Missy - the War Dog

Believing it would make a man of his son, Norm’s father signed for him to join the army when he was 17 years old.  Shortly after his 18th birthday, Norm was sent to Vietnam to fight in what would be the final 10 months of the war.  Trained as a dog handler, he spent nine months of that time working with Missy, a silver and black, 55-pound German Shepherd.

Missy and Norm were one of 30 dog teams serving with the 1st Calvary Infantry Division in South Vietnam.  Their missions lasted five days, with three days of rest before going out again.  They went wherever they were needed when it was their turn and repeated this routine throughout the war.  

When Norm and Missy arrived on a mission, Norm met with the Lieutenant or Captain in charge, received a situation report, and proceeded to walk point with Missy leading the way.  Missy’s job was to alert Norm to potential danger, including booby traps, trip wires, and ambushes.  With her heightened canine senses, Missy served as the eyes and ears for everyone.  When she stopped, ears and tail raised, everyone stopped.  Missy could not communicate the exact danger - only the direction from which it came.  

The lives of every soldier on the mission depended on Missy, who had already seen four years of combat.  Yet she developed a special bond with Norm despite having served with several handlers.  The young soldier who had never been away from home before developed an even stronger bond with her.

Norm’s 80-pound rucksack, which he carried on his back, was essentially a survival kit for their time in the jungle.  It included ammunition, first aid supplies, a rain poncho, food rations, and enough water for both to remain hydrated in the stifling heat and humidity - 35 quarts for Norm and 10 quarts for Missy.

The ethos of a dog handler is that the dog comes first.  Like handlers before him, Norm fed and watered Missy before tending his own needs.  At night she slept next to him.  Twenty four hours a day she stood at the ready to save his life, defending it with her own if necessary.  “Missy was a true combat Scout Dog who ultimately gave her life for her handlers, fellow infantrymen (grunts) and her nation,” he says.

Norm did not return the same boy who left home to join the army but, thanks to Missy, he was not alone on his perilous journey to manhood.  Her memory both haunts and comforts him.  Her spirit lives forever in his heart.

Come back next week and read about Layla, Norm's dog in the post-war years.

by Elizabeth Sundstrom

Juba and Nova - Kitty Health Care Crisis

Seven months after their 20-year-old cat Squeek died, Amy and Marc decided to adopt two black kittens.  “Black cats have the lowest adoption rate and the highest euthanasia rate so there was no question we were getting black kittens!” says Amy.  Just two months old at the time of their adoption in August 2012, Juba, a male, and Nova, a female, are from different litters and have radically different personalities.  Nova is willowy and agile and can turn anything into a toy. Juba is contemplative in nature, a quiet observer of his surroundings.


Nova spent the first eight weeks of her life receiving good care in a shelter, where her pregnant mother had delivered kittens after being surrendered.  Juba was rescued by a construction worker at a worksite.  The man believed one of his colleagues was beating Juba, who had suffered a broken tail.  The ragamuffin kitten with amber eyes and fur that resembles dreadlocks bears the emotional scars of that time.


Amy and Marc were in for a number of surprises following the adoption.  Over the next four months, both cats suffered from coccidia and giardia, two common intestinal diseases. It is likely that Juba has herpes; both kittens had conjunctivitis.  At one point Nova started making periodic choking sounds and jutting her head forward as though trying to vomit.  The diagnosis was an upper respiratory infection but her condition worsened despite treatment.  A polyp in the ear was suspected but the only way to know for certain was exploratory surgery, which was avoided after X-rays revealed she had pneumonia.  The couple has pet insurance but all of their claims have been denied.


Determined to see the young felines through this crisis, Amy read everything she could regarding cat care.  Juba and Nova are fed high quality food and given daily supplements.  Finally, in December, both kittens received a clean bill of health.  For Amy, a performance artist and storyteller, the experience left her wiser.  A recent performance was centered on the theme of home.  While developing her part, she contemplated the meaning of caring for sick animals, developing trust, and creating a safe, nurturing environment.


The cats may always have emotional issues.  Juba has food anxiety and is obsessive about getting enough, no doubt due to hunger he experienced as a stray.  He is aloof while Nova has separation anxiety.  Despite the challenges, the family has bonded.  One of Amy’s favorite sights is when Juba and Nova sit facing each other and groom one another’s faces, first on one side, then the other.  “They look like a black heart,” she says.  A perfect symbol for all the love it took to create this family.

by Elizabeth Sundstrom

Cameo - the Path to Friendship

In 2009, Lynda and her husband, Niles, took a giant leap of faith, selling their house in Northern California and moving to the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State.  Niles had a dream of building his own home and Lynda wanted more time to spend exploring nature with her standard Poodle, Cameo.  Moving from a densely populated urban area to a small town of 9,000 accommodated their wishes.  

Soon after they relocated, Lynda and Cameo began walking at the local fairgrounds, mainly because it allowed dogs to be off-leash.  One day Cameo met a Tibetan terrier, Yogi, and the two became fast friends.  Lynda asked Yogi’s guardian, Jim, if he would like to meet the next day to walk the dogs together.  He said yes and soon the foursome was gathering every day at 9:00 in the morning for a one-hour walk.

They began inviting other regulars at the park to join them and the group steadily grew.    At times they have had as many as 12 people and 17 dogs.  Usually the numbers are lower and the group is “constantly morphing” but one of the things Lynda loves about life in the coastal town is “everyone seems to have a dog.”  

The dogs play a crucial role in the group. They tend to pair off with other canines similar in age.  Puppies play together and learn social skills while the older dogs avoid the fray.  Just as Lynda and Jim did, other walkers often make friends through their dog’s relationships.  Sometimes newcomers arrive saying they heard about the walkers from somebody in town.  On occasion even out-of-town visitors with dogs ask to join them.  All are welcome.

To maintain good relations with nearby homeowners, the group is self-monitoring, which includes cleaning up after their own and other dogs.  Their efforts have been so successful that when events are held at the fairgrounds, signs are posted in advance for the dog walkers, alerting them that their routine will be interrupted temporarily.  When that happens, they meet on the beach or a trailhead in the forest.

Lynda’s new life took root the day Cameo met Yogi.  Their daily two-mile walks have provided them with numerous friends, countless hours in nature, and a seamless transition to small town life.  Neither could have anticipated how much adventure awaited them following one chance encounter with a pair of like-minded souls. 

by Elizabeth Sundstrom

Huckle, the Aging Tabby

Animals bring such joy and laughter to a home when they’re young and frisky.  But aging pets arouse feelings of tenderness and vulnerability as we come to grips with the reality that our time together won’t last forever.  And that we, too, are growing older.

Vicki and her grey tabby Huckle have shared 18 good years.  He is the same age as Vicki’s youngest child.  In his younger days, Huckle was the family provider, hunting and gathering rodents and birds to share with his loved ones.  With her two eldest children living independently and the loss of the family dog last year, Vicki and her husband noticed Huckle was lonely so they adopted two kittens from their local shelter.  The young cats have camaraderie with Huckle but he remains king of his domain.

Vicki watches Huckle experiencing the same age-related and generational problems that humans do.  The young felines are fun, spry, and curious while Huckle has health problems and requires watchful care.  “That’s what happens as we all age,” Vicki observes.  With so much history together, Vicki gravitates to Huckle at this stage of his life because “he’s got the roots and that’s the difference.” 

            

Huckle likes to sneak up onto Vicki’s chest in the morning, enjoy a little petting and get brushed.  It used to be a daily ritual but he doesn’t seem to tolerate touch as easily these days.  The routine has now expanded to include the two younger cats as well and sometimes togetherness is all Huckle requires.  That, and the heating pad Vicki provides for him to sleep on.

            

When Huckle seemed to be losing ground last month, Vicki wondered if it was his time.  But when the older children returned from college, he roused and regained a little of his old self.  Because Huckle is deft at communicating with Vicki through looks and behavior, she feels confident she’ll know when their time together is ending.

            

For now she appreciates Huckle’s warm little body snuggled against her own and his comforting purrs breaking the early morning silence.  Huckle reminds Vicky every day about the value of history, friendship, and loyalty that comes with sharing life with animals.  He won’t always be a part of her life, but he’ll always be a part of her.

By Elizabeth Sundstrom