Like ripples on a pond...
I stood there with my dog beside me, in total and utter shock at the huge mound of rubble in front of me. We had driven for 2 days after getting the phone call, asking us to come. This was my first 'real' Search & Rescue operation and boy, was it a big one. New York was very subdued - all of the people had looks of tightly drawn strain on their faces. The police officers were at such a high pitch of unspoken anger and pain that it showed in their eyes. One of the other dog handlers was getting impatient and, it typical southern fashion, was running her mouth and being rude. She was so blind at what was going on around her, I was stunned at her callousness and ashamed to be on the same team as her. I pushed that aside and let my calmer nature prevail. I finally went up to the woman and said, "these people have suffered one of the largest tragedies in US history, you need to be a little more understanding and not get yourself arrested because you can't seem to shut up!" She quickly quieted down and I received a look of gratitude from one of the police officers. We went through check point after check point until we finally reached our destination.
It took us several more hours of waiting and processing to even get into the line that would give us our passes into the disaster zone. I stood patiently with my dog beside me, my backpack was outfitted with enough supplies to keep the two of us operating for several days straight if necessary. The crush of volunteers around me was huge and I quietly kept a safe ring around myself and my dog, didn't want my partner getting stepped on and injured before we had even gotten to 'Ground Zero'. A very large and burly man in front of me took a step back and met with my hand on his back to stop him. He turned and looked at me, puzzled. I just smiled and pointed down to where my SAR dog, Max, stood beside me. The man smiled back and said, "Oh hey, glad I didn't step on him." He petted Max on the head and called out to a friend of his much further up in the crowd. He was saying something about a SAR dog and handler beside him and before I knew it several uniformed soldiers were making their way through the crowd towards me.
The higher ranking officer asked me if I was a Search & Rescue dog handler. I said yes and they pretty much surrounded me, escorted me to the front of the line and to a different desk for processing. I showed the necessary identification and gave the needed information and before I knew it I was being handed a "Ground Zero" pass and wished the best of luck. The next guard pointed me to the control center and told me to check in there whenever I entered or left the site. I did just that, stopped in and signed in with the officer at the Canine desk. Max and I picked up a few extra bottles of water, an extra flashlight and the mandated breathing mask. From there I was pointed towards "Ground Zero" and we began walking.
What I had seen countless times on television did nothing to really prepare me for the sight of seeing a 3 story tall pile of rubble that covered many acres and was still on fire. A woman police officer saw my state of shock and awe and came up to me. "You alright there hon," she asked. "Um yeah, I think so," I replied. We talked a few moments and then I continued on to my designated area. Max and I may have been a good SAR team but there were also over 350 dog teams from around the country there also. We spent a lot of time just sitting and waiting to be called up to do ... something. We were lucky in that we had been called up fairly soon after getting to the dog handlers area. We did our job, found what we were asked to find and went back to waiting.
One of the New York Fire Department Chaplain's noticed my dog and struck up a conversation. He had many questions about Max's training and capabilities. I answered each and everyone with honesty and understanding. He then asked me an interesting question, he wanted to know if Max was also a Therapy Dog. I had said yes, that was one of the prerequisites for his current occupation. His face just lit up and he asked me to follow him. We had walked s short ways to a large group of fire fighters who were waiting and resting on the sidewalk in front of the American Express building. It was a sea of men who were so dust covered and bone weary that it seemed like I was looking at a black and white photo. Of the ones who even noticed that I was there I got a chance to look into their eyes - there was hardly any life left in them. The Chaplain turned to me and said, "let's see if Max can do any good here.. these guys have been here since the towers went down and refuse to leave. Their friends and brothers are under that rubble..." I just nodded my head and unleashed my dog. I knelt down beside him and said softly, "Max - go visit..." and pointed to the fire fighters in front of us. That was his command to go into his "Therapy Dog" mod of behavior.
Max softly walked into the sea of men and slowly went up to each of them. Some were surprised to see him and grew excited, some began to chuckle as they petted him, and some were too badly wounded emotionally to notice. These are the men that Max spent most of his time with. He gently stayed with them until they took notice, then he would lay his head on their leg or their arm until they came out of their emotional black hole. One man kept pushing Max away, not roughly but I was alarmed. Max kept going back to him and finally I saw the man had put his arms around the big dog's neck and was weeping into his fur. The Chaplain and I stood there and watched and Max made his way through every man in the group. It was like watching ripples on a pond spread out and grow larger. Life had come back into the men's eyes and I saw true emotion begin to emerge again.
That session ended with several of the fire fighters playing with Max. I had tossed several of his tennis balls (his reward for a good find) to the men and they were bouncing tennis balls off of the side of the American Express building and laughing like children as he jumped and leapt to catch them and bring them back to whoever had thrown the ball. The Chaplain was also re-energized by the scene before us. He clapped me on the back and said, "when you die, know that you will go to heaven because you've spent your time in Hell here with us..." I thanked him and watched as he went to work with some of the fire fighters. Several of them came up to me and thanked me heartily for allowing Max to play with them. I just smiled and said, "Anytime guys, anytime." Several asked for my business card and wanted to know where the heck Arkansas was? We laughed and talked, they seemed to really love my southern accent.
Of all the things that I saw while in New York, and all of the experiences I had while at Ground Zero, the vision of my very large German Shepherd helping to bring life back into the eyes of those fire fighters is something that will always make me feel like I was actually able to help and make a difference. That feeling was validated for me when a year later, I was at my office and my Internet IM alert sounded. It was one of the fire fighters from that day and he had just wanted to make contact and let me know that he remembered my dog Max and I. It was very overwhelming and brought a tear to my eye.
