Doctors said that she only had a couple of weeks to live, so this pilot flew her to her adoptive family 400 miles away so that her final days would be filled with love.
Ashlyn was an elderly dog in a North Carolina shelter, and she wasn’t doing well. She’d lost a lot of weight and had sarcomas, which were malignant tumors beneath her skin. But it wasn’t too late for her to strike gold.
When the New England Humane Society (NEHS) identified a suitable home for Ashlyn to spend the last few weeks of her life, all she needed was a means to get there. So the founder of Flying Fur Animal Rescue (FFAR), Paul Steklenski, decided to fly her up on his plane.
Steklenski became sad as he piloted the plane with Ashlyn in the seat next him, thinking about how this may be her final flight anywhere.
Even though Steklenski is used to transporting needy puppies to rescues so they may find loving homes — he normally transports between 15 to 30 dogs each month — the elderly dogs particularly tug at his heartstrings. “Those are the ones where you really focus on what they’re going through,” Steklenski explained to The Dodo.
Ashlyn was nervous at the bit of the two-hour travel. “She seemed a touch distant at first,” Steklenski remarked. “Then she’d kind of open up a bit and get closer.”
He surely made her feel better by feeding her dog treats. “She then gave me one paw, then the other,” he explained.
“She then rested her head on my lap,” Steklenski explained. “That means a lot to me. That is all that is important. That is the prize in and of itself.”
Steklenski decided to take up flying as a hobby in 2013, at the same time he adopted a dog. These items were unconnected at the time, but they were irrevocably intertwined soon after.
“We went to pet stores, then to shelters, and began to discover the difference,” Steklenski told The Dodo last year. When he discovered how many needy animals are in shelters, he decided to put his new hobby to good use.
Ashlyn would not be where she is now if it weren’t for him. While everyone assumed they were transporting her to the hospital, her recovery has led rescuers to believe she may have more time than they imagined.
“Her condition crushed me when I brought her up from the airport,” Tracy Lander, who has three dogs of her own and has been fostering dogs for the NEHS for two years, told The Dodo. “She had lost 39 pounds and her optimum weight is between 65 and 70 pounds. She came to me wearing a sweater, and when I removed it, I could see every rib.”
Lander began feeding Ashlyn three times a day to help her gain weight. She also gave her vitamins to assist her deal with her numerous health issues, which ranged from skin problems (induced by chemical burns) to cancers.
Ashlyn gradually began to change. “She’s getting out more,” Lander observed. “She’s a fantastic eater… and she adores me.”
Ashlyn has even begun to cuddling with Angel, another of Lander’s dogs. Xander, Lander’s boxer mix, has also expressed an interest in connecting with Ashlyn. “He’ll simply walk up to Ashlyn and start licking her,” Lander said. “He believes that he can heal everyone with his mouth.”
Ashlyn moved in with the Landers in January, and no one knew how long she’d be there. Now that it’s April, they don’t think of her as the fospice dog, but rather as someone who reminds them to live in the now and cherish every day — which is always a wonderful lesson.
“She understands she is adored,” Lander added. “No matter what happens, she knows she is loved.”
No one expected Ashlyn to make such significant leaps the day she boarded Steklenski’s plane. She went from being a tired shelter dog to becoming a member of a loving family, which is precisely why Steklenski does what he does.
“I never envisioned discovering something so wonderful, so rewarding that it would eclipse practically everything else in my life,” Steklenski remarked.
Mexico’s rescue and drug-sniffing dogs start out at the army’s puppy kindergarten
In the middle of a military base outside Mexico City, an army colonel runs what he calls a kindergarten for dogs.
In the middle of a military base outside Mexico City, an army colonel runs what he calls a kindergarten for dogs.
Puppies that one day will become rescue dogs, or sniffer dogs for drugs or explosives, get their basic training here, at Mexico’s Army and Air Force Canine Production Center. The puppies are born and spend their first four months at the facility, before being sent to military units around the country for more specialized training.
Founded in 1998, the center has in the past produced breeds such as German Shepherds and Rottweilers.
Now, it exclusively breeds Belgian Malinois — about 300 of them a year.
“It’s a very intelligent dog, it’s a dog with a lot of hardiness, very resistant to diseases,” said Col. Alejandro Camacho Ibarra, a veterinarian and the center’s director. It is the Mexican military’s only such production facility, and Camacho said it may be the largest in Latin America.
The mainly green-and-white, one-story buildings look like any others at the military camp in the State of Mexico, near Mexico City. But the difference here is in the sounds that fill the air: high-pitch barking from dozens of puppies scattered through its maternities and training camps.
Precautions here are strict because of a recent canine parvovirus outbreak that sickened some of the puppies. Visitors are disinfected with a spray, and must step into a watery solution to clean shoe soles. Only military personnel can touch the puppies. If you want to get close, you need to wear scrubs, shoe protectors and a mask, but you still cannot hold or pet the animals.
The training starts early in life, about a month after birth once the weaning process finishes. And everything is taught as a game.
“We start playing with the dog,” Camacho said. The idea is to draw them to items that trainers call “attractors” — like a ball or a rag — and puppies are challenged to catch them. “Every time it holds his prey, it’s rewarded, congratulated, and it learns to go after that prey, after that attractor,” Camacho added.
Unlike in civilian life, where puppies often get food treats, in the military the only prize for a job well done is a caress and some praise.
In one section of the camp, there’s a trail with obstacles including rocks, a tunnel, a section of empty plastic bottles to clamber over, a ladder and tires.
A soldier beckons the little dogs with a rag they must capture. The brown puppies with black snouts begin running through the trail, jumping over the rocks and crossing the obstacles. One takes the lead and the second struggles to cross over the plastic bottles, but also finishes. Both go to bite the rag the soldier holds.
“Very, very good, sons! Very good, boys,” he repeats while dragging the puppies as they maintain their grasp on the rag for several moments.
Camacho explains that the puppies are known by a number until they are three months old, when they are given a proper name. Each year, the center gives names according to a single letter of the alphabet. In 2023, that letter is “F.”
Febo, Frodo, Fósil, Forraje and Fido are some of this year’s names.
The basic training ends when the puppies are 4 months old. Then, they move to other military units to become specialists in detection of drugs or explosive, in search and rescue or in protection and security.
The current government of Mexico’s President Andrés Manuel López Obrador has relied heavily on the armed forces for various initiatives, from public safety to the building of airports and a tourist train line. And K-9 units have been a key element of some of the military’s activities, like the detection of drugs.
Col. Camacho said that some dogs born at the center have been trained to detect fentanyl, a synthetic opioid trafficked by Mexican cartels that has been blamed for about 70,000 overdose deaths per year in the United States.
That kind of specialized training happens elsewhere, but the colonel says it builds on his center’s basic training by using “attractor” objects but having them impregnated with the scent of what the dogs need to track, such as a drug.
Dogs retire from their military service after eight years, Camacho says.
Many of the dogs have become unsung heroes of missions in Mexico and abroad. Occasionally they become publicly known, like a German Shepherd named Proteo who was part of a rescue team sent in February to Turkey after a 7.8-magnitude earthquake that killed more than 40,000 people.
Proteo died during the search for survivors of the quake. A statue of him now stands at the center.
Another dog that made headlines in Mexico and abroad was a yellow Labrador retriever rescue dog named Frida. The Navy dog gained fame in the days following Mexico’s Sept. 19, 2017, earthquake that left more than 300 dead in the capital. She retired in 2019 and died in 2022.
Col. Camacho said that the dogs have a symbiotic relationship with their handlers during their working life in the military.
“The dog uses us to survive, but we also use the dog to do a job,” he said. “So it’s a coordinated work where we both get a benefit.”
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