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Washington Humane Society Chief Operating Officer Adam Parascandola traveled the streets of New Orleans rescuing animals with Cory Smith, program manager of Animal Sheltering Issues for The HSUS. What follows are entries from his blog, which originally appeared on the website of the Washington Humane Society, www.washhumane.org.
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| © Cory Smith/HSUS |
September 5, 2005
Cory Smith of HSUS and I arrive at the equestrian center, now emergency animal shelter, in Gonzales, Louisiana, at about 3 p.m. today. Cory and I have been on the road in WHS’s Suburban since 4 p.m. Sunday and only stopped for about an hour’s worth of sleep. I thought that I could set up the tent I will be living in and get a bit of sleep. But we are both immediately dispatched to the airport, where some dogs have been left behind by a man who was evacuated from there. We’re told that the dogs are pretty aggressive, and none of the officials at the airport can handle them. Other animal rescue people, of which there aren’t that many yet, are busy in the city.
We grab the airport dogs. They’re not that bad—just a lot of show at first. Their owner had put them in a pen and written a note about them saying that he’s going to come back to get them when he can.
Cory and I then go to see the city. We need to familiarize ourselves with the layout and, more importantly, figure out which areas are under water and which are dry. We know we’ll be working from a list of addresses where there are abandoned animals, and there’s still some confusion as to which addresses can be reached only by boat.
While mapping out the water line, we have a bit of luck. We come across a veterinary clinic at the water’s edge. The doctor and his wife are still there, and they agree to let the clinic serve as a collection point for animals rescued by boat.
The main animal collection point has already been established in a New Orleans feed store, and we go there next to pick up more animals before heading back to Gonzales, about 45 minutes away. Evidently, this is every animal rescuer’s last stop of the day, picking up the four-footed refugees and driving them to our version of the Astrodome.
September 6, 2005
We’re up at 6 a.m. for a team meeting of the field crews. To me it doesn’t look like there are enough officers yet, especially not boat crews, but word is that help is on the way from various corners of the country. They’ll be arriving today and forming additional crews. The Louisiana SPCA is directing the rescue, and they’re organized, all-business, and efficient. One of their ACOs goes out with each of the crews to help us find our way around.
At this point, we have a list, compiled by HSUS, of about 1,500 addresses in New Orleans where people have reported abandoned pets. That’s to be our first priority. The strays are surviving—in fact most of the ones I’ve seen seem to be in remarkably good shape considering what they’ve been through. But the confined animals have not had food or water in a week. We’ve got to get them out. …
Ironically, despite our instructions, one of the first dogs I rescue is a stray. I spot him, an old mixed Labrador, eating Funyuns and chips on the floor of a grocery store that has been trashed by looters. He’s an old sweetheart of a dog, and I had to take him.
We start working the list of addresses, but everywhere we go, people—citizens, National Guard troops, the police—tell us about another dog under a house, another cat on a porch surrounded by water. There is an overwhelming number of animals who need us, and not enough of us and not enough hours in the day. We have to be out of town by dark. There are still reports of snipers, and after dark the city is not safe at all.
We’re picking up about four cats to every dog. The animals are largely OK, dehydrated a bit, but not too badly. In one apartment over a store in the French Quarter, we find two large pet snakes in tanks, five cats, and two dogs. The dogs are very glad to be rescued. Some of the cats need convincing. One crawled way under the kitchen and we had to leave a live trap.
We lost a little time swinging back out to the airport for another dog—a feisty little guy—but for him it made all the difference in the world. He was just wandering around amidst the patients and health workers, and nobody was paying him much mind.
To end the day, we pick up animals at the feed store, where there are now veterinarians checking every one we bring in, and then we get out of town just before dark and drive our evacuees to Gonzales.
Cory and I are up until 1 a.m. bathing, feeding, and setting up the animals we and the other crews have brought in. They could use more shelter staff, especially animal handlers. Not all the volunteers are too good at working with the scared, stressed, and aggressive animals. I’m not sure how long we can keep this up, especially since we are both vegans, and there is nothing to eat here except meat. Since we arrived, neither of us has eaten anything except the Luna bars we brought.
September 7, 2005
My team assignment is firming up—Cory and I are assigned to what the directors call the “Hot Shot” team, including two from Michigan and some ACOs from Albuquerque. The Albuquerque guys are phenomenal! Excellent at catching the strays. Our area is the French Quarter, where the list of addresses is long.
We’re still concentrating on animals abandoned in houses, but if we come across a stray, we pick him or her up. Especially the New Mexicans. There’s no stopping them.
One of the strays I save is an ancient cocker spaniel. She’s just slowly plodding down the middle of the street in a total daze. She doesn’t even appear to notice when I put the leash on her, pick her up, and put her on the truck.
Sometimes, we have to wade through water to get an animal off a porch. We’re told that it’s dangerous to go in the water, but what can you do? There’s a dog on the porch, wagging his tail, knowing he’s about to be taken out of there. How can you turn your back on him because of a few feet of water? Impossible.
At the next stop, we’re in trouble: 47 chickens, two goats, and a whole bunch of parrots, macaws, and cockatiels. No way can we get them out with the vehicle and cage space we have. So we spend about half an hour making sure they are all secure and have food and water. We’ll be back for them tomorrow with what we need to get them out.
We unload our full vans at the feed store. The cocker has come around. She wags her tail for me, looking up with joy in her face. Makes the day for me …
A National Guard crew stops us, very concerned for an older German shepherd they came across but could not remove. They give us the street and block where he was last seen, and we swing by there. No sign of the dog, but we’re still looking, checking some side streets. I think I catch a glimpse of a dog in a house a couple blocks from where the shepherd is supposed to be. The door is open and I go in. There’s the dog! His tags confirm that he lives on the block that the Guard told us. But he’s here with a bowl of food and another with water. Did he find this himself? Did someone set him up here like this? We’ll never know, but he’s coming with us now.
Then back to the feed store to pack our vans for the ride to Gonzales. We’re up beyond midnight again, I think, but I’m not paying attention to the time. It slips away from you.
September 8, 2005
Things are really coming together today. We’ve got lots of crews now comprised of professional animal officers from all over the country. The organization is superb. I fear that we could still use more boats, though. The dry crews are together and busy.
I don’t know that we can get all the animals out. There are thousands. On one block alone, we get about 50 dogs! Plus we get all the chickens, goats, and parrots.
At this point we are picking up any animal we see: strays, abandoned, whatever. None of the stray dogs escapes the guys from Albuquerque! The only question is what to do about the animals in houses we do not have permission to break into. If we can get them without causing damage, like through an open window, then we grab them and move on.
The National Guard is pushing hard to get the last human residents out of New Orleans. They cheer us wherever we show up. It seems that those people who are still here are all taking care of animals, sometimes dozens of them. Maybe other evacuees asked them to look after their pets; maybe they just took that job on themselves. But it’s clear that the animals are one of the major reasons people are staying here, and when we promise to look after the animals, they are greatly relieved and less reluctant to leave.
The National Guard troops all give us addresses where animals are stranded on roofs, on top of cars, in trees. They are not allowed to pick up animals themselves, but some of them are not too cool with this, and they do it anyway, turning the animals over to us before their superiors catch them. One of the dogs in our truck is a retriever that a group of local rescue personnel pulled out of a second story window because the first floor was under water.
Back at the shelter, we now have at least 500 animals, maybe even 600. It’s about full and we’ll have to come up with arrangements to move some because crews like ours are pulling more in by the hundreds. And there is no talk of slowing down the rescue.
How many animals have I rescued? I haven’t counted. I must have gotten at least a hundred. Probably more.
I’m getting tired, but I’m still good for more days. There is a rhythm to the work now and we know the area. Our team is great. We support each other. Every life counts.
I’ve still not had a hot meal, just Luna bars.
September 9, 2005
The French Quarter team now has four vans to use: two for the Albuquerque folks, who go off together, one for Michigan, and one for us. We are now doing block-by-block search and rescue. We’ve gotten to nearly all the addresses on the HSUS list, but the National Guard continues to supply us with new locations where animals are stranded.
At one such address there are four Chihuahuas. Someone has been throwing food in through the window for them, but now almost everyone is evacuated. We kick open the front door only to find out that the back door is open, and all four dogs tear out the back door into the street! So we have to wait until they come back.
While we are waiting for the Chihuahuas to come back “home,” we hear a kitten just screaming his head off. We find him hanging onto a curtain behind a door at an adjacent house. He’s soon on the van, as is a puppy from the same house.
Then it’s back to the Chihuahua house. The dogs are back inside. We close the back door and try again, successfully this time. We rescue all four dogs plus three cats. …
Happily, we run into an SPCA of Texas van and are able to transfer all our animals to them and keep cruising. The Texas people won’t have to drive out to the feed store. There is now an air-conditioned, fully staffed animal transfer truck that serves as a collection place. It can accept 150 animals before it has to drive to Gonzales and unload.
Back on the street, we are stopped by some NYC police officers who tell us of a dog with a broken leg in a yard. She has two puppies with her. They lead us to the address, where the three dogs are so scared it takes all of us—me, Cory, and the two police officers—to catch them, even though Mom has a broken leg.
It’s hard to stick to any plan. A man stops us. He’s come back to New Orleans to get his son’s cat, but the water is too deep there and he needs our help to get to the cat. En route to the cat, the National Guard stops us and takes us on a detour for an emaciated boxer puppy in a yard. Then we come across a very scared mixed terrier, who is not convinced he wants to be rescued.
The stray dogs are really getting freaky. These are clearly well-loved pets—or they were until recently. Now they are so wary that they won’t easily approach you. You can tell that people have been throwing things at them and yelling at them. It takes a while to earn their trust so you can get a leash on them.
It seems to take forever to get to the cat. But we get there and hand him over to the father. Then we join the caravan of animal refugees heading out of town as the sun sets.
September 10, 2005
I guess we’ve been doing a pretty good job getting animals out of New Orleans. At any rate, the shelter is now full to capacity with about 2,500 animals, I would guess. So there has been a dramatic change in plans for the day.
For the time being, we are only to remove old, sick, and injured animals, the worst cases, until space can be made by sending animals further out to shelters in the surrounding areas.
As for the healthy ones on the streets and in houses, we are to set up food and water stations to help them hang on until we can pull them out. Cory and I spend the day setting out food and water in quantity, marking our feeding stations with spray paint. The paint will help other crews realize that the area is covered, and our hope is that some of the few citizens still here, all of whom seem to be caring for animals, can help bring animals for food and water.
Cory and I do pick up a few animals, but have to leave many more behind with some food, some water, and a prayer.
Boat crews are out again today as they have been every day, but with every day, more and more of the city is dry. They say they are no longer finding dogs on cars or roofs. There are still plenty of animals on the street. I hear rumors of police shooting dogs, but I haven’t seen it. The officers I meet are all very helpful. They give us addresses and reports and even help with the feeding and capture.
Now the National Guard, police, and fire departments that we are used to meeting are joined by news crews and journalists. They seem to be interested in animal rescue, which is heartening. Is any of this news getting out? We don’t have access to media.
And then this guy drives up in a pickup truck. I have no idea who he is or what he’s doing here, but he’s clearly not any kind of official. He pulls up next to the van, gets out, drops three cases of water, a camping chair, and a bottle of wine next to the van and drives off! Thanks, guy, whoever you are.
Before we leave for the day there is one cat we just have to get. The story is that his people were out of town when Katrina struck, and the cat-sitter told them she had escaped in a canoe through a second-story window, but she left the cat behind. So they came to the Gonzales shelter to look for Misty. They search and search, but the cat is not there. Instead of going away, they roll up their sleeves and start taking care of other cats, feeding, scooping litter, giving fresh water. … And they have now been doing that for days, all the time hoping that their cat will come in.
Cory met them last night and got their address, promising to help if we possibly can. When we find it, we are dismayed to learn that the house is under water, and we can’t get to it, not even by wading. On the other hand, we can’t really turn back and tell the people that we failed. So we start gathering debris and quickly fashion a sort of raft/bridge/garbage pile to get to the backyard, where the water is not so deep that we can’t wade. Misty is hiding under the bed, but he’s ok. Not only that, Cory finds a betta in a fish bowl on the way out. So Mr. Fish comes, too.
Happy reunion back in Gonzales. Tears, hugs … you can imagine.
As usual, I take an evening shift helping out at the shelter. I come across a familiar little poodle in a crate, alone and shivering with fear. The dog was turned in to the shelter last night by a woman who promised to come back for him. Evidently she didn’t make it back today. I let the poodle out of her pen, and she happily follows me to my tent and beds down for the night on my sleeping bag.
September 11, 2005
This morning about 150 animals left the shelter to make room for new arrivals. We are only sending out surrendered animals and strays from areas not evacuated … . There is a rumor that the people who own the equestrian center that is serving as our emergency shelter are getting anxious about us being here.
I work the day at the shelter, cleaning and caring for animals, setting up space for new arrivals. I also get some laundry done.
Cory and I have found an open Pizza Hut with a salad bar and a Taco Bell, so the food situation is greatly improved. Didn’t take much!
The poodle is back at my campsite. She’s filing this dispatch with me and would like to say thanks to all of you from all of them.
September 12, 2005
Thankfully, the Louisiana state veterinarian has released a bunch of animals to make room in the shelter. So far, to my knowledge, they have gone to Michigan, Shreveport, Houston, and our own Montgomery County, Maryland! What that means is that today we’re headed back to the city to keep the animals coming.
After a quick swing by the airport, where everything is OK (there’s a pit bull and a Chihuahua, but they both have people who are keeping them), we set out to get a cat we heard about in an area that was flooded until recently. As always, we can’t manage to simply drive there and get the cat.
First, the National Guard flags us down to give us an address where a very skinny pit bull puppy is stuck in a yard, hanging onto life by a thread. We pick him up. He’ll need to see the vet.
Then we head for the cat, but notice two dogs, a mixed Labrador and a mixed Akita, who can’t get off a flooded porch. The water between us and the dogs is waist-deep, but a tree has fallen onto the house, so we can use the fallen trunk as a sort of bridge. We get one dog that way and are about to return for number two when another National Guard unit comes along and lends us a pair of hip waders. It’s certainly easier that way.
So now Cory and I and three dogs head for the cat, but we don’t get far before we hear more dogs barking. Cory spots a shepherd and two black poodles running loose through the water. I can’t be sure, but I would bet that one of the poodles used to be white. It takes a while and some quick maneuvering between Cory and me, but we catch the shepherd and the one poodle, who did indeed used to be white. But the other poodle is faster in water than we are. We’ll come back for him tomorrow with a dog trap.
When we finally make it to the cat’s house, we are seven: two people and five dogs. The cat, who is 14, is doing OK. He still has both food and water and could probably have held out for more days, but his people will be ecstatic to see him, and I’ll bet he’ll be glad to see them, too.
Around a couple corners from the cat house, we come across another group of soldiers. They’re in a circle with guns drawn. In the middle of the circle is a chow mix, barking and snapping. Not a good scene. Cory jumps out of the van, yelling for them to hold up a minute. The soldiers back off, Cory sweet talks the dog, and before long, he’s trotting nicely behind her on a leash. The poor guy is soaked to the skin, filthy, and exhausted. But he’s OK. Just didn’t appreciate being surrounded by uniforms with guns. Imagine that!
We’ve got to unload now, but Fred, the 14-year-old cat, stays with us on the van. Too many barking dogs at the collection point. Fred’s happier with us, I think.
We’re working an area now where it appears no one has been rescuing animals. The water has only recently receded and it was one of those areas that was not uniformly deep enough for boats, but too deep for vans. There are still lots of animals here. They’re all filthy, and lots of them are in bad shape. Because there are so many, we’ll have to concentrate on the ones who need immediate rescue, and make note of and leave food and water for the ones in decent shape.
Following a National Guard report about dogs, both live and dead, we go to a house where a pit bull puppy comes running up to greet us. Inside the house are two less fortunate dogs. They appeared to have drowned during the initial flooding. The puppy comes with us.
Then we spot a border collie on a second story balcony. The building is open and so is the dog’s apartment, so he’s an easy rescue. But the cat who shares his apartment is not so easy. As we walk in, the cat flashes out the window and is gone. We’ll need a trap for him, too.
There’s a large pit bull in a house where the door’s been smashed open and is swinging on its hinges. He’s in better shape than the others in this part of town, so he gets food, water, and a promise that we’ll be back.
The National Guard, our best source of information, tells us of two shepherds chained on a porch and gives us an address. We fly over there, stopping briefly to welcome first a thin rottweiler and next a shepherd doing poorly onto the van. The address is wrong. No dogs. But the Guard could not have made up the report, so we start checking side streets.
We decide they must have meant the two shepherds we find on a nearby porch. The dogs aren’t actually chained, they even have access to the house and running water. (Some of the water is now turned on, and some people left their taps open when they left.) We secure them in their yard and set them up with food and a water bowl. Tomorrow’s list is growing quickly.
A few more pick-ups and then we have to head out. But we have just enough time to try the art gallery cat. This cat has been eluding rescuers all week. You can get in the gallery, but when you do, the cat runs into a hole in the wall and crawls back out of reach. But Cory is one of the smaller—not to mention most determined—rescuers down here, and she wants to try herself. The cat predictably vanishes into his hole. And then Cory just vanishes after him. She bumps around in the wall for a bit, doing her sweet-talking number, and then emerges with Picasso in her arms. Chalk up another for the Hot Shot team!
Back in Gonzales, it appears that the animal rescuers took the all-clear to bring in more refugees seriously. The line of vans waiting to unload is about an hour or two long. My van’s limping on a flat tire, and everyone who passes points this out, as if I never noticed.
Cory goes to get something to drink. Someone comes by with a plate of hash browns and mixed vegetables for me. Vegan food at last! Cory comes back with the water and lets me know that our little poodle friend is fine.
September 13, 2005
Today I woke up in the morning a little late as I knew I had to deal with the flat tire on my truck before going in the field. I had heard that relief was coming in today and I wanted to get the truck in shape for the new crew. Then I hoped to get back to the city and finish a couple of things from the day before.
Rescuers were still hanging around from the morning meeting, and I only had one question to ask them. Were we bringing animals in today or not? The word was no. Today would be a humanitarian feeding day only. The trucks were loading up with supplies of dog and cat food to drop around the city.
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| © Cory Smith/HSUS |
We also received word that if we dropped a large supply of dog food with the National Guard, they would enter residences where dogs were heard and leave food and water. This would increase the number of animals we could get to. The National Guard troops I have talked to have been very moved by the plight of animals left in the city. They often asked to put their names on animals they have given us so they can adopt them if no one claims them.
That thought makes me really want to get back to the animals in the city. I go to work on the Suburban only to discover that it actually has two flat tires. It takes a lot of the day to work out the logistics but I finally get the truck to a tire place. They tell me that each flat tire has five nails in it. Or really a combination of roofing tacks, nails, and screws. The tires need replacing. I apologize to the man working on the tires as the foul smell of the water from the streets of New Orleans is all over the truck. The guys at the tire shop tell me they appreciate what I am doing. Everyone we encounter in the small town of Gonzalez repeats this refrain.
Meanwhile my replacement team of four WHS employees has landed in Jackson and is trying to find a way to make the two-hour trip to Gonzalez. They eventually find a limo service to take them down here. The day has slipped away and I am upset not to have a chance to get back into the city.
The replacement crew shows up in the early evening while Cory and I are trying to take down our camp as we’ve been told we have to move to another spot on the site. I direct the newcomers to the new spot and they begin setting up before nightfall. Cory and I meet up with a woman from Louisiana Parks who tells us we have a reprieve for the night as long as we are out by 10 a.m. the next day. We then go to work cleaning out the truck and organizing it and meeting with our replacements to give them the scoop on things.
At bedtime, I go in search of the poodle, but she’s disappeared. Eventually I track down her paperwork and find out she has been reunited with her people. So tonight I sleep alone.
September 14, 2005
I get up at 6 a.m. today to meet with the new crew and introduce them around to the other field staff. At the meeting we are told that today is another feeding day. The administrators are working on shipping out animals to make space for more.
I hook up the WHS guys with a crew from Fulton County, who has been here for a few days. As I look around, I notice most of the people Cory and I started our work with are gone, replaced by a new batch.
When the WHS team heads out, I am full of regret that I am not going with them. Cory and I spend the day breaking up our camp, packing, and saying our goodbyes. We are leaving that afternoon.
I am determined to bring someone back with me, a dog small enough to fit under the seat and able to be removed from the state (at this time, only animals who are stray with no identification or are owner-relinquished can be removed from the state).
I see a note asking, “If you are flying to D.C., call this number.” I call and talk to a nice couple who took in a dog from one of the rescue crews. Apparently, the crew rescued the dog in New Orleans and took her to the local animal shelter because there was no room at Lamar-Dixon. The shelter asked the couple to foster the dog.
We had good contact information for the dog, whose owner is now in Virginia with her grown son. I talk with her by phone and she explains that she was forced to evacuate New Orleans without the dog. Her husband died a couple of years ago and the now the dog, whom she considers a child, is all she has of her former life.
After a few more phone calls—to the airline and to the foster parents—the dog, KayKay, a 7-pound female Shih Tzu, is in my arms for the trip back to D.C. She is a trooper and handles the flight well.
I can’t believe it when I actually reach home and am reunited with my wife and our five dogs. I am so tired that I go right to bed and fall asleep immediately, happy to be sleeping with my own dogs.
September 15, 2005
I wake up this morning in my own bed. It’s 9 a.m. and I can’t sleep anymore. My wife has gone to work, and I am alone in the house with my thoughts (and the dogs, six of them for now). I feel a strong sense of regret for having left New Orleans. It was very difficult to leave with so much left to do. I know the crew WHS sent down there is excellent and will do good work, but it is hard to integrate back into everyday life.
I reflect on my days there and think about all the amazing people I met from different agencies all around the country. I also think about the evacuees I met and the incredible and often scary stories they told about getting out of New Orleans.
And I think about the animals I left behind. I think about the poodle Cory and I couldn’t catch who was black from swimming in the water, I think about the dog covered in greasy water who swam back under some debris where we couldn’t get her out, and I think about the cat who belonged to the woman who came to the shelter each night to see if he had been retrieved.
Each of these addresses and dozens of others Cory and I have passed on to the next crew. I realize that if I had stayed there for a month, I would still probably leave feeling like I hadn’t finished everything I wanted to do. I have to trust in the people who follow and know that they will do their best to continue the rescues.
I know that this experience will be with me forever—both the good and the bad. The haunting images of an abandoned town emptied of life save for the animals left behind and the law enforcement personnel driving through the streets.
Yet there is a more positive side. I saw reunions between animals and owners. I witnessed the generosity in the hearts of those who stayed behind to care for animals, of those who came from across the country to rescue animals, and of the law enforcement folks who did what they could to make the plight of the animals easier. Catastrophes bring out the best and the worst in people, and despite early reports of those people who had the worst in them brought out, almost everyone I met rose to the occasion with the best of what was inside them.
I will continue to help from here. I can improve the process of identifying and reuniting animals with their owners. And I will pray for the safety of the animals still awaiting rescue.
September 27, 2005
At the request of The HSUS, Parascandola was back in New Orleans 12 days later, rescuing more animals and helping the Louisiana SPCA set up its new temporary shelter in Algiers.
I arrive at the New Orleans airport at 11 a.m., and although I originally went down to help out in the shelter in Gonzales, as soon as the HSUS’s Cory Smith picks me up, we drive straight into the city to respond to an emergency call about a dog stuck in the water at a pumping station. We find that the dog is no longer at the station. According to an employee, the dog had jumped back into the water and swam back into a tunnel. We check both ends of the tunnel but do not see the dog.
From that call we drive to another address, passing the LA/SPCA shelter on the way. It was completely under water for quite some time and is unusable. Happily, thanks to quick thinking and a disaster plan already in effect at the LA/SPCA, all the animals had been evacuated to Houston before the storm hit.
For the remainder of the day we check on calls, some of which turn out to be bad leads.
When we finally make it back to Gonzales, I find many changes have taken place in the few weeks I was gone. The numbers of animals being housed is much lower, and the entire area is secured behind fencing. There are hot vegetarian meals available and an air-conditioned tent set up by FEMA to sleep in. Quite a change from the first few days!
September 28, 2005
The WHS Suburban has to go into the shop for a transmission overhaul so the WHS team—Humane Officer Michele Hart, Animal Control Officer Lauren Derise, and I—has no vehicle. The Pasadena Humane Society from California has left, donating their vehicle to the LA/SPCA, and this truck is assigned to Michele. Cory and I are assigned an LA/SPCA truck, and Lauren is assigned to an HSUS van.
We all go into the city. Cory, Michele, and I end up in the Lower Ninth Ward with a list of addresses to check. We split them up between our two vehicles.
Most of the houses in this part of town are not secured. Front doors are wide open and many of the animals have fled into the streets. In one house, however, Cory and I find two small Chihuahuas hiding under piles of debris. They are extremely scared and snappy. The water line shows that the entire house had flooded up to a few inches of the ceiling. It’s amazing that these dogs survived! After quite a bit of maneuvering, we managed to get both dogs secured on the truck.
Since we have a phone number for this address, we call it. The woman who answers is not the dogs’ owner but tells us there are supposed to be four dogs in the house. We go back and search again, find no more dogs, but leave canned food and water in case the others are around somewhere. Then we will check back in a couple of days to see if the food has been eaten.
Between checking addresses on our list, we see only small numbers of animals on the street—not nearly as many as there were in the first couple of weeks after the flooding. We pick up the ones we can. Those we can’t catch we leave food and water for and note their descriptions for the future. Some of the Lower Ninth Ward is still flooded from the second flood and we cannot access these areas.
September 29, 2005
Today we are assigned to the Gentilly area of New Orleans. This is the first time I am in this particular area as it was flooded during my first trip. The devastation here is huge: Most of the houses are single-story and were flooded almost to the roof.
Our first assignment is to look for two cats who have yet to be located at their address. Other teams had searched and found nothing. At the house, Cory and I find the doors open. We see no signs of the cats, and it does not appear that the food has been touched. A thorough search of the house reveals only paw prints. At least the cats have been inside the house since the storm. We leave some fresh food and will check back later to see if it is eaten.
Michele is working the cross streets in the area. She calls us to help her with a Dalmatian who eludes capture by running in and out of a yard. With three of us, we manage to trap the Dalmatian in his yard and ultimately get him on the truck. A neighbor comes up and tells us the dog’s name and that she had not seen the owners since the storm.
We split up again, with Cory and I going to check out a report of an emaciated cat outside. There is no sign of the cat, but Michele calls us a little while later to say that she needs some first aid. A cat she attempted to catch panicked and left a deep gash in Michele’s scalp as he climbed up and over her head. We treat her as best we can, then send her off to the triage station for better first aid. Meanwhile, Cory and I continue our search for animals.
Many of the animals in this area died during the initial flooding, and the area is eerily quiet. We pass one house where a spray-painted note announces that no cat was found. Evidently, there is supposed to be a cat there, so we stop to search again. It isn’t long before we find a beautiful longhaired cat hiding under the bed. In what is now standard practice, we look for a cell phone bill or other paperwork with contact info for the owner. No luck, but the cat joins our crew of shelter-bound animals.
Next stop is to check on two German shepherds. We’d found the dogs on our first trip and left them food and water. When we get to their house, we find that much of the destroyed contents of the house are out in the yard. The dogs are nowhere to be found. It appears that the owners have been back, retrieving their dogs, we trust.
On our way out of the city, some workers flag us down and repeatedly beg us to help two little dogs in a house. So we swing by the address, pulling out two Lhasas—one much more underweight than the other. Heading back to Gonzales, we make a quick detour to show the workers that we got the dogs.
September 30, 2005
Today we go back to the Gentilly area to continue to sweep the streets for the remaining strays. The other WHS team members are headed back home, except for Michele, who is staying behind to drive the Suburban back to D.C. once it is out of the shop.
Our first stop is a re-check of the house where we had looked for the two cats the day before. Still no cats, but we optimistically set a trap there.
The morning is frustrating. We chase a number of dogs who crawl under houses and refuse to come out. And the dogs left on the streets at this point are growing ever more wary by the day. It’s nearly impossible to catch them. To make matters even worse, we come across many sad situations where dogs have died chained to porches, trapped in backyards, or inside houses.
The day turns a corner when we find an orange cat hiding in the attic of a house. We’re pleased to learn that, when we call in the address, they can give us a phone number. The cat’s name, it turns out, is Buddy, and he is one of three cats who live there. So we double-check the house again but cannot find the other two cats. We do notice that the door from the house to the garage is open, and there are cat paw prints going in and out. But for now, it is only Buddy who will go with us for a rendezvous with his owner, who promises to come back to look for the remaining cats.
Now we are beginning to find and catch animals. There’s a rottweiler under a house who emerges when we coax her. Next is an aggressive female pregnant pit bull from a car lot. Then we check some other addresses from our previous trip to New Orleans and are glad to see that the rescuers to whom we had turned our lists over had removed the dogs in the interim. Right after we chase an old Labrador/chow mix out from under a house and get her on the van, a National Guardsmen pulls up and points us to an address where there is a pit bull loose on a porch. We can’t even get close to the dog, who can jump on and off the porch, but we do find a large, scared Airedale mix next door. He comes when we coax him, and soon he’s wearing a leash, no doubt for the first time in a while.
Just when we decide that the truck is absolutely full, a huge, fat, sweet rottweiler comes running up, looking for help. Cory collars the dog and I radio for help. Soon another van pulls up and we load some of our dogs on that truck.
There’s barking from two doors down and we quickly locate two healthy dogs in a yard. But I also hear barking that seems to be coming from inside the house. The house is split into apartments and we go back and forth and up and down, but we can’t find the dog. Finally, we spot him through a window, but still can’t find a way to get to his part of the house. We can’t seem to make any progress until I yank off some pieces of plywood which are locked over an entrance. Behind them is an entrance to the garage, and inside the garage is a horribly emaciated female pit bull. She’s chained and badly tangled around junk and old bikes with almost no room to move and no access to food or water.
The emaciated pit bull is the last animal on the truck for the day, and she’s the first off for food and water at the triage center where we unload. We could head to Gonzales at this point, but it’s too tempting to refill the newly empty van, and we decide to go get the two healthy dogs we had left behind in the pit bull’s yard. When we get there we are surprised to find another team has already come through and picked them up. The rescue effort is getting good! And with that happy thought, we head back to Gonzalez.
October 1, 2005
Today, we find out, is the last day for us to bring animals into Lamar-Dixon. The facility is going to be shutting down, and the LA/SPCA will be opening a temporary facility within New Orleans. But for the next few days space will be tight, and only critical animals can be brought in.
So we all head for our areas of the city with a sense of urgency. In fact, Cory and I spend much of the day being frustrated because, with the exception of a cat from inside a house, the only live animals we can find are ones we cannot get close to.
On the other hand, we have almost finished sweeping our section of New Orleans. The last section is along the London Canal. Cory and I park the truck on an impassable street to walk up to see if there are any animals on the block. As we get out of the truck, a woman approaches us and asks if we could help her and her husband. Their car got stuck in the sand when they came to get some things from their house. As we follow her I can’t believe my eyes. We are walking past the point where the levee broke, past a brick house which had been picked up by the water and washed across the street, past houses—all of them, in fact—that are in pieces, past mounds of sand four feet tall that all but cover the houses and cars on the street. It takes us some time, but we get the woman and her husband out of the sand. She tells us to mark down “2 humans rescued” on our list for the day.
Switching back to our canine/feline mode, we decide to go back and check on the house where we had removed two out of four Chihuahuas a couple of days earlier. None of the food there had been eaten. As we walk around the outside of the house, we find the body of one of the dogs. That leaves the fourth dog unaccounted for, but there is no sign of him anywhere.
The last animals for the day are two dogs in a yard. I know this will be the last day to scoop up whatever animals we find, so I am troubled and disappointed that we did not find more.
October 2, 2005
Today we each make our rounds with an assigned veterinarian, the idea being that the vets can determine whether animals need to be removed or can be fed and watered in place. Most of the volunteer vets are with a Canadian group. The vet I ride with is Rebecca, from the Vancouver area. She jumps right in and starts searching houses for animals with me.
More and more people are coming back to the city to check on their homes, and many of the animals are being picked up by their owners. We also see a few notes left by owners saying they had returned and gotten their animals. Other animals are in OK condition, and we leave them with food and water. The strays have been continuously given food and water by rescue teams as they drive around the city.
We turn one corner and are flagged down by a man who is simply frantic. He tells us about a dog inside a house who needs help, gives us the address, and off we go. The inside of the house is destroyed having been flooded almost to the ceiling. But there, lying on an overturned mattress is a retriever mix. Suzie, as her tag reads, has somehow survived inside the house for five weeks, though I can find no source of food or water. She is extremely overheated, dehydrated, and listless, but she’s alive. Four cats, Suzie’s former companions, had not been as fortunate. They died inside their carriers during the flooding. Suzie has been alone.
Once we get her out, give her water, and put her on the air-conditioned truck, she comes around. And by the time we get to the LSU vet school where she will be cared for, she has perked up considerably. We try calling the phone number on her tag but it doesn’t work. Surely someone is looking for her, and hopefully she will be reunited with her family soon.
October 3, 2005
Today Cory, Michele, and I do not go out in the field but to work on the warehouse the LA/SPCA rented to turn into a temporary shelter. When we arrive we realize that it will not be an easy task. The storm had caused damage to the roof and there was extensive water damage. We spend the day cleaning.
After we finished up there, Cory and I decide to stop in the French Quarter. Now many of the shops and bars are open and there is electricity. We stop in a couple of places where we had rescued animals and check to make sure the people had gotten their animals back. We also stop in to see the bar owned by the people who have Maizy, the cat I rescued on my last visit. The bar is open but the owners are not around. Nor is Maizy.
October 4, 2005
Today I ride with a guy named Bruce, a thirty-year veteran of animal control in Maine. We are assigned a list of Gentilly addresses to recheck, bringing in critical animals and providing food and water to the rest. We spend most of the day feeding and watering animals.
There are now many residents back in the city checking on their property. We are flagged down several times by people who want to tell us they have found their pets or who have come home and found a note from the LA/SPCA that their animal was removed and want to know where to go to reclaim him or her. The residents all seem to be in good spirits, and many are committed to rebuilding their homes.
Late in the day, Bruce and I are driving down a street when we see a spray-painted notice: “3 dogs in yard.” We pull up and find the fence is down. In the backyard is a retriever puppy, about four months old, hiding under a van. No sooner have we put food out for him when a pit bull comes rushing through the broken fence and into the yard to chase the puppy away from the food. It’s clear we cannot leave the puppy there. The other dog won’t allow him to move. So the puppy goes on the truck and the pit bull gets food and water.
A team of volunteer vets and vet techs at LSU receives the puppy to check him out and bathe him.
The Suburban is also out of the shop, and Michele leaves in the evening. Cory also leaves to fly back to D.C.
October 5, 2005
On my last day in the field—I am to fly out the next day—Bruce and I go back to the Gentilly area. Before jumping in for the day, I stop the truck to map out our assigned addresses. As we sit in the truck, we see a minivan speeding down a side street. The van comes to the main intersection and barely slows down before turning onto the main street. Behind the van, a small mixed breed dog is running her heart out, trying to catch up with it. She turns onto the main street to chase the van. Obviously, her family is inside, but they are not stopping for her. They’re doing all they can to lose her.
My first instinct is to chase the minivan down and stop the people. How can they speed away from their own dog, a dog who had waited over a month for someone to come for her?
I’m spouting words that can’t be repeated here. Bruce remains calm. We follow the dog. I don’t know where I will take her as she isn’t critical, but I can’t leave her to chase after people who don’t want her. The dog almost climbs into the truck when I pull up next to her. But at the last minute, she decides not to get into the van and takes off back the way she came. Bruce goes after her on foot while I drive around the block to intercept her. Somewhere among the houses on the block, our little dog disappears.
Although there is food and water for her on the street, I feel bad leaving her behind to wait for people who are not going to come back for her. This is the one point in my trip when I almost lose compassion for the people involved in this situation. Eventually, though, I realize that the owners of this dog cannot take the dog for whatever reason and, realistically, there is no phone number for them to call to have the dog picked up, no local shelter to take the dog to. They probably think they were giving the dog a chance to survive. I am confident that she will be picked up as the focus shifts to rounding up strays.
The rest of the day goes better. We pick up an emaciated puppy who came out of a house where the owner died during the flooding. The puppy is three months old, skin and bones, but alive, alert, and very happy to see people. Unfortunately, a couple of the other dogs in the house did not survive.
We also pick up a pregnant kitten and then Bruce and I go to an address where Cory and I had fed a fish a couple of days earlier. I figure it is time to feed the fish again. When we get to the address, however, it is clear the owners have returned and cleared out much of the house so I do not enter the property.
Across the street, a frantic woman waves us down. She says her cat is inside her friend’s house and she cannot get in to get the cat out. We find an open window, and using a ladder, I climb in the house. After all that, I notice that the back door is open! Bruce comes in the easy way, and we start looking for the cat. I now know to look under beds, and there she is: an older Siamese. Her owner breaks into tears and kisses us both when we bring her out.
So the day ends much better than it started.
October 6, 2005
I say my goodbyes at the 6 a.m. meeting, sad to leave as I feel a close bond with the people I have been working with. From the beginning, the LA/SPCA employees impressed me with their commitment, hard work, and determination to rescue all the animals of New Orleans. They are a great group, and I hope to visit in the future when their temporary shelter is complete and things are getting back to normal.
But compared with my earlier departure, I feel better leaving this time because the situation is under control. There are loose animals to be rounded up, but with residents coming back and the extraordinary rescue efforts of all who came down to New Orleans, I feel the animals are well taken care of. Thanks to all of you who supported these efforts in whatever way you could.
Final blog entry
This is my final blog concerning my time in New Orleans. I met up with KayKay’s mom. (KayKay was the small Shih Tzu I brought back from New Orleans to reunite her with her owner who was evacuated and is staying with family in the area.) It was wonderful to see the two together. KayKay, who had been so scared, really came out of her shell and greeted her mom with lots of kisses.
For KayKay’s mom, too, it was an emotional reunion. She thought she had lost KayKay forever and said she wished she had snuck KayKay out in her luggage while being evacuated. It was important to me as well to have a happy ending to my time in New Orleans, and I am honored to have been able to be a part of this reunion. I hope all the animal rescue workers in New Orleans get to witness a joyous reunion of an animal and their beloved companion.
Since returning I am constantly thinking about the work going on in Louisiana. I hope to find a way to return and help some more. I still sometimes wake up with a start and jump out of bed thinking that there are animals to be rescued or unloaded from trucks, only to realize I am at my house in D.C., and the only dogs here are the five dogs I share my home with.
The whole experience will be something I remember for a long time, and I only hope that out of all the heartbreak something is learned. I can’t help but believe that the human rescue groups and relief agencies have learned that animals are an important part of our families and can no longer be disregarded when planning for a disaster. So many people stayed in their homes at risk to their own safety because they did not want to leave their animals. Those that did leave called desperately for help.
The animal rescue groups were left to fend for themselves by the federal agencies and are still working hard daily to alleviate the suffering of thousands of animals. It is important that we make ourselves heard in demanding that these agencies make a plan for future disasters that will allow humans to remain with their four-legged companions. No one expected the extent of the problem that occurred in New Orleans, but animal groups have called for years for federal agencies to assist in evacuating and sheltering humans with their animal companions. Perhaps the media attention focused on the plight of animals in New Orleans will give these agencies pause to reevaluate their positions on the needs of humans and animals during times of disaster.
For now, I am trying to move on and focus on alleviating the suffering of animals in the District of Columbia, which is WHS’s mission. There is a lot of work to be done here as well, but I leave a part of my heart in New Orleans and hope that the possibility of New Orleans opening up for some residents and business owners to return will mean that there will be more people to help look after the abandoned and homeless animals.
Will New Orleans ever be the same for me after my time there? I will never erase the images of the animals desperately searching for help, but one day I would like to go back and see New Orleans as it was before—vibrant and filled with life, laughter, and music. Perhaps then my heart will begin to heal.
Adam Parascandola is the Chief Operating Officer at the Washington Humane Society in Washington, D.C.
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