In Iraq & Elsewhere, Bomb-Sniffing Dogs Soldier On

When Rex visited her a couple of weeks later at the hospital, she whistled for him and he jumped on her bed. Dana's days as a soldier were over, but she missed her pal.

Friends and family petitioned Congress, and a law was finally signed to allow still-able dogs to be adopted in certain cases.

Now Rex lives on a farm in Smethport, Pa., with Dana, who believes the dog wasn't really meant for a soldier's life.

"He loves everybody," she says. "He sleeps beside my bed."

Other dogs in the war zone aren't so lucky. Though no careful count is kept, Army veterinarian Lt. Col. Michael Lagutchik, who supervises care at Lackland, believes about 10 dogs have been killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. Injuries are common among the dogs. They are cut or scraped, often on their paws. They are bitten by spiders or stung by scorpions. Their eyes and ears are irritated by blowing sand.

The most common injury is overheating in the desert sun, and it can sometimes spur a dangerous stomach condition called bloat.

Handler Jason Cannon, now a Tennessee state patrolman, knew something was wrong when his dog started to act skittish while searching people crossing into Iraq from Syria. He and his dog were flown back to the base, where a veterinarian suspected dehydration and prescribed two weeks of rest for the dog. "We went out and played ball, pretty much hung out," Cannon says. "Mainly, we didn't do any work at all. 'Vacation' is a good word for it."

Less often, dogs on a mission get shot or bombed. Lackland trainer Trapanger Stephens, who served in Iraq, remembers seeing a veterinarian treat a gunshot-wounded dog with a breathing tube right in the field. The veterinarian did surgery then and there.

Cpl. Megan Leavey and her dog ended up back at Camp Pendleton, Calif., when a homemade bomb exploded in Ramadi. She suffered a concussion, and the dog injured one shoulder. The dog underwent a regimen familiar to athletes: icing, heating, stretching and motion exercises.

Dogs may wear bulletproof vests or booties to cushion their paws. They sometimes wear dog goggles -- called "doggles" -- to keep out sand.

Regardless of the dangers, the dogs are fearless. For them, checking a road for bombs means a fun walk, their handlers say. "They like what they do," says Poelaert, who has returned to Exeter, N.H.

These days, he's trying to move beyond memories of the Ramadi explosion, which killed dozens of people, including his best friend, fellow handler Adam Cann.

One image still inspires him, though: the sight of Cann's wounded dog stretched over his body, as if to protect him.