Dog Is My Copilot: Rescue Tales of Flying Dogs, Second Chances, and the Hero Who Might Live Next Door

by Patrick Regan

  Concerned e-mails poured in from across the country, and generous strangers chipped in nearly $500 to cover vet costs. Although malnourished and full of parasites, the little family received a positive prognosis. After just a few days, the three- to four-week-old babies were thriving.

  Among the e-mails Smith received in response to her SOS was a particularly welcome one from Kelley Curtis, director of Lucky Ones Rescue, a nonprofit rescue in Tampa, Florida. Curtis agreed to foster the entire family while seeking permanent homes for the pups and their mother.

  Through the ever-buzzing network of animal rescuers, Smith learned that a PNP pilot would be flying some dogs out of Alabama that very same week. The pilot, Steve Clegg, had already booked “at least ten other dogs” for passage to Florida that day, but confirmed that he had room for more.

  Several months after being rescued by an Alabama teenager, Eyelet poses, fat and happy.

  One of Eyelet’s six pups.

  Based in Daytona, Florida, Clegg is a frequent flier for PNP and well-known (and deeply appreciated) by the staffs of several overcrowded and underfunded shelters in Alabama and Georgia. He tries to make a monthly run from those states to Florida rescues willing to take in more dogs, and he’s a firm believer in filling his plane. He has carried as many as nineteen dogs at a time in his Piper Aztec.

  About a week after Eyelet and her pups were discovered in the Alabama woods, Clegg picked up the forlorn family in Brewton, Alabama. Stephen Kelly, another Two by Two rescue volunteer, had driven them four hours from Helena.

  “Eyelet still did not look well—you could see all her ribs,” remembers Clegg, “but she was just the sweetest dog. As soon as you looked at her she would start wagging her tail.”

  Kelley Curtis met Clegg on the ground at Tampa Executive Airport. The puppies had charmed him—“I wanted to take every one of them home with me,” he says—but saying good-bye to their mother was even more difficult.

  “As I walked Eyelet to her waiting car, I whispered in her ear that she would now get the life she deserved.”

  With Curtis’s help, Eyelet’s cute brood all found loving homes easily, but their mother’s struggles were not yet over. She was heartworm-positive. Clegg, among others, pitched in for her treatments.

  Under Curtis’s care, the parasites were eventually purged from Eyelet’s system. It had taken more than a year to get the young mother fully well, but by mid-2011, Curtis was nearly ready to make her available for adoption to a forever home—though one sensed it wouldn’t be easy for the rescuer to part with this sweet southern girl. “She has a very small growth that needs to be removed,” Curtis reports, “and then she will finally be put up for adoption . . . but in the meantime, I think she is quite content here.”

  PNP pilots rarely see their canine passengers once a transport is finished, but several months after flying Eyelet and her puppies, Steve Clegg got that chance. He was flying another plane load of rescue dogs to Kelley Curtis, and called before leaving Alabama, to let her know when he would be on the ground in Tampa. Before hanging up, he asked how Eyelet was doing, and Curtis said, “I’ll bring her out.”

  “The difference in that dog was amazing,” says Clegg. “When I had last seen her she was almost dead from malnutrition and could barely walk, and here we are about eight months later, a whole new dog. She had body fat and was wagging her tail and walking around like a regular dog. It was really great to see the change. It makes you feel good.”

  Several months after the transport that helped save a mother dog and her pups, pilot Steve Clegg was reunited with Eyelet in Tampa, Florida.

  Pups on Approach

  NAME: Unnamed

  BREED: Beagle mix

  AGE: Puppies

  TOTAL MILEAGE:

  395

  ROUTE:

  Montgomery, Alabama–Orlando, Florida

  Some days, productivity just goes to the dogs. The personnel at Showalter Flying Service had no idea that the Cirrus SR22 landing at Orlando Executive Airport on a sultry August afternoon in 2009 would bring a bit of playful chaos to their day. But it didn’t take long for word of the plane’s unusual cargo to spread throughout the office. And when pilot Jeff Bennett opened the doors on thirteen beagle puppies being transported from central Alabama to no-kill animal rescues in central Florida, the people of Showalter knew just what to do—play!

  PNP pilot Jeff Bennett off-loads two of thirteen pups in Orlando, Florida.

  Showalter Flying Service employee Lauren Key enjoys a snuggle break with one of Bennett’s passengers.

  “As soon as we saw those pups, everyone available jumped into action,” recalls Brad Elliott, a Showalter director. Using aircraft tie-downs as makeshift leashes, Elliott and others wrangled the puppies and led them to a grassy area across the ramp for a bit of relief and much-needed running around.

  When the rescue volunteer scheduled to meet the plane was delayed, the offices of Showalter morphed into an impromptu doggie daycare as office employees, ground crew, and even customers enjoyed a joyous romp with the beagle baker’s dozen.

  “This was midafternoon and it was hot,” remembers PNP pilot Bennett, “so there was no way I was going to keep thirteen dogs in the plane. Without me saying a word, all these people from the FBO [fixed base operator—in this case, Showalter] just came out and started helping—grabbing crates and puppies and taking them for walks. It was fantastic.”

  For the Alabama 13, it was a perfect way to kick off their reclaimed lives. Giving and getting love in equal measure, they left smiles and the story of a great day at the office in their wagging wake. Fantastic indeed.

  Showalter staff used aircraft tie-downs as makeshift leashes for their unexpected visitors.

  Showalter’s Brad Elliott enjoys the distraction.

  A Pilot’s Pilot

  NAME: Pilot

  BREED: Australian shepherd

  AGE: One year

  TOTAL MILEAGE:

  86

  ROUTE:

  Seattle, Washington–Olympia, Washington

  Olympia, Washington–Bremerton, Washington

  If you want to get a job done, give it to a busy person—that’s the old saw. Amateur pilot Robin Lee certainly qualifies. Lee holds down three jobs in her home city of Seattle—all of them in the aviation field. She’s passionate about flying (“Some people get bit by the flying bug,” she says. “I have a congenital case.”), but her passions don’t stop there. A lifelong animal lover, she frequently volunteers with local rescue operations for both horses and dogs.

  Smart, working animals hold special appeal for Lee. “I guess that’s why I like herding breeds,” says Lee. “They like to have real work to do.” For many years, Lee has volunteered as a representative with the Aussie Rescue and Placement Helpline—a nonprofit that helps place orphaned Australian shepherds into permanent homes. With two Aussies of her own at home, she understands the unique demands of the intelligent and energetic breed.

  PNP pilot Robin Lee with the dog soon to be named Pilot in her honor.

  “Most Australian shepherds would certainly be smart enough to help me operate in the cockpit,” she jokes, “but the lack of opposable thumbs and ability to speak clearly to ATC [air traffic control] in English hinders their full potential as copilots.”

  In the spring of 2010, another helpline volunteer told Lee about a one-year-old deaf Aussie that had landed in an Olympia, Washington, animal shelter. This dog, she learned, was a “double merle,” meaning it carried two copies of the merle gene (the gene that results in an Aussie’s unusual merle pattern of bluish- or reddish-gray fur dotted with black). Double merles are usually hearing and/or visually impaired if not completely deaf and blind. “They are mostly white,” says Lee. “They’re stunning to look at, but even more difficult to place than ‘normal’ Aussies due to lack of suitable, knowledgeable homes. Many are culled at birth.”

  Knowing how difficult finding a suitable home for this dog could be, Lee got in touch with another me
mber of the Pacific Northwest “Aussie network,” a woman who ran a rescue called DART, Deaf Aussie Rescue and Training.

  “She was willing to foster and work with our boy if we could get him up to her. She lives in a town called Deming, which is on the Nooksack River, approximately twenty miles from the Canadian border. Olympia, where the pup was, is more than 150 miles to the south. By car, it is three or four hours, depending on traffic. It’s doable, but the idea of a rambunctious, untrained adolescent who can’t hear and possibly can’t quite see being cooped up in a vehicle for that length of time was a bit daunting.”

  Lee suggested transporting him via PNP to shorten his journey. The request was posted to the PNP board, and she signed up for the mission. Knowing she might have her hands full, she invited another dog-loving pilot to fly along. They flew from Seattle to Olympia to pick up the passenger.

  “When we taxied up to the FBO [fixed base operator], I could see our volunteer and a snow white Aussie pup waiting for us at a picnic table outside,” remembers Lee. “She had him both on a harness and a collar, with a strong leash attached to each, because he was very bouncy and energetic and unable to hear his handler’s voice. Although most dogs usually just settle down in the backseat of an airplane and go to sleep, I had some doubts when I saw the little hooked marlin on the ramp.”

  She need not have worried. The hum of the engine worked its magic on the rambunctious pup, and he stayed calm for the hour-long flight. Arriving at Bremerton National Airport, Lee delivered her new friend to a very grateful foster mom, who promptly christened the dog “Pilot.”

  Lee stayed in touch with Pilot’s foster mom and delighted in reports that he had taken to his schooling “like a champ,” and was not, as previously thought, entirely deaf. After a few months of basic training with the foster volunteer, Pilot was placed in his forever home. Lee—this time in her role as an Aussie rescue volunteer—conducted the adoption interview herself.

  Pilot’s adoptive mom, Stephanie Ogata, says the dog’s strange eyes and unusual name both contributed to his appeal as they searched for a new dog. “No other dog caught our eye the way Pilot did,” she says. She does admit, however, that once the adoption was final, she and her husband considered renaming him. “We threw a few names around, but none of them stuck like ‘Pilot’ did.” She laughs, adding, “He now fits the name very well as we find him to constantly be looking at the sky and ceiling when he hears noises—and he’s also a little ‘flighty’ and hyperactive . . . but we love him very much.”

  Robin Lee isn’t surprised to hear that things are working out. “I had a good feeling about them, and I am thrilled for him,” says Lee. “I’m glad he now has a chance at a better life . . . and that one pilot was able to help another.”

  Pilot now enjoys life at home in Dupont, Washington, with his new brother, Ziggy.

  Boxer, Undefeated

  NAME: Sully

  BREED: Boxer

  AGE: Two years

  TOTAL MILEAGE:

  608

  ROUTE:

  Indianapolis, Indiana–Aurora, Illinois

  Aurora, Illinois–Red Wing, Minnesota

  May Heckman has never met the dog known to thousands as “Sully.” But she’ll never forget the day she first saw him. She had received an urgent text message and photo from a friend—a fellow boxer rescue volunteer in a large Midwestern city.

  “I looked at that picture and said, ‘What the hell is this,’ you know?”

  She sent the photo to her e-mail so she could get a better look. Then she responded to her colleague: “What on Earth . . . ?”

  “He was brought into us today,” came the reply.

  “Oh, my God. Is he alive?”

  “Barely.”

  Sully had been starved nearly to death when this photo was taken at a vet clinic in December 2009.

  That picture of Sully would have a similar jarring effect on the many people who would see it in the days and weeks to come—and it set off a heroic effort to save his life.

  “You couldn’t look at that picture and not be moved.”

  —Pete Howell, PNP volunteer and Sully rescuer

  As shocking as Sully’s picture was, the story that led up to it was even more difficult to believe. The young male boxer had been abused by a man whose wife had left him. The dog, which had belonged to his wife but was left behind when she moved out, was starved out of spite. Vets who examined him after he was seized and placed in protective custody estimated that Sully was days, if not hours, away from death.

  Minnesota Boxer Rescue agreed to take Sully in, but the critically neglected dog was six hundred miles away in Indiana. Heckman was certain he wouldn’t survive ground transportation, so she turned to PNP for help. Two pilots, Mike Gerdes and Pete Howell, took up Sully’s cause.

  “When the boxer ladies put their mind to something, just get out of the way, because it’s going to happen. You can either get on board the train or it’s gonna run you over.”

  —Pete Howell, discussing the volunteers of Minnesota Boxer Rescue

  Gerdes flew the first leg, meeting Sully’s rescuers at a small airport in Indiana. He’d made his 1966 Piper Cherokee as comfortable as possible, fashioning a bed from pillows and blankets. “He was so weak I worried that we might break a bone by lifting him into the plane,” Gerdes remembers. But the dog surprised him with his spirit. “He was very gentle and seemed to love the attention. Even in the bad shape he was in, you could look into his eyes and see that he was a sweetheart just looking for someone to care about him.”

  Gerdes flew at low altitude and cranked the heat in the old Cherokee to keep Sully as warm as possible. It was late December and the Midwestern skies were clear and frigid. As he flew north, one hand repeatedly reached behind his seat to stroke and pat the large, gaunt dog. Within thirty minutes or so, Sully fell into a deep sleep.

  PNP pilots Mike Gerdes (left, with veterinarian Tara Harris) and Pete Howell (top) flew Sully over the frozen Midwest.

  A rendezvous was planned with Pete Howell in Aurora, Illinois, and “Pilot Pete” was right on time. Gerdes briefed Howell on Sully’s condition, transferred the dog’s paperwork, and helped load Sully into Howell’s two-seater.

  Sully’s initial impression on Howell is indelible. “It was unbelievable,” he remembers. “When I first saw the dog it was hard to believe what I was seeing. The transport coordinator had warned me that this was a bad case, so I was prepared, but it was just shocking. My dad was a vet, so I’d seen a lot, but I’d never seen anything like that before. Literally, everyone in the airport office just stopped and stared. Yet, this dog who clearly had been abused by people in all kinds of different ways . . . he was the nicest dog you’d ever want to meet. Very calm. Very friendly. It was something to see.” This boxer was a fighter, that much was clear.

  “Four or five minutes into the flight, he just stuck his big head on my lap, and at that point it was one of the better days I’ve had in a long time.”

  —Pete Howell

  Sully’s arrival at a small airport in Red Wing, Minnesota, on the afternoon of December 29, 2009, was much anticipated. Waiting at the airport were the director of Minnesota Boxer Rescue, Valerie Current, and a foster volunteer, Stephanie Murphy. Murphy had agreed to take on the demanding job of caring for Sully during his long and intensive recovery. She already had three dogs at home, including a three-legged boxer she had adopted the previous year. She didn’t intend to adopt Sully, but knew he would be with her for a while.

  Sully meets foster mom Stephanie Murphy at the airport in Red Wing, Minnesota. Murphy would ultimately adopt him permanently.

  “When I first met him, I wanted to cry at his condition,” remembers Murphy. “But he wouldn’t allow me to, showering my face with kisses instead.”

  She worried about how her dogs would react to the emaciated hulk of a boxer. They had not always been welcoming to the dogs she’d fostered in the past. But those fears were put to rest on the first night. “They seeme
d to know that he needed companionship and warmth. My small dogs—a Jack Russell and a mini boxer—actually laid right on top of him to keep him warm.”

  Murphy began posting updates about Sully on YouTube, and hundreds of people around the country followed his progress as he slowly gained weight and energy. Minnesota Boxer Rescue also posted frequent Sully updates on its Web site. Watching the short video clips, one experiences a disconnect. Here is a nearly skeletal dog, barely able to walk just a few weeks earlier—but now romping, barking, and waggling his boney hindquarters like a puppy. This dog seems unaware of his condition, unfazed by having been so close to death. But a month after arriving in Minnesota, Sully’s rooters received a blow. He was diagnosed with bone cancer and given two to five months to live. Murphy decided right then to officially adopt Sully and let him live out his remaining few months as part of a family.

  But even as she watched her dog struggle with arthritis and a badly swollen leg, she marveled at his irrepressible spirit as he did his best to play with the other household dogs. She couldn’t give up on him. Not yet. Murphy and the foster coordinator at MBR decided to get a second opinion. And with it, Sully got a reprieve. The bone cancer, they learned, had been misdiagnosed. Sully was suffering instead from a fungal disease, blastomycosis—still dire, but treatable.