One Dog at a Time

by Farthing, Pen

  The following morning dawned grey and overcast, a light drizzle complementing the bitterly cold easterly wind. After the morning meeting I walked to the galley to collect the leftovers from the night before. I was greeted by the usual sight of an escaped Jena waiting patiently at the head of the breakfast queue. I shook my head, made a fuss of her then reminded her that she breakfasted over in her run.

  ‘You are meant to be a responsible parent these days,’ I said.

  She happily followed me and the smell of yesterday’s sausages back to the run. The others were waiting in their respective kennels, all unusually subdued, probably due to the dramatic drop in morning temperature. Jena was a persistent offender at escaping and we had now become accustomed to her doing the Houdini thing every day.

  I fed the dogs their breakfast and tried to make a fuss of each in turn. For some of the dogs, this would be the last time I would ever feed them.

  I reluctantly left the dog runs to grab Dave and John; we had one thing left to do.

  ‘This compound will have to do, ’ I said as I surveyed the abandoned old compound we were stood in one more time.

  I kicked the desert floor in frustration. I was in agony emotionally. I looked across at Dave and John. Their faces were drawn and tired. I knew they felt the same as me.

  Time had run out and had left us with no other option.

  Our time in Now Zad had come to a close. In just under two hours Lima Company of 42 Commando would relieve us. The boss had turned a blind eye to our small dog-welfare operation. I couldn’t count on the incoming officer to be as accommodating. And besides, I didn’t know anybody in the arriving group who was even remotely interested in dogs.

  Even if there was, I wouldn’t be in the compound during the handover operation. I would be out in the desert arranging the positioning of the escorting convoy that would be taking us overland back to Bastion.

  Dave and John too would have their own responsibilities during the handover, so there would be nobody to look after the dogs. The dogs would have to leave the Now Zad compound when we did.

  ‘What about water?’ Dave asked.

  ‘There are some buckets over there,’ John said, pointing to a few old rotten buckets that had been discarded in one corner of the compound next to a long ago disused diesel generator.

  I slowly turned through 360 degrees and surveyed the 100-foot-square compound.

  The 15-foot-high mud walls that made up the four sides of the compound were cracked and crumbling slowly from the bottom up. Just a lone metalled double gate in the north wall provided access in and out.

  Just one corner sprouted a small patch of dried grass and the remainder was barren desert mud. Except for the generator there was nothing else to be seen. What it had been used for would remain a mystery.

  I walked over towards the corner furthest from where I had been standing; a piece of dull metal had caught my eye in the sun.

  ‘Oh, fantastic,’ I called over to the other two who were carrying out a check of the other barren corners.

  Lying on the floor, no more than a foot in front of me, was the brownish green warhead of a foot-long rocket-propelled grenade. It had failed to explode.

  ‘Some unexploded ordnance over here,’ I said as the other two strolled over.

  ‘Nice,’ Dave said, recognising the weatherbeaten casing immediately.

  I knelt down and studied the ground around the warhead. I could clearly see the indent in the softened mud where the grenade had impacted.

  Cautiously I reached down and picked it up by the safe end. Dave and John automatically took a step back each.

  ‘And where are you putting that?’ they said as I turned and carefully walked towards the open gate.

  ‘We can’t have the engineers blowing anything up if the dogs are in here, can we?’ I said as I studied the ground in front of me. The last thing I wanted to do was trip over with an RPG in my hand to break my fall.

  Our only option was to move both sets of puppies along with Jena and Tali into this deserted compound that lay across from our occupied one. We had never seen anybody using it since we had arrived.

  As the ANP detachment was staying in the DC for at least another month I had brokered a deal with Rosi to feed the puppies for the remainder of his stay.

  I had already put a pile of ration packs to one side for him to use. I had to trust him; he had promised that he would not let any locals take the puppies. When the time came to leave he would leave the compound gate open. I knew it wouldn’t be long before they succumbed to starvation, but at least this way they would have a chance to put on a bit of weight and have a fighting chance to fend for themselves in the streets and alleys of Now Zad.

  Nowzad, RPG and AK would find it the hardest. I knew they would try and get back in; hell, I had fed them two meals a day, more or less, for the last three months. For them it would be a hard habit to break. I realised now that I should have kicked them out earlier. Leaving it until the last minute was a big mistake.

  For days now I had sat and anguished over this situation, delaying the inevitable until the last moment. Until now I had truly believed that the ANP commander was going to fulfil his side of the bargain. He had arranged a truck to take the dogs from Lashkar Gar to Kandahar, but he just could not find anybody to take the dogs on the first part of the journey of just 60 kilometres.

  I knew the journey would be through some of the most loyal of Taliban areas, but I had, probably foolishly, clung to the hope that we could still find a driver. After all we’d been through, I really should have known better.

  I walked out the open gate and waved the unexploded grenade at the nearest sangar. The marine on watch just waved back. I warily placed it well away from the compound entrance and walked back in. I could tell the engineers about it later.

  ‘It will have to do, fellas; we don’t have time for anything else,’ I shouted over to Dave and John, who were stood talking quietly to each other, their rifles hanging limply by their sides. I recognised the look of calm resignation on their faces. ‘We can use that old corrugated iron to make a shelter for each set of puppies in opposite corners,’ I added.

  I looked around the completely empty square compound one more time. ‘Come on, let’s go get Tali and Jena; we don’t have much time left.’

  At least the compound would shelter the pups from the worst of the bitter wind and rain – not that I could draw any comfort from that thought.

  I waited for Dave and John to walk over to me and then turned for the gate.

  The sound of Tin Tin shouting excitedly caught us all by surprise. We looked up to see his silhouetted figure balancing on top of the compound wall looking down on us. He was shouting something but I didn’t know what.

  ‘What’s up, Tin Tin?’ I shouted back.

  I knew he couldn’t understand me.

  ‘Listen.’ Dave motioned for us to shut up.

  It was then we realised that he was repeating just one word over and over.

  ‘Taxi.’

  ‘Is that a bullet hole?’ I asked Dave, still slightly out of breath from the sprint around to the gate. We were with an extremely happy-looking Rosi.

  ‘Yeah, that looks like a bullet hole to me, all right,’ he replied as we stared at the dirt-splattered windscreen of the battered white minivan. The van had suddenly arrived at the compound gate accompanied by the ANP commander and Abdul la Tip.

  It was being driven by a poorly dressed middle-aged local. The dashboard of the van was decorated with sun-faded plastic flowers and the front bumper was dented and broken from less than careful driving. The driver’s dark eyes were nervously darting from one marine to another as he drove along the uneven track into the compound. He was clearly uneasy and I suppose I couldn’t really blame him.

  The commander gave me his best smile as he approached me. Abdul la Tip was close behind as the commander spoke to me while clasping my right hand with both of his.

  ‘The commander has got you a taxi my
friend,’ Abdul la Tip translated.

  ‘I am eternally grateful, Commander,’ I replied, smiling like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland, ‘very last-minute but very grateful.’

  Klaus, our resident Dutch reconstruction adviser, and Harry the Terp had strolled over to see all the commotion. The grins on their faces told me they both realised what was happening. They both knew how much it meant to us to be able to get the dogs to safety.

  I grabbed Harry’s hand as we both smiled like small kids.

  ‘Harry, can you tell the driver that we will get the dogs travel crates?’ I didn’t wait for the reply but along with Dave and John darted off to grab the crates that we had built a long time ago for this very moment.

  I didn’t hear the brief exchange but as I arrived back with RPG and AK’s crate I twigged that something was not right. Harry, the driver and the commander were all engaged in a heated debate. Finally they broke off and Harry turned to face me.

  ‘The driver will not take the crates. It is too dangerous for him. If he is stopped the Taliban will know it is for Westerners. He will only take the dogs as we would carry them.’

  ‘You mean, just free in the back?’ I asked.

  ‘No, Penny Dai, the dogs must be tied up,’ Harry replied.

  I looked at the driver and then at the still unemotional eyes of the commander. There was no time for debate.

  ‘John: go find some heavy-duty string from the store and Dave, can you go and get that tin box by the living compound? We can use it to put Tali’s pups in.’

  ‘We will need to rig something up to stop them scampering out,’ Dave shouted as he turned and ran off.

  ‘Harry, can you ask the commander for the birdcage that I know he has?’

  I didn’t have time to be polite about it. I had spotted it during our brief peek in the ANP quarters when we had first arrived over three months ago.

  ‘Yes, but you must hurry; the driver does not like being here.’

  ‘Tell him I am hurrying.’

  I knew the journey would take several days. The plan had always been that a local would get the dogs to Lash and then the police would assist in transporting the dogs to a meeting point nearer Kandahar. I couldn’t do anything about the fact that there would be two different change-over points, both run potentially by Afghans who didn’t actually like dogs.

  With the dogs not being in cages I had no idea how they would handle them. And what about Nowzad? He didn’t really like anybody else apart from me and then I still had to be careful. Hell, he still gave Dave and John the evil eye.

  As we carried on with the preparations to put the dogs in the van, an even bigger problem was beginning to form in my head. Looking at the cramped van, I could see that there simply wasn’t room for all the male dogs.

  I would have to make a choice. There was no way Dushka and Nowzad or even Patches could all go in the same small six-seat wagon. It would be carnage. Two of them would have to be left behind.

  Instinctively I knew immediately it would have to be Dushka and Patches. Even though deep down I knew Dushka was more sociable with people, I knew that I could not leave Nowzad to remain here now. Not after the last three months.

  Time didn’t allow me the luxury of pondering it any further. I would be able to do that later during the seven- or eight-hour drive back to Bastion.

  Already, however, I could see that if this worked maybe I could get the driver to do the journey again and to collect Dushka and Patches later. It was a big if, I knew.

  We had to get the other dogs ready for the taxi; I wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip through my fingers. John arrived with the string and coaxed Tali over. She had no idea what was about to happen and with her tail wagging she crawled over to us expecting a fuss.

  ‘Sorry, Tali, but it is for the best, okay?’ I said as I lifted and rolled her on to her back. She didn’t resist and meekly gave in as we bound her front and rear legs together.

  I carefully picked her up and carried her to the waiting van. I placed her down on the front rear seat. She casually propped herself up and stared at me with a puzzled look. I rubbed her ears.

  Dave had arrived back with the old metal Afghan suitcase that had been outside the living area for months. He had ripped the lid off and using some old flexible metal wire had quickly fashioned a covering that would stop the puppies getting out.

  Carefully he placed Tali’s pups one by one into the metal box before gently pushing their heads down as he secured the wire to criss-cross the top. Immediately the large light brown puppy with the darker colouring along the top of its nose poked its head up through the mesh. Dave gently pushed it back down and pulled the wire even tighter.

  He placed the suitcase on to the floor of the minivan as Tali looked on.

  As I was tying Jena, Tin Tin returned with the commander’s old wooden birdcage. The delicately made top part of the hand-crafted cage was connected to the wooden base by three small catches. It easily came apart so we could carefully place Jena’s eight pups on to the base before replacing the frame. I secured it with the string as well, as I doubted very much that it had been built for the weight it now carried.

  Luckily the pups were still in the clingy puppy stage of life and I hoped they weren’t going to be too bothered about being stuck in a birdcage. The only problem I could see was that they would not be able to feed until they eventually made it to the rescue.

  There was nothing I could do about that. Our original dog crates would have allowed Tali and Jena to travel with their respective pups but obviously we hadn’t contemplated Taliban interference.

  I placed the wooden birdcage with its fragile cargo down next to the suitcase containing Tali’s puppies.

  RPG knew something was up and it took me and Dave a few minutes to corner him in his run as he ducked and dived as we went to grab him. Once caught though he gave in like Tali and Jena and let us tie his paws together.

  We didn’t need to talk about it. I knew from the look on Dave and John’s faces that they were as unhappy about tying up the dogs as I was but it was a means to an end. Either we did this or we threw them out on the streets of Now Zad to face a bleak future. There was no choice.

  We put RPG, Jena and AK on the back seat of the van. All three huddled uncomfortably together. It hurt to see the total confusion in their eyes as I closed the rear door. But I didn’t have time to make a fuss of them and it hadn’t really sunk in that I would probably never see them again. I was working on automatic pilot. The constant sound of the countdown clock echoed in my mind as I quickly jogged round to the run to get Nowzad.

  I wondered briefly what the driver thought of dogs sitting on his plastic-covered passenger seats but he didn’t protest. I guessed the ANP commander was paying him enough for the journey.

  ‘Come on, then, Dave, give me a hand with Nowzad,’ I urged him as I untied the gate to Nowzad’s run.

  ‘Get real; he doesn’t like me at the best of times. You tie him up,’ Dave said, standing outside the fence with John.

  ‘Don’t be soft,’ I replied as I turned and looked at Nowzad as he bounded over to see me, his tail stump in a constant state of motion.

  I felt guilty at what I was about to do.

  ‘All right buddy, it is time to go.’

  I quickly fed him two biscuits and made him sit as I tied his front legs together. He was too big and heavy to roll over and I knew he would put up a fight. We knew each other but not that well.

  I tied his rear legs together and forced him to hobble over to the gate. He was as happy to be getting out of the run as I was that we had found finally found a vehicle.

  As I struggled around the corner carrying a tied-up Nowzad, the driver began shouting and pointing at Nowzad, sheer terror in his eyes.

  ‘What is he saying, Harry?’ I asked.

  ‘Fighting dog no good,’ Harry replied.

  ‘Tell him it is okay. I will tie his mouth shut, okay?’

  Harry and the driver c
arried on debating the matter for another minute before the driver eventually backed down and agreed. The piercing looks he was being given by the ANP commander may have played their part in persuading him.

  I hated myself for doing it and I knew I wouldn’t be winning any RSPCA prizes for animal welfare, but I slipped a strip of black masking tape around Nowzad’s muzzle, leaving it loose enough so that he could breathe and drink water. If anybody bothered to offer him some on the long journey, that was.

  ‘Sorry, Nowzad,’ I said, as I carefully lifted him into the rear of the van and placed him alone on the middle seats. I made a loose-fitting collar from the remainder of the string and secured it to the rail inside the minivan. At least he would not be able to bound over the seats and go for the driver.

  ‘Please hurry, Penny Dai,’ Harry said, tapping me on the shoulder. ‘The driver wants to leave now.’

  ‘Okay.’

  I looked at the dogs one more time, all of them bizarrely staring out the windows like something out of a Walt Disney kids’ cartoon about animals on a bus ride.

  ‘Tell him to look after the dogs. Do not leave the doors open if he stops. They will escape if he does,’ I told Harry.

  To reinforce this, the commander jumped in with his own orders for the driver. The commander knew that I wouldn’t pay until the driver had delivered the dogs. I got the impression he was making this clear to the driver, just in case he had any other ideas.

  I stood with John and Dave as the driver slammed the side door shut and jumped in behind the steering wheel. A cloud of diesel fumes exploded from the exhaust of the van as he turned the ignition.

  The van lurched its way out of the compound as the commander led the driver out through the gates. Through the mud-spattered rear window I could just make out the narrow head of RPG darting from side to side as I am sure he wondered what the hell was going on.

  In all it had taken just 20 minutes to load all the dogs onboard.