Chasing a Chihuahua through the Ruins

By Kelli Brown

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Our organization was one of those called upon to assist in Mississippi with animal rescue. I was lucky enough to be able to experience this opportunity. A couple other officers and I were among the first group from the Nebraska Humane Society to head down to Gautier, Mississippi, where we camped out with an HSUS team on a dirt road near the Jackson County Animal Shelter in Gautier (before we later moved to Waveland). We were shocked that the news channels had not said so much as a word about the severe damage and devastation in Mississippi, because all attention had been focused mainly on New Orleans.

Amidst the heat, the severe odor, and the thousands of sad faces we saw every day, I have to say the most memorable “call” was in Biloxi. We were out patrolling one of the streets our truck would get on, and a woman waved us over frantically, stating there was an abandoned dog on the next street over, starving and crying, and the owners were feared dead.

We went to the house described to us, and there in the back yard (what was left of it), we heard a dog barking, screaming, and crying. We couldn't get into the backyard because bits and pieces of what seemed like every house on the block were surrounding this house, making it impossible to walk over the rubble without severe injury. To our luck, there just happened to be a city worker operating a tractor in the area, clearing a driving path in the road. He was nice enough to push all the rubble out of the way of the house. I'll never forget the refrigerator that was sitting outside amidst that rubble. When it was pushed to the side, it overturned, spilling gallons and gallons of water that had been sitting among numerous rotting foods, and this horrendous smell just poured all over the walking path and into the street. The smell was so sickening that we had to run back to our vehicle for face masks.

We finally got into the backyard, where we found a little white/tan Chihuahua mix sitting on the back porch with some crackers that Good Samaritans had thrown to him. The dog was howling and barking, staring at the back door, as though someone would come at any moment to let the dog in. But that wasn't going to be the case at all. Posted to a tree, in the front yard of the house, was a sign made by a friend or family member, containing a photo of the missing family who lived at this address, and the sign was literally begging for their return. We knew then that no one was coming back for this dog.

Because of hazardous waste spilled in this area and numerous puddles of rotting sewage and floodwater, we had to wear protective masks. Combined with our uniforms, this obviously made us look pretty freaky to a dog who'd been lost for over a week now. Of course the dog took off when he saw us, and it was virtually impossible to catch the dog in this mess.

Eventually, the dog ran inside the crumbling house, and we were forced to make a decision: rescue the dog or stay out of the house in case any slight shift in the woodwork dropped the whole structure where it stood.

Sadness for the dog won out, and we slowly entered the house, where we saw an eight-foot-high dried water line on the walls of the house. I couldn't imagine how anyone could escape a sudden eight-foot water wave gushing into a house. I thought to myself, "There's no way I'd survive this! How did all these people do it? How did this dog do it?”

I also saw a huge hole blown through the floor of the house, where sewage water had undoubtedly exploded into the house when the sudden huge tidal wave had hit this community during this storm. So every step we took, the floors creaked all over the place, and I got nervous really fast when I heard this, hoping to God the ceiling wasn't going to fall in or we wouldn’t fall through the floor and into the standing water below the house, which no doubt contained hepatitis viruses from the sewage. That dog wouldn't come to us for anything either. From one room to the next, we slowly but surely chased him until he ran into a room toward the front of the house where the ceiling was caving in close by. It was impossible to run, as the floors were covered in slick sewage matter.

About 30 minutes went by and we finally caught the little guy. He was safely transported to Hattiesburg, where he calmed down and warmed up to the countless wonderful volunteers who took care of him. We never found out what happened to his family or if they were found.

This was definitely a major learning experience for me. I will never again take my day-to-day life for granted. You never know what awaits your happy-go-lucky lifestyle, the very next day.

To this day (December 13, 2005), our organization still has officers deployed in the Katrina-affected areas to assist with training and rescues. I was very glad to see so many people down there were extremely thankful for our presence, as they were thankful for HSUS as well. It seemed everywhere we went, whether it be in line at a fast-food stop or even at a restroom, people were saying, “Thank you so much for coming. I am so glad you guys came and got my neighbor's dog or this dog or that cat,” etc.

I am proud of one thing: how well HSUS handled this and still continues to do so. Had it not been for HSUS and their assistance with funding other shelters to come down there and help out, there is no way most other organizations would have been able to afford to respond and assist with this disaster. So that is what and who I am most proud of. Great job, HSUS. Great job to everyone who responded and worked so hard to get these animals out of the disaster and into open hearts, and great job to those who rescued the people affected. I couldn't imagine seeing people screaming and crying from holes knocked out of roofs, calling frantically for help which couldn't come until it was almost too late.

Kelli Brown is an Animal Control Officer for the Nebraska Humane Society, Omaha, Nebraska.