|
It was Tuesday, September 6, around 7:30 a.m., and I was in Gulf Park Estates looking at some of the worst devastation that I had ever seen. Other members of the HSUS Disaster Animal Response Team to which I was assigned and I were some of the first animal care workers to view the desolation created by Hurricane Katrina that had once been the Gulf Coast of Mississippi. (Due to decisions by Mississippi state officials, animal relief efforts in this area had been delayed for eight days after the extremely powerful Hurricane Katrina made landfall along the Gulf Coast!). How could anything or anyone have survived through this sort of thing? Little did I know that what I was seeing was only a precursor to what I was going to experience in the next two weeks.
Another member of our agency, Jeff Gustafson, and I had left on September 3 and driven 17 hours straight through to Mississippi from Charles County, Maryland, in a van specially modified for animal transport—with our animal capture equipment and camping supplies to assist with the animal rescue efforts along the Gulf Coast at the request of the HSUS Disaster Services department in Gaithersburg, Maryland.
Our first stop was in Jackson, the Mississippi state capital. We arrived there at about 4 p.m. on Sunday, September 4, and staged with other HSUS rescue personnel awaiting deployment to areas affected along the coast. At about 8 p.m., we received the awaited orders. Jeff and I were to be assigned to a rescue base camp located along the coast in the city of Gautier in Jackson County, Mississippi. Due to the lateness of the hour, we would leave along with other HSUS DART members but go only as far as the city of Hattiesburg, where we would camp overnight and continue the journey to Gautier in the morning. We pitched tents and got some much needed shut-eye. The next morning, after the briefing, some of us left for the Jackson County Animal Shelter, where our assigned base camp was. Others remained at Hattiesburg to set the multi-purpose center up as a centralized shelter to receive the animal rescues from the coastal areas of Mississippi. The shelter group did wonders with this project!
We arrived at the Jackson County Animal Shelter in Gautier around 11 a.m., set up camp, and prepped our vehicle to begin rescues. We still had not received authorization from state officials to “cross the [railroad] tracks” to do any work, but we did have the go-ahead to enter some of the cities and assist the local animal control staff where needed. One of these locations was the city of Pascagoula, where the city shelter had flooded. They had cleaned it up and were back in business, but since the facility was very small, they were overrun with stray and given-up animals. A team of two transports and four people was dispatched to go and pick up the “owner give-ups” at the city’s shelter. They would continue to hold the strays for a period of time with the hope that the owners would show up and reclaim them.
One of the “owner give up” animals we picked up sticks in my mind. He was an old Pomeranian mix who just absolutely loved people. When the local animal control officer let him out of the kennel and told him to “load up,” he ran over and jumped in the cab of our van and sat on the file cabinet as if to say, “Okay, let’s roll. I’m navigating!” We learned that his owners were an elderly couple whose home and all of their possessions had been destroyed in the hurricane and storm surge. They were extremely distraught over having to give up their pet, but they themselves were looking for a place to stay and could not afford to keep the old fellow. This was just the first of many such sad stories we would hear while in Mississippi that would tug at our heartstrings.
After picking up the animals from the city shelter, we went to other locations in Pascagoula that the city animal control officer advised needed assistance—places that he could not get to. One of these locations was owned by a miniature pinscher breeder who had started out with more than 100 dogs before the storm. Over half his dogs had drowned in their crates and cages when the storm surge came through and were still, one week later, in the crates piled up against the house where the receding waters had left them. He himself was suffering from a multitude of medical problems and couldn’t do much physical work, so one of the other rescue teams had helped him the day before dig out his dogs and get them set up in new crates with fresh food and water.
On this day he had decided to sign over a couple of his older breeders to our group, and we left him more food to care for the ones he had kept—with the promise that he would consider signing over more animals at a later date. We then took the animals we had back to camp, where they would be looked over by a vet tech and processed into the holding area. As the holding area—an air-conditioned car carrier converted over with stainless steel cages of various sizes—became full, another large transport vehicle would take them to the sheltering facility that was set up in Hattiesburg, where they would be held and cared for for the duration of the event. Eventually the field teams were bringing in enough animals that this transport had to take place twice a day.
The next day, September 6, found me overlooking the devastated area of Gulf Park Estates referred to in the beginning of this story. Even though this area was not “across the tracks,” the amount of total destruction was astronomical. I say this as a veteran of hurricanes and severe tornadoes in my own jurisdiction—and as someone who has volunteered with HSUS DART in a variety of disasters over the last few years. I have seen bad; this was worse! On this day, our team worked the areas of Gulf Park Estates and Moss Point, following up on reports of a displaced potbellied pig and rescuing numerous cats, kittens, dogs, and even horses. That evening at the debriefing, we were given the news that the state was going to allow our camp to “cross the tracks” in the morning and begin rescues in the most devastated areas along the coast. This was welcome news. The animals that had survived the storm had now been fending for themselves for over a week. On the other hand, I was a bit apprehensive. These areas had been “off limits” until now because of the extreme amount of destruction they incurred, and after what I’d seen earlier that day, the thought of something worse was a bit daunting. We had heavy planning sessions to assign various teams to the extensive areas we would now be covering along the coast in three counties so that teams weren’t duplicating efforts.
After a restless night I attended the morning briefing at 6:30 a.m. to learn that Jeff and I were assigned to a four-member, two-vehicle team going into the areas surrounding Gulfport, Mississippi. We were forewarned that many parts of this community had not yet been searched for human victims or bodies and that the possibility of encountering such was very, very real. After all of the teams had their assignments and all equipment had been checked, everyone departed for the day’s activities with instructions to be back at camp by the 7 p.m. curfew time.
On the way to the Gulfport Emergency Operations Center (EOC), we were flagged down by a distraught citizen who told us that his dog had just been viciously attacked and dragged off by a stray dog. We contacted our team leader who was at the EOC in Gulfport. She checked with the authorities there and advised that, even though this was not directly related to our rescue mission, the local animal control was unavailable to respond and was requesting that Jeff and I (who both work in animal control and have experience in dealing with aggressive animals) respond to the attack for them. When we arrived at the given address a few minutes later we learned that the dog had since “gone after” a neighbor’s small child and that the original complainant had shot the dog. However, the shot had not been fatal and the dog was now hiding under a vehicle in the backyard. Jeff and I were able to eventually capture the dog, who definitely had an attitude, especially now that it was wounded.
 |
| © Ed Tucker |
We then left to take the dog to the nearest reported veterinary clinic for an examination of its wounds. Upon arrival at this clinic, we were totally floored by what we’d found; the place had sustained heavy damage from winds and flooding and had a sign in the window that said, “All animals left here have died. We have buried them for you. I have no way of expressing my grief. I will be home cleaning up Thurs. … My prayers are with you.” It was signed by the veterinarian. This brought home the fact that Katrina did not discriminate at all. We did eventually find a local vet who had sustained minimal damage and was open, and the dog was euthanized because of the severity of the injury it had sustained by being shot. We then headed back to the coast to join the other members of our team.
It was now time to “cross the tracks” and begin our work. We really had no idea what to expect when we got there. No matter what our minds had conjured up, the situation that met us when we crossed over was the most humbling I have ever experienced. The devastation we had witnessed the day before in Gulf Park had done nothing to prepare us for this. Where we had seen sections of blocks wiped out, we were now witnessing entire blocks and even towns gone—nothing left but piles of debris that at one time had been someone’s home, houses floated off foundations and left broken in the streets or on the tracks, vehicles piled on vehicles and looking like they went through a crusher. So much desolation!
We were seeing this with the realization that these areas had not even been opened back up for the people who lived here; they had not been allowed back in yet to see the losses they’d sustained. And oh, the smell—it was horrid! Not only were there the usual smells associated with blown-out sewer systems and stagnant water; there was the overwhelming, sickeningly sweet smell of death. A sobering reminder that search, rescue, and recovery efforts were still going on in this area for people. Now, we were here to initiate the first official search, rescue, and recovery efforts for the people’s best friends—the beloved pets who for one reason or the other had been unable to evacuate with their owner, and the ones who had stayed with owners who had gambled and often lost against the storm and did not evacuate. Many of these pets also lost. The areas we worked had not only sustained heavy damage from winds but had experienced a storm surge that in places was well over 20 feet deep and went inland for close to five miles. Many animals left in the second stories of houses, presumably a safe area, did not make it. Many of the animals that did survive did so by gaining access to attic areas in “floating” houses.
Our mission at first was simple: rescue any animals we saw in these areas. Surprisingly there were many, and gather them up we did! The only other living people we encountered were utility workers, equipment operators, and law enforcement personnel. As in other disasters, these people were invaluable because they were able to provide us with locations where they’d seen animals so that we could get them out and hopefully get them reunited with their owners.
After the first few days, The HSUS was able to start providing us with actual rescue requests that they were receiving through the 800 number they’d set up for getting specific addresses, information about animals to be rescued, and owner contact information. The vast majority of addresses given by animal owners did not exist any longer. The houses were gone—nothing left but rubble. Remember, these people were not even aware that their homes had been wiped out. The only way we were able to find most of these was with the aid of a GPS-based mapping system—because the street signs were gone, mailboxes were gone, and the homes were gone. Even so, believe it or not, some of these animals survived! Either we had picked them up during earlier forays in the area and recognized the animal’s description or we found the animal lurking, scared and hungry, in the general area of where they used to live. Talk about boosting team morale!
Many animals were located in houses that had floated blocks from where they were built, hiding in attics or living in debris piles close to home. We would find houses in areas totally destroyed—badly damaged but still standing. In these homes, the receding floodwaters left furniture blocking interior rooms and closet doors shut; in these rooms we would find animals trapped—scared, hungry, and dehydrated but alive! Over the ten-day period I spent in Gautier, I was told that the teams assigned to this base camp brought in more than 400 animals.
Rescue work in this area was extremely hazardous. Beyond the usual hazards such as downed power lines, nails, and glass, raw sewage and structurally unsafe buildings were also causes for concern. The swimming pools were a class by themselves. You would be walking along a debris field and suddenly find yourself on the edge, literally. The pools were full of debris, trees, dead animals (and in a few cases while we were there, dead people), and they had stagnated to the point of being covered in a film of slime that perfectly matched the surroundings and was almost invisible from a distance. Team members were constantly on alert for each other. Safety is always the number-one priority; you can’t rescue the animals if you yourself end up needing rescue.
After spending about a week “alone” in these areas, some of the areas were opened up during the daylight hours for residents only to sift through the debris for family treasures. This became a trying time for the rescue workers. People would flag us down hoping beyond hope that we had found or seen their pets. Sometimes we had, but most times we were unable to provide the answer they so needed. The stories—well, heartbreaking doesn’t begin to describe them. A great many people I talked to then and have talked to since have no (initial) sympathy for this group of people. “How could they leave and not take their dog/cat/etc.? They should be ashamed of themselves” … and such statements are common. The truth is that many of these people had not simply abandoned their pets; they had reasons. They were able to get their family and some of the pets out but were unable to get back in the area because of floods to get the rest of them. … They were not home when the storm hit. ... They had been through many hurricanes before, and flooding was always minimal and they were always back home the next day, so the animals had been left on the second floor of the house with food, water, and the full expectation on the part of the owner of being home the next day, etc.
The amount of grief and guilt these people were going through was overwhelming and very, very real. A lot of them were still looking for missing family members. Who was I to judge? I didn’t, I simply listened and then provided whatever help I could to try and locate their pets.
As any responder will tell you, not all of our work in these situations is restricted to removal of animals. To minimize the impact on temporary shelters and the need for people to go searching for lost pets, a lot of animals are fed in place. Whenever feasible we would repair fences, kennels, etc., provide the animal with food and water, make sure he is protected from the elements, and leave him where he belongs. Every day we would load our transport vehicle with 50 or more bags of food and deliver these to distribution sites or directly to people in need. We never brought any food back, and sometimes would make a trip back in for more!
All in all, my experiences along the Gulf Coast of Mississippi in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina were very rewarding. Though each day was filled with sadness for the loss of animal and human life and property, I met people who, after losing everything, were still extremely appreciative of what we were doing. These were people with nothing, yet they would offer you their last bottle of water or MRE (meal ready to eat) as thanks. They say disasters bring out the worst and best of people. In Mississippi, where I was, there was no “worst”—only the “best”!
I returned home 16 days after I’d left, to a wife and family who understand the need for these excursions I occasionally go on after Mother Nature dishes out her worst. Even though I knew work remained to be done along the coast, I knew good, caring, qualified people were rotating in to take care of it. Jeff and I flew out and left our vehicle at the airport in Mississippi for two other people from our agency here in Charles County, Maryland. Sue DeGuzman and Alison Burke would be taking our place and continuing our work along the coast.
Oh yeah, remember the friendly little Pomeranian mix I picked up on the first day? After five days “in country,” seeing what I saw, hearing the many stories of losses never to be recovered, I woke in the middle of the night thinking about the little fellow. First thing I did in the morning was to call Melissa Forberg at the shelter in Hattiesburg to see if he was still there. Knowing what a daunting task I was asking since they were sheltering hundreds of animals by then, my expectations were not especially high. Having worked other disasters with me, Melissa knew that I had never “taken one back” with me before, so she knew this one must be special, and wonder of wonders, she found him! When I left, the little pom mix went with me as a foster through my agency. I am happy to say he will soon be a permanent member of my family. His name is Gautier, after our base camp in honor of all who worked so hard to help the animals.
Ed Tucker is the Chief of Charles County Animal Services in Maryland.
| 
