By Maxim Fisher
Co-Founder for War Dog Guardians
I recently buried my dog. I held him in my arms and pressed my nose against his face as he took his last breath. Before he passed, I whispered into his ear, “I love you. You better protect me from the other side. Nothing changes. When it is time, I will see you again, my sweet boy.” My dear friend, Miriah Allamong, and my other dog, Athena, were there with me to say our final goodbyes.
My dog’s name was Kage. He was a Belgian Malinois who served in Afghanistan with the U.S. Army Special Forces. He had been shot in the left leg and had shrapnel wounds. He spent much of his time patrolling in a Humvee outside of Bagram. One tragic day, they were ambushed by the Taliban. On that day, Kage came back bloody, lying on his handler’s body. Although wounded, Kage survived the improvised explosive device blast and small arms fire and was sent to Germany for medical treatment. His handler did not make it. I do not know everything about Kage’s past. Much of it is still classified; much of it is lost. I would often rub him behind his ears and say, “How I wish you could talk, my little baby, Kage. The stories you would tell me.” He would do his best to answer me with his immutable wide smile and the kindest of eyes and nuzzle me with his snout.
Several years ago, I had a business meeting at the Bavarian Inn in the Eastern Panhandle of West Virgina. The meeting ended early, and I found myself, almost unknowingly, searching on my phone for German Shepherd breeders. Gladiator Allegiance, a military and police K-9 company came up in my search, and I called them. Miriah, the CEO, answered. I told her I was looking for a German Shepherd. She told me she had the perfect Belgian Malinois for me: Athena. She had served in the military overseas and needed a home. I told her I had seen videos of Belgian Malinois’ impressive feats, but the breed was too much dog for me. Since I was only two miles away, Miriah told me to come over and see Athena for myself.
I pulled up to Miriah’s property, passed the dog kennels and saw her standing outside her house with two dogs—Athena and Kage. Miriah told me both Malinois were former military dogs. She explained how Kage had suffered wounds and, irrespective of the limp in his hind leg, could still run fast as hell. I was weary. I grew up with labradors and beagles. My family loved dogs, but we did not know how to train them. Athena and Kage were former military dogs, after all. I took Athena on a very long walk. I observed her, and she observed me.
When we arrived back at Miriah’s house, she said Athena and Kage had served in Bagram, Afghanistan and that Kage was wounded. They had been together for a very long time, and she hated to separate them.
“I’m a foster mom for so many war dogs, I can’t give them all the attention they need. These dogs need a home and a permanent family so even if you could take one of them it would help,” she said.
Mirah held Kage back as he was trying to come closer to Athena. I kept my poker face, but Miriah had me at “served in Afghanistan.” I have never been to Afghanistan. I have never served in the U.S. military. I come from a vehemently anti-communist Russian-Jewish family. I was born in the former Soviet Union. When I was 4, my mother planned for us to immigrate to Israel, but when the opportunity to come to the U.S. materialized, she took it.
In 2009, while living in Philadelphia, I joined Daddis Martial Arts, a fight camp that trained many MMA fighters. I was a mere student there studying Muay Thai boxing. Daddis Martial Arts catered to many returning vets who had served in Iraq and Afghanistan. Many of them were training partners, and some became friends. These relationships gave me the opportunity to hear, see and absorb stories from the front lines of America’s wars. Perhaps because of its clientele, Daddis operated much like a military boot camp, and because I had an affinity for my teammates, I came to understand and appreciate America’s 21st century wars.
“Are you sure she served specifically in Afghanistan? Not Iraq?” I asked Miriah.
“I don’t know about Iraq, but both Kage and Athena were in Afghanistan, that much I know,” she answered.
I crouched down to match Athena’s eyes. She licked my face. I fell in love. I told her that I would never leave her, and she would always have a home with me. I then turned to Miriah. “I’ll be back in five days to pick Athena up.”
“Ok, great. Do you want to take her for a week and see how it goes first, like a trial run?”
“No. I’m Russian. I don’t do trial runs. She is my dog. You’re going to have to put a bullet in me to take her away from me.”
For Miriah, Athena’s adoption was bittersweet. “Kage will be crushed, but I have no choice, and I’m happy for Athena,” she said.
I didn’t feel I could take on both dogs, but I agreed to try to find Kage a home with someone I knew so they could visit each other, and Miriah was happy with that plan.
Miriah is an impressive and unusual woman. She had been overseas in many theaters of war as a K-9 handler and trainer. For years, she has been saving former military war dogs using her own resources. I suggested bringing some organizational structure to her amazing work, and we, along with others in West Virginia, started War Dog Guardians—a 501(c)(3) nonprofit that rescues military dogs and reacclimates them to civilians, prioritizing placements with American veterans. Our secondary mission is to get K-9s in schools across America, as we believe that K-9s are the most effective way to stop the rise of mass shootings in America’s schools and on college campuses.
Five days after I met Miriah, I arrived to pick up Athena. She jumped into the back seat of my truck. I could see her inquisitively looking at me through my rear-view mirror as we pulled away from Miriah’s farm. I tried desperately to find Kage a home but failed.
A month later I visited Mariah again. Kage was in the outdoor kennel and upon seeing Athena, he tried to shake down the walls of the kennel like Samson from the Bible. Oh hell, I thought, I’m a sucker for persistence—and besides, he’s a wounded war vet. I took Kage home that day.
I was utterly confused as to how I was going to manage both dogs, but the three of us made it work. Sure, we had our challenges. On a few occasions, both dogs jumped out of my car window to chase bunnies and ganged up on squirrels on our walks, but for the most part, things were good. Athena and Kage traveled with me almost everywhere. We went running and swimming on Assateague Beach, ran in the snow at many West Virgina state parks and lobbied together at the West Virginia Capitol Complex during the 2024 Legislative session. Both dogs joined me at the Watergate Hotel to meet with members of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s trip to the U.S., and Kage even got the chance to train with the West Virginia State Police.
One West Virginia K-9 police trainer told me Kage was a one-in-a-million dog.
“Because he has an on and off switch, he can defend, attack and bite with the best of them, but he also can sit with a toddler and act like a goofball,” he said. “It’s difficult to get both characteristics in one dog.”
That was my boy.
I was in Miami when I saw the news of the U.S. armed forces withdrawal from Afghanistan in August 2021, marking the end of the 20-year war. Along with others, I was horrified at the photos showing Afghans falling out of U.S. military C-17 cargo wheel wells as the planes left Hamid Karzai International Airport for the last time. Thirteen U.S. service members were killed; over $7 billion in equipment was left behind. Out of the 15,000 Americans left behind, 9,000 never made it out of Afghanistan and the intelligence needed for the Taliban to find the U.S. allies was left behind, along with hundreds of K-9 service members.
On August 30, 2021, I asked myself what I could do to help. In the smallest way, my answer was to give Athena and Kage a great life and subsequently help rescue other war dogs and match them with our veterans.
If you have the ears to listen, a dog can be a master teacher and reveal something to you about life, as well as about yourself. I am honored to have been Kage’s dad during the final years of his life. I can’t help but smile knowing my Kage behaved courageously and exemplified the highest valor in the American-Afghanistan War. I take pride in that, along with my efforts with Kage and Athena and co-founding War Dog Guardians with Miriah.
The greatest men of history chose to build cathedrals that they would never see completed within their lifetime. They chose to build for the sake of future generations. The greatest dogs in history come into your life to love and teach you more than you could ever love and teach them. May your memory be a blessing, Kage. Until we meet again.
