2-years and counting
Yesterday was the 2-yr. anniversary of hurricane Katrina. I felt nauseous all day long. All our lives changed…………some more than others. I’m part of the rescuers network and yesterday I got more than enough opinions on the situation down there.
Currently, a fellow rescuer of mine is being hounded to return one of the dogs she rescued & adopted. According to the attorney general in Louisiana, animals of the storm are deemed “lost property” and owners have 3 years to claim them. The former ruling declared a date of 12/31/05 which has long since passed.
We continue to work with rescue groups down there. It’s hard to explain to someone who wasn’t there, but it’s my home now too. I miss being down there. The experience is something I can not explain or ever forget. It’s personal now. The calendar says 2 years, but it could be last week, at least for me.
Here’s what a typical day is like:
As many of you know, I quit my job to do Hurricane rescue last year. I plan on returning this October to save more lives and hopefully bring some back with me. Here is a typical day for me:
4:15AM
Am I really going to get up? Yes. The animals are terrified and half-wild at this point. You can only see them at dawn and dusk for the most part. They roam at night but there is no electricity or street lights and you can't see them. Even house pets won't come to their owners, and we need to trap them for them. Except for nursing mothers, virtually no animal is caught without a trap. We can't imagine the horrors they have lived with, swimming and living in toxic muck, wondering why the owners to whom they gave a lifetime of love and affection have abandoned them.
5:45AM
I arrive at the St. Bernard parish checkpoint. It is still dark and the sheriff approaches my car with a puzzled look on his face. When he sees it is me he grins and shakes his head, waving me in. It looks like a mixture of admiration and incomprehension at my dedication. The first day I tried to enter he drilled me pretty well. On my first trip to this area there were no checkpoints--there were no people, period. Only rescuers and military. But now he is part of my daily life and I will miss him when I leave.
The military loves us animal rescuers. They have given me permission to enter an off-limits area to search for animals, and I will do that tomorrow or Thursday. There is an unspoken camaraderie between the military and animal rescuers. I can't quite put my finger on it. Maybe it's because we're both dedicated to our goals--not our jobs. Their goal is protecting and serving their country and countrymen, our goal is the same for the animals.
St. Bernard has received little press but it is much worse off then New Orleans. Several areas of N.O. were wiped out, but the entire county of St. Bernard has been destroyed. Nothing can be saved. I have driven over and mapped 2/3 of the entire county so far so that the rescuing can be more efficient, and we can make sure there are no gaps in our feeding stations. I don't need a map anymore, and I feel I know this place better than Kent County.
I spend part of each day walking the streets talking to the people. They tell me their stories, show me their pictures, and tell me their neighbors' and relatives' stories. I know which houses lost a family member in the flood and what states they have been shuffled to. There is no hint of bitterness or complaints, they are matter-of-factly rebuilding their lives and moving forward. In only one couple did I hear a hint of discouragement. After only a few days I feel I know these people better than my own neighbors, and in a brief moment of insanity I have the desire to stay and help them rebuild, because this place is starting to feel like my home too.
7:30AM
The morning meeting and area assignments should be starting now, but with night trapping and morning walks it never begins before 8:30, and people aren't on their way to their areas until 9:30. I have no patience for this waste of time so I email Holly the night before, telling her what area I'll be mapping and patrolling the next day. We're also supposed to go in pairs, but nobody else wants to get up as early as I do, so I go alone. Most pairs spend 5 hours each day in their section. I average 12.
There are only 3 rescue groups still here. The Humane Society took in over $20 million for Katrina rescue, stopped rescuing on Oct. 1, and were gone by Oct. 15. There are thousands of animals left and the number increases every day. Why is this? Because nobody neuters or spays their animals in Louisiana and any animal left inside during the disaster was able to roam freely after the hurricane created broken windows and holes in the houses, and the military broke down doors searching for bodies in early September. The disaster occurred over 75 days ago and the gestation period of cats and dogs is 63 days. Get the picture? What could be 5,000 roaming animals in need of food and care today could be 25,000 next month. We bring in a load of puppies each night. The kittens are eluding us, likely due to the size difference.
8:00
The animals have returned to their hiding places and now I search houses and look for signs of animal activity at feeding stations and elsewhere. Where I see signs of activity I stop and climb through houses. I shove aside toppled furniture and broken televisions, lift up broken beds and rummage through piles of mucky clothing on closet floors. The stench is overpowering. Imagine what the contents of your freezer and refrigerator smell like after they've been tossed all over the house, soaked in muck for weeks, and left for months--and that doesn't include the sewage.
Only about 2% of the residents are around, and most of them just for brief moments-either to see the damage for themselves or meet with their insurance agent. Because I am an animal rescuer and anyone's pet could be in anyone else's home/yard/car at this point, I can pretty much go and do whatever I want, whenever I want. At times I feel Supreme and All Powerful, but then the weirdness and creepiness of it hits me and all I really want to do is get out of their house as fast as I can.
Some people are gutting their houses themselves. They don't seem to have lost their senses of humor, though. "Ex-wife inside" is spray painted on a refrigerator. "1 cent, will finance" is written on a boat. There are boats and cars on houses, sheds on fences, houses in the middle of the street, and garbage everywhere. Some have decorated their trees with ruined belongings. Clothes are the most common items, and I have to say it looks quite festive. Other people have a display of ruined photographs, like you see at a funeral, or a creepy display of dirty dolls and stuffed animals.
1:00PM
I stop by the trailer park on Livingston to tell Nolan I may have located his dog. I met him yesterday and he insisted on feeding me lunch: white bread, tuna fish, and Cajun pickles. The rescue crew wouldn't let him take his dog when he evacuated, so he called a rescue group to pick her up and he hasn't found her yet. He's excited with my news and tells me that if I come visit after he gets her back that I'll get lots of kisses. I'm hoping he's referring to the dog.
2:00
I'm on my feet and asking everyone I see about animals in the area. People are very helpful and grateful that I am doing this--even non-locals. I ask a gutting crew if they have seen any cats around their worksite. One of them asks me if I'm looking for a special one. I smile and tell him they're all special. The guy next to him slaps his thigh and hollers "Sing it, sister!"
2:30
I hit the jackpot. Warehouses full of goods have all been trashed, and I found a restaurant supply warehouse. Boxes full of carry-out styrofoam containers have been thrown out. It is exactly what we need to put food out for the animals. We never have enough aluminum pans, and with all the dusty muck we don't want to put food on the ground because we don't want them to lick up more of it than they already have.
3:00
I'm feeding about a dozen cats near Ventura when I hear a dog barking. Very few abandoned animals could be alive at this point, but if they were left with plenty of food and water the possibility exists. I kick the door in and climb upstairs to find the dog shut in the bathroom. He's skinny but has food and water. I look around and see face masks and gloves, so people have been here and the dog is likely in the bathroom so it doesn't chew on anything mucky. Hmm, they aren't going to be too happy about their front door.
5:40PM
My work in St. Bernard is done for the day. I never get as much done as I would like, but I leave satisfied that the animals have enough food and water to survive until their owners come home, we catch them, or their feeding station is refilled.
I turn into the upper 9th ward. I drive past Louisa street and stare at the bright green house where my rescue cat, Bob, was found. He was pulled out from under the house so I don't know if he had a home or if he was just a neighborhood stray. He is an awesome cat and doesn't seem to miss his past life. He is Master of the house, Boss of the dog, and King of my bed.
I pass the house with the dog carcass on the car roof. Did he just happen to land there when the water subsided, or did he die waiting for one of the too few animal rescuers to find him? St. Bernard will be reinhabited, but the 9th ward will be demolished, so retrieving all the animals is necessary. Momma dog may run out when she hears the bulldozer, but her puppies will be buried alive. No residents have returned to the area, it is virtually silent. The 9th ward was subsidized government housing, so people weren't homeowners, and with nothing salvageable the former inhabitants have no reason to return.
I reach the house on Gallier where a mother dog is hiding. All of the houses are raised about 18 inches and crawling under them is a pain in the butt. The sludge is still everywhere, covering everything. Looking under the house with a flashlight I see no sign of any dogs, but I know she is there. There is no way out and I saw her duck under there when I arrived. People treat the gap under their house like a garage, and it is stuffed with rakes, equipment, and garbage. I crawl under there trying not to touch what’s left of the foundation of the house, lest I jar it and it collapses on me. Hmm, maybe this is another reason we go in pairs. I move items around and a half hour later I give up for the night. I pull out as much junk as I can so next time I will be able to move around more and see better.
The work I'm doing doesn't require my graduate degree, only dedication and determination, but the satisfaction I feel at the end of the day has no equal. The stress is endless. If I don't sort through all the rubble in this house will I miss the cat too weak to make it to the feeding stations? It could easily take 2 hours to comb this house for an animal that may or may not be here, and if I do it will I miss the last bark the dog up the street will give before fading away into darkness? If I look to the left will I miss the animal on the right that just darted under the house? You can't win, but if you don't participate everyone loses. The animals are too terrified to bark or make noise anymore. You have to search every inch because they won't let you know they're there.
7:15
I arrive back in Raceland. I'm exhausted but there is more to be done. I type in my notes and feeding stations for the day and send them to Holly. I call my sister who isn't happy I'm not going to Boston for Thanksgiving to provide moral support for her as other family members descend upon her. It's all for the best, really, because if I hear any more yapping from people on how much money they're blowing on unnecessary material goods I'll have no choice but to flush them down the toilet.
I will spend Thanksgiving out on the streets. I went to Wal-Mart and still need to go to Sam's club for canned food. All the animals in my area will be getting yummy wet food for their Thanksgiving meal. We don't have nearly the food donations we need so I'm having to buy most of it on my own. Then I will probably stop at 247 Friscoville and have a beer with one of my new friends.
7:45
Jerry, my hostess' ex-husband and neighbor comes over like clockwork every night. Jeni went to Texas for a few days so I am here with her 13-yr. old. Jerry senses I have a lot to say, and I tell him about my day. The people are so gracious and generous! "God bless you", "Here, take some water with you, are you hungry?" "We sure do appreciate you", "Come back soon and hang out for a while", "Thank you for all your help". I see some of these people almost every day, and they greet me like a long lost friend each time. I finally break down for the first time this trip, and it isn't even about the animals. It's from the realization that if the tables were turned, I think I would be too full of my own self-pity and misery to have a kind word for anyone……………
Currently, a fellow rescuer of mine is being hounded to return one of the dogs she rescued & adopted. According to the attorney general in Louisiana, animals of the storm are deemed “lost property” and owners have 3 years to claim them. The former ruling declared a date of 12/31/05 which has long since passed.
We continue to work with rescue groups down there. It’s hard to explain to someone who wasn’t there, but it’s my home now too. I miss being down there. The experience is something I can not explain or ever forget. It’s personal now. The calendar says 2 years, but it could be last week, at least for me.
Here’s what a typical day is like:
As many of you know, I quit my job to do Hurricane rescue last year. I plan on returning this October to save more lives and hopefully bring some back with me. Here is a typical day for me:
4:15AM
Am I really going to get up? Yes. The animals are terrified and half-wild at this point. You can only see them at dawn and dusk for the most part. They roam at night but there is no electricity or street lights and you can't see them. Even house pets won't come to their owners, and we need to trap them for them. Except for nursing mothers, virtually no animal is caught without a trap. We can't imagine the horrors they have lived with, swimming and living in toxic muck, wondering why the owners to whom they gave a lifetime of love and affection have abandoned them.
5:45AM
I arrive at the St. Bernard parish checkpoint. It is still dark and the sheriff approaches my car with a puzzled look on his face. When he sees it is me he grins and shakes his head, waving me in. It looks like a mixture of admiration and incomprehension at my dedication. The first day I tried to enter he drilled me pretty well. On my first trip to this area there were no checkpoints--there were no people, period. Only rescuers and military. But now he is part of my daily life and I will miss him when I leave.
The military loves us animal rescuers. They have given me permission to enter an off-limits area to search for animals, and I will do that tomorrow or Thursday. There is an unspoken camaraderie between the military and animal rescuers. I can't quite put my finger on it. Maybe it's because we're both dedicated to our goals--not our jobs. Their goal is protecting and serving their country and countrymen, our goal is the same for the animals.
St. Bernard has received little press but it is much worse off then New Orleans. Several areas of N.O. were wiped out, but the entire county of St. Bernard has been destroyed. Nothing can be saved. I have driven over and mapped 2/3 of the entire county so far so that the rescuing can be more efficient, and we can make sure there are no gaps in our feeding stations. I don't need a map anymore, and I feel I know this place better than Kent County.
I spend part of each day walking the streets talking to the people. They tell me their stories, show me their pictures, and tell me their neighbors' and relatives' stories. I know which houses lost a family member in the flood and what states they have been shuffled to. There is no hint of bitterness or complaints, they are matter-of-factly rebuilding their lives and moving forward. In only one couple did I hear a hint of discouragement. After only a few days I feel I know these people better than my own neighbors, and in a brief moment of insanity I have the desire to stay and help them rebuild, because this place is starting to feel like my home too.
7:30AM
The morning meeting and area assignments should be starting now, but with night trapping and morning walks it never begins before 8:30, and people aren't on their way to their areas until 9:30. I have no patience for this waste of time so I email Holly the night before, telling her what area I'll be mapping and patrolling the next day. We're also supposed to go in pairs, but nobody else wants to get up as early as I do, so I go alone. Most pairs spend 5 hours each day in their section. I average 12.
There are only 3 rescue groups still here. The Humane Society took in over $20 million for Katrina rescue, stopped rescuing on Oct. 1, and were gone by Oct. 15. There are thousands of animals left and the number increases every day. Why is this? Because nobody neuters or spays their animals in Louisiana and any animal left inside during the disaster was able to roam freely after the hurricane created broken windows and holes in the houses, and the military broke down doors searching for bodies in early September. The disaster occurred over 75 days ago and the gestation period of cats and dogs is 63 days. Get the picture? What could be 5,000 roaming animals in need of food and care today could be 25,000 next month. We bring in a load of puppies each night. The kittens are eluding us, likely due to the size difference.
8:00
The animals have returned to their hiding places and now I search houses and look for signs of animal activity at feeding stations and elsewhere. Where I see signs of activity I stop and climb through houses. I shove aside toppled furniture and broken televisions, lift up broken beds and rummage through piles of mucky clothing on closet floors. The stench is overpowering. Imagine what the contents of your freezer and refrigerator smell like after they've been tossed all over the house, soaked in muck for weeks, and left for months--and that doesn't include the sewage.
Only about 2% of the residents are around, and most of them just for brief moments-either to see the damage for themselves or meet with their insurance agent. Because I am an animal rescuer and anyone's pet could be in anyone else's home/yard/car at this point, I can pretty much go and do whatever I want, whenever I want. At times I feel Supreme and All Powerful, but then the weirdness and creepiness of it hits me and all I really want to do is get out of their house as fast as I can.
Some people are gutting their houses themselves. They don't seem to have lost their senses of humor, though. "Ex-wife inside" is spray painted on a refrigerator. "1 cent, will finance" is written on a boat. There are boats and cars on houses, sheds on fences, houses in the middle of the street, and garbage everywhere. Some have decorated their trees with ruined belongings. Clothes are the most common items, and I have to say it looks quite festive. Other people have a display of ruined photographs, like you see at a funeral, or a creepy display of dirty dolls and stuffed animals.
1:00PM
I stop by the trailer park on Livingston to tell Nolan I may have located his dog. I met him yesterday and he insisted on feeding me lunch: white bread, tuna fish, and Cajun pickles. The rescue crew wouldn't let him take his dog when he evacuated, so he called a rescue group to pick her up and he hasn't found her yet. He's excited with my news and tells me that if I come visit after he gets her back that I'll get lots of kisses. I'm hoping he's referring to the dog.
2:00
I'm on my feet and asking everyone I see about animals in the area. People are very helpful and grateful that I am doing this--even non-locals. I ask a gutting crew if they have seen any cats around their worksite. One of them asks me if I'm looking for a special one. I smile and tell him they're all special. The guy next to him slaps his thigh and hollers "Sing it, sister!"
2:30
I hit the jackpot. Warehouses full of goods have all been trashed, and I found a restaurant supply warehouse. Boxes full of carry-out styrofoam containers have been thrown out. It is exactly what we need to put food out for the animals. We never have enough aluminum pans, and with all the dusty muck we don't want to put food on the ground because we don't want them to lick up more of it than they already have.
3:00
I'm feeding about a dozen cats near Ventura when I hear a dog barking. Very few abandoned animals could be alive at this point, but if they were left with plenty of food and water the possibility exists. I kick the door in and climb upstairs to find the dog shut in the bathroom. He's skinny but has food and water. I look around and see face masks and gloves, so people have been here and the dog is likely in the bathroom so it doesn't chew on anything mucky. Hmm, they aren't going to be too happy about their front door.
5:40PM
My work in St. Bernard is done for the day. I never get as much done as I would like, but I leave satisfied that the animals have enough food and water to survive until their owners come home, we catch them, or their feeding station is refilled.
I turn into the upper 9th ward. I drive past Louisa street and stare at the bright green house where my rescue cat, Bob, was found. He was pulled out from under the house so I don't know if he had a home or if he was just a neighborhood stray. He is an awesome cat and doesn't seem to miss his past life. He is Master of the house, Boss of the dog, and King of my bed.
I pass the house with the dog carcass on the car roof. Did he just happen to land there when the water subsided, or did he die waiting for one of the too few animal rescuers to find him? St. Bernard will be reinhabited, but the 9th ward will be demolished, so retrieving all the animals is necessary. Momma dog may run out when she hears the bulldozer, but her puppies will be buried alive. No residents have returned to the area, it is virtually silent. The 9th ward was subsidized government housing, so people weren't homeowners, and with nothing salvageable the former inhabitants have no reason to return.
I reach the house on Gallier where a mother dog is hiding. All of the houses are raised about 18 inches and crawling under them is a pain in the butt. The sludge is still everywhere, covering everything. Looking under the house with a flashlight I see no sign of any dogs, but I know she is there. There is no way out and I saw her duck under there when I arrived. People treat the gap under their house like a garage, and it is stuffed with rakes, equipment, and garbage. I crawl under there trying not to touch what’s left of the foundation of the house, lest I jar it and it collapses on me. Hmm, maybe this is another reason we go in pairs. I move items around and a half hour later I give up for the night. I pull out as much junk as I can so next time I will be able to move around more and see better.
The work I'm doing doesn't require my graduate degree, only dedication and determination, but the satisfaction I feel at the end of the day has no equal. The stress is endless. If I don't sort through all the rubble in this house will I miss the cat too weak to make it to the feeding stations? It could easily take 2 hours to comb this house for an animal that may or may not be here, and if I do it will I miss the last bark the dog up the street will give before fading away into darkness? If I look to the left will I miss the animal on the right that just darted under the house? You can't win, but if you don't participate everyone loses. The animals are too terrified to bark or make noise anymore. You have to search every inch because they won't let you know they're there.
7:15
I arrive back in Raceland. I'm exhausted but there is more to be done. I type in my notes and feeding stations for the day and send them to Holly. I call my sister who isn't happy I'm not going to Boston for Thanksgiving to provide moral support for her as other family members descend upon her. It's all for the best, really, because if I hear any more yapping from people on how much money they're blowing on unnecessary material goods I'll have no choice but to flush them down the toilet.
I will spend Thanksgiving out on the streets. I went to Wal-Mart and still need to go to Sam's club for canned food. All the animals in my area will be getting yummy wet food for their Thanksgiving meal. We don't have nearly the food donations we need so I'm having to buy most of it on my own. Then I will probably stop at 247 Friscoville and have a beer with one of my new friends.
7:45
Jerry, my hostess' ex-husband and neighbor comes over like clockwork every night. Jeni went to Texas for a few days so I am here with her 13-yr. old. Jerry senses I have a lot to say, and I tell him about my day. The people are so gracious and generous! "God bless you", "Here, take some water with you, are you hungry?" "We sure do appreciate you", "Come back soon and hang out for a while", "Thank you for all your help". I see some of these people almost every day, and they greet me like a long lost friend each time. I finally break down for the first time this trip, and it isn't even about the animals. It's from the realization that if the tables were turned, I think I would be too full of my own self-pity and misery to have a kind word for anyone……………
posted by Amy at
5:33 PM
