Canine lessons

January 01, 2005

I celebrated New Year’s with a dog.

He’s not just any dog, he’s Cpl. Chester of 3rd Battalion’s Charlie Company.

Everything was quiet when I woke this morning in the old Iraqi police station I call home at Camp Gunslinger.

New Year’s was very low key here.

There was no celebration, no singing, no champagne.

There was more than one Crockpot cooking black-eyed peas around here New Year’s Eve, however. And some guys stayed up long enough to ring in the new year. Most of us either slept or worked, however.

The best New Year’s resolution I heard came from Staff Sgt. Larry Provost of New York.

“Home alive in ‘05,” he said while cruising across Gunslinger’s lobby.

I’ve decided to make that my resolution as well.

But that was hours after my morning visit with Cpl. Chester.

When I awakened, Charlie Company was still asleep, exhausted from dropping off snipers throughout the city in the wee hours of the morning.

As I walked back to my room after a hot shower — a benefit of beating everyone out of bed — Chester came out of his room and followed me.

Chester, a brown and white mutt with puppy eyes that melt even the toughest soldier’s heart, has been with Charlie Company since he was a tiny, mangy ball of fur.

At first, he was just a lawn ornament, a pup who lived in the front yard of Fort Apache and snacked on whatever soldiers left on their plates. Then he started to grow and soldiers would leave Slim Jims and cookies piled by his nose as he slept.

Eventually, Chester started patrolling the Adhamiya District of Baghdad with them, walking out Fort Apache’s gate in line with the soldiers he’d adopted as his family.

He began guarding the company’s freezer that held cold bottles of water and soda, barking at anyone other than his soldiers or me. For a while, he got into some trouble for biting Iraqi workers.

Chester has always been fiercely protective of his beloved soldiers.

His efforts, however, brought a death sentence this fall. Chester was ordered to be shot by various commanders. Soldiers didn’t want to do it but orders are orders.

I found the deepest room at Fort Apache and held my ears in hopes I wouldn’t hear the gunshot.

The gunshot never came, of course.

Three times Chester was tied up in front of an executioner. And three times he escaped by the hair of his chin. The rope broke, the knot slipped, the grip loosened.

He’s been with Charlie Company ever since.

And now he’s preparing to go home to Arkansas.

Staff Sgt. Nathan Baker of North Little Rock and his wife began a campaign to get Chester home. And it’s finally happening, with the help of a non-profit group.

A plastic crate sits in the hall outside Baker’s door with his address and Chester’s name written on top in black permanent marker.

He should fly out to Kuwait in the next few days. Then, home.

Baker’s wife will meet Chester at Little Rock National Airport. Baker wonders how Chester will react after spending several days in a crate and flying halfway around the world.

“As long as she brings cookies, it’ll be fine,” Baker said with a laugh.

Chester is a junkfood junkie. He refuses to eat kibble, preferring chips, cookies, Slim Jims and candy.

Personally, I’m glad his home will be nearby. Chester’s a good dog.

And I think he knows he’s leaving.

Chester’s been wandering the halls more, mingling with soldiers and sleeping at their feet.

This morning, when Chester saw me come out of the bathroom and shuffle down the hall with a towel on my head, he followed me to my room.

Chester was the first living thing I saw or spoke to in 2005.

So I decided it was time to prepare Chester for life at home.

See, infantry life lacks some basic essentials.

When Chester gets to the Baker home, it will be a whole new world.

I started off with some cookies to make my furry friend comfortable. He wasn’t in the mood for Slim Jims and although I like Chester, I wasn’t going to open a new bag of chips for him.

Chester munched on his snacks while I brushed my hair and plugged in the latest of a string of hair dryers that I’ve blown up over here. It’s the 220 wiring — it’s hell on hairdryers.

The little blue hair dryer began to buzz and Chester crawled backwards, taking one of his cookies with him. Then he slowly moved forward, putting his muzzle in the warm back-blast coming off my head.

I turned the dryer on him and he fell to the floor.

I think he was stunned.

It was just hot air, but Chester didn’t like it.

I turned the hair dryer off and laid it on the floor, telling him it’s OK. He crawled up and touched it with his nose, jumping back as soon as he did.

“This may take a while,” I thought to myself.

So we moved on to lesson number two: Just because it smells fruity doesn’t mean it’s edible.

This is a lesson he would never learn in the infantry, but was essential for his future civilian life.

I was putting lotion on my hands and Chester raised his furry head. I thought he had fallen asleep over there in the corner, lulled into a sugary doze.

Apparently he couldn’t resist the smell of mango lotion.

At first he sat in front of me. Then he lowered his snout to give me full-blown puppy eyes.

Then he flopped to the floor, turned upside down, cocked his head to one side and gave me the upside-down pout.

I told him he wouldn’t like it. I told him it wasn’t food.

Clearly, he didn’t believe me.

So I gave him a little taste and watched the show.

Chester sneezed and snorted and shook his head.

Then he went back to his pile of cookies.

I figure that was his way of getting the taste out of his mouth.

Tomorrow’s lesson?

Dog food is your friend.

Posted by editor at January 1, 2005 02:12 PM