No Buddy Left Behind: Bringing U.S. Troops' Dogs and Cats Safely Home From the Combat Zone (35 page)

Paris is a destination that many people dream of reaching, but in our case, I wouldn't have objected to bypassing France altogether and heading straight for New Jersey. When the pilot announced we had started our descent into Charles de Gaulle Airport, the knot in my stomach tightened. Despite our having received clearance from the French Minister of Agriculture, something could still go wrong.

The only window available to Bev and me was about the size of a child's head, so it didn't provide much view of the world outside. When the plane came to a halt, I jumped up and peered out, looking for French officials. What I saw instead put a huge smile on my face. FedEx employees, ground crew, and equipment surrounded the plane. If I wasn't mistaken, the resolute expressions on their faces seemed set to warn any French officials who dared to approach: Don't even think about messing with these animals.

"Cross your fingers," I said to Bev as the door of the plane opened.

"Believe me if I can cross it, it's crossed."

"Other than our FedEx friends, let's hope the only people to come on board will be the airline caterers, delivering a huge box of French pastries."

"Mmmm, yes, pastries oozing with chocolate."

"Bonjour, mademoiselles," said the FedEx employee after he opened the door. "Welcome to Paris."

Bev and I acknowledged the welcome with what little French we knew.

"Can you tell me if anyone with the look of an official is waiting to see us?" I asked.

"No, the coast is clear," the man replied with a grin.

Dare I believe that another miracle was in the works?

An Attache from the U.S. Embassy in Paris and a handful of truly good-natured FedEx employees were our only visitors during the stopover. We had a great time at Charles de Gaulle Airport, introducing everyone to the animals. Our furry companions seemed to enjoy all the attention, especially Patton, who had been feeling out of sorts from not having the freedom which he usually demanded and got.

Two hours after our arrival in Paris, the cargo was loaded, the engines were warmed up, and we headed back to our oversized seats. A ground crewman reached through the open door, and just as he pulled it shut, his last words slipped through: "Au revoirt'

As we taxied down the runway, I relaxed for the first time in weeks. Other than a two-hour cargo exchange in England, we were on our way home.

Twelve hours later, the plane began its descent into Newark Liberty International Airport. Bev and I could not stay in our seats. We checked on the animals one last time, making sure that all the doors to their crates were locked and that the netting over each metal pallet was secure. After twenty agonizing minutes of circling, our pilot said the magic words, "We've just been cleared to land."

War veterans have been known to get down onto their hands and knees and kiss American soil upon their return. For the first time in my life, I experienced that same urge.

We weren't allowed to exit the plane until a U.S. Customs officer came aboard to inspect the paperwork for all the animals and to check our passports. When everything met with his approval, he cleared us to reenter the United States. Before the officer turned to leave, he extended his hand for a shake and said, "Job well done."

We stepped out of the aircraft into a cool drizzle that felt magnificent. Every pore of my body wanted to absorb the moisture after one week of the dry desert climate. I wondered how the animals would handle the chilly late-night air since only two days before we had all been sweltering in 120-degree heat.

As the massive cargo door opened and the crew slid the first pallet of animals forward, the eyes of Ralphie, Taji, Samantha, and Charlie stared back at me. I got so choked up I couldn't even call out their names.

Bev and I walked down the steps onto American soil just six minutes short of midnight.

"Welcome home, my friend," she said, putting her arm around me.

Upon hearing those words, I lost it. A sound halfway between a sob and laughter escaped me while my tears joined with Bev's in the hug of a remarkable friendship.

"Let's go give these dogs a much-needed pee break," I laughed.

Waiting on the flight line were our friends and volunteers: Kathy Deem, Linda Pullen, Andy Showers, Sheri Thompson, and Dena DeSantis, as well as Stephanie Scroggs from SPCA International. They were a welcome sight indeed. Dave Lusk, our FedEx friend, had arranged clearance for them to be there, knowing we would need to see some familiar faces when we exited the plane. He couldn't have thought of a better way to welcome us home.

The FedEx team at Newark moved the animals from the plane to a nearby warehouse with extreme care. Parked inside the building was the strangest collection of transport vehicles I'd ever seen. Dena DeSantis had enlisted a team of local plumbers who offered to haul all the crated animals to Building 95 on the airport property. Their motley collection of plumber's trucks and motorcycle trailers formed a caravan of vehicles, all lined up and ready to go.

As soon as all the dogs were unloaded at Building 95, each person grabbed a leash and released a dog from its crate. One could almost hear a communal sigh as the dogs relieved themselves on the nearby grass. Most of them had never laid a paw on green turf until that moment.

Dena followed Bev and me inside and showed us all the donations that local people and businesses had provided. Just about everything that a temporary shelter could possibly need was neatly stacked at one end of the large room. Volunteers, in the meantime, were scrubbing the travel crates, getting them ready for the dogs to sleep in when they came inside.

Linda Pullen brought Caramel the cat indoors and placed her in a small room off the main shelter area. Andy Showers, a devoted cat lover, brought Tom into the quiet room beside Caramel's. Andy promised to keep an eye on our sick friend, and we later learned that she sat up the whole night with him curled up in her lap while she kept vigil over him.

The next day, just after 6:00 a.m., a very concerned Andy called Bev at our hotel to report on Tom, who was even more lethargic than before and was now refusing all food and liquids.

"Andy doesn't think Tom can wait for the vet who is coming later, so Dena called her own vet and got her out of bed," Bev announced. "The vet said to bring Tom in, and she'll see him as soon as we arrive."

Bev and I quickly got dressed and drove to the shelter, where Dena was already waiting with Tom. Bev dropped me off while Dena climbed into the car with our poor sick friend.

Some while later, three mobile groomers arrived, donating their time, supplies, and equipment. Each dog went into the spa with a coat dulled by Iraqi sand and came out brand spanking clean with a patriotic bandanna tied around its neck. When I peeked in to see how Stubbs was doing, the groomer said, "Not one of these dogs has objected to having a bath. They all just stand in the tub and let you scrub them from nose to tail. I wish my regular clients were this

Amber Daigle had arranged for Ralphie to be picked up at Building 95 by her brother. When two young men pulled up, saying they had come to collect Ralphie, Bev took them inside to meet Amber's dog. When one of them sat down, Ralphie collapsed onto his lap and, throwing his head against the young man's shoulder, gazed into his eyes with unfettered adoration.

"He certainly likes you," Bev said with a laugh. "I don't think he's going to have any problems adjusting to his American family."

"I can see now why Amber didn't want to leave you behind," her brother said to the dog. "Well, Ralphie, we'd better get you in the car and start heading home. There's a whole bunch of people just dying to meet

"We recommend that the dogs ride in their crates," Bev explained when they got up to leave. "But I have to warn you, Ralphie is a bit of a Jekyll and Hyde when it comes to being confined. His bark is a little frightening."

"Oh, he'll be okay," the young man said, ruffling the dog's head. Sure enough, as the car drove away, ferocious barking emanated from the windows for a long distance down the road. "Bye, Ralphie!" the volunteers shouted as they rode away. Although everyone was laughing, many were sad to see the sweet dog go.

I was just about to walk one of the dogs when my cell phone rang. Bev's voice revealed she was not calling with good news.

"I'm just leaving the vet's office now," she said. "They want to keep Tom under close observation. He's really struggling. They said that when cats fight and get scratched, some pretty nasty bacteria enter the wounds. The ensuing infection travels quickly throughout their body, deep under the skin, and it's almost impossible to check if it isn't treated within a day or so. Poor Tom, no one even knew he had a wound for God knows how many days. The vet says his condition is now quite serious." At this her voice broke.

I tried to comfort my friend, but no words could promise Tom's recovery, and that's what we both longed for. Tom had to pull through. I didn't know what it would do to Kevin if his beloved friend died.

After walking the dog, I went to the news conference with Tom on my mind. It was supposed to be a time to celebrate, but for me the event was overshadowed by sadness.

Stephanie had been busy while Bev and I were in the Middle East. Coordinating with the mayor's office, she had organized a major news conference for the morning after our arrival in the airport administration building. She told me she expected a big turnout. So many people had called to say they wanted to meet some of these Iraqi desert dogs and to hear more about their incredible rescue.

When I arrived, satellite trucks and news media cars filled the parking lot of the airport administration building. Putting on a happy face, I entered the large lobby, which had been turned into a makeshift press room where maybe one hundred people had gathered. Waiting were dozens of reporters and camera operators, along with staff from the airport and port authority, as well as many officials and residents of New Jersey.

Accompanying me were my close friend, Sheri Thompson, and Stephanie. Also with us, ready to make their first public appearance, trotted the freshly groomed Taji, Tippy, and Iraqi. While Stephanie and I worked our way through the crowd with Taji and Tippy, Sheri took Iraqi into another room. His entrance would be saved for the last.

Cheryl O'Brien from FedEx greeted us as we walked up to the end of the lobby where microphones had been set up. I proudly introduced her to Tippy and Taji and explained that I had chosen them to represent the animals from Iraq, since they were used to being among large numbers of people and had calm personalities. After the introductions, we all walked together to the podium.

"Thank you all for coming," Stephanie said into the microphone. Taji and Tippy sat beside me and were sweeping the room with curious gazes. Standing next to Stephanie, I introduced each of them, giving a little background on the owner and the circumstances in which they'd been rescued.

Stephanie then introduced Cheryl, grateful that FedEx had allowed us to publicly acknowledge its employees' extraordinary efforts provided we emphasize that this was a one-time-only mission.

Cheryl took over the microphone.

"FedEx, as you know, doesn't carry passengers; we transport cargo. So we wanted to make sure we did everything right for our four-footed friends. We strapped the animals' crates onto specially designed pallets and secured them amidst a sea of giant containers in an aircraft that was described by one person as a stadium on wings when they first saw the size of it.

"Traveling all those miles is a daunting prospect for people, let alone animals from Iraq. But I'm proud to report that the animals never registered a single complaint or caused any fuss at all. The only feedback we received from them was wagging tails and looks of gratitude."

At this a chorus of "Awh" filled the room, and both dogs pricked up their ears. "All of us at FedEx," Cheryl continued, "would like to honor our special friends with a little thank-you gift and a great big welcome to America."

Cheryl motioned for me to join her by the microphone. She reached into a box that had been placed beside her and pulled out a dark gray and red canvas tote.

"Knowing that most of these animals still have a way to travel before they reach their final destination with soldiers' families, we arranged for each one of them to carry their own personal flight bag, containing everything a four-footed traveler needs." Cheryl handed me the bag.

"Open it up, Terri! Show us what's in there," someone shouted from the audience.

The image of children crowding around the birthday girl as she opens her presents crossed my mind. People moved closer to the podium and stretched their necks, while television cameras zoomed in on the bag in my hands. My eyes began to fill with tears. I had to keep blinking just to see as I pulled each item out. Inside were a brush, treats, and two collapsible bowls for food and water.

"I can't believe this," I said. "After all FedEx has done . . ." I turned to the crowd. "These gifts are from extraordinary people who went above and beyond to get the animals home. I wish I could tell you everything they did, but I'd have to write a book to fit it all in. Cheryl, please tell everyone at FedEx that our Patriot Pets will be thrilled with these." As I turned to give her a hug, the room exploded with window-rattling applause.