well today, living with the person who befriended them, with members of their family, or with close friends. Sadly, some of the animals have died. Before their death, however, they experienced freedom as we know it in this country. They felt safe and loved and were well cared for. If that's all their rescue earned them, I believe the incredible effort to bring them home was worth it.
For the readers who want to know a few more details about the animals' lives since coming to America, the following owners kindly agreed to share just a little bit more with us and with you. In the order that they appeared in the book:
Charlie (SGT Eddie Watson)-Charlie is living the good life these days, fine tuning his dog-agility skills while Eddie completes his training for a career in the nursing field. The first Iraqi desert dog brought to the United States by Operation Baghdad Pups still has a few behavior issues related to living in a combat zone. He barks nonstop when fireworks go off, and people who look like Iraqis frighten him to this day-sad reminders of the damage done by cruelty and war.
Eddie and Charlie have also become family men. A special young woman walked into Eddie's heart and life soon after he was reunited with his dog. They are now proud parents of a toddler daughter, and she keeps Charlie on his paws.
Charlie has proven himself to be an all-American dog right from Day 1. When Terri took him on his very first pet store shopping trip after arriving in the States, out of all the toys he could have chosen, the only one Charlie wanted was a football. Now he enjoys everything American, from baseball to hamburgers, and he is proud of his promotion to the new rank of OCP (official couch potato).
K-Pot-Although he no longer fits into a Kevlar helmet, K-Pot still loves to curl up on anything soft. He moved in with Matt's sister Danielle and her kids, where he could romp around acres of land and have another dog to play with. During Danielle's wait for Matt to redeploy, K-Pot gave her a few challenges. The high-energy, intelligent dog could not get over his nervousness about strange noises, people, and situations, and Danielle soon realized she needed the help of a trainer with specialized skills. But try as hard as she could to find the right trainer, K-Pot got kicked out of every class he attended.
Inspired by desperation, Danielle went back to school and became a certified dog trainer and behavior specialist. Now she works with other dogs that have special needs and is always happy to help any owners who need advice on how to deal with their Iraqi dog.
"K-Pot is still a work in progress," Danielle says, "but he's made a 100 percent improvement from the frightened animal that came out of Iraq."
Today Matt works in Charleston, South Carolina. He lives in an apartment, which is an unsuitable environment for a dog with as much energy as K-Pot, but Matt visits his old buddy at his sister's house as often as he can. Danielle said, "The whole time Matt is here, K-Pot won't leave Matt's side. The bond between my brother and that dog is incredible. It's really special to see."
In February 2011, Matt and Danielle flew to Iraq as part of Operation Baghdad Pups' Missions # 84 and 85, bringing between them five animals home to the States. After they returned from their long journey, Danielle wrote to me:
"All I can say is that my life has been forever changed by the Operation Baghdad Pups program. I cannot imagine my life, or those of my family, without K-Pot in it.
"I have experienced the adventures of a lifetime, forged incredible friendships, and renewed old ones. I have witnessed the healing power of animals in even the most horrific conditions and seen humane programs blossom in places where animals are considered garbage. I've learned how to become a true pack leader among incredibly challenging animals as well as humans!"
Hope-Today Hope's burned leg is fully recovered except for slight stiffness. She, along with two other Iraqi cats, lives with Bruce and Pam in Virginia. The other two cats were adopted by the couple when their pregnant Iraqi mother was brought to the States and her American-born kittens needed good homes. All of them were placed with Operation Baghdad Pups' families. The three Iraqi felines are full of energy, Bruce says, and there is never a dull moment when it comes to their antics.
Last year Bruce was diagnosed with cancer and has been unable to work during his last bout of treatments. "Hope has been an excellent companion throughout this ordeal," Bruce said. "She is such a great comfort while I recover from chemotherapy. She always knows when I need a little boost and refuses to let me get depressed. She brings me hope and confidence that I'll soon be well enough to go back to work."
Jasmine-Although the Operation Baghdad Pups program requires that all animals brought to the States have to be spayed or neutered, by the time jasmine came into America, she'd already had a fling with an Iraqi tom. Weeks later Jasmine gave birth to a beautiful kitten that resembles his feral father, except this kitten is well fed and much cleaner! Jasmine and Simba, and a rescued American cat named Kilo, have been living with Thomas in southern Cal
ifornia, where he is still on active duty in the Marines.
In the summer of 2010, jasmine pushed open a window screen and escaped. Her Marine buddy searched for weeks, but this time he was unable to locate his beloved friend. Tom prays that jasmine is alive and living with someone who loves her, and he hopes that one day they will be reunited. If any reader recognizes jasmine from her photo and knows anything of her whereabouts, please contact Terri Crisp through the SPCAI.org website. In the meantime, Tom is grateful that he still has Kilo and jasmine's beautiful Iraqi son, Simba. Unlike his mother, Simba loves to stay at home.
Tiger-Tiger has grown into a fluffy, 125-pound lovable dog that purrs like a cat when you rub his tummy. Standing on his back legs, he measures five feet eight inches. He lives on the east coast with Jessie, and their regular run along the beach is his favorite pastime. To this day, more than twenty-five people from the camp in Afghanistan where Tiger was found call regularly to ask how he is doing. Every Christmas, Tiger gets cards from Dena and the girls who raised the funds for his rescue.
"He's got rock star status as far as they are concerned," Jessie said.
While Jessie is away on deployment, she knows that Tiger is in good hands. "I prefer to be forward fighting the fight. I have a phenomenal job in the Army, and I'm proud to serve our country. When I'm out there, knowing Tiger is safe at home is an indescribable boost for me. Most people wouldn't understand what it truly means to a soldier to bring back the animal that was forward with them, staying alongside them while they served. It's a special way of bringing light into some of the darkness that is part of war. The people who helped to save Tiger will always be in my heart."
Burt-Erin is happy to report that the two-timing Burt, who `missed the boat,' managed to catch the autumn flight and made it home to America in October, 2008. He is alive and well and has grown into a big, bed-hogging cat. "Burt is fit enough to make any Marine proud," she says. "There's not an ounce of fat on him. He's all muscle."
"Burt has a few postwar quirks, just like I do. Once when I was in a bookstore, somebody popped a balloon, and it took all I had not to fall apart. I hit the ground, and then I found a corner to stand in, where it took me fifteen minutes to calm myself down and stop shaking.
"Burt does the same kind of thing. When somebody was using a nail gun for home repairs, my other animals took the sound as normal, but Burt scrambled onto my lap, and he tensed and jumped with every pop. I knew exactly what he was feeling. It's something we share. He's one of the few people I know that understands what it is like for a soldier after they return home from war. Having Burt here is such a gift; I can't describe how much it means to me.
"As Marines, leaving one of us behind is against everything in our being, and if we'd had to do that to Burt, it would have been so hard on the people at our FOB and would have absolutely destroyed me. I hope Terri and SPCA International are able to continue their work for U.S. troops. There was absolutely no way we'd have got our buddy home without her."
Mama Leesa-When Linda, one of the Operation Baghdad Pups' volunteers at the New Jersey shelter, opened Mama Leesa's crate door, the animal was too frightened to move. No amount of coaxing would bring her out. Linda reached in, scooped the dog into her arms, carried her to the grass, and gently lowered her body to the ground.
"When I put my hand on her," said Linda, "she looked deep into my eyes, as if aching for a loving touch. And that's the first time the thought entered my head, I could love this girl."
Linda fostered Mama Leesa until her owner returned, but his renewed work contracts in Iraq meant he would spend little time in the States, so Linda became Mama Leesa's new owner.
"She looked at least eight years old when she arrived, even though she was only two," Linda said. "Today she looks younger than her age, and she's a glowing, healthy girl. It took her a long time before she learned to trust people. She usually likes men, especially if they're in uniform. Sunbathing is still a favorite pastime, and she enjoys long walks. Mama Leesa stays just ahead of me when we're out; she's very alert and constantly scouting our surroundings for danger. If anyone wearing headphones approaches, carries a backpack, or appears strange to her, she will stop in front of me and shield me from harm with her body.
"I live fairly close to Bev and Barb, so I often help out with the incoming Operation Baghdad Pups. Whenever Mama Leesa sees Barb, Bev, or Terri, she recognizes them instantly and goes into spasms of delight, nearly putting her hips out of joint wagging that beautiful tail. She adores those women and has never forgotten they were the ones who rescued her and brought her home.
"Mama Leesa has the most grateful eyes of any dog I've ever known. It's like she remembers how it was and doesn't take her new life for granted. I've learned a lot from her. She's a remarkable dog, worth all the effort it took to save her."
Charlie (Contractor Kenny)-As soon as Charlie arrived at her new home in South Carolina, she spotted the lake with a pontoon platform in the middle. Never had Charlie seen a body of water, and this one was as big as a football field. She couldn't take her eyes off it. Before securing her in the state-specified ten-foot-by-ten-foot quarantine kennel, which they'd specially built on their two-and-a-halfacre property, a member of Kenny's family rowed the dog across the water to the floating platform. From there Charlie dove in for her first swim ever and had a wonderful time paddling through the water and barking at splashes when she reached the shore.
During Charlie's six-month quarantine, Jolene sat outside the enclosure every day, while the dog amused herself watching the family's pot-bellied pig, goat, and chickens from behind the chain link.
In December 2008 Charlie was given her long-overdue freedom! Full of joy, she ran and ran on the fenced-in property for three days. It seemed as if she'd never get enough running out of her system. Finally, on the fourth day, Charlie rediscovered her animal companions. Never chasing them, she took it upon herself to be their protector instead and spent all her time herding the pot-bellied pig, the chickens, and the goat.
That spring, while Charlie played in the warming sun, she stood on a nest of emerging fire ants and was stung multiple times. Before Kenny and Jolene could get her to the vet, Charlie died of anaphylactic shock. To Kenny it seemed incredibly unfair: first losing his grandchild and then his beloved dog.
Over the next sad days, a realization slowly dawned upon Kenny. Charlie had come to him needing love and protection, and that's what he and Jolene gave her. Maybe that was all she ever needed. Now, perhaps in gratitude, Charlie had taken that gift to the other side of the rainbow where she would play with his grandson and bring to the child all the love, protection, and companionship that had been so freely given to her.
Kujo-Adela reports that Matt and Kujo remain inseparable. When the 30-pound puppy came to the States, they had no idea he'd grow into his current weight of 115 pounds. "He may be big," she laughed, "but he's afraid of the strangest things. Small dogs and laundry baskets are a big worry to him, but the worst thing of all is worms. Whenever he sees one wiggling, all four of his paws leave the ground at once, and he growls like crazy."
Warming to strangers on their own terms seems to be a common thread among the Iraqi dogs. "Kujo doesn't like strangers to approach him too quickly. If someone new comes to the house, they have to enter slowly and sit down. Kujo gives them a good once-over with his nose, and when he decides they've passed his inspection, he'll offer them his paw. Once he accepts a person, he considers them a friend for life."
"Kujo played such an important role in Matt's life in Iraq, having him here is like a miracle," Adela continued. "We are now in the process of getting a sister for Kujo. She'll be a rescue from a local shelter, and we're looking forward to giving her a good home."
Francine-Kevin knew he wouldn't see his beloved cat, Tom, when he got home, but he was looking forward to being reunited with his dog, Francine. Kevin's wife met him at the train station in Fredericksburg, Virginia. As the reunited couple walked out of the station, Kevin glimpsed, f
rom the corner of his eye, a foot-wide rubber mat that had been placed across the road for counting the cars as they entered the station parking lot. It looked just like the sort of thing used by Iraqi insurgents to hide IEDs, initiating a bomb attack. A classic post-trauma reaction hit Kevin like a thunderbolt.
"I almost blacked out," he said later. "It was so strong-this feeling came over me like a kind of rage-and it overwhelmed all my senses.
"My wife realized something was wrong, and she got me to the car as quickly as she could. That's when I saw Francine. Maybe Tom was gone, but my canine buddy was there. The moment I touched her, all the feelings of disorientation dissipated, and I knew I was going to be okay." Today Francine lives with her family, who are all grateful to have her.
Pooty-When her husband's normally upbeat voice sounded unusually down during their overseas call between Iraq and the States, Rhonda asked him what was wrong. She had also served our country in the military and was quite familiar with the stresses of deployment.
"It seems like everyone I care for is being taken away," Michael said. "And this year, it's been one too many."
No Buddy Left Behind: Bringing U.S. Troops' Dogs and Cats Safely Home From the Combat Zone Page 23
