Got a later start than anticipated. I was going to go to the Gonzales, LA site for the HSUS (Humane Society US), but decided to do something different. As it turns out, I was offered a deployment (yes, it's really called that) by the ASPCA to St. Bernard Parish. There's even less amenities in St Bernard, so I had to get more gear together to go. I'm taking my own tent, water, food, etc. It's an extreme camping trip. So what I hate to camp. So what I have to have a shower every morning. I'll be cramped and stinky. But it's the opportunity of a lifetime.
The state of Louisiana, in its infinite wisdom, has decided that the LA ASPCA will take over all rescue operations in New Orleans starting today. How the pets still trapped in homes and running the streets will be cared for and rescued by one organization when it's taken weeks by literally dozens of organizations is beyond me. But then, it's Louisiana.
Without getting into a lot of information, Governor Blanco has done even less for the state's animals than she has for its people. Her office has steadfastly refused to help with efforts to rescue animals (even after the humans were rescued). And she refuses to order the National Guard to help, too. But I'm sure everyone will hear this in the coming months. There's all kinds of legal action afloat, but it's the animals that are losing. They're paying with their lives.
But I digress...So for those who haven't been following the story, St. Bernard Parish is where most of the devastating flooding occurred after Katrina. If you were watching CNN, this is where you saw dogs on roofs, on top of cars, tied to porches, etc. It's taken a month to get into that parish to rescue. There's massive death and destruction. To top it off, this is where that deputy sheriff, Mike Minton was caught by the Dallas News calling friendly dogs over to his pickup, where he shoots them dead. The video is still on the Dallasnews.com site. This caused a huge uproar, and Minton was supposedly put on leave.
But the story doesn't end there. It seems that in a parish where no rescue organizations could get in, an even more horrific scene happened. We learned yesterday that during Katrina a number of people evacuated with their pets to a middle school. Beauregard Middle School in St. Bernard Parish. The people were evacuated, but were not allowed to bring their pets. Even a lady who had a Service dog wasn't allowed to bring him. People left their pets in various classrooms with notes to animal rescuers written on the doors about their pets; likes, dislikes, and such. They were left with food, water and treats and the promise by the sheriff's office that the pets would be rescued right away, that boats to take these pets to Gonzales were right behind. That rescue never materialized. Yesterday a number of rescuers, acting on a tip from someone on the net looking for that Service dog went into the school. What they found was awful. The rescuers describe the scene as something out of a horror movie. Shells at the site point to law enforcement who committed this crime. The Sheriff has indicated that these are indeed the type of ammunition that his force uses. And then another site was found later in the day. A site at an elementary school which was much worse.
CNN has been covering the story, here's a link to the story on CNN.com Warning...it's pretty graphic. Eric Rice from Ericsdogblog talks about what he saw here. A rescue group from Seattle who has been a Godsend in all of this, Pasados has offered a $10K reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the psychopaths who did this. I don't know anyone who'd be sleeping well after all this. The thought that law enforcement would have tortured these animals is heinous.
So here I go into the thick of all this. I'll be in St Bernard at Rebel Field, don't know what I'll be doing yet. I do know there will be a component of counseling, not sure if I'll be embedded in with a rescue team or not. We'll see when I get there. Frankly, I'm terrified. I hear the stench is awful, the bugs are awful, and they're finding lots of dead pets. Say a prayer for me, I'll need it....
julz
This update and the next do not have dates and are posted as received.
Day after day, rescuers brought in van loads of rescued animals. Some look amazingly well. Others are clearly close to death. I would say that Pasados brought in the most while I was there. A few times a day, three to five vans with animals would descend upon the triage unit. With curfew at 6pm, they worked feverishly to rescue all the animals they could in such a short amount of time. Frequently, rescues were brought in after curfew, which angered a lot of the vet personnel in the tents. For each intake so much has to be done to stabilize the pet. And then there’s the paperwork that is done for each pet brought in. Many times, the personnel worked into the night processing new rescues and attending to the pets already in the shelter. There is such a need for people to walk dogs, clean cat cages, etc. Doing the grunt work to keep the shelter going isn’t glamorous, but it’s rewarding.
The ship has various personnel on it from law enforcement, SBP officials, firemen from all over the country, infrastructure people (such as the electric people who are trying to restore electricity to the parish), etc. There’s a public bank of showers which are available to the animal people, and if you have the time and can get there, there’s also hot meals available three times a day. The food isn’t great, but beggars can’t be choosers. Unfortunately, dinner is served between 6 and 9. It was always difficult to finish processing animals for the day to get there before they broke down the buffet.
The curfew wasn’t strictly enforced for animal people until the other day (sorry all the days run together). Some sheriff with a major attitude pulled me over when I was coming back from dinner on the ship. It was about 9pm, I was alone because I dropped off a vet and his wife at the ship for their last night with us. Anyway, Bubba the sheriff followed me with his lights flashing so I pulled over. Apparently they have real problems down there with fat middle aged women looting the place, because as soon as I pulled over, he starts yelling at me on the PA system of the cruiser. “Get out of the car! Get out of the car!” So I got out of the car. Then came the interrogation lights. I can’t even see the guy because he’s hiding behind the lights of the cruiser and he’s yelling in a PA system. Great. Basically, he kept quizzing me as to why I was on the road. Being the law breaker that I am, I can understand the need to be totally off the wall wired like he was. You’d thought I’d been caught robbing a bank. He wanted my credentials (which we didn’t’ have assigned yet). So I told him I was just over at the ship eating dinner and I was going back to the shelter. He proceeded to tell me “there is no shelter! What are you really doing here?” “How do I know who you are?” (just a tip, a look at my driver’s license might be handy here) I’m thinking to myself…Good Lord, Bubba’s completely coming unglued. He kept asking the same questions over and over again, and I kept answering them the same. He threatened to arrest me, I told him to call the SBP animal control officer who is in charge of the temporary shelter, but he didn’t know her. I told him to follow me to the shelter, I would be happy to enlighten him as the existence of the shelter. I thought the barking dogs and meowing cats might be able to convince Bubba that there was indeed a shelter. He refused. Finally, I remember that I have a visitor’s pass from the ship that might prove that I really did belong there. That’s when Bubba 2 shows up. Apparently, I look like a major enough risk to put two Bubbas on the case. So then Bubba 2, obviously fresh from SWAT training starts in. They finally let me go. They didn’t follow me to the shelter, or even ask for my driver’s license. But they were big and bad and I was oh, so impressed with them. The next day, I was relating the story to the sergeant with the sheriff’s dept. He laughed and told me that they must have thought I was a looter. (Looting?!? There’s nothing left to loot! Maybe I can make off with a moldy couch. Or part of a roof. Or maybe even a toxic muck covered tv…)
Oh,and something totally unrelated, about the environment there-there’s this black crunchy stuff all over the ground. So I ask one of the people in camp what it is and she has offhanded says…you know all that toxic waste, benzene and other stuff they were talking about in the flood? Well, this is what’s left behind when the flood waters receded. Crunchy toxic stuff” (oh good, I feel so much better about it, thanks) The air has some kind of particulate matter that is dark blue in color. It gets all over you, your car, your tent, everything. My second day there I went to the ship to shower and saw my hands, arms, and especially my nails were a fashionable shade of blue. I was concerned thinking I wasn’t oxygenating well, only to see the blue roll off in the shower. (Whew, that was a close one) No one seems to know what we’re breathing. It does smell, though, but I can’t place it. It’s something between ocean water and dead fish. At least it’s not decomposing body smell.
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The stories….
Note: I have spoken with and received clearance from the following people to tell their stories:
I have heard so many heartbreaking stories from so many suffering pet owners. My first day, I helped a lady look for her nine cats. She was forced to leave them by law enforcement when she evacuated. She refused to evacuate without them, so they threw her on the ground, broke her nose, cuffed her and took her away. So far, they’ve found four of her cats.
Another young woman came day after day looking for her cat that was left with her father in law. He opened the door and let the cat out during the hurricane. She saw her cat, picked it up, but it bolted when she got near her father in law’s house. So she stays on and on in a moldy house without electricity to find her cat. She walks around calling and calling him. Her husband and baby have relocated to another state, she won’t join them until she finds her cat, or finds his body. Yesterday, she came in to the shelter almost hysterical. She thought she found her cat dead along side the road, she brought the cat in a garbage bag. One of our vets looked at the cat, which was a female, her cat was male. So she continues searching…
One couple was on vacation when the hurricane hit. They left their one dog and two cats with a petsitter. They’ve relocated to Dallas and are back in NO searching for their pets. On their last day in Louisiana, they were inconsolable. They felt so guilty for being away during the hurricane.
People of all walks of life are completely devastated by this tragedy. One man searched every day for his black German shepherd who he was forced to leave on the levy when he was evacuated. Every day, he broke down when he couldn’t find the dog in our shelter.
The woman was evacuated to a nearby high school with 3000 other people and one overflowing bathroom. Through her chain smoking, so retells her experience of trying to protect her pets and at the same time protect herself.
The rescuers are having an especially difficult time with all they have seen. When they came in with pets, I tried to get them to stop for a few minutes to chat. They are in the trenches working non-stop from sunrise far into the night. And they keep going because they are not willing to leave any pet behind. When I ask them about how it’s really going, they break into tears during their first sentence every time. These people are so traumatized that they dare not even talk about what they’re seeing. So they keep working, and working and working.
October 5, 2005 -- Wednesday
It’s a mash unit…
Quickly, this place looks like something from MASH. There are military vehicles everywhere. The Army is stationed right next to us, so there’s copters flying and landing all the time by our tents. Out in front of us on both sides are cars about four abreast, all with mold, broken windows, mashed up. Trash is piled up all over the sides of the streets. Twisted metal and trees are everywhere. And then there’s the sound of the generators. The animal tents have generators running HUGE fans and lights at night. It’s quite a nice set up.
The vets and some vet techs get to stay on the ship. I know the news has covered it, but there’s a cruise ship that’s docked in SBP (St Bernard Parish) that has all kinds of rescue workers, etc. on it. Not a nice ship, but it’s air conditioned. It’s got food, which is a major bonus. So anyway, some people get to stay on the boat, but most have to sleep in tents or rvs. I am definitely having RV envy. The ability to sit in air conditioning and sleep in a bed totally rocks.
We shower on the boat when we get the time. That is to say, every couple of days. We’re ripe. There’s just not time to devote that much time to go to the ship and either eat or shower. We’re supposed to be getting a shower facility at the camp. I’m sure it’ll be a solar thing, as long as we’re not flashing the camp, I’m into it totally.
In the morning when I get up, I take some of my drinking water and pour it all over my head. As strange as it sounds, we need to keep the floating toxic stuff off our bodies. By the end of the day, my hair feels like straw because of all the particulate matter in the air. No one seems to know what it is or where it’s coming from. From my tent, I can see smoke stacks that have fire coming out the top. Dunno what those are.
Oh, and we’re sprayed for bugs twice a day. As if something could live in this toxic land, they come through with the mosquito control trucks twice a day spraying down the camp. They make no attempts to avoid humans or animals with the spray. The man comes with his little spraying truck, sprays us down and then we can see the cloud as he goes down other streets. What do they use in that spray? I guess I’ll either glow in the dark or have cancer some day.
The water treatment plant is right next to us, or so I hear. I haven’t gone over there to check it out yet. We got treated water yesterday, but we can’t drink it yet. They say it’s safe for the animals.
It’s funny how things that I took for granted just days ago seem like luxuries. Eating regular meals doesn’t happen. Showers are a luxury. Breathing non-toxic air is a luxury. When I came they warned me that everyone starts to cough and lose their voice around day three. I did notice some people that happened to. It didn’t happen to me, though. The coughing was strictly reserved for when we were sprayed for bugs.
You really don’t want to touch the ground much because of the after effects of the flood. Who knows what this crunchy stuff is?
Until later…
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Epilogue
So now that I’m home and I’ve had time to process, I realized that there’s lots that I left out. Like the day that the CDC, federal marshals and NOSA came. The CDC came with federal marshals, dunno why. They were very concerned about Rabies. I realize that in theory, there might be rabies, but this parish had been under water for a month! The only wildlife I saw the entire time was one young squirrel and one bird. No kidding, that was it. The parish has almost non-existent rabies rate when they do have wildlife. So, in my mind, it’s some dude in an office in Washington looking for a problem.
So in they come, all official and everything. Probably five or six of them, with CDC polo shirts, asking all kinds of questions about who has had rabies shots and who has gotten bitten by animals while here. There was a vet that was bitten by a cat before I got there, she had to be airlifted out to some medical facility, but I wasn’t there for that. I keep telling them that I don’t know of any bites, but apparently, English is a second language for some, and they keep asking. This seems to be a theme in Louisiana. If at first you don’t get the answer you’re looking for, just keep asking the question.
I had a nice chat with one of the guys about how you get a job at the CDC. It seems so official and all. I give them water, and eventually, they decide to move on. But not before I freak out thinking that they’re asking everyone about rabies prophylaxis, they’re gonna shut us down if a lot of us don’t have the shots. So I tell every rescue vehicle that comes in to pass the word that if you’re asked about rabies shots, you’ve had them. I guess it’s not illegal. Probably just immoral to lie like that. Whatever. We’re adults. If we want to foam at the mouth with rabies, then let us.
That same day, in comes a couple of guys from NOSA. Apparently, that’s some federal place that is worried about noise. Who would have thought? So they wants to measure noise levels here at the makeshift shelter. So I direct them to the director of the whole shabang, Ceily Trog, who is the animal control officer for SBP. She wigs and tells them they can’t. Something about having a warrant, or something. Good entertainment value there. So anyway, while those guys are there, in comes a van from Pasados. Up until that day, Pasados rescue was the best thing since peanut butter. Something happened the night before, while I was having a chat with the friendly sherrif’s dept. I don’t know what it was, probably a pissing match about Pasados bringing too many animals at a time, or bringing them too late in the evening. Whatever it was, this was the first truck to come in, and it was about 3 pm.
(I was told earlier in the day to stop all rescue vehicles at the gate. (I was at the front gate checking in pet owners, counseling with them, and checking in rescue vehicles) Those that had soaped “animal rescue” on their windows were to be parked and they had to talk with Ceily or Rick. When they told me this, I asked if I was to stop Pasados and Best Friends vehicles, cause they were doing lots of great rescue and I was told by Rick that he didn’t think Pasados would be back. Hmmmmmm)
So anyway, in comes Pasados, with Ahmed at the wheel. He’s only got one dog from the parish, and also another dog from another parish. So I tell one of my helpers to get Ceily. She comes out with some woman that just jumped off the big official ASPCA truck and they talk to Ahmed for awhile. A long while. And then Ahmed starts to park his vehicle up by the intake desk. I’m not sure what happened there, but maybe Ahmed wanted to leave because there was a big clog now with the ASPCA vehicle, but Ceily starts screaming for the sheriff to arrest Ahmed. The sheriff runs for him, Ahmed jumps out of the truck, the federal marshals with NOSA are drawing their guns. Major drama! And one of the NOSA guys asks if it’s always this exciting here. LOL! So then there was some powwow. Ahmed drops of the dog, and leaves. Not surprisingly, I didn’t see Pasados again.
About a half hour later, Best Friends van drives in. I stop them, tell them what just happened to Pasados, give them warning that life as we know it is truly weird, and they drop off their one dog and leave. There’s minor drama with them, but nothing compared to the Pasados adventure. It’s at this point that I decide I’ve had enough. At the end of business, I’m leaving. My back was hurting, I needed to drive my car to the porta potties, I was not relishing sleeping on the ground another night and making it worse. So, I decided to leave.
This is the definition of cutting off your nose to spite your face…so I left after curfew. Told Ceily that I was leaving. She offered to get me onto the boat so I could sleep there, but I knew I couldn’t even walk from the parking lot to the boat. I was just hurting too bad. And to be honest, I was just too ticked off to think about staying. We went from intakes of about 50 animals a day to 11 that day because of their stupid ‘no renegade animal rescue’ policies. It was obvious that politics and CYA was much more important than saving animal lives. Those animals had survived horrific conditions for over a month, is it really necessary to put policies in place to make them wait longer for food and water?
So Ceily asked Bob to help pack me up, which he did, gracefully. I would love to someday repay this man. He was so kind no matter what I needed. And I needed a lot. Something that I don’t advertise about myself is that I have a bad case of obstructive sleep apnea. Until my tonsils come out, I have a CPAP machine to blow air into my nose while I sleep, and also a machine to take the Oxygen out of the air and blow it into my CPAP. So, technically, at night I have Oxygen to breathe. So this wasn’t the best place for me. On my first night there, Bob set me up with a spare generator to run my oxygen machine and my cpap. He even gave me a box fan for my tent in case I was too hot. What an angel he was. So poor Bob had to also jump my car earlier that morning because the battery was dead. And now poor Bob had to pack up my tent and help me get outta dodge asap. I was humiliated, but needed his help. So we talked while he packed up my tent and all, and then I left.
And embark on my journey home. Because I left after six, it’s technically after curfew. No one pulls me over this time. I decide to get a hotel room in Mississippi, but that doesn’t work out as planned. There’s not a hotel room in Mississippi until Memphis, and that’s like eight hours from New Orleans. And it’s late. I’d like to stop by the St. Francis/Best Friends/Humane Society of Louisiana shelter in Tylertown, MS. Erroneously, I hope that I can get a hotel room in McComb so I can sleep for the night, rest my back, and then go to Tylertown in the morning. I text a friend for directions from McComb to Tylertown. But there are no rooms. So I figure I will sleep in a Walmart parking lot, cause there are truckers sleeping there, lots of light and cameras. I park between two semis and settle in to sleep. I’m asleep for about a half hour when I’m awakened by them starting their trucks and leaving. Great. I find another spot and try to sleep, but now I’m creeped out. A woman alone in a Walmart parking lot sleeping might draw attention. So I ride around looking for another place. Meanwhile, my husband keeps calling for a hotel room somewhere.
I’ve had a grand total of about three hours of sleep each night, most nights less. By now, I’m more than half delirious, and my husband is really worried about my ability to think and drive at this point. So he finds me a truck stop where I can sleep and get a shower. I go there, after getting lost, and it’s a dive. And there are truckers everywhere. Not sleeping. So I leave. Luckily, after about an hour of driving, I come upon a rest stop with security. I knock on the window of his little shack. I tell him that I’m traveling alone, desperately need to sleep, and can’t unless I know that he’s watching out for me. He says no problem. I climb into the back seat, start my CPAP machine and sleep for four hours. This is the longest period of uninterrupted sleep I’ve had in a week and a half. Instead of doubling back to go to Tylertown, I keep heading north. It’s 4 am and I’m still groggy. But I need to get going. It’s time to go home.
“This is gonna hit you hard”
Before I left camp, a girl I’d never seen walked up and hugged me. She said” After the adrenline wears off, this is gonna hit you hard. You’ll get about half way home and then you won’t be able to stop crying” She was wrong. I cried before I even left New Orleans and vowed never to return. I wonder on my way out of the city, where there are lights and lots of cars how people can go about their everyday lives when people in their own city are hurting. And so are the animals. Where were the people from New Orleans, and even from Louisiana in all of this? Everyone at the shelter was from another state, some further than Ohio. Some were from Canada. I had driven 16 hours to help, some drove much more. We all took time off our jobs, school, families to help. We spent our own money to go there. This was a tremendous personal sacrifice for many people. But they went because they felt it was important. Most of us have acute stress disorder, and many will probably end up with PTSD from this. Meanwhile, New Orleanians go on with their lives as if nothing happened. Because to them, I guess nothing did.
Anger
I guess not many people from New Orleans felt it important to rescue their own animals. I guess that was someone else’s job. I’m pretty bitter about that. If the people from Louisiana had been there rolling up their sleeves, camping and eating crappy food with us, I would have felt much better. But they didn’t. I can understand the ones looking to set their lives back up with no house or jobs. What about all those people that had moved back to New Orleans? What about all those people that are back at work and life as usual? What about the rest of Louisiana? Why weren’t they helping? They left it to us, and rarely even thanked us for being there to help. If I never set foot in Louisiana again, it will be too soon. I am angry.
I’m just so upset about all the animals, dead and alive. All of them that had to survive a hurricane outdoors because no human thought it important to bring them in from the wind and driving rain. All of the dogs that died chained to dog houses and fences and porches when the levy broke and the flood waters came. All of the cats that died trying to find food and shelter, and God forbid, were attacked and eaten by hungry dogs. All the animals stuck in hot flood ravaged houses in closets, bathrooms and cages waiting for a month for someone to rescue them, feed them, water them, let them out of this living hell. Waiting to die.
We’re now hearing stories about people that are coming back and their animals are dead on their bed, waiting for their return. Waiting for the help that would never come. All because people are stupid and insensitive. The rescuers were kept out of St Bernard parish because of the toxic water. They had no problem leaving the animals in it. So they waited with boats pleading for help at the edge of St Bernard wanting to rescue the animals on roofs, car tops and porches. Help that they were not allowed to provide. This just upsets me so much that this is the end to the story. It’s estimated that 50,000 pets were left behind. A generous estimate of those that were rescued is 8,000. That’s a lot of needless suffering because animals don’t count. I’m just so angry.
This is truly an animal holocaust. We will never know how many animals died from the initial flood. Or are locked in houses still. Or are under rubble. (Bobby pulled many out still alive!) How many were shot by the sheriff’s department? A rescuer saw huge piles of shot dogs being bulldozed two days before we got to St Bernard. I didn’t see it, so I can’t comment other than to say that we already know Mike Minton thought it was important to shoot dogs. How long did he and his buddies shoot dogs before DallasNews.com caught it on tape? How long after the tape was released did they shoot them? We know that animals were murdered in schools. Was that Minton and his buddies? Will we ever understand the extent of suffering for the animals? Probably not.
Judy and Gigi
I need to tell you about someone. Her name is Judy, and she was a pet owner in SBP. She had a little toy poodle, Gigi, who went to the groomer regularly and had her toenails painted every week. Gigi had a St Francis medal on her collar. I remembered seeing a posting about her on the Nola,com board before I came to SBP. The St Francis medal got my attention in her posting. Anyway, Gigi sat on Judy’s lap all the time and was her constant companion.
I met Judy at the SBP temporary shelter one day. She sat across from me and told me her story. When the flood waters came, she evacuated with Gigi to the St Bernard High School. When the police evacuated the school, she was told that she could not take Gigi. She was told there would be a rescue boat right after to take Gigi to a shelter where she would be kept safe until Judy could get her. Eventually, after much protest, Judy got on the boat leaving Gigi behind.
When I met Judy, she wanted desperately to know what happened to Gigi. I knew from what I had heard before I left for SBP that all the animals in St Bernard high School had been tied up, shot in the abdomen, and left to die a slow very painful death. I knew with almost 100% certainty that Gigi was one of those animals. But I couldn’t tell her that unless I knew for sure. So I braced her for the worst, telling her that I thought it was a possiblity that Gigi was dead, and that I would investigate it for her. She gave me her phone number and email address. Later that day, I approached a rescuer who I knew would have been to St Bernard High School with Pasados. I asked him if what I’d heard was true. He said yes, and the pictures of it would haunt him the rest of his life. I told him about Judy, and that she needed closure. I wanted to know for 100% certain that Gigi was dead before I made that call. He took the piece of paper from my hand, said “I will have Mark call her” ( the head of Pasados rescue). Since Mark is heading up the investigation into the shootings and is the humane officer heading up the investigation, I knew he would be able to identify Gigi for her. I emailed Pasados as soon as I got to civilization to make sure that someone called Judy. Someone did. And Judy will never be the same. Days later, I saw her post on the Nola.com board outlining Gigi’s murder. Poor Judy. And poor Gigi.
None of this had to happen. None of it. I feel so sick.
If you are so inclined to give a donation to relief efforts, please send it along to Pasados Safe Haven. http://www.pasadosafehaven.org They’ve really been tremendous during this whole nightmare. They’re well organized and well run. And they have heart.
That is all.
To see images from the experience click here