Photo By Sgt. Taryn Hagerman | Patrol Explosive Detector Dog, Kobus, and Sgt. Holly Moore, 550th Military Working Dog...... read more read more
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FORT BRAGG, N.C. - It felt like a nightmare, surreal and as if time moved in slow motion. The end of an era was imminent and Sgt. Holly Moore was helpless to stop it.
With a serendipitous start to an unconventional love story, Patrol Explosive Detector Dog, Kobus, was paired with Moore, on Valentine’s Day in 2013. The team worked with the 550th Military Working Dog Detachment, 16th Military Police Brigade and attained near-instant success through their profound connection and hard work.
Only nine months after meeting, the then 4-year-old Dutch Shepherd with tiger stripes and a spirited grin was ready to deploy with Moore.
The pair headed for Afghanistan on Veterans Day. While deployed, they lived and trained in close quarters, never spending more than a couple of hours away from one another.
During the deployment, they grew even closer and solidified their trust in each other. Unfortunately, health problems for each of them shortened the deployment, and they returned to Fort Bragg four months later.
They continued to train and serve on community law enforcement missions, securing areas through explosive detection sweeps for the president of the United States, Commander U.S. FORSCOM, Commander U.S. Army XVIII Airborne Corps and other visiting dignitaries.
An indestructible bond between Kobus and Moore was witnessed in her absence, when he became slightly depressed if she went on leave. It was also evident in their training, as the only noticeable need for improvement was training him to stay away from her on command. Yet, without fail, he would only allow her move so far away before instinctively running to be at her side.
Kobus made his affection toward Moore abundantly clear with a daily wag of his tail and a constant loving gaze that never averted from her face unless he was working.
“It was just an instant bond,” Moore said. “Kobus needed me and whenever he couldn’t see me, he would go nuts.”
Shortly after celebrating their second anniversary with some savory dog treats, Moore said Kobus’s health began a fast decline.
On March 6, Kobus could no longer move his back legs to walk. And by March 11, only a couple months past his sixth birthday, he was gone.
Kobus lost his short and sudden battle with cancer at 10 a.m. Moore and other MWD handlers remained by his side throughout the night and until his last moment before he was euthanized to end his suffering.
“It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever dealt with,” said Moore, recalling the sleepless hours as a blur of tears and pain. “There were a couple times that I couldn’t catch my breath and I thought I was going to throw up.”
Her nauseated anxiety and his keen sense of her sadness were the tragic culmination of the two years they spent as partners. The bond between a handler and MWD is nearly impossible for outsiders to understand.
“While there are Soldiers throughout the ranks that only see military working dogs as ‘dogs,’ you’d be hard pressed to find a handler that feels this way,” said Sgt. 1st Class Aaron Meier, kennel master of the detachment.
Meier said MWD teams form strong connections because they work together constantly and must rely on one another to accomplish their duties.
“They become close, sometimes to an extent that it seems that they are one entity,” said Meier. “In the end, a dog becomes an extension of the handler. Without one, the other is useless.”
And likely lost.
The days following Kobus’s passing, Moore was in a daze of disbelief and she was desperate to hold onto any part of Kobus that she could.
“I always told myself I’d never get a K-9 tattoo, and I never would have for any other dog,” Moore said. “But the very next day, I got his paw print [and name] tattooed as close to my heart as I could, so I would always have part of him with me.”
Moore credits leaning on her closest friend in the detachment, Staff Sgt. Jen Rader, with helping her through the darkest days.
“She loved Kobus as much as I did,” Moore said. “I was really grateful to have her there for me. I stayed with her for probably a couple weeks when I didn’t want to go home.”
Rader, the training NCO with the detachment, said Moore was devastated by losing Kobus and instinctively stayed by her side through it all.
“She’s my best friend and so it was natural for me to be there for her,” said Rader. “It’s heartbreaking to watch a friend deal with all that. Kobus didn’t deserve to die the way he did and Moore doesn’t deserve to have to go through this.”
As for the close relationships built between MWDs and handlers, Rader compared her deployment with Soldiers to her deployment as a handler. She said that although both instances cause you to live in close quarters with your battle buddies, the deployment with her MWD forged a stronger bond than she created with any Soldiers with whom she had deployed.
Rader often encourages Moore to remember the good times she and Kobus shared because no amount of cancer could take those away.
Memories and mementos have provided some peace to Moore; however, it was not until Kobus’ memorial ceremony that she could begin to experience some closure.
April 20, Moore sat in the pew of a quiet chapel, attempting to bottle her sorrow. She bit her lip for most of the service, trying to keep herself from falling apart because she knew that once she started to cry, she would likely not be able to stop.
She was successful until Staff Sgt. Colin Harris of the detachment read “Guardians of the Night.”
"… It is for you that I will unselfishly give my life and spend my nights unrested. Although our days together may be marked by the passing of the seasons, know that each day at your side is my reward … And when our time together is done … remember me with kind thoughts and tales. For a time we were unbeatable, nothing passed among us undetected …"
Although the memorial was exhaustingly emotional, Moore said she was thankful Meier convinced her to attend.
“I strongly believed that Sgt. Moore needed the closure and to see that other people cared about Kobus — perhaps not to the extent she did — but enough to show the respect that he deserved,” said Meier. “All the handlers of the 550th, including myself, took this loss hard; losing a young dog, one that is fully capable, is terrible.”
At the conclusion, Moore saluted an empty crate with Kobus’s name on it to pay respects to her greatest partner.
But the purest sense of serenity followed the memorial, when Moore received Kobus’s ashes. After more than a month of trying to live without the normalcy of being near Kobus every day, Moore finally had some piece of him back.
She welcomed Kobus home and finally slept five uninterrupted hours — the first night she had done so since he passed. The pleasure of that peaceful night’s sleep was short-lived when Moore’s swollen lip reminded her of the price of burying such fierce pain.
“I’m going to miss him because he’s just goofy,” Moore said. “He’s so sweet and that’s why I really loved Kobus. He was special, and I was really lucky.”
Two years’ worth of long hours by one another’s sides forged a strong, selfless and eternal connection.
Amidst the haze of shock and devastation, Moore had clarity of one thought for certain: their bond needed to be Kobus’s final memory of this world. Despite her hesitation to witness the actual procedure, Moore knew that if Kobus had to leave, her face needed to be the last one he saw. And it was.
| Date Taken: | 04.22.2015 |
| Date Posted: | 04.28.2015 15:47 |
| Story ID: | 161563 |
| Location: | FORT BRAGG, NORTH CAROLINA, US |
| Web Views: | 480 |
| Downloads: | 1 |
This work, All Military Working Dogs go to heaven, by SGT Taryn Hagerman, identified by DVIDS, must comply with the restrictions shown on https://www.dvidshub.net/about/copyright.
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