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FLUFFY FLIER

One of the many happy endings at Best Friends' encampment in Tylertown, Mississippi in November, 2005.
Fluffy, a 16-year-old American Eskimo girl, ended up all the way in the Animal Ark shelter near Minneapolis. What a long drive for an old girl! Her loving owners never stopped searching for her, though, and Emily and Carrie assisted in the joyful reunion by transporting her on the last leg of her 2,500-mile round-trip journey back south again. There were many tears of joy shed that day! One of the oldest dogs we worked with, Fluffy's good health was an obvious sign of excellent care by her New Orleans owners.

Emily B. Smith
PAWS Institute
11/2005

Katrina Animal Rescue: A Life-changing Experience

KATRINA ANIMAL RESCUE: A LIFE-CHANGING EXPERIENCE
October 6-15, 2005
by Emily B. Smith

Published in its entirety in "Wisconsin Woman" magazine, January, 2006
@all rights reserved

MADISON, Wis. (November 5, 2005)

My animal-loving friends are what some might describe as “ridiculous about animals.” We are members of the Alliance for Animals in Madison, Wisconsin, and a quality we share is that we will go to ANY lengths to help alleviate the suffering of animals. The animals did suffer, tragically, in the aftermath of the devastation of Hurricane Katrina; thousands of pets were left behind to fend for themselves as their owners fled to higher ground. One particularly shocking e-mail I received, dated October 6, 2005, announced that officials in Louisiana had given the order to begin shooting animals that were left behind. I read that e-mail and began packing. I had been keeping tabs on pet rescue operations in the south, and was not dissuaded by the warning that if we wanted to come, conditions would be primitive, the hours would be long and grueling, sleep would be minimal, and it would be hot! hot! hot!

As I drove away from my house that Thursday morning, packed to the wing windows with cat crates, blankets, cases of pet food, treats, leashes and other sundry items previously donated, I wondered just what would await me at the other end of my 1000-mile journey to Tylertown, Mississippi. I had disobeyed the strict instructions from loving friends like Tina Kaske-Sanchez: DON’T GO ALONE. What was a 50-something woman like me doing, driving all that distance alone with no guarantee of safety from highway robbers, especially without so much as a tent to sleep in? Had I gone totally mad?

My trip took 18 hours, averaging 75 m.p.h. because I was galvanized towards action. “Ridiculous” animal-lovers will know exactly what I mean about the passion that drives you when the life of a four-legged is in jeopardy. I arrived after dark at the Best Friends’ encampment in Tylertown, a small town about 75 miles north of New Orleans. Greeted by a very serious-looking man, I was grilled extensively before he allowed me to pass through. Security was tight at the encampment due to reports of dog-nappers attempting to sneak in and steal Pit Bulls for the heinous practice of dog fighting. I parked my car in the camping area, exhausted but happy to be there; I stretched out in the back seat and fell asleep to the happy sound of varied canine/feline vocalizations in the distance.

At 7 a.m. the next day, I was assigned to the Intake M.A.S.H. team and was given a crash course in the preparation of vaccine syringes, de-wormers, and microchip implants. I was also responsible for organizing supplies and running interference for our seven-person team consisting of a veterinarian, a vet tech, a recorder of paperwork, a photographer, a tag-maker, a professional animal handler, and a med assistant (me). It was also my privilege to assist the vet tech in holding animals. Many were still terribly frightened and traumatized by their ordeal, but responded amazingly well to gentle touch and reassurance. In our makeshift tents, we sweltered in 100-degree heat as we processed up to 75 dogs each day. Assistance was wonderfully, readily available and our request for an electric fan brought not one, not two, but about 20 fans from around the encampment so that we, and our animals, would be comfortable. A real Kodak moment.

The next nine days became a virtual blur of 18-hour shifts, a little blood, lots of sweat, and frequent tears. As each new precious creature was brought into our tent, we saw hope, gratitude, and a lessening of fear in their eyes. Probably the saddest sight, however, was to see the dogs that were forced to stand in fetid water for many days. The toxic floodwater caused chemical burns wherever it touched the animal’s skin, and many dogs had the pads of their feet permanently burned off. One young black Labrador was held in a volunteer’s arms, legs suspended, for many hours so that he could get some relief for his sore paws; that gorgeous dog still had a happy disposition and unlimited kisses for everyone who came by.

Amazingly, laughter came easily and often; the incredible camaraderie was something I have never experienced before. We dwelt on successes, not failures. We knew, for instance, that every one of the scores of heavily scarred, badly neglected Pit Bulls that were rescued would never, never be forced to fight to the death again just to satisfy someone’s greed or blood-lust. We knew that the scores of domestic dogs who, when faced with either starvation or membership in a “pack”, chose the pack for survival but would quickly revert to tummy-rubbing silliness when approached by a kind human. We knew that scores of gentle, affectionate cats were not feral at all, just badly frightened, and now enjoyed their roomy quarters at Best Friends’ encampment while waiting to be reunited with their owners.

Other Kodak moments arise in my consciousness, too many to possibly cover in this article. But as I was walking to my car to return home after nine days, I burst into uncontrollable tears and was given a hug by the 6’4” fireman I had met the first night in Tylertown. That same fireman, upon arriving at the encampment nine days earlier, had immediately headed for the kitchen, grabbed a dishcloth, and said “move over” to the all-woman crew doing K.P. He said he was used to doing dishes at his firehouse, and had no problem doing it now. That’s the way it was at Tylertown, Mississippi, in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, in October of 2005.

God bless the animals and those that rescue them.
May each and every four-legged creature find the loving home they so richly deserve.

With love for the animals,
Emily B. Smith
Madison, Wisconsin
11/5/05