Authors: Terri Crisp; C. J. Hurn
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.
To Whom It May Concern:
I am writing this with the intent of seeing an important member of my team make it to the United States. Back in November 2007, a stray cat began hanging out around our compound. Someone had tied a piece of cord around his neck. Over time the cord got tighter and was slowly strangling the cat. We wanted to get it off of him, but he'd never let us get close enough to help.
A member of our team had an idea. We lured the cat into a vehicle with some tuna, and with a lot of hacking and gasping, he began to eat. SFC Jackson then grabbed him and the fight was on! As the cat connected with a few well-aimed claws, I took a pair of scissors and managed to sever the cord from his neck. When we let him go, the cat scampered off, madder than hell and hissing just to make sure we knew he was pissed. We didn't expect to see him again.
The next day there he was outside the door, looking at us with a "How about some more tuna?" expression on his face. The old Chinese adage came to mind: Once you save someone's life, they become your responsibility for the rest of their life. Over time Tom proved the adage true; he became a permanent resident outside our building.
We are an eleven-man team. Since our arrival in Iraq, four of our team members have died. I was in the vehicle during the IED strike that killed two of our teammates. I was physically wounded, but those injuries healed up fine. Mentally, however, I was distraught, to say the least.
For several weeks I couldn't get much sleep and was consumed with worry over when I would ever start feeling better inside. I'd go outside at night so I wouldn't wake my roommate with all my tossing and turning. After Tom adopted us, every time I went out, he would appear, hop up onto my lap, and look at me with an expression that said, "Hey, buddy, wish I could help, but what I really need is some tuna."
This one cat has given me more reasons to smile. Just having him hang out with me helped to pull me out of a dark funk that pervaded my existence ever since the IED attack. I owe an awful lot to my four-legged buddy.
We are getting close to redeployment, and Tom must come back to the States with us. He has certainly done his part for me. The other individuals whose lives he touched all have stories that mirror my own. Whoever has the power or authority to make this happen, please help us. We don't want to lose another team member. There is no other option but to succeed!