Who let the feral dogs out?

Tuesday April 11, 2006 - Deployment Day 17

Baghdad, Iraq

There are two reknowned constants - Death and taxes. Down here, however, the idea of "taxes" takes on a new meaning and in most cases doesn't apply at all. (For example, my tax return is NOT due this month, nor am I being charged income tax while I'm down here for the most part. Is it worth it? No. Nevertheless, its a perk.) So with taxes being debatable (and I'm not touching the "Death" portion with a ten foot pole), I offer this constant instead: If there's a chance for me to reference the Baha Men's raucous hit single "Who let the Dogs out?" in any way, shape, or form - I'm going to do it and you can take that to the bank. (Simply ask Gwen. Its at the point where if I ever even see a dog, any dog, anywhere, period, I'm instantly singing "Who let that dog out..." for at least a full chorus.) I've already referenced bomb dogs (and asked who let them out) in a previous post. And now I will turn my attention to some of our co-inhabitants here on the FOB. Feral dogs. And I ask you people rhetorically, who, indeed, let these effin ' dogs out? And why the hell are they on an army post? Its time for a story....

This story goes back to this weekend, when I walked into the provider rec room at the TMC (Troop Medical Clinic). When I strolled in to grab a snack, I was greeted by one of the PA's telling an animated story to a rapt audience of other providers. "Stup, you gotta hear this," said Pete. So I settled in.

For the telling of this tale, it is important to note that our FOB is several miles by several miles in area. For anyone wishing to go on a run, its not hard to find a decent two to three mile open loop if you pick your route carefully. The FOB is basically a large and completely enclosed area - there is high wall surrounding the entire thing, with guard towers every so often around the entire perimeter, and a couple of gates that allow vehicle access. (I have yet to leave this FOB, which is one reason why thus far I'm in much (I would almost even say "infinitely") less danger than the average person who does leave the FOB, goes on patrol, etc. and is exposed to actual downtown Baghdad.) Most regions of the FOB are somewhat inhabited, have at least mild daily activity, or in general have people around on a routine basis. That said, there remain areas of the FOB which are open, or used primarily for storage, have large CONNEX bins (which are metal storage containers about the size of a large dumpster) and are not visited all that frequently by humans. (Its probably helpful for some to picture that every piece of this FOB (to include military-looking 'props') looks exactly like some area one could potentially encounter in your average Counter-Strike level.)

As the story goes, Ronnie the PA was going for a run one day, and came across one of these more or less uninhabited areas in some corner of the FOB and began running around there. At some point, he said he felt that things were ominously quiet. (Too quiet.) Then he suddenly heard barking and growling and without warning a large, ferocious dog bolted out of the shadows from behind the CONNEX's and began charging directly at him, probably starting from about 40 meters away. Ronnie was running along side some HESCO baskets at this point (which more or less ARE actual dumpsters with walls about 8 feet high). His first thought was that he could keep going straight, then make a turn and head away from the dog and back to the main part of the FOB (and where there were soldiers carrying guns). This plan was shattered, however, when several other dogs came out of a different dark area opposite the row of dumpsters and started heading toward him as well, this time from ahead of him, probably about 30 meters away. The lone dog was behind him taking an angle and the pack of four or so dogs was in front of him taking an angle, and to his right side he was pinned by the dumpsters. So there was basically nowhere to go - directly between the two sets of dogs was not an option. He thought about turning around, but the initial dog had him cut off.

(An aside about Ronnie telling this story. Ronnie is from Oklahoma, and an animated guy when telling stories. His eyes were huge the entire time he was going on, and he divided his direct attention equally amongst those in the room listening, and spoke with lots of hand waving and gesticulation. His voice had a kind of deliberate and often hyperbolic over-enunciated mid-west/southern vernacular in the setting of frank seriousness with almost constantly raised-eyebrows and distinct pauses that only people from that region (not the deep south, but more the mid-south - think Oklahoma/Tennessee/Carolina) can muster. Picture your average NASCAR interviewee and that person describing something they found shocking or intense. This whole element of the story made it at least ten times more entertaining.)

At this point, Ronnie stopped and shook his head. "I'm telling you, them dogs was acting out a plan - a full-on trap!" This line of thinking was hilarious to me, because it elevated these wild dogs from simple hungry and territorial mutts to full-blown cognitive and deviously evil predators - something akin to Jurassic Park's velociraptors. So the dogs converged on Ronnie - and he related that he was freaking out because he was at the point where he was going to have to hit them or fight them - then at the last second he realizes he could probably shimmy up the side of the 8-foot dumpster next to him. So he launches himself up the side, feeding off adrenaline. And then, as he tells it, he swings his second leg up and over to safety just as the first dog to arrive smashes it's teeth into the side of the dumpster, at the exact spot his leg was a mere instant before. Within seconds, heart pounding in his chest, he realizes that all the dogs are there (EIGHT in all!), jumping up and snarling at him, teeth snapping, etc. But they can't quite jump up there or get him, thankfully.

So Ronnie looks around, and he's basically on top of the middle of three dumpsters aligned head to toe in a line. But there is nothing else around. The dumpsters are filled almost exclusively with dirt. At this point, he was trying to find large chunks to rain down on the dogs, but the dirt was too soft and flimsy, breaking into harmless pebbles as it left his hands and doing nothing but further inciting the dogs below, who continued to jump, snarl and generally be incredibly agitated. At this point, (and consistent with his trap theme), the dogs literally spread out around the dumpsters to prevent any escape. Ronnie then stumbled onto a broken, bent, and flattened cot pole, which was the only thing of any substance in the dumpster. Several of the dogs were still at the initial spot, still jumping and growling. Ronnie described them as fairly sizable (2-4 feet tall), probably about the size of a large lab or a doberman, but very skinny and sickly, with uneven tufts of hair and just absolutely filthy. The cot pole was probably about 4 feet long, thin and metal but difficult to grip because of its shape and the fact that it had been flattened. Regardless, Ronnie stated that he began "swinging for the fences" and apparently he clipped one in the ribs pretty good. (Picturing the scene, at this point in the story, had me just shaking my head with a smile.) But overall, the rod was ineffective and the dogs stopped jumping but kept staring and growling.

Ronnie dropped the pole and started to look around in the distance, but he was unable to see anything. He started yelling for help but no one seemed to hear. (The FOB can be loud during the day, the wind has a subtle and ongoing drone, and the generators make constant noise. Hence, the distance qualifying as "ear shot" is suprisingly low.) There was nothing around to really run to, or at least nothing he could get to before the dogs would be on him. So he continued to yell every few minutes. After a short while, the dogs "simmered down" and simply laid down at the feet of the dumpster, as if willing to wait patiently. Ronnie said he was getting freaked out, because he had no idea how long he would be stuck out there before someone saw him.

About 10-20 minutes later, Ronnie saw somebody zip by on a moped (a guy who worked in a nearby area) and he flagged him down. The moped was old, took a long time to accelerate, and was only capable of going about 20 mph. The driver, even from the distance, took the scene in and understood what had happened. (Later we found out he knew about the dogs in the area, which was good, because if he had driven straight up, it could have gotten ugly). Because of the limitations of the moped, he started looping closer and closer by making wide turns and slowly nearing the dumpster. On the second, somewhat near pass, the driver yelled out something like, "Get ready to run - they'll chase ME on the next pass", which was funny because it intimated that this sort of thing had happened before and that the driver knew exactly what a fitting 'instigation distance' was. Sure enough, after one more loop, the driver came still closer and the dogs looked up, got up, and then charged him at full boar as he zipped away in an alternate direction. Once the hounds were 50-75 meters away and completely diverted, Ronnie ambled down off the dumpster and sprinted back for the main part of the FOB, unhurt.

Afterwards, Ronnie rounded up one of the NCO's to "prove his story" and they took off on an ATV to the same area. Sure enough, the dogs were still there, waiting and surly, and gave chase when the ATV got to close. Apparently the ATV can only go about 25-30 mph, and the dogs were actually gaining briefly that time, as well, until they lost interest, or at least until the ATV was out of "their turf".

So the problem remains regarding what to do about these hellhounds. The answer seems easy with so many armed soldiers roaming around on the base. But a solution is apparently not so simple. There is supposed to be a "vector and pest control guy" who is on leave at the moment, and who normally would go out and deal with them. Because of his absence the situation was addressed with some of the FOB higher ups, one of whom literally said, "Just give them some ALPO or something and they'll settle down", as if they were somebody's lost, scared golden retriever rather than viciously territorial wild, starving, and ferocious feral dogs. This comment had us shaking our heads again. Apparently he didn't understand that if Ronnie hadn't got up onto that dumpster he likely would have been ripped to shreds in an incredibly ugly mess. Anyway, apparently the situation is "being dealt with", and hopefully nothing will happen to anyone before the dogs are disposed of.

After hearing the story, I asked Pete (who goes running around the FOB) if he had seen them, but he said no, that he goes running in a different area. The last few days we've been mildly tempted to see if we could lay eyes on the dogs, and maybe snap a few pics, but nothing has come of it. Neither of us is too excited to get anywhere close to the mongrels. And we've had daily updates from Ronnie, who has made it his personal mission to see the dogs destroyed and his expressions of disbelief at the inefficiency of the process of removing them have been almost as priceless as the original story.

The whole thing is bazaar. Here we are on this supposedly high speed and squared away army post. Only in one corner, we have a pack of crazed mongrels, (and possible descendants of Cerebrus to hear Ronnie tell it) who demand the rights to their turf. AND, despite the presence of countless pistols, rifles, ammunition, (and hell, even tanks) they are somehow impossible to get rid of. Its almost documentary worthy, a la a twisted version of "Grizzly Man" or something.

Anyway, I thought it was a funny story (though it would have been horrible if anyone had been hurt). I could imagine muyself running over to that part of the FOB, not knowing, and thinking - "Oh shit, who let those dogs out?" as the pack kicked it into gear from the shadows and came after me while I burst into a full sprint. But now I'm keeping my distance, as good as that song opportunity is...


I'll post an update once the situation is "resolved".