Veterans Day is the day we celebrates the service of all U.S. military veterans who have served our country. So when we remember and honor the men and women of our Armed Forces, we must also remember "Man's Best Friend", who has served our nation with distinction. Many of our service men and women owe their lives to the bravery and sacrifice of these animals. These dogs are trained to serve our country and mankind ... and they perform like heroes.

So this Veterans Day, when we say THANK YOU to all of those who are serving, or have served, our country and protected our freedoms, don't forget to think of our Military Canines! ♥

This is a great story ... worth reading.

They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look like "Lab people," whatever that meant. They must've thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner. See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike. 

 For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls - he wouldn't go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn't really think he'd need all his old stuff, that I'd get him new things once he settled in. But it became pretty clear pretty soon that he wasn't going to.

I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like "sit" and "stay" and "come" and "heel," and he'd follow them - when he felt like it. He never really seemed to listen when I called his name - sure, he'd look in my direction after the fourth of fifth time I said it, but then he'd just go back to doing whatever. When I'd ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey.

This just wasn't going to work. He chewed a couple shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell. The friction got so bad that I couldn't wait for the two weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cellphone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the "dang dog probably hid it on me."

Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter's number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter. I tossed the pad in Reggie's direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm I'd seen since bringing him home. But then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come here and I'll give you a treat." Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction - maybe "glared" is more accurate - and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down. With his back to me.

Well, that's not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the shelter phone number.

But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that, too. "Okay, Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if your previous owner has any advice" ...

To Whoever Gets My Dog:

Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie’s new owner. I’m not even happy writing it. If you’re reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time… it’s like he knew something was wrong. 

And something is wrong…which is why I have to try to make it right. So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you. First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn’t done it yet. Doesn’t matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after them, so be careful. Don’t do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him dearly.
 
Next, commands. Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I’ll go over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones —”sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.” He knows hand signals, too:”back” to turn around and go back when you put your hand straight up; and “over” if you put your hand out right or left. “Shake” for shaking water off, and “paw” for a high-five. He does “down” when he feels like lying down — I bet you could work on that with him some more. He knows”ball” and “food” and “bone” and “treat” like nobody’s business. I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of hot dog. 

Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand. He’s up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info with yours; they’ll make sure to send you reminders for when he’s due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don’t know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.

Finally, give him some time. I’ve never been married, so it’s only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He’s gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn’t bark or complain. He just loves to be around people and me most especially. Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new.  And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you ….

His name’s not Reggie. I don’t know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them his name was Reggie. He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn’t bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I’d never see him again. And if I end up coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything’s fine.

But if someone else is reading it, well … well it means that his new owner should know his real name. It’ll help you bond with him. Who knows, maybe you’ll even notice a change in his demeanor if he’s been giving you problems. 

His real name is “Tank.” Because, that is what I drive. 

Again, if you’re reading this and you’re from the area, maybe my name has been on the news. I told the shelter that they couldn’t make”Reggie” available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. You see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve left Tank with … and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq , that they make one phone call to the shelter … in the “event”…to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my colonel is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he’d do it personally. And if you’re reading this, then he made good on his word.

Well, this letter is getting downright depressing, even though, frankly, I'm just writing it for my dog. I couldn't imagine if I was writing it for a wife and kids and family ... but still, Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.

That unconditional love from a dog is what I take with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people from those who would do terrible things ... and to keep those terrible people from coming to the U.S. If I have to giveup Tank in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that's enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. I don't think I'll say another good-bye to Tank, though. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I'll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight – every night – from me.

Thank you,

Paul Mallory

I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure, I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.

"Hey, Tank," I said quietly.

The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.

"C'mere boy."

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn't heard in months. "Tank," I whispered.

His tail swished.

I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.

"It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me." Tank reached up and licked my cheek.

"So whatdaya say we play some ball?" His ears perked again.

"Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?"

Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.

Black Lab with Tennis Balls Artwork by Carol Lynn Nesbitt

* By-the-way ... this story is not true.  It is fictitious. No evidence has been found of a Paul Mallory (or anyone else fitting his circumstances) in the Silver Star, the Washington Post's Faces of the Fallen, or icasualties.org. However, just because it is not literally true, does not mean it is not figuratively true. Those serving our country do so at great personal sacrifice. So a story like this, whether literally true or not, reminds us all how much they give, how much their families (both human & furry) left behind give, and how much we owe them.

                                                   God Bless our soldiers & their families, and God Bless America!




** Photo Sources: unknown.

Watch this report for how the organization helped one soldier and his dog:






Individuals and families that are interested in fostering must go through an extensive application process.  Once approved, the owner and pet from the specified region are introduced to the new foster home.  In an effort to help the organization educate potential foster families on the ins-and-outs of caring for another’s pet, the Millan Foundation recently contributed a “fostering tip sheet” to share with new volunteer foster homes and includes advice from Cesar on how to keep human emotions in check for the betterment of the dog in often very highly charged, stressful conditions.


"We are so grateful to all of you for offering your expertise as we assist our soldiers and their pets," said Megan Summers, the Tennessee Chapter Communications Coordinator. “I cannot thank you enough for it.  I know it will be an awesome tool for us.”


One dog and soldier at a time, Guardian Angels hopes to promote an alternative option for veterans and those currently serving in the military and defer the unwanted surrender of a beloved animal.  “Every pet we have fostered is touching and inspiring in our eyes,” said Linda.  “The reaction of the pets seeing their owners after a yearlong deployment in harm’s way is priceless and our heroes tell us being reunited with their beloved pets assures them that there is one thing that has not changed while they were gone: the unconditional love provided by an animal.”


Article credit: Cesar's Way



Read more on dogs and the military:
Cesar in Fort Hood
News: Military Hero Dogs Return Home
The HEROES Come Home


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US Military in Afghanistan 2003

Remember Fallen Horses on Veterans' Day

by: Stacey Oke, DVM, MSc
November 11 2010, Article # 17231

Armistice Day, more commonly known as Veterans Day, provides us with an opportunity to commemorate the armistice signed between the Allies and Germany at the end of World War I and marks the day when millions of people worldwide stop to remember those who have served and died for their countries in military conflicts throughout history.

This Veterans Day, spare a few extra seconds to remember the countless number of horses that lost their lives in combat alongside the brave men and women who served their nations.

Equine disease and casualties were not light during World War I:

• More than 1 million horses and mules served for Britain alone--only 67,000 of those survived the war;
• Horse deaths were attributable to battle injuries, disease, and exhaustion;
• Some of the major equine diseases and ailments that plagued the horses were equine influenza, ringworm, sand colic, fly bites, and anthrax; and
• More than 725,500 horses were treated by the British Army Veterinary Corps hospital during war--more than half a million of those treatments were successful.

Historically, horses were an important part of the military, and their use in conflict dates back as far as 4,000 B.C. By the First World War, however, the cavalry was no longer one of the most effective military units. Instead, cavalry charges were abysmal failures, as the horse and rider were clearly no match against enemy machine guns, trench warfare, barbed wire, or tanks.

Despite the changing face of the traditional "war horse," horses were still used extensively in World War II, mainly for transporting troops and supplies, acting as scouts, and for reconnaissance.

Sadly, horses that did survive the war often were not returned home with the surviving soldiers. Thousands of former war horses were slaughtered, and the remaining horses were either sold or reassigned (e.g., sent to India as remounts for the British Army).

Horses, mules, and donkeys are still used today in the Middle East conflict for transportation and for transporting supplies through the often rough terrain.

Horses are included in a multitude of war memorials, yet few of these memorials have been erected in honor of the horses themselves. Notable exceptions are the Horse Memorials at St. George's Park in Port Elizabeth, South Africa and at St. Jude-on-the-Hill in Hampstead, and the Animals In War Memorial in Hyde Park, London, UK. In the United States, a memorial to the horses that served in the American Civil War was completed in 1997 and stands in front of the National Sporting Library and Museum in Middleburg, Va.

An organization called the People's Dispensary for Sick Animals (PDSA) formally recognized the importance of horses in war by awarding three horses who served in World War II with the "PDSA Dickin Medal," an animal's version of the Victoria Cross.

More information is available from the History Channel's 2010 documentary "The Real War Horse."

Very interesting!! I will definitely be looking up the documentary mentioned above!

Btw ... Being new to blogging, I am not sure if this is an encouraged practice, or not.  However, since more often than not, the article of interest is lost with the passing of time (i.e. website is closed), or I can no longer located it,  I am posting them here for posterity.  All articles are posted in their entirety, not edited, and are linked back to where I originally saw them, and credit is given to the author (if it is known).