Abandoned dogs are last straw

The devastating exit from Afghanistan has plunged me into a sense of depression unlike any other I’ve felt since, I think, my mother died.

It’s not clinical, I don’t need any meds other than copious amounts of sugar, and I’ll recover. But it’s bad.

First, I saw how our Afghan allies are being left behind (and wrote about it).

Then, I watched in shock and horror as our young men and women in uniform were murdered (and wrote about it).

Then, I realized that Americans were going to be abandoned, even though the White House stated that it would make sure everyone who “wanted to get out” could do so (query: Who does not want to escape from the Taliban?).

But the thing that pushed me over the edge into I-don’t-wantto-get-out-of-bed territory was the news that dogs were being left behind, released from their cages and allowed to roam like strays through Taliban-infested streets.

At first the story was that they were service dogs who’d assisted the U.S. military, dogs who sniffed out land mines and saved the lives of their human comrades. The president of the American Humane Society stated that “I am devastated by reports that the American government is pulling out of Kabul and leaving behind brave U.S. military contract working dogs to be tortured and killed at the hand of our enemies.”

Later, as the White House saw how even its supporters were backing away from this level of animal cruelty, it emphasized that none of the dogs that were shown in photos that ultimately went viral, caged and defenseless, were actual U.S. military service animals. The Pentagon doubled down, calling “erroneous” any reports that K9 dogs were abandoned. And I will take the government on good faith, because to do otherwise is too painful to consider.

But really, does it matter if they were military dogs or simply the pets who both worked with and protected American contractors and other citizens living in Kabul? Does the nature of the dog’s “usefulness” to our country change our obligation to make sure they will not needlessly suffer?

Let’s be clear: This is not the same humanitarian violation that the abandonment of Afghan interpreters represents. It just isn’t, despite what my animal-loving friends would maintain. In a time of crisis, triage must be performed, and the government was right to focus on getting vulnerable Afghans and Americans out of the chaos this administration created with its rocambolesque and slipshod withdrawal.

But as I write these sentences, one of my black Labs is sitting at my feet. He was born the day that my mother died, and we adopted him six months later. In the depths of a profound despair, darker and deeper than any of us could have anticipated, this manic piece of fluff taught us how to breathe again. The idea that he would be abandoned, in a cage or simply left to fend for himself alone in some god forsaken airport without food and water, makes me sick.

You might be reading this and thinking to yourself, “I can’t believe that she’s so upset about dogs, when people are dying.” If I hadn’t already screamed to the heavens about the horror of 20-years-olds in uniform being blown up in Kabul, I’d agree with you. If I hadn’t spent the last two weeks dealing with the fallout of desperate Afghans trying to get away from the Taliban, I’d let you write my next column.

The less-obvious tragedy is the fact that when we abandon animals to the cruelty of their natural environment, without that buffer of humanity to give them comfort, we lose a part of ourselves. Because, after all, dogs are the reflection of innocent, pure devotion. As we grow up, we lose that. It’s replaced with narcissism, self-interest and calculation. Dogs have none of that. As Rudyard Kipling wrote:

“When the body that lived at

your single will,

With its whimper of welcome, is

stilled (how still!). When the spirit that answered

your every mood

Is gone — wherever it goes — for

good,

You will discover how much

you care,

And will give your heart to a

dog to tear.”

And this is the reason that, whether they were military dogs or simply victims of destiny, these lost pups underline the intensity of these grieving days.