Duke was my best friend. I was not expecting to be a dog owner. Duke was only 5 weeks old when his mother abandoned him and we adopted him into out family. Duke weighed about 3-4 pounds and required significant care. He was a black lab mix with an almost human personality. He genuinely showed emotions. He was truly a big part of our family. We shared 13 loving years with Duke. He had a wonderful life and was spoiled. We miss him deeply.

— John from Dracut, MA

Major is my new roomate.  After losing my yellow lab, Bailey, to cancer last spring, I now have a wonderful Great Pyrenees letting me live with him.
One week after saying goodbye to Bailey, I arranged to visit a top Great Pyrs breeder to see if I would be able to take on a puppy.  I had had a Great Pyr as a child and remembered the dogs as gentle giants.  I also liked the guard dog quality the dogs are know for.
The puppies were adorable and full of energy.  These guys already had homes waiting form them, but I needed to see if I would, in fact, have the energy to take on a younger dog.
The breeder mentioned that an owner was returning their 7-year-old Pyr that afternoon for placement.  The family’s circumstances no longer were ideal for such a large breed.  Although another party was coming to see Major, the breeder eliminated them because they did not have a fenced yard, which is a must for Pyrs.
I stayed until Major arrived from NJ.  I spoke w/the tearful owners.  They felt that I was qualified so they handed him over to me w/his toys, leash, and bowls.
Major is a delight.  He is so gentle and is the star of the neighborhood.  He loves rides and hangs his big head out the window whenever we are out on the road.  He especially likes the cold weather.  I often take him to my friend’s elderly shut-in parents for visits.  They light up each time we stop by.
He also is a con-artist.  He was well behaved and stayed downstairs with a baby gate at the steps the 1st two weeks he was in my home.  Then he knocked the gate down and roamed the house.  He does have some separation anxiety and can do some damage, so I wanted to contain him somehow.  I bought a taller gate and started leaving him in the kitchen.  Again, he was good for two weeks and then one day met me at the front door.  I went to the kitchen; he had opened the gate, which was not an easy feat.  I pushed a heavy wing chair in front of the gate, but he found a way to get around it.  I pushed the chair to the other side, and he found a way to get around that.  Two gates are now stored in the garage.
He also was underweight.  I started adding canned food and broth etc. to his food.  He has gained a few pounds, but now he picks out the canned food and will kick the bowl towards me or knocks it over when he wants more.  I now think his name should be changed to Major Domo!
Last Christmas, I found an artist to draw portraits of the family dogs.  I believe the drawings were the best gift idea I have had.  Bailey’s drawing is framed and hangs in my kitchen (his favorite place).
This year, I found another artist to do small acrylic pet paintings to place in another room or office.
My dogs are my best companions.  Bailey was a gentleman, who was with me through some of my toughest years.  Major is a majestic guard, who has quickly found a place in my heart.

— Anne from Frederick, MD

Nearly 15 years ago I was opening my curtains one morning to see a little red ball of fluff walking up to my house. I opened the door and without hesitation he walked right in and curled up in front of my couch, he was visibly shaking and looked up at me as if to say, “please don’t make me go”. I don’t think he could have been more than 6 weeks old and he smelled like a garage.
I posted flyers all over town but thankfully no one claimed him. It was love at first sight and it would have been very difficult to let him go.

I’ve been told he’s a Corgi/Irish Setter mix. I call him my little lowrider, my husband lovingly calls him a freak of nature!

I work at home so he has been my constant companion, he can tell time and let’s me know when it’s time to knock off for the day at 5:00 when it’s treat time.

Don’t let that sweet little face fool you, he’s a first class con artist. If my husband has given him treats he’ll come to me and act like he hasn’t gotten them yet or, he’ll act like I’ve forgotten to give him his treats so he’ll score twice… he knows if there’s any question in my mind I will always give in. I can’t imagine life without him.

His mussel is mostly grey now and he doesn’t see or hear as well as he use to, but he still romps and runs like a pup when we go outside.

My little guy smiles when he is happy and sometimes he even shows his teeth!

— Liz from Cedaredge, CO

Mark – We lost our 9 1/2 yr old Jack Russell Terrior today.  He died of an apparent heart attack.  Even sadder – we are getting ready to say good bye to our 15 yr old Pom who is having some serious health problems.  My husband – his master – was at work.  I suddenly realized Jack (Jackal) had not come in from the back yard.  When I looked for him I thought at first he was taking a nap in the sun.  Even though it was 40 degrees.  He had been barking at the neighbors truck and apparently had a heart attack.  My husband and I are heart sick.  For some reason, I felt the need to send this email.  I guess the reason is because I know you love dogs as much as we do.  And I feel you are a friend.  I listen to you every night while driving home from work.  I have had some wonderful dogs in my life, but no one compares with this Jack Russell.  He was beautiful, smart, and a wonderful watch dog.  We just did not see this one coming.  I think somehow I feel better sending this email – knowing you care as much as we do.

— Karen from Springfield, MO

Guido are golden retriver,was just put down and as you know it wasn’t easy to do. He was 15yr old so that was a blessing to us to know he had a long and Good life with us..

Just a month before his leaving us we got two shih tzu puppies (by chance), it was a blessing to us and for Guido in his last days,we were so happy to see him wag his tail with those pups he hadn’t been well for so long and the pups really did perk him up..guess God found us in need of some help..

— Ted from Hesperia, CA

About three years ago, I wrote a story called “My Combat Puppy” here about a dog we rescued in Iraq.  Even seven years later, I still think about Spooky.  So, that was a story about a dog I rescued.  Now, I want to tell you a story about a dog that rescued me. First, a little back story.

After I returned from combat in Iraq in 2003, I had a lot of difficulty managing my experiences.  At the time, the term PTSD wasn’t exactly in our vocabulary.  I still existed in an environment where senior NCOs and Officers didn’t admit to problems sleeping or coping for fear of ruining our careers.  It was considered “weak” to seek help.  Those of us having trouble sleeping, dealing with nightmares, or constantly crying in private at the loss of our friends and co-workers just need to “man up!”

To deal with my issues, I began writing as a form of self-medicine.  To an extent, it greatly helped me cope with my feelings of survivor’s guilt, rage, and depression.  I was able to talk to someone without actually talking to anyone.
Sadly, all that did was slowly cause the latent issues to compound in my mind.  My wife and I started having troubles because I was a wreck and couldn’t open up to her.  Then, I heard the words that scared the life out of me: “I don’t know how much longer I can deal with this.”

Her words cut me to the core and I decided then and there, in 2009, to seek help.  I began to publicly document my struggles on my military blog, A Soldier’s Perspective.  I wrote about programs that were available to me, how they helped, and what I learned from counseling and group therapy.

Because of my injury during an artillery strike outside As Samawah in 2003, I have not been deployed since returning from my initial deployment.  I’ve seen my fellow troops come and go from the combat zone while I’ve had to sit on the sideline and watch because I’m technically “non-deployable.”  It’s been frustrating, to say the least.

Earlier this year, my unit deployed to Afghanistan.  It didn’t feel right that all the Soldiers in my unit were going without me.  So, I worked hard to get myself deployed.  I called in favors from people in high places after my requests for waiver were denied because of a skin cancer condition I came down with.  Because I’m a Master Sergeant now, it’s like I’ll be out in the sun a lot on patrols like I was in Iraq.  I could sit in an office on a Forward Operating Base (FOB) in Afghanistan just as I could in the states.  I also stopped taking my medication because I didn’t want to request a 90-day supply of my prescriptions for fear that taking anti-depressant and anti-anxiety medication would prevent me from deploying (I was wrong by the way).

So, in August of this year, I finally deployed to Kandahar, Afghanistan where I serve as the Brigade Liaison Officer for my unit on the Pakistan border.

Then, in October, a very good friend of mine died – SSG Brian Cowdrey, a combat medic.  I was also dealing with command issues related to my comments towards and embedded, independent journalist that was violating OPSEC and embed rules.  I was suddenly confronted with a bunch of stressors that I wasn’t entirely able to deal with.  Feelings of guilt overcame me again as I tried to cope with the loss of a friend I had spoken to just hours before he was killed.  My right hand wouldn’t stopped twitching after nearly a month and it got beyond irritating. I wasn’t sleeping or eating and became highly irritable.  I was under a lot of stress and felt like many of those above me were just making things worse.

Thankfully, I knew what I needed to do and I took myself to the combat stress clinic and enrolled myself in the counseling effort.  With the advice of my doc, I fired “Dr. Grisham” for deciding that I didn’t need medication to survive.  It was the one remaining stigma I still battle with overcoming.

So, for three hours, I sat and got to revisit many issues related to my PTSD, depression, and anxiety as well as some new ones. While waiting to speak with one of the case workers, I had the opportunity to sit down with “SFC Zeke.”

Zeke looked very busy when I entered the room, but he could tell immediately I was there for business. He set aside his distraction and gave me his complete attention. He didn’t say a word. Just sat there and listened to me. He didn’t judge me; he didn’t interrupt me; and he never blamed me. In 5 minutes, Zeke did what few others could do having just met me – he calmed me down and made me feel like I was worth listening to.

“SFC Zeke” is a Vet Dog. These dogs are raised from puppyhood around the military. They are used to the sounds, the business, and the chaos that accompanies military service. They mostly use Labradors, which are the most laid back and gentle dogs.

When I walked into the room, Zeke was going to town chewing on his bone. He looked up, saw me, and – I kid you not – placed the bone off to the side in an “it’s time to go to work” fashion. He was no longer focused on his chew toy, but on his patient…me. While it sounds hokey, I can now see the value in having these dogs in a combat zone.

Zeke has a busy schedule. He frequently visits other FOBs and checkpoints to visit with other troops. He works out with the service dogs and working dogs. It was refreshing to be human again for awhile and just pet a real dog. We aren’t supposed to mess with the animals around here because of fears about rabies. Dogs have a way of calming your nerves and reminding you what normal is supposed to look like.

Zeke did just that and I’m glad I got to hang out with him today. It was definitely a much better day. And I found a group of troops here to meet with on a regular basis for continued therapy.

I’ve been meeting with Zeke on a regular basis.  I arranged through Facebook to have people send me toys and treats that I took to Zeke and the other military working dogs.  It’s just amazing what a simple animal can do to boost spirits in a combat zone.  I love seeing his excited face as I bring a box of rope, rubber toys, and stuffed animals for him.  He’s like a kid, sniffing around the box even when it’s empty hoping for more toys to magically appear.

Thanks again, Mark, for having this forum to share these stories.  I’m attaching a picture of me and Zeke here at Kandahar.  Thanks also for your voice of reason.  I listen to your podcast every day over here since I can’t catch it live.  Keep up the good work and I’ll talk to you when I get home next summer.

Sincerely,
MSG CJ Grisham from Temple, TX