No Buddy Left Behind: Bringing U.S. Troops' Dogs and Cats Safely Home From the Combat Zone (15 page)

As we stood outside, I couldn't believe how busy the airport was at this time of the night. Car horns and exhaust fumes gave me a nauseating headache. Loud music from the open windows of passing vehicles reverberated against the concrete buildings and buzzed through my tired bones. Never-ending groups of shrouded, robed, and uniformed people said their greetings and goodbyes in a stream of Arabic and other foreign languages. The taunting aroma from a nearby vendor's stall reminded me I hadn't eaten since lunch. A yawn escaped me. Tired, hungry, and desperately wanting to be somewhere safe with the dogs, I tried ringing Linette's number one more time.

I couldn't believe my ears when a sleepy voice answered, "Hello."

"Linette, this is Terri, and I'm at the airport." I talked fast, afraid she was going to hang up again. "I have Liberty and K-Pot with me." There was a long pause.

"Is your flight delayed?"

"No, it left without us. My debit card wouldn't work, and I couldn't pay the dogs' freight charge."

"Where are the dogs now?"

"We're standing outside the airport in the baggage claim area."

"You got the dogs through Customs? How in the world did you do that?" Linette was now wide awake.

"With timing, a bit of psychology, and divine intervention in the form of a cat. But we desperately need a place to stay. We're exhausted."

"I'll come and pick you up. It'll take about forty-five minutes."

"Thank you, my friend," I said in relief.

It was time to celebrate. I looked at the porters and pretended to sip from a cup. "Coffee?" They both nodded yes.

Motioning for them to stay with the dogs, I went back inside the terminal and purchased an assortment of pastries and three Starbucks Grande White Mochas, with an extra shot of espresso in mine. While the coffees were being made, I went to KFC and bought Liberty and K-Pot large chicken sandwiches, grateful I could finally keep my promise to feed them.

When I returned, we sat on the trolleys and ate our picnic, making what small talk we could while learning a little bit about each other.

When Linette finally pulled up to the arrival area, I stood and waved. Amazed to see me there with the dogs, she forgot to brake and nearly drove over the curb. By the time my porters pushed the trolleys to the waiting vehicle, Linette was standing by the open rear door of her SUV.

"You really did it," she said, giving me a big hug.

"And I hope I never have to do it again! I was so afraid I was going to lose the dogs." The sight of her was such a relief that I would have cried if I had not been too tuckered out.

It was time to say goodbye to my Sri Lankan porters, and I handed each of them a generous tip. The money seemed inconsequential in comparison with what they had done for me and the dogs. I would never forget their kindness and the comfort it bestowed. Looking both of them in the eyes, I placed my hand against my chest as a gesture of my deepest thanks. Their responding smiles revealed that we had left an impression on each other's lives that would not soon be forgotten.

When I slid into the comfort of Linette's car, my exhaustion took over. I closed my eyes for just a few seconds only to open them and discover that we had reached our destination. Linette's dogs, along with her husband and their two daughters, were asleep upstairs. As quietly as we could, we released Liberty and K-Pot into the courtyard. They wasted no time sniffing out the best spot to pee. Each one stood in the grass for at least a full minute while relieving a ready-toexplode bladder.

A few minutes later, when the dogs and I were snug in Linette's guest room, she stuck her head in to wish us goodnight.

"Sleep as long as you can, and once you're up we'll plan how to get the export documents you need."

"More documents? I had no idea we needed more. How difficult will that be?"

"Go to sleep and don't worry. You three are safe for now, and that's all that matters."

Giving Linette a grateful goodnight hug, I did as I was told. Worry could wait for tomorrow. I sat down on the bed; both dogs came over and leaned against my legs. Liberty gently licked my hand as if to say, "Everything is okay."

Pulling out my Blackberry, I sent a short message to the soldiers' waiting families and to JD and my family, saying that the dogs and I were fine and that we would be arriving a little later than originally planned. I promised to send our new flight information as soon as the details were confirmed.

Liberty and K-Pot were already stretched out on the cool tile floor. One of them let out a long sigh. As I lay down in the dark, my weary mind and body began to relax. Drifting back over the strange events and the people who had helped along the way, the thousands of miles that separated me from home and family seemed to dissolve into nothing. By the time the clock struck three, the dogs and I were fast asleep.

The nasal-toned call to prayer, broadcast on loudspeakers throughout Kuwait, woke me at 5:00 a.m. I dozed on and off for about an hour, and when the dogs began to stir, I got dressed and took them into the courtyard, where I found Linette and half of her menagerie.

"How about some breakfast?" Linette asked as she herded her dogs back into the house. Later, over coffee and croissants, Linette cast her eyes over Liberty's and K-Pots' vaccination records that I had fetched from my bag while she made the coffee.

"These look good. We shouldn't have any problems."

The "should" part of that sentence hit me like a hammer.

Please make this go easy, I thought. I don't know how much more I can stand.

Linette took one look at my worried expression and suggested I should stay with the dogs and rest while she ran the paperwork to the veterinary clinic.

"Once I've got their health certificates, I'll take them to the Ministry of Agriculture to be stamped. I should be back in two hours if there are no delays."

I spent the time throwing tennis balls for K-Pot and Liberty and playing with Linette's dogs. Every once in a while my two would come and lie beside me as if confirming I was their protector. Noth ing is as gratifying to me as the look in a dog's eyes that says, "I trust you" and "thanks." No matter how difficult my two journeys to Iraq had been, the dogs' faith-filled faces erased all the stress and worries. I understood a little better how much the presence of such dogs helps our soldiers.

When Linette returned with the official paperwork, I made reservations for the United flight leaving that night. I asked about the previous day's problem with my debit card and was told that a computer glitch that had caused the error had been corrected. Even so, we took no chances. Not only did Linette drive us to the airport that evening, but she also came inside to the counter and stayed until my card was authorized and the receipt was in my hand.

"Travel safe, my friend," she said with tears in her eyes. Already the adventure had bonded us two women, each of whom, only two days before, had not known that the other existed.

"You saved us last night, and I will never, ever forget that."

K-Pot and Matt's sister, Danielle Danielle Berger

"Anything for the animals," she laughed.

Liberty, K-Pot, and I left Kuwait just after 11:00 p.m. on February 22. We arrived at Dulles International Airport the next afternoon to find Danielle Berger and Amanda Byrnside already waiting to greet us among a crowd of reporters, cameras, SPCA International staff, and volunteers.

Having family members who were dog lovers and who served together in Iraq made for an instant friendship between Amanda and Danielle. They had supported each other with e-mails, phone calls, photographs, information, and anything else they could to ease the worry of having a loved one at war. Whenever Amanda heard from her husband, she'd pass on the latest news to Danielle, and when Matt wrote to Danielle, she would do the same in return. Not only did keeping in touch help minimize the sleepless nights, but their common goal of saving the dogs sealed their friendship. When I agreed to take on K-Pot's rescue, leaving Liberty behind was out of the question.

Although we hadn't met in person, my greeting with Danielle and Amanda was as warm as if we were reunited sisters. "I can't believe the blizzard I drove through to get here," Danielle laughed with tears rolling down her cheeks. The atmosphere was full of jubilation. But now it was time to let these women properly meet their loved ones' dogs.

Without being prompted, everyone moved back and watched in silence while two women -a soldier's sister and another soldier's wife-squatted down to open the crate doors. After the women clipped on the leashes, the dogs stepped out of the crates, sniffed the new faces, and wagged their tails. Everyone remarked that the dogs seemed to understand that they were carrying the hearts of the men they had left behind.

As much as it hurt to say goodbye to my traveling companions, the satisfaction I got from watching the puppies bridge the physical gap that separated U.S. soldiers from their family made it all worthwhile.

Socks looking for his buddy at the Welcome Home ceremony Terri Crisp

he dogs of Iraq come from a gene pool of animals that have learned to survive in some of the world's harshest conditions. They have to be resilient and sharp witted. Those that are born sickly, deformed, weak willed, or mentally slow are quickly weeded out by nature and by man. Time and again soldiers' e-mails mentioned the all-too-common sight of lifeless animals strewn along roadsides and rotting in neighborhoods. Carcasses lay where the animals had died from culling, torture, starvation, or disease.