Nubs - Brian Dennis [1]
At the fort, without Brian, there were no belly rubs.
FROM: BRIAN DENNIS On our last trip north I was expecting to see Nubs again. I didn’t. We didn’t make it as far north as we did last trip, but I still thought I’d see him. I hope that crazy little dog is okay.
SUBJECT: NUBS
DATE: NOVEMBER 2007
Near the end of December, when the temperature dipped to a bone-chilling 30 degrees, the Humvees again rumbled up to the border fort. The pack dogs ran to greet Brian. But not Nubs. He hung back, gaunt and weak from a deep wound in his side.
Shivering from pain, Nubs allowed Brian and the team medic to clean the wound and apply antiseptic ointment from the men’s first-aid kits. He even swallowed the child-sized dose of antibiotic Brian gave him. But Nubs refused to eat or drink. It hurt so much, he tried to sleep standing up.
FROM: BRIAN DENNIS We tried to put a blanket on Nubs when we bedded down for the night in the desert, but he wouldn’t let us. I said a prayer for him.
SUBJECT: BAD NEWS
DATE: DECEMBER 2007
He slept near me. It got down to 18 degrees that night and I kept waking up to check on him. Every time I woke up, I wondered if he’d be alive.
When Brian got up at 4 a.m. for his turn at watch, Nubs stiffly padded into place beside him. Head and tail drooping, he faithfully made the rounds with Brian.
The next day, Nubs watched as Brian and his team prepared to leave. He touched his nose to Brian’s face as Brian bent down to pet him good-bye. He felt Brian’s head on his and heard him whisper, “Hey, buddy, you need to eat. You need to get better.”
Then Brian climbed into Boss and the three Humvees pulled away. Determined not to be left behind again, Nubs chased after Brian.
He couldn’t keep up.
Alone, he returned to the fort.
Two long weeks later, Scout, Boss, and Chuck thundered up to Nubs’s fort again. This time Nubs was there to greet them, tail wagging but still moving slowly.
For a few peaceful days, Nubs stuck close to his human “pack.” Brian took special care of him, doctoring his wound every morning. Nubs gobbled up his share of Brian’s MREs, especially the beef patties. They wrestled and played “give me five.” Brian rubbed Nubs’s belly every time he asked. If Brian stopped too soon, Nubs pawed him and made him rub some more.
Each night, after the sun set over the desert, Nubs and Brian did their job together. Under an ice-black sky of a thousand stars, they kept watch over everyone.
All too soon, it was time for Brian to leave again. Nubs followed close on his heels. Brian tightened his winter scarf, a Keffiyah, around his neck and then climbed inside the Humvee. He leaned out and said to Nubs, “You take care of yourself, buddy.” The vehicles rolled across the desert, slowly at first, then picking up speed, heading for the Command Outpost, far away on the Jordanian border.
Nubs cried as he chased them across the cold, coarse sand. Because of his wound, he could not keep up. He dropped to the ground, exhausted and completely alone.
When Nubs sat up, Scout, Boss, and Chuck were out of sight. He struggled to his feet and began walking.
Nubs trekked mile after treacherous mile across the desert, shivering through frozen days and nights. There was little to eat and even less to drink. With barely a moment’s rest, Nubs pushed on, fighting his way through territories fiercely protected by wolves and wild dogs.
Two snowy days and 70 miles later, Nubs limped into the Iraqi battalion headquarters, where Brian was working.
A team member ran inside, shouting to Brian, “You’re not going to believe who’s here!”
“What are you doing here?”
When Nubs saw Brian, he ran with his tongue out and tail wagging, right into his arms.
“What are you doing