Marine's Iraqi mutt takes to life here

I'm like anybody else. I get overwhelmed by the glut of bad news. I get gloomy. Besides the Chargers – Go Bolts! – what's to cheer about of late?

Then I thought of Nubs.

Maybe you remember him. He's the dog a local Marine befriended in Iraq.

The poor mutt was a mess at the time.

His ears had been hacked off by an Iraqi. He had been stabbed with a screwdriver. He didn't have a name; it was Maj. Brian Dennis who came up with Nubs, because of those ears.

And it was Dennis who spirited him to San Diego nearly a year ago because the dog did an incredible thing: He tracked down Dennis and his fellow Marines after they moved 70 miles from the camp where they first met Nubs.

It was a heartwarming story told on TV and in newspapers. A children's book that Dennis helped write called “Nubs: A Marine, A Mutt, A Miracle” is planned for this fall.

So how is Nubs now?

How has he handled the transformation from hardened Iraqi desert dog to San Diego pampered pooch?

Is he tearing up the furniture, chasing the mailman?

Well, I've got good news. (Finally!!!) Nubs is just great. When I walked into Dennis' Scripps Ranch home, the sandy-haired, thigh-high bundle of energy jumped on me, tail wagging.

“He really loves people,” said Dennis, a jet fighter pilot stationed at Miramar Marine Corps Air Station who will deploy again in March. (He's already arranging for friends to take care of Nubs.)

Nubs shares the house with Dennis' other dog, a mixed chow named Bogey, and his roommate's dog, a shepherd mix named Kublai. They do dog things. They chase each other. They play. It's hard to tell Nubs is any different from the other two mutts.

Oh, but he is.

In Iraq, dogs run wild in packs. They're poorly fed and abused at times.

Nubs' ears were sliced in half because the Iraqi thought it would toughen him up, make him a better guard dog.

Not exactly a Lassie moment.

Nubs, who might be as young as 3 or as old as 5, has had some ups and downs in adjusting to his new home, Dennis said. If other dogs playfully charged at him, Nubs thought they wanted to fight.

“He has to get used to the idea that no one is hurting him,” Dennis said.

I was there, along with nearly a dozen other reporters and TV people, when the dog landed at Lindbergh Field in February. I remember expecting him to be skittish, but Nubs let me and others pet him.

I could easily see why the Marines felt such a bond, but I admit I didn't quite get it at first. Why all this fuss over a dog, particularly when the war is taking such a human toll?

But Nubs actually gives me a measure of hope. Out of all that hell, here comes this story, this mutt, this bond.

And who can't admire Dennis? He had tough duty patrolling remote areas near the Syrian border, but he couldn't turn his back on a dirty, discarded dog who was determined to stick by his side.


