9/11 - TraceDog as my rock
Posted: Thu Sep 12, 2013 4:14 am
Trace would be 2 y.o. in 2 or 3 months. he had been walking off-leash in the city all summer. we lived downtown in the West Village - a few blocks into the exclusion zone set up after the attacks. the whole area was full of very strange sights. that first week, masses by the 1000's of near-motionless, weeping people moved about in slow motion - some having fled northward, some searching for their missing, some struggling to collect themselves after sleepless days of gruesome work - many of these latter accompanied by their equally-stunned shepherds - mostly Mals and a few DS.
on 9/11, TraceDog became very solemn. he knew something bad had happened to everyone. he could smell that for some it had been catastrophic - a sense that hovered increasingly foul in the air for months til the last fire had nothing more to burn. he did not sing that day despite the inescapable scream of sirens. he did not sing again for months. Trace did note for me the frequent roar of military helicopters and fighter jets over our heads.
for some weeks, one entered into our area only by showing proof of residency or proof of approved work necessity. to accept a guest at home from outside the zone, one had to go to a military checkpoint on 14th street to again show your papers and vouch for and accompany your visitor on foot. all but emergency, military, and federal traffic was banned from movement into our zone so everything - even all food and medicine for all of downtown Manhattan - was walked in by hand during this period except for that rare business that had a vehicle already within the zone to shuttle goods left off at a checkpoint. the fires would burn for the better part of 4 more months; the air was foul through the year-end holidays and for a lesser time the streets coated with a strange, very heavy grey dust. i worried about the effects on TD and tried for a while to keep him off the streets as much as possible.
in just a few days, though, i made an exception for the nights. we would take our late [ very late ] hours-long walk along the nearby riverfront where there was a constant stream of ghost-like firemen and other volunteers from around the nation[ and sometimes their dogs ] struggling to complete their next step northward to the non-secured area where hopefully they could get transportation, though most said they were going to walk all the way to their destination despite sheer exhaustion. there was not one of them that had not come to the point at GZ that they simply could not go on any longer without real rest. TraceDog and i both carried bags of water bottles and dog treats to hand out to help men and dogs finish their long trek north. with little coming through the new border, there was a severe shortage of supplies at their work site that was all too evident. after a couple nights of foot duty on the river, we started ferrying needed supplies in my station wagon from the checkpoints where donated supplies were being left by outsiders down to the point beyond which passage was impossible. Tracedog sat in the back seat - stoic and knowing as always; his presence seemed to temporarily bring a bit of comfort to the police and soldiers at the various checkpoints and drop-off stations. they saw confidence and peaceful assuredness in him and also saw in him the dogs that were so crucial and gave so much hope to the rescuers in those first weeks.
it is a time i tend to forget - even now seems so surreal - but been thinking of TD a lot since the anniversary of his death and then here we are on 9/11 [ and there were no postings for 12 hours from 8am to 8 pm ]. TD and i cuddled a lot in those difficult months. he was allowed on the seat next to me or in bed whenever he wanted. i noticed nearly everyone - friends, strangers, officials - sought comfort from Trace; he was so calm and would smile softly. we got through it together and both managed to make a small difference to people who were trying to make a bigger difference.
[ just a note on the magnitude of destruction in NYC that day for those not aware - which is most everyone: the extent of physical destruction of infrastructure and square footage of space equals the entirety of St.Louis and Cleveland.]
on 9/11, TraceDog became very solemn. he knew something bad had happened to everyone. he could smell that for some it had been catastrophic - a sense that hovered increasingly foul in the air for months til the last fire had nothing more to burn. he did not sing that day despite the inescapable scream of sirens. he did not sing again for months. Trace did note for me the frequent roar of military helicopters and fighter jets over our heads.
for some weeks, one entered into our area only by showing proof of residency or proof of approved work necessity. to accept a guest at home from outside the zone, one had to go to a military checkpoint on 14th street to again show your papers and vouch for and accompany your visitor on foot. all but emergency, military, and federal traffic was banned from movement into our zone so everything - even all food and medicine for all of downtown Manhattan - was walked in by hand during this period except for that rare business that had a vehicle already within the zone to shuttle goods left off at a checkpoint. the fires would burn for the better part of 4 more months; the air was foul through the year-end holidays and for a lesser time the streets coated with a strange, very heavy grey dust. i worried about the effects on TD and tried for a while to keep him off the streets as much as possible.
in just a few days, though, i made an exception for the nights. we would take our late [ very late ] hours-long walk along the nearby riverfront where there was a constant stream of ghost-like firemen and other volunteers from around the nation[ and sometimes their dogs ] struggling to complete their next step northward to the non-secured area where hopefully they could get transportation, though most said they were going to walk all the way to their destination despite sheer exhaustion. there was not one of them that had not come to the point at GZ that they simply could not go on any longer without real rest. TraceDog and i both carried bags of water bottles and dog treats to hand out to help men and dogs finish their long trek north. with little coming through the new border, there was a severe shortage of supplies at their work site that was all too evident. after a couple nights of foot duty on the river, we started ferrying needed supplies in my station wagon from the checkpoints where donated supplies were being left by outsiders down to the point beyond which passage was impossible. Tracedog sat in the back seat - stoic and knowing as always; his presence seemed to temporarily bring a bit of comfort to the police and soldiers at the various checkpoints and drop-off stations. they saw confidence and peaceful assuredness in him and also saw in him the dogs that were so crucial and gave so much hope to the rescuers in those first weeks.
it is a time i tend to forget - even now seems so surreal - but been thinking of TD a lot since the anniversary of his death and then here we are on 9/11 [ and there were no postings for 12 hours from 8am to 8 pm ]. TD and i cuddled a lot in those difficult months. he was allowed on the seat next to me or in bed whenever he wanted. i noticed nearly everyone - friends, strangers, officials - sought comfort from Trace; he was so calm and would smile softly. we got through it together and both managed to make a small difference to people who were trying to make a bigger difference.
[ just a note on the magnitude of destruction in NYC that day for those not aware - which is most everyone: the extent of physical destruction of infrastructure and square footage of space equals the entirety of St.Louis and Cleveland.]
