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Perspectives Of Katrina |
Scotlund Haisley, Executive Director:
Coasting down a deserted street at 3 a.m., an eerie silence enveloped us. Sleep wasn't an option in the oppressive heat. Erika Leckington, director of animal welfare; Chris Broughton, vet tech; Eugene Hill, kennel manager; and I drove wordlessly, surveying the scene for someone needing help. On almost every block, we responded to the bark of a dog trapped in a house or a cat's eyes' glow reflecting in our headlights.
When we rolled by a police car, an officer flagged us down, clearly distraught. His home in the Ninth Ward was completely under water, and he'd been forced to leave his three dogs 14 days prior. “Did you leave them any food?” I asked. He broke down and wept, and I knew the odds were working against him.
The house was still submerged, so we parked our van half a mile away, pulled on our hip-waders, and slogged our way through toxic waters. When we kicked in the door, I gasped at the stench—my throat constricted and my eyes welled. There was no way an animal could survive in these conditions.
 | | Scotlund Haisley and Chris Broughton work with the Boston Animal Rescue League to rescue a mother dog and her puppies from a rooftop. |
We sloshed through the living room, hearing nothing but our own ragged breath. Clambering over a floating refrigerator, I shoved open the door to the laundry room. Two of the dogs lay dead on the floor. But glancing up, I was caught off-guard. The third dog perched precariously on a two-inch windowsill, trembling. The tears that had welled from the toxic fumes spilled over.
***
During the last week of August, Hurricane Katrina nagged at the League's periphery. Now she was a category three storm…now a four…we knew help would be needed.
Swiftly, we packed our ShARE van—specially equipped with independent holding areas, air exchange and climate control—with food, water, and medical supplies. We drove 16 hours to Alexandria, Louisiana, where a central Animal Control location was a catch-all for overflowing shelters throughout the region. We loaded up the van with 21 dogs, all of whom had been surrendered by their families as they fled the hurricane, and headed back to DC with the first of our rescued animals. Then we about-faced for trip number two—to the heart of New Orleans.
Heartbreak was everywhere, shrouding the city like a lead blanket. The city looked like a war-sieged nation…nothing remained but piles of rubble. The streets were empty, a ghost-town, and strangely silent. While the human residents who didn't perish had been evacuated, their pets were the forgotten victims. An estimated 250,000 animals were stranded, homeless, desperately in need of rescue.
Meanwhile, Gary Weitzman, DVM, WARL's medical director, abandoned his vacation and caught the first flight abandoned his vacation and caught the first flight to Louisiana, working frantically to set up an emergency field hospital in Slidell with Noah's Wish, a Seattle-based organization whose mission is to rescue animals victimized by disasters. The hospital would treat and care for thousands of animals.
Gary Weitzman, DVM, Medical Director:
The job ahead of us—setting up a field hospital—was incredibly overwhelming, but critical, so we worked fast.
Our raw space was a corrugated metal warehouse, which retained the sweltering heat and sodden humidity, and reflected sound in a deafening cacophony. Hundreds of animals were stacked atop each other in airline carriers, completely confused and wondering where their loved ones had gone.
We worked in deplorable conditions, caked in grime and filth, dripping in sweat. One night, I even found myself performing a tail amputation on a card table with a tech holding a flashlight so I could see. But the animals had to be feeling as bad—or worse.
The most common ailment we encountered was extreme dehydration and malnutrition—most of the animals were completely emaciated from days deprived of nutrition and water. We treated lacerations, bite wounds, skin conditions, intestinal conditions, fractures, and infections (some caused by being wedged behind radiators or under couches, others by exposure to the toxic floodwaters).
But it's hard to treat the fear and loneliness so obvious in each animal's eyes. Fortunately, animals are very resilient—physically and emotionally. It's amazing how fast they can turn around with a little medical care and human love.
By the time I left a week later, the country had rallied. We received tons of medical supplies to continue caring for the animals. I flew home to touch base at the League, knowing a second grueling week-long trip to the region was just around the corner. Surprisingly, I couldn't get back soon enough.
Erika Leckington, Director of Animal Welfare:
As we drove into the city on the League's second trip to the region, people lined the streets, waving their addresses and keys, pleading with us to save the pets they were forced to abandon.
A reporter from ABC Radio called, trying to help a New Orleans resident, who'd evacuated two weeks prior, find his Bichon Frise, "Chanel."
Locating the house easily, we kicked in the door and were met with thunderous silence. No dog barked fearfully, or rushed at us in relief, or even looked at us unmoving with imploring eyes. My heart sank.
Virtually everything was displaced. Dried mud spattered the refrigerator. Books scattered soggily across the floor. We kicked the mountainous rubble aside, searching for signs of life. Finally, I heard faint wheezing in the bedroom.
 | | Erika Leckington races against the clock to save Chanel. |
Chanel lay in a corner, her eyes rolled back, her tongue protruding, her gums a ghostly white. The best we could do for her was help her die a dignified death. I buried my face in her crusty, matted fur and stifled a sob. We called her guardian to inform him that we'd found his beloved pet, but that the prognosis wasn't good.
In the rescue van, we immediately hooked Chanel onto IV fluids, while calling the triage unit we'd been working with to beg them to stay open until we could get there. They agreed, but when we got there, Chanel's condition was too grave. They rushed her to Louisiana State University veterinary program.
Four days later, we got a call: Chanel was spry! Her fur was fluffy; she was walking, kissing, and in great spirits. Her vital signs were healthy. And the best news yet: she was eliminating regularly—a good sign that there was no kidney damage. Inconceivably, we'd saved Chanel's life.
***
After our second trip, our rescue team returned home to deliver an additional 16 animals: 12 dogs and four cats. They took a few days to rest and recuperate, but there was still much to be done. A few days later, with Hurricane Rita looming, four heroic volunteers stepped up to the plate to drive the vans down to the Gulf Region. The WARL team flew down to avoid the exhaustion of the drive and save strength for their field rescues.
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