When she is not counseling handlers, Suthers-McCabe will likely help provide medical care to the animals
Virginia Tech vet called to New York for pet, grief expertise

Marie Suthers-McCabe will patch up injured search dogs and help their handlers deal with the unspeakable carnage.

By KEVIN MILLER
THE ROANOKE TIMES

As head of Virginia Tech's pet loss support hotline, Marie Suthers-McCabe has plenty of experience helping people cope with grief. But last weekend, the veterinary professor accepted a job that will likely test her skills as a healer of both humans and animals. Suthers-McCabe was one of more than a dozen veterinarians nationwide called upon by the federal government to assist with rescue and cleanup efforts at the World Trade Center in New York. The teams are there to treat the dozens of search-and-rescue dogs at "ground zero" for the inevitable injuries that occur when dogs walk over and through mountains of what once were towers of steel, glass and concrete.

But while she will undoubtedly use her medical skills to patch up injured animals, McCabe will have an additional role at the scene: helping the dog handlers deal emotionally with the unspeakable carnage their animals uncover daily.  "I think there is really no way to get yourself ready for something like this," Suthers-McCabe said before leaving for New York. "Really, what I can be is a good listener."

Suthers-McCabe has led Tech's pet loss hotline since coming to the Virginia-Maryland Regional College of Veterinary Medicine in 1999. She uses her knowledge of the animal-human bond to help pet owners deal with both the loss of their pets as well as make the difficult decisions leading up to the pet's death. Because of the extreme levels of trust demanded in their jobs, search-and-rescue dogs are normally handled by a single person, who often view their dogs as both pets and equal partners. As the veterinary college's human/companion animal interaction specialist, Suthers-McCabe has led research on better understanding the complex relationships that form between people and their pets. She hopes that understanding will help the dog handlers at the World Trade Center open up to her on the psychological stress of searching through the rubble for the thousands of victims still missing.  "I think the idea is ... I am someone they are going to be able to talk with because I know their bond with their animals," she said.

When she is not counseling handlers, Suthers-McCabe will likely help provide medical care to the animals. The Federal Emergency Management Agency and U.S. Public Health Service are overseeing the teams of veterinarians brought in by the federal government. Cindy Lovern, assistant director for emergency preparedness and response for the American Veterinary Medical Association, which sponsors the veterinary teams, said search-and-rescue dogs are specially trained to operate in such harsh environments. Nevertheless, many dogs will inevitably suffer such minor injuries as cuts on the pads of their paws or debris in their eyes or worse.

Margaret A. Woodbury, Chuck Squatriglia,

Chronicle Staff Writers

Thursday, September 20, 2001

New York -- After hours spent searching for signs of life within the rubble of the World Trade Center yesterday, Kermit Durhman was badly dehydrated. He worked his way over to the medical tent and stretched out as a doctor gingerly poked him with an intravenous line. Kermit winced, then relaxed as the doctor massaged his tender feet and stroked his pointy ears. Kermit looked up, clearly relieved, and thumped his tail in thanks. "Good dog," Dr. Kim Rosenthal said, patting the 5-year-old German shepherd as his handler, firefighter Merlin Durhman, looked on.

Kermit is among the 300 rescue dogs toiling at "ground hero," crawling over, around and through the towering pile of wreckage to the point of exhaustion. Veterinarians say the dogs seem to sense the enormity of the devastation before them. They are so dedicated to their jobs that some have been spotted dragging their handlers toward the smoldering rubble. "They work so hard and understand how very important their task is," Rosenthal said.

It is a grueling task indeed. The dogs emerge coated in grit and grime, their noses stinging with the stench of smoke and death. Some limp out on bloodied paws. Others wind up dehydrated, or with eyes clouded by dust. As Rosenthal talked, Kermit rested beneath the sprawling olive drab tent some have dubbed "Doggy MASH." He looked tired, and his left front paw jutted out awkwardly, the result of a puppyhood injury that has not affected his ability to work. "He can climb a ladder better than I can," Durhman said. "We never told Kermit about his deformed paw, so he just goes about his business."

Not far away, vets examined Presidio Dutch, a black Labrador retriever from San Francisco. They cleaned his eyes, swabbed his ears and drew blood from his paw to ensure his blood-sugar level wasn't too low. The routine is lovingly performed on each dog. Many of the vets were sent by the Federal Emergency Management Agency, but others, like Rosenthal, are volunteers who don scrubs after finishing work at their own clinics. Doggy MASH provides everything they need, including a surgical suite and a full-service laboratory -- and donors have sent truckloads of supplies.

The dogs toiling amid the wreckage are mostly German shepherds, chosen for the task because of their excellent agility and resiliency. There are also several retrievers and Labs, a handful of Rottweillers and a smattering of mutts. The majority are recovery dogs, trained to ferret out the slightest human scent. But in a sign that hope of finding more survivors is fading fast, many are being replaced by cadaver dogs trained to find bodies.

As crews make steady progress clearing wreckage from lower Manhattan, teams of dogs are following it to nearby landfills to continue their search for human remains. It is a grim task that is expected to take weeks, but one that the dogs -- and their handlers -- are determined to finish. At the end of each day, they'll find an army of veterinarians eager to treat their wounds and soothe their psyches with baths and hugs. "If one of these dogs needs suturing," Rosenthal said, "then I feel as though I am helping out in the best way I can."

Margaret A. Woodbury is a Chronicle correspondent in New York. / E-mail Chuck Squatriglia at csquatriglia@sfchronicle.com.

Rottweiler added to flight crew gives sense of comfort

09/20/2001

By ALINE McKENZIE / The Dallas Morning News

Like so many other travelers, Madelaine Pfau of Dallas was stranded by the no-fly order after the Sept. 11 terrorist hijackings. When Ms. Pfau was finally able to fly home Saturday on American Airlines, she and her fellow passengers were heartened to see an unusual addition to the flight crew – a 100-pound Rottweiler in first class. "It was great," she said. "It gave us all a sense of comfort. The dog was very friendly, but you could tell it was under very tight voice control." The handler wore plain clothes and said he wasn't a sky marshal, Ms. Pfau said, but his bag was labeled "crew" and "flight safety."

American declined to comment on the dog.

The dog was a popular passenger. Everyone petted him, Ms. Pfau said. A woman changed seats so a child could sit next to the dog. And it showed how much attitudes can change in a time of emergency, Ms. Pfau said. If, a week before, someone had had a huge dog on a plane, people would have been complaining about it taking up space, scaring people or aggravating allergies, she said. "Everyone would have been kicking up a fuss."

BY ALEXIS CHIU
Mercury News

NEW YORK -- For the small army of search dogs who work to exhaustion in the smoking rubble where the World Trade Center stood, the unforgiving job is made even tougher by a gruesome fact: The smell of death is everywhere. ``It's sensory overload,'' veterinarian Kim Rosenthal said Wednesday as she waited for her next patient at a dog triage center about six blocks north of ground zero. And it is taking its toll on the roughly 300 dogs that have been brought here from as far as France, Canada, Michigan and California. Lacerated paws. Burns. Dehydration. Overheating. Irritated eyes. Stress.

Though they are in top physical shape, all the dogs are fatigued from keeping their balance on shifting wreckage. Some, showing signs of psychological trauma, are having trouble eating and drinking normally; others refuse to relieve themselves near the search area. ``Most dogs that train for this, in their whole career, don't do as much as they're doing in one week here,'' said Rosenthal, one of dozens of veterinarians working 12-hour shifts at the animal medical tent. ``It's an incredible amount of work.''

Because the dogs' work is entirely dependent on their keen noses, the vets' job is all the more important. The ubiquitous odors cling to the dogs' fur, legs and paws, confusing them, so they are given regular baths. For the canines that have combed the wreckage since the Sept. 11 attack, it's just one of the ways in which the instinctive drive to do their job -- and do it well -- has been hampered by the realities of the brutal terrain.

``It's just hazardous to the nth degree,'' said Erick Robertson, 36, who drove from Oakhurst, near Yosemite, to offer the services of his independently trained search dog, Porkchop. Since Sunday, they've worked about eight hours a day. Wednesday morning, Robertson knelt by Porkchop's side as the 1-year-old Australian shepherd got a checkup. Puncture wounds, suffered when a police dog bit him in the back, were tender to the touch. The dog's gentle green eyes were bloodshot from the acrid dust. And he was favoring one leg, which doctors tended to after carefully snipping away three layers of bandages and protective booties. When Porkchop catches the scent of human remains, he signals his master either with three barks or a motion that resembles a sneeze. Robertson said his dog has been making as many as a dozen recoveries per shift. ``I'm very proud of him. He's 100 percent out there,'' Robertson said, nuzzling Porkchop as the exhausted, dehydrated dog received fluids intravenously. ``It just blows me away.''

The human searchers who have become part of this city's new pantheon of heroes, hoping for miracles amid unspeakable carnage, in turn salute their canine colleagues. ``It would be almost impossible without the dogs,'' said Roy Gross, chief of law enforcement for the Suffolk County (Long Island) SPCA, which coordinated the veterinary tent with officials from the federal Veterinary Medical Assistance Team. ``These are the worst possible conditions.'' Fortunately, authorities said, they are able to reward the dogs with the best possible care. Animal agencies have received so many donations -- literally tons of food and everything from chew toys to dog antibiotics and protective booties -- that they now are accepting only financial contributions.

``We've got enough to feed 5,000 dogs,'' Gross said.

The round-the-clock relief area includes a state-of-the-art mobile hospital with an operating room, X-ray and blood-testing equipment. An adjoining tent is nearly overflowing with animal medicine and supplies. A ``People Table'' in the corner, offering potato chips, energy bars and cough drops, goes virtually untouched. The dogs' single-minded focus astounds even the professionals who train and treat them. Gross recalled one dog that dragged itself into the tent after a tough shift in the pit. After a few minutes of treatment, the animal ``pulled its handler back toward the site,'' he said. ``These dogs are very bright. They want to please, they want to do their job,'' Rosenthal said. ``That's their mission, and they take it very seriously.'' Authorities said they did not know of any serious injuries or dog fatalities. The closest call, Gross said, was a Belgian malinois that fell, face first, into a pile of soot and dust. The dog nearly suffocated but recovered after a night of intensive care.

At times, the work is harder on the humans than the dogs; the most emotionally wrenching moments are beyond canine comprehension. Garvey recalled a distraught owner whose dog had just discovered the remains of five firefighters. And Robertson somberly recounted one of Porkchop's recoveries. ``Yesterday he came out of a hole with a teddy bear in his mouth,'' Robertson said.

With 5,422 missing and Mayor Rudolph Giuliani acknowledging there is virtually no chance of finding survivors, the dogs still have a long job ahead. Said volunteer vet Michael Garvey: ``They are heroes.'' 

A four-member color guard of Greenwich firefighters bearing the American and Connecticut flags, as well as fire axes, also marched onto the stage, presenting the flags to the town body. We thought it was the least we could do after what Mark has been doing for the past eight days," Fire Chief Daniel Warzoha said. The morning of the attack, Dawson, 42, and Elvis left Greenwich for Beverly, Mass., where his Federal Emergency Management Agency Urban Search and Rescue Team was assembling. After the 75-member team was dispatched to the twin towers, Elvis and Dawson searched the wreckage each night for 12 hours for the scent of survivors.

The dangerous work required the duo to descend into a five-story-deep chasm formed by the twin towers' collapse, walk across steel beams and mangled wreckage, and avoid precariously balanced debris which could have fallen at any second. Elvis is trained to bark when he picks up the scent of a living human being trapped beneath wreckage, Dawson said. "It made me feel good to see Elvis was so confident," Dawson said. "Besides a few scrapes he came through with flying colors."

After leading the pledge, Dawson handed the leash to his wife, Joy, and returned to the RTM meeting. He slept only a few hours each night while working, he said. "I haven't seen the sun in eight days," he said. "When you work at night like this you don't see it. It's different." Dawson may return to the Manhattan rescue efforts depending on the decision of FEMA officials, he said. Although hopeful about the chance of finding some survivors, the rescue effort seems to be winding down, he said. All victims located by Elvis were dead. Trapped victims surviving more than a week are not unheard of, he said. "There was so much devastation, but there are so many miracles that can happen," he said.

A makeshift hospital has been set up to treat rescue dogs injured searching for people in the remains of the World Trade Centre. The mobile army surgical hospital is being run in a field tent by the Suffolk County Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.

So far more than 300 dogs which have come to help from as far afield as Mississippi and Canada have been treated at the centre. Most are suffering from cut paws and stinging eyes after being exposed to dust and debris for many hours at a time, The Times reports. Paws are bandaged and they are given saline eye-washes before being cleared to resume work. Some dogs have died. One fell into a 50ft hole, another plunged 30ft, while a third had to be shot by its handler after being badly crushed in a pile of rubble. The resident bomb-sniffing dog at the World Trade Centre is believed to have been among the victims. He and his handler, David Lim, a Port Authority policeman, were buried by the collapsing buildings. Mr. Lim was rescued but the dog was never found.

Story filed: 08:47 Wednesday 19th September 2001

Sharon Gattas of Rancho Cucamonga flew to New York the day after the terrorist attacks as part of Riverside Urban Search and Rescue team; San Dimas nurse Ginger Barlow is helping Red Cross at the scene.

By Gene Maddaus / gene.maddaus@latimes.com

September 17, 2001 Posted: 7:12 PM EDT (2312 GMT)

NEW YORK (Reuters) -- Wearing black and yellow leather boots, another rescue worker Friday took a break from searching the mountainous rubble that was once New York's World Trade Center.

It wasn't a firefighter, a paramedic or ironworker. It was Bigfoot, a 3-year old black Rottweiler dog who's been working the disaster site in lower Manhattan in the aftermath of last Tuesday's attack.

After two hijacked planes destroyed the city's World Trade Center last Tuesday, 5,422 people are missing, with 201 confirmed dead so far.

Bigfoot is one of two search and rescue dogs handled by Joe Tavitas, 43, who flew out from his home in Chicago to volunteer in the herculean rescue effort.

Trained to find both live people and cadavers, Bigfoot has been hard at work since arriving Saturday, taking two- to four-hour breaks in between searching.

"Working conditions are very difficult," Tavitas said, compounded by the plethora of sharp objects jutting everywhere amid smoldering debris in a scene that resembles Dante's Inferno. "Dogs are taking a beating," he said.

Among the dozens of volunteer and official dogs working at the site, one has already died and another has been maimed, Tavitas said. "It's like a war zone. It's very dangerous for both the dogs and the humans involved," he said.

Tavitas, a Chicago firefighter and paramedic who has been on an extended leave from work due to a herniated disk in his back, welled up with emotion when asked about his fellow firefighters working day and night to find victims of the disaster.

"Let's not go there," he said, unable to speak of the heroic efforts that led to the loss of more than 300 police and firefighters -- now listed as missing, and presumed dead.

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