This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2006, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.
LAS VEGAS - It began as a twinkle in the night sky. But the pulsing dot grew, first into a blinding light, then into the body of an Airbus A-310.
Perched on a concrete barrier next to the McCarran International Airport runway, their backs to the glittering Las Vegas Strip, a group of people anxiously watched as 300 cats and dogs, stacked crate on crate in the belly of a jumbo jet, descended from above.
"That's it! That's it!" said Best Friends Animal Society staffer Howard Bronson, who chartered the Emirates Air Cargo plane from Lebanon to the United States.
Engines roaring, the plane touched down at 12:43 a.m. Tuesday. As it screeched to a stop, the crowd burst into applause. A risky mission was now a great success, they mused. The animals were rescued from battle-scarred Beirut and, after a grueling 20-hour flight that stopped in Manchester, England, to refuel and in New York City for customs inspections, they were now safe in the Nevada desert.
"We all risked our necks, our careers - everything," Bronson said.
The Best Friends workers hurried to a loading dock, where they got their first glance at the jet-lagged animals and the 10 people who traveled with them. They had cleaned crates, filled bowls with kibble and water, and organized 300 health certificates slated for inspection stateside.
"I think they [the animals] did better than we did," said a smiling Richard Crook, Best Friends' project manager on the ground in Beirut.
FedEx workers, who stuck around even after their shifts ended, ferried the animals on trailers from the plane to 12 Best Friends trucks and vans.
Cats and dogs that survived bombs exploding only 400 feet from their animal shelter in Beirut surveyed their new surroundings with wide eyes. Once traumatized by violence - abandoned pets were found crouched in streets, too frightened to move - they wagged their tails and playfully poked their paws through crate doors.
In Beirut, where few people adopt animals, some of the cats and dogs had already spent upward of four years living in a pen or crate, said Joelle Kanaan, a Beirut for Ethical Treatment of Animals staffer who made the trans-Atlantic journey with the four-legged refugees.
At least three of the dogs have limbs missing. One is blind, and yet another suffers from a skin condition that has left his rump without fur. About 30 of the 150 cats are feral.
Best Friends workers loaded up the crates and fit them together with Tetris-like precision. The pungent smell of animal urine and feces wafted over the parking lot.
A fatigued Mike Bzdewka, Best Friends' cat manager, slipped a cigarette in his mouth, his eyes filling up with tears, and took a long drag. He watched a trailer loaded up with felines round the corner. Bzdewka and others worked nearly 24 hours a day in Beirut to vaccinate the animals and make sure their paperwork was in order.
In one heavy breath, Bzdewka exhaled smoke and a sigh of relief.
"I was happy in New York, to get my feet on our soil again," he said.
About 2:30 a.m., the convoy sped off, bound for Best Friends' 3,000-acre no-kill sanctuary just outside Kanab, stopping only to refuel or grab a cup of coffee.
In Angel Canyon, meanwhile, Best Friends workers with flashlights gathered to greet the animals and move them into their new homes: wire pens for the dogs; and for the cats, crates stacked four high inside two large yurts. The first guest to move in was Mesh Nesh, a white cat with blotches of orange who tiptoed from her travel crate to her temporary new home.
Mesh Nesh's next-door neighbor, Opium, a Persian rescued from a war zone in southern Lebanon, yawned and licked her chops.
Staffers draped sheets between each crate to give the cats privacy. They also brought in space heaters to make the yurts - one of which will also double as an animal hospital - warm and cozy. The cats' meows competed with a rattling generator outside.
In the pens, dogs accustomed to a warmer climate in Lebanon shivered in the crisp morning air. Staffers rounded up a green striped sweater for a dirty, scrappy terrier mix and a blue sweater for a bigger mutt. The dogs unleased hours of pent-up energy, romping around and kicking up puffy clouds of red desert sand. Staffers pulling two red wagons stocked with stainless steel bowls set out food and water.
Over the next month, the dogs will receive health and behavior assessments, and a thorough antiseptic wash. They will be spayed or neutered if necessary, said Best Friends CEO Paul Berry. The organization's priority now, he said, is to find suitable homes for all 300 animals.
"They're all just great, happy dogs," he said as he walked along a row of pens. "We're not going to have any trouble moving them."
Sherry Shankle, Best Friends' project manager in Kanab, teared up as she looked at the dogs.
"I'm so honored to have been able to help with this," she said. "To know that everyone of them is going to have a wonderful life - they're never going to be lonely, hungry, sick or in a war again."
Despite the tremendous amount of work - Shankle slept in her office the last few nights - she is ready to tackle Best Friends' next rescue mission, whatever that may be.
"We can do this, so what else can we do?"
The $300,000 Beirut rescue operation is just the beginning of a global movement to save animals from wars and natural disasters, said Michael Mountain, one of Best Friends' founders. Such a movement, he hopes, will foster connections between people that transcend race, religion and politics.
"We are one global family," Mountain said. "It's the same message that's going out in the ecological movement."
With experience in Beirut and in the South after Hurricane Katrina, Mountain said he feels prepared to send Best Friends wherever it may be needed next.
For now, that's in Angel Canyon, where 300 cats and dogs whisked away from the violence in Lebanon are frolicking in the Utah desert, waiting to meet their new families.