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Died – 9/25/15
Handler – Leon Ingersoll
Adpted By – Amanda Hall
Retired service dog gets honorable sendoff
It was a decision Amanda Hall, 24, felt unworthy to make. Who was she to say when it was time for a hero to go? A hero — that’s how she came to know Caras, the Belgian Malinois who had been trained at birth to sniff out hidden bombs. He spent nine years doing just that overseas. Then, at the age of 10 and with a debilitating disease forming in his lower back, he retired and was placed in a crate on a plane along with 92 others like him, bound for New York City. In March 2014, he came into the adoptive care of Hall, the Jacksonville resident whose job at Anniston’s AMK9 Academy for explosive detection dogs had well prepared her for Caras. But nothing could have prepared her for two weeks ago. That’s when she was forced to face what she hadn’t let herself believe for weeks as Caras’ health only worsened. It was the look in his eyes, she said. And so she went about planning a proper sendoff. “He deserves to have the ones most heroes get,” she said. Late Friday afternoon, traffic stopped along Pelham Road as a police escort led the way to Jacksonville’s Clanton Animal Hospital, where Caras was put down. A group of about 60 held flag poles and lined the entrance. Hall and Caras walked through them, with deputies from the Calhoun County Sheriff’s Office carrying a folded flag in their wake. The shepherd’s black-and-tan ears were erect, and he panted as he made his way in a wheeled contraption that propped up his paralyzed back legs. Earlier in the week, Leon Ingersoll reflected on his six months in 2006 as Caras’ handler. They were assigned to secure international embassies in Baghdad. He choked up when he thought about one sunny afternoon of fetch with Caras in a wide, open field. The dog was 2 then, only beginning his career, “vibrant and full of life,” Ingersoll recalled. “I started working dogs in 1993,” Ingersoll, 45, said by phone from his Texas home, “and he was the most meticulous dog I’ve had. I mean, he checked every crevice of a vehicle.” So it seemed also to Kyle Edenfield, who spent 2012 handling Caras on an Army infantry base in Afghanistan. They did daily perimeter checks, and in between, Edenfield saw how Caras was a source of joy for the soldiers. They spent down time wanting to play with the dog. “Some of these dogs, most of these dogs, people will talk about a flaw they have,” Edenfield, 44, said over the phone. “Caras, there was nothing bad said about that dog at all.” Two years after parting ways with Caras, Edenfield, living in Louisiana, searched for the dog. He was led to Hall. Ingersoll had connected with her as well, and it made him happy Caras had found a home. “They should be able to enjoy retirement,” Ingersoll said of service dogs. “They should get to live their life as a dog. Just as a dog. Eat, play and sleep, no working.” Edenfield cried when Hall texted him a picture of his now grey-muzzled friend. “I made sure to tell Amanda, ‘That dog will not let you know when he’s hurting,’” Edenfield said. “That’s how much pride he has.” It was a matter of pride, Hall came to believe, that made Caras seem so depressed in his first weeks living with her and her mom. Here he was in a house with three other dogs that didn’t have a care in the world. Caras, diagnosed by a veterinarian with post-traumatic stress disorder, was far from the life he’d known. He wouldn’t eat or drink. “It seemed like he lost his will,” said Diane Hall, Amanda’s mom. “I think it just took him time to realize we loved him.” They surrounded him with toys, things that he was accustomed to having to earn in training exercises. Now, he’d fall asleep with them in his mouth. And Hall noticed him less and less wanting to meticulously sniff every vehicle he passed. And Caras started wanting to run again. And it was a matter of pride, Hall thought, that made him want to, even as his disease-ridden spine made him tumble. Even when he couldn’t move his hind legs, even when he was strapped to a wheeled harness in his final months, he seemed eager to go with Hall on jogs around Oxford Lake, where he liked to watch the ducks drift in the water. And it was a matter of pride, Hall thought, that made Caras seem so embarrassed when he became unable to control his bladder. Some days, he didn’t have the strength to carry himself to his own food and water. And it was no way for him to have to live, she knew. And through tears in the hospital Friday, she told him it was OK to go. “We’re safe,” she told him.
