When my brother left the Marine Corps he talked them into letting him adopt a
Belgian Grand Malinois named Sheila. She was an explosives detection dog.
I say was because she had to be put to sleep a couple years back due to a degrading medical condition called
Cushings Disease.
We were aware that she had it when he adopted her. At first you couldn't tell she had any symptoms, but then it was like artritis set in. Her joints ached from this disease and we treated that in her, which gave her at least four more good, comfortable years on her life.
The thing is, the military will destroy even a healty dog when it's retired unless someone trained adopts it. This is limited to the original handler or another qualified handler from the Corp for the most part. If the original handler can't adopt for whatever reason though there generally aren't any other options for these awesome working dogs.
For obvious reason the military is leary of adopting to any civilians unless they're highly qualified. In my brothers case he'd done some K-9 work and my Dad spent 12 years in the Corp, he's a Force Recon Marine. Though Sheilas primary training was in explosives detection she also had basic military attack dog training and a good bit of search and rescue training. I don't think she had drug detection training though.
I bring up my Dad because my brother quickly realized that while his heart was in the right place he'd bitten off more than he could chew. My Dad stepped in and made the proper connections down at Parris Island to make this happen so ownership of Sheila went to him.
He loved that dog more than he does his own kids I believe, and that's a fact I joke about, but am cool with because he and Sheila both helped each other out in a sense through some rough times in my Dads life and hers.
I remember the first day I ever saw her. I had come over to my parents house. I took her out for a walk by myself. As we passed my Dad, Moms, and brothers vehicles she did nothing. As we passed mine she led me over to it and sniffed the perimiter of my 4runner all along the runnings boards, bumpers and pausing in the front and back to sniff.
When I asked why she did that to just mine I was told because she'd already checked the parked cars earlier and mine was new. That's one smart bitch!
It was a relief to know that no bombs were planted in my truck that day (to know my ex wife you'd know I'm not joking as much as you think I am). However, as time passed this was a habit she stopped. She became more comfortable and relaxed. That, coupled with her condition, led her just to want to be a normal non working dog and enjoy eating, shitting and sleeping. All three of which she did well.
This dog had done more in her short life than some of us may ever hope to do I think. I've read small parts of her handlers logs/journal that my Dad was able to acquire from him.
Sheila and her handler were in the WTC when the first plane hit. I forget which tower, but she was in the one that wasn't hit first. They were up there with other military dogs and handlers for some type of conference/training seminar deal.
She actually was part of the search and rescue operations after the attack. I can't tell you what she did or found exactly though as I don't know.
She was actually a decorated 'veteran'. I'm ashamed to say I can't rattle off what merits and citations she had recieved from memory. My Dad carried her up to my son's school each year on Veterans Day per the request of staff up there (they heard about her through her vet) and she was adored by the kids. One or two times a photographer for the local paper came and had her picture put in the paper with the kids all spread around her and hugging her.
I remember the last year she did this in particular, she was in a lot of pain around that time. My Dad had to help her get up most mornings. He debated taking her, but my son said they were all waiting to see her. My Dad told me that she limped up until she got there and the instant she walked in she went to acting like her old self before she hurt. The bad thing was, when she got home she laid back down and didn't move for about a day. But that was her thing, and she wasn't going to miss it.
Shortly after that she got really sick. We took her to the vet (I had to help my Dad carry her because she just wouldn't stand on her own at this point). They told us she had a brain infection, and that by itself this would not be a bad thing, but that coupled with the cushings disease it was going to cause her to not have the quality of life she deserved.
Antibiotics would have cleared the infection up in two to three weeks, but in the meantime her balance and coordination would be next to nil. That, coupled with her aching joints and stiff muscles just was not a good combination for her. We'd have to carry her out to the bathroom, feed her by hand, etc. She'd have been miserable.
I'll never forget the day we took her. It was a Friday the 13th (of all days huh?) two years ago. My Dad had no one to go with him, and he and I were not on the best of terms. But I instantly put that all to the side, left work and went up there with him and Shelia.
I have only seen my Dad cry twice in my life, when his Dad passed, and this day. He didn't want to make the call to put her down, even though he knew without doubt it was the right thing to do. Even the vet staff and the groomers staff next door were pretty tore up that day. They all had seen Sheila religiously once a week for treatment and what I called her 'Spa Treatments'. You see the girls at the groomers knew the regular stuff wasn't working, so the talked the owner into buying one of those metal hot tubs for therapy like football players use and she 'soaked' once a week.
Those people loved her just as much as we did.
In the end, I asked my Dad if he wanted me to make the call and I did. Again, I can count the times my Dad has hugged me with three fingers and have one left over. It made me a mess afterwards, and really is choking me up just thinking about it.
I know some of you will say "It's just a dog.", and I realize that's what she was, but she was so much more to so many more. I'll see if I can get a picture of her uploaded later if anyone is interested.
Love you Sheila.....Semper Fi
Forgive my ramblings....and no cliffs