arrivals board announced only one flight. It read simply, "Kuwait."
For the next few moments Charlie and I sat alone together. I was overcome by the realization that this dog's death warrant was now discarded in Iraq and that his new prospect for a long, healthy life in America was assured. All this happened because one soldier had the courage to ask for help, and we'd had the heart to say, "We'll try."
By the time our party reconvened to walk Charlie past his new country's beautiful buildings and military monuments, our stroll along the National Mall could not have felt more patriotic. Charlie stopped to christen every corner and claimed this country as his own. Eddie would have been proud of his dog. After the memorable photo shoot, Jennifer and I said our goodbyes to all our friends and loaded Charlie into the rental car.
Jennifer and I shared a room with Charlie at the Sheraton. I couldn't wait to sit down with her and let all the details of my journey tumble out. We tried to get Charlie to sit on the bed with us, but he wasn't having it. Shortly after we settled in, someone knocked on our door. I half-expected to see more reporters, but the door opened to the hotel bellman, whose arms bore a huge basket of dog toys and treats. Attached to the basket was a card signed by the hotel staff. It read, "Welcome Home, Charlie."
The hotel employees must have seen the news reports on TV or on SPCA International's website. Perhaps they had been following Eddie's blog. It seemed like the whole world had been following the story.
Six weeks after Valentine's Day, Charlie's entry into the States, SGT Eddie Watson came home with his unit. Eddie couldn't wait to drive to Bev and Barb's house, where Charlie and I were staying. He left Fort Bragg military base in North Carolina immediately after work and was so eager to see his buddy that he didn't even stop to change out of his Army Combat Uniform (ACU).
When Eddie arrived, Bev, Barb, and I met him out in front of the house.
"Why don't you go around to the back yard?" I said. "Charlie's out there waiting for you."
Sure enough, when Eddie rounded the corner, Charlie was standing by the gate. Having heard the car, he knew that someone was coming; he just didn't know who it was. As Eddie walked toward the gate, Charlie spotted the uniform, and the expression on his face changed. He stared at Eddie for a second and then shook his head as if he couldn't trust what he was seeing.
Eddie unlatched the gate, went in, and took two steps toward Charlie before he bent down to touch his dog. That's when Charlie went crazy. The dog nearly flipped himself inside out before he took off and ran in circles around the yard. Eddie had never seen Charlie act anything like it before. After several rounds, Charlie launched himself from six paces and, airborne, landed in the soldier's outstretched arms, licking his face and whimpering. He kept repeating his wild greeting as if the only way to release the uncontainable joy was by running. After several spins around the yard, Charlie settled down, and Eddie was finally able to wrap him in the hug he'd been waiting to feel for six long weeks.
The whole scene seemed unreal to Eddie. The dog he remembered in Baghdad had lived outdoors at the outpost. That dog had always been covered in sand and filth. To see him like this was a shock. Charlie's fur shone and his tail was now thick and fluffy; he held it up as if waving a victor's flag after the battle is won.
"Look at you! I can't believe it's you," Eddie laughed between choked up tears. "You scrub up good, old buddy."
Eddie buried his face in the dog's fur and gave Charlie a vigorous rub all over as he continued to praise his dog. Charlie leaned against the soldier with his mouth open and tongue hanging out in a wide canine grin, as if he understood every word.
That night Eddie and Charlie stayed at a hotel just outside of Washington, D.C. Charlie slept on the bed and stretched across his soldier's