No Buddy Left Behind: Bringing U.S. Troops' Dogs and Cats Safely Home From the Combat Zone

by Terri Crisp; C. J. Hurn

  As the Afghan pup's arrival date approached, Dena's students grew more excited. Diligent efforts to bring Tiger home had ultimately resulted in their raising a total of $11,000, far exceeding anyone's expectations. Not only would Tiger get a ticket home, but the rescue of two other animals from Iraq would also be covered, thanks to a group of kids who believed they could make a difference and proved it big time. Dena sent me another email that showed once again how eager people were to help the girls in their effort to save Jessie's dog.

  Terri, my kids have been plain unstoppable. Everyone said they couldn't possibly do it, even our school principal, Jim. But he also promised that no matter what the kids decided to do, he would support them. So, I went in yesterday and said, "Jim, I need a bus to take my kids to the airport, and I'm not going to take no for an answer." Finding an extra bus around this town is like looking for a lost contact in the snow, but Jim bent over backwards to get one for us. This means all the girls will be able to meet Tiger at the airport and welcome him to the States.

  - Dena

  It was indeed an honor to finally meet the twelve students and their dedicated advisor. On May 6, 2008, when my colleagues and I drove into the Pakistan Airlines cargo area at JFK and saw the school bus, I was even more excited than I had expected. With me was jean, the mother of a soldier whose dog, Dusty, had been rescued from Iraq two weeks earlier. Jean had met my flight and driven me to the train station to pick up JD on our way to meet Tiger. My boss was so impressed with the girls' commitment and fundraising results that he wanted to be there to thank them personally.

  Dripping wet from the torrential rain, the three of us climbed onto the bus. Loud music accentuated a celebratory party atmosphere. Dena lost no time in greeting me with a big hug.

  "I'm so glad to be here and even more excited to finally meet all of you," I said after the music had been turned down. "You guys are absolutely amazing!" Wide smiles appeared down the rows of seats. "What you have done for Tiger and Jessie proves that every little effort made on your part makes a huge impact on someone else's life. Not a single moment of your time was wasted. You should be very proud of yourselves."

  The kids began to talk all at once. Their excitement and energy were beautiful. JD took his turn to praise the girls and to tell them how everyone at SPCA International had agreed that they were a force to be reckoned with. "That's another way of saying you guys rock," JD said, followed by the girls' cheers and high-fives.

  "Any word on Tiger's flight yet?" I asked. Dena had been following the flight's progress since they had reached the airport an hour earlier.

  "His plane should be touching down in about forty minutes. The freight agent said it will take another forty-five minutes to get Tiger unloaded and moved to this building."

  We helped to pass the time by sharing stories. The students were animated as they talked about their fundraising experiences and the other activities of the animal rights club. It did my heart good to know that kids like these would be the future guardians of animals. The girls also wanted to hear more about the soldiers' dogs and cats in the Operation Baghdad Pups program. While my stories unfolded, tears trickled down faces, and occasional bursts of laughter drowned out the sound of pummeling rain on the school bus rooftop. As we took refuge together from the storm, I knew this was one afternoon none of us would ever forget.

  "Tiger's plane has landed!" Dena had just returned from the agent's counter and now stood at the front of the bus. "Okay, it's time to go and greet our Afghan friend. Bring the posters!" The kids had rolled them up inside garbage bags. Their homemade signs read: WELCOME TO AMERICA, TIGER!

  We huddled under umbrellas and made the dash across the parking lot to the Pakistan Airways cargo office. When we entered the building, the poor man at the cargo counter must have thought he had been invaded. The students couldn't wait to tell him about their mission, and he was visibly moved. As the big moment got closer, the noise level escalated. The anticipation was intoxicating.

  The sound of an approaching forklift gave us the first clue that Tiger was in the building. When a passing cargo employee gave us a thumbs-up, we knew our wait was just about over. The kids lined up, holding their posters proudly in front of them. Dena took pictures of them-not an easy feat since no one would stand still. The building contained as much energy as a high school pep rally for a league title football game.

  One of the students suddenly screamed, "There he is!"

  I spun around to see a forklift driving toward us, carrying a large airline crate on a wooden pallet. No doubt about it, Tiger was home.

  The students were sensitive enough to realize that surrounding Tiger might overwhelm him, so they generously refrained from showing him how glad they were to meet him. One could only imagine what he had been through over the last couple of weeks and what was going through his head right then. He had to be scared, tired, and desperate for a potty break.

  After the forklift operator lowered Tiger's crate to the ground, I cut the zip-ties that had secured the crate en route. Before opening the door, I kneeled down and greeted the world traveler in a quiet voice. "What do you think of all this?" I asked while Tiger stared back at me. Once he began to wag his tail, I knew he was ready. Speaking softly, I opened the crate door and carefully clipped a leash onto Tiger's collar.

  Jessie wasn't exaggerating about Tiger's size. Although he was still just a puppy, the long-legged Afghan dog filled the height of his crate. He was glad to leave the confines of his travel container and trotted happily beside me as I took him out for a potty break. Tiger didn't seem to mind the rain; he was more interested in finding just the right place to lift his leg. As soon as Tiger found the spot, he peed and peed and peed. The look of contentment on his face made me laugh.

  For the next hour we stayed in the cargo warehouse, out of the interminable downpour, and we slowly became acquainted with the giant puppy.

  "Oh, look," one of the girls said. "He held up his paw when I asked for a shake."

  Tiger looked around at the girls, wagging his tail and panting as if waiting for another command. He liked being the center of attention.

  "See if he knows how to sit and lie down," another girl coaxed.

  "Sit, Tiger. Now lie down. Good boy! You're such a smart puppy, aren't you?" The dog's whole body wiggled in response.

  No matter what Tiger did or didn't do, the girls praised him. After the long hours spent in his crate, this must have seemed like heaven. He enjoyed their affection most of all and responded to their requests for a cuddle by leaning against the girls' legs and looking up with innocent puppy eyes directly into theirs.

  Fair Lawn High School animal welfare club welcoming Tiger home Terri Crisp

  Tiger and one of his many new toys Jessica Walker

  "Aw, he's so sweet. He's such a softie. I wish he was mine."

  After Tiger seemed comfortable with his new star status, I stood back and placed a call to Jessie.

  "He's here," I said as soon as she answered. "And he's just fine."

  Jessie began to yell, and everyone could hear her voice as I held the phone away from my ear. By then there wasn't a dry eye among the group. The moment we had all been working toward was even better than we had imagined. It was a grand day indeed.

  "Thank you, thank you, thank you," Jessie said when she was finally able to talk. "And please tell the students how much I appreciate everything they did. They are awesome. I will never be able to repay all the people who made it possible for me to keep my dog." She paused to catch her breath. "How do I ever thank you?"

  "By coming home alive and well. People here are just glad to do whatever they can to support our heroes."

  When this American soldier, who had risked her life every day in the middle of Afghanistan, said to me, "You are all my heroes," it took my breath away.

  My eyes scanned the group of girls and landed on Dena, who was animated and laughing. It was her suggestion, after seeing the Operation Baghdad Pups story on the news that r
esulted in this wonderful scene. Dena's support of the kids' club project had shown them they could achieve miracles. What a gift to give to a youngster. What a gift to give Tiger and Jessie.

  As I stood there marveling at all the outstanding people around me, I had no inkling of the important role that Dena was going to play a few weeks later, when Operation Baghdad Pups took on the most challenging rescue it had yet to pull off.

  Tom in Iraq, soaking up the sun Kevin Connors

  t was the beginning of May 2008, and all over Iraq things were heating up-literally. Although the airlplanes were climate-controlled, during the animal-loading process and long waiting periods between flights, air conditioning was not a certainty. Death by heat stroke was a real possibility-a risk that neither the airlines nor I was prepared to take. The travel embargo for animals would go into effect on June 1 and end on September 30.

  My number one priority was to transport the animals on Operation Baghdad Pups' active list halfway around the world before the June 1 embargo began. Using our current method of operation, we'd be lucky to rescue half of them before the end of May. If my daughter Jennifer and I, plus one more person, accompanied groups of three animals each, we'd have to make ten trips. Gryphon planes flew only three days a week, and with mounting attacks in Iraq, there was no guarantee they'd even be able to fly.

  I boiled it down to two solutions: SPCA International either had to raise enough donations to pay for a charter flight or find someone to lend us a plane that could fly from the Middle East to anywhere on the U.S. east coast. We had less than a month to make this happen. I began to feel like I do when I fill my pressure cooker with vegetables and water and screw the lid onto the pot. Placing the steel weight on the lid, I turn the stove up to "High" and wait for things to start rocking. It's kind of exciting.

  I started living Operation Baghdad Pups nearly twenty-four hours a day. Sleep and my seat at the dining room table became strangers to me. On one day alone, I received 586 e-mails, and there was only me to answer them all. Most of my days and nights were spent in front of the computer or on my Blackberry, often answering frantic e-mails from thirty understandably nervous owners. Because of the eleven-hour time difference, correspondence from Iraq reached me late at night or in the early morning. When pressing issues came up or an overly worried owner needed attention, I stayed awake until we worked things out, tapping into all my resources.

  Although I was the only person at SPCA International managing the Operation Baghdad Pups program on the ground, a growing team of other people worked hard to muster the support and funds we desperately needed to make the next missions possible.

  Stephanie Scroggs, SPCA International's Director of Communications, began a media onslaught, trying to alert the public to our soldiers' need. She flooded the desks of newspaper editors and radio and television news producers with press releases. The name "Operation Baghdad Pups" buzzed around the country like a military march gathering soldiers to war. We soon began to reap results from her effort.

  My first encouraging contact came in an e-mail from David Dean in Florida.

  From: David Dean, Pensacola Naval Hospital Health and Wellness Clinic

  To: Terri Crisp, SPCA International

  May 3, 2008

  Dear Terri,

  As a counselor to veterans returning from war, many of whom suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), I was particularly glad to read about the Operation Baghdad Pups program. It's great to see animal lovers who are willing to override the system in order to ensure our soldiers' animals get the care they and their GI pals deserve. Good for you!

  Pets are unquestionably beneficial therapeutic aids for soldiers with PTSD and for those who struggle to transition into the life of a civilian. While applauding your efforts, I also hope we can help you drum up support for your program.

  My colleagues and I would like to extend an invitation for you to attend our May 8-9 symposium entitled "The Hidden Casualties of War: Promoting Healing and Resiliency for U.S. Service Members and Their Families." This is a joint effort of the University of West Florida's Center for Applied Psychology and Pensacola Naval Hospital's Health and Wellness Clinic. The event will be attended by professionals from military, medical, and political echelons. Perhaps you will meet someone at the event who can solve your transport and funding problems.

  I hope you will come, and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

  -David Dean

  In all my years of doing rescue work, soldiers, more than any other group I'd previously encountered, had a deeply embedded fear of losing their animals, especially of seeing them intentionally killed by someone who was enforcing military rules. The soldiers' desperation was often intense. I knew that if my efforts to save a dog or cat failed, the resulting tragedy could have a much greater impact on a soldier's mental well-being.

  With each plea for help, my life became more deeply entwined in the lives of those who counted on me to keep their wartime buddy alive. I was often afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing when communicating with a person whose animal had died or disappeared. Handling the situation badly could leave an even deeper scar. Determined to maintain the good reputation that SPCA International had earned so far by handling the requests of animal owners with caring humanity, I gratefully accepted David's invitation and looked forward to improving my skills for responding to people who had suffered psychological trauma.

  Unfortunately, the symposium did not introduce me to anyone with access to a plane or the funds to charter one, but it did give me a great deal of insight into what men and women returning from Iraq and Afghanistan were dealing with emotionally as well as the strains placed on families during their loved ones' deployment. I didn't walk away from the symposium a certified therapist, but I certainly had a better idea of how to ease some of the pain and worry. Listening turned out to be the best thing I could do.

  The skill of listening was needed over and over again, particularly when one of the animals on the growing active rescue list never made it home. The following e-mail arrived on my last day at the symposium. It was sent from a soldier I had been working with, planning to transport her dog home before the summer embargo began.

  Dear Terri,

  This morning Misfit was just fine. But this afternoon he started salivating at the mouth, and he's been trying to puke. It's so sad, Terri. Even though he's obviously in distress, he is still just as sweet as ever. He wags his tail when I walk up to him, but he can't stand up. He won't eat his tuna or beef jerky.

  I discovered a dish of food outside that was mostly eaten. I suspect by the smell that it was laced with antifreeze. Someone obviously gave it to Misfit on purpose. People are trying to save him right now, but we are not veterinarians. Do you have any suggestions?

  - CPL Crystal Barrows

  As soon as I read this, I contacted a veterinarian friend. She warned that the odds of Misfit pulling through were pretty dire but gave some suggestions for treatment. Before I could send them along, Crystal's next e-mail arrived.

  Our beloved Misfit died. He was still just a puppy. We took everyone's suggestions on what to do, and we Googled like hell, trying to find a way to help him, but all of our efforts failed. According to what we read, alcohol helps when an animal has swallowed antifreeze, but alcohol is not allowed in Iraq, so we were missing a crucial remedy.

  What is really difficult now is that there are four other dogs living here on the base. Jenga is one of them, and he's Misfit's brother. The four dogs were all buddies. Anyway, they've been sniffing around our area all day looking for Misfit. It is so sad to watch them. Thankfully, the other dogs are fine. Misfit was a specific target, so we are keeping a close eye on the rest of the dogs. We've got Neighborhood Watch going big time. We think we know who did it. They were other U.S. soldiers. I just can't believe it; how could they do this to a puppy?

  I may want to bring Jenga home. He acts a lot like Misfit, and he's the only one still alive from that litter. But right now,
I am too exhausted emotionally to think about it. I'm afraid to get close, knowing someone could do the same thing to Jenga. Our Battalion Commander said a lot of people have heard about Misfit, and whether they're dog lovers or not, they all think this was just plain dirty. We're all so upset. One soldier even asked if we were going to hold a memorial service for Misfit. Thanks for all your help trying to get Misfit home. I'm so sad we didn't save him. It makes this war stink even more.

  - CPL Crystal Barrows

  My heart could not have sunk lower. After all this soldier had gone through, the last thing she needed was to lose her dog in such a horrible way. I wouldn't be surprised if, when she returned to the States, she needed counseling to deal with the emotional trauma of her war experiences. Grateful for the insight I had gained from the symposium lectures, I wrote back to Crystal.

  Crystal, I cannot begin to tell you how truly sorry I am. I know there is nothing I can say to ease the pain. However, it is my hope that maybe the story of what happened to Misfit may be used in such a way that this won't happen to other animals. We will not forget Misfit and all the joy he brought to the people who knew him. I hope you will be able to find comfort knowing that Misfit's days were filled with your love. This is more than many dogs in Iraq ever experience. Please know that my heart and thoughts are with you.

  -Terri

  More determined than ever to get these animals home, I went back to work. Correspondence still took up a major part of each day as I worked out the logistics of each mission.

  On May 12 I received an e-mail from a soldier I'd not heard from before. Usually I had to ask the soldiers to write me a letter explaining why we should consider their animal for the program, but this particular soldier gave me all the details from the start.