Sar Dog Quotes

I have an iron lung, and the dog keeps me from getting too close to magnets. [...] I have SARS. He's tallying the people I infect. [...] I'm nearsighted. He helps me read the road signs. [...] I'm a recovering alcoholic. The dog gets between me and a beer. [...] I have an irregular heartbeat and he's CPR certified. [...] Color-blind. He tells me when the traffic lights change. [...] He translates for my Spanish-speaking clients. [...] He's a chick magnet. [...] I'm a lawyer. He chases ambulances for me.

When your daily mission involves scouring destruction trying to find anybody alive, a friendly snout and a soul who will do nothing but sit by your side is more powerful than any medicine. The dogs provided hope and a return to normalcy.

By the time that paper appeared, the SARS epidemic of 2003 had been stopped, with the final toll at 8,098 people infected, of whom 774 died. The last case was detected and isolated in Taiwan on June 15. Hong Kong had been declared “SARS-free.” Singapore and Canada had been declared “SARS-free.” The whole world was supposedly “SARS-free.” What those declarations meant, more precisely, was that no SARS infections were currently raging in humans. But the virus hadn’t been eradicated. This was a zoonosis, and no disease scientist could doubt that its causal agent still lurked within one or more reservoir hosts—the palm civet, the raccoon dog, or whatever—in Guangdong and maybe elsewhere too. People celebrated the end of the outbreak, but those best informed celebrated most guardedly. SARS-CoV wasn’t gone, it was only hiding. It could return. In late December, it did. Like an aftershock to a quake, a new case broke in Guangdong. Soon afterward, three more. One patient was a waitress who had been exposed to a civet. On January 5, 2004, the day the first case was confirmed, Guangdong authorities reversed policy again, ordering the death and disposal of every masked palm civet held at a farm or a market in the province. Wild civets were another question, left unanswered.

When I initially heard a description of the search area and the scenario, I was certain this would be a wasted effort. I suspected there was very little we could do, given the huge size of the search area, rough terrain, terrible weather, age of the track (around 52 hours old), and the lack of resources. Clearly, I was wrong. I underestimated the ability of a trained SAR dog. – Deb Tirmenstein

Hendra: from bats. Marburg: from bats. SARS-CoV: from bats. Rabies, when it jumps into people, comes usually from domestic dogs—because mad dogs get more opportunities than mad wildlife to sink their teeth into humans—but bats are among its chief reservoirs. Duvenhage, a rabies cousin, jumps to humans from bats. Kyasanur Forest virus is vectored by ticks, which carry it to people from several kinds of wildlife, including bats. Ebola, very possibly: from bats. Menangle: from bats. Tioman: from bats. Melaka: from bats. Australian bat lyssavirus, it may not surprise you to learn, has its reservoir in Australian bats.

One of the secrets of search and rescue is this: when we are searching for the lost, when we are rescuing the injured, usually we’re having a pretty good time. We’re out with SAR friends; we’re having an adventure; we’re trying to save the world (or at least a small part of it). And yet, at the same time, we reflect that every mission may be a life-changing tragedy for families left behind.