Dear friends,

I know, you probably have had enough of news coverage about the hurricane that destroyed New Orleans and many small towns along the Gulf coast. I felt terrible for the people there who lost everything, but I felt even worse for the poor “left behind” pets, since they could not step in a bus and at least keep on having some kind of life. So when I read in the local newspaper that the Bangor HSUS would be sending three people down to New Orleans to help there and would be bringing back 60-some “Katrina” pets, I figured maybe we could “hook up” with them and help also. The North Shore Animal League out of Massachusetts also said that they would bring 90-some animals out of the Louisiana region and put them up for adoption. I know, many people probably say: we have plenty of animals in our own states, and they are right. But many of those scared and traumatized pets were somebody’s “Baby” at one time, and there was probably many good reasons why their owner could not take them along.

I made some calls and sent letters to those two shelters. No matter how many times I left messages, nobody ever answered back. I even offered to help pay some of the “shipping” cost of the animals, if they would let us take some in to foster or adopt. It seems they were more interested in baking in their own glory than really trying to help those animals.

After spending a whole weekend on the computer, being in touch with several animal-rescue places on the Internet and hearing and reading more and more horror stories, I could not sit on my behind any longer, doing nothing. I had talked to Ruthann, our new girl at the Shelter, about the whole situation; I had also mentioned that I may drive down myself if I could not get anywhere with those two shelters. Ruthann said she would be more than willing to drive down with me. I painted the worst-case scenario to her, about being on our hands and knees cleaning out cages, about having to deal with some horrible scenes, about a very hot and humid climate, and about having most likely to sleep in the car or in a tent. Even CNN had mentioned that FEMA had kicked an old lady in a wheelchair out of her motel room in order to make room for their paper pushers. So I also knew that motel rooms were very hard to find. Anyway, Ruthann had no problem with that once we arrived.

I made a doctor’s appointment to get my Hepatitis A & B shots, and an hour later, on September 16,  I left Limestone, picked up Ruthann at the Shelter, and started our 2,300 mile trip south. The first night was a good one, we actually had a solid night’s sleep in a small motel. The next day we started out shortly after 6 AM and managed to drive all the way down to Mobile, MS. No rooms were available anywhere, and we were too skittish about sleeping in the car with the windows open. There were too many people roaming the streets, and it was way too hot to leave the windows up. So we retraced the last 50 miles back north, and finally at midnight found a motel which had a couple of rooms available since the people had checked out just before we got there. Needless to say we were lucky to have new sheets on the bed, the trash and so on was still there, including countless Roaches. From now on that motel will always be in my memory as the ”The Roach-Motel” But we did not complain, at least we had a bed. The next day we found ourselves on the road again towards Mandeville, about 20 miles north of New Orleans. I had found out before we left that we could not get into New Orleans without a police escort and we could not get into New Orleans without a written invitation from either HSUS or ASPC.

There were plenty of volunteers hanging around, being very frustrated, because by then dogs and cats were starving by the thousands and they could not help, because of the red tape of the “big shots."

By then there were also plenty rumors circling that the HSUS were putting 150 animals an hour down by their own vets, while other vets stood by and were not allowed to help, even though they complained that most of those animals had plenty chances to make it through their injuries or dehydration, if they were helped. We had the choice of going to a huge shelter in Gonzales, which had horrific conditions; 5000 animals in pet carriers and cages, and they were begging for volunteers. But since the HSUS were running this shelter, I really did not want to drive there, just to be told we had no invitation, and were not welcomed. There was also the Gulf-coast stretch between Biloxi and Gulfport, which had horror stories about neither FEMA nor the Red Cross, or anybody else helping the poor lost souls there, human and animal alike. Animals were trying to climb into military vehicles; since the National Guard were the only living humans there.

I did not have the courage and did not feel brave enough to face looters and worse on a deserted stretch. So we decided to go to a shelter in Mandeville which had put out a plea for volunteers through several Internet pages.

As soon as we got there, we thought something was not quite right. There were hundreds of folded metal cages and empty plastic carriers sitting around. Gonzales had put out a plea just for this type of cage; since they would let a better airflow through and were easier to clean than the small enclosed plastic ones. We introduced ourselves and were put to work, loading dog and cat food and cat litter into a pickup to drive to a grooming salon, which also would be the place we were allowed to sleep for the next three nights on our air mattress on the floor.

When that was done, we started to clean the runs, and there again, something was not quite right. One third of those inside/outside runs, similar to Charley's Strays, were empty, while in the rest of the runs between two and five dogs were pushed into a tiny inside cage with outside access. To make the situation really bad; a five pound dog was put together with two 60 pound dogs, who naturally would trample all over this poor little one. While we were doing the work I could not help but wonder; what on earth the three owners/employees of this kennel were doing. One was undergoing chemo-treatment, that left her probably in a lousy physical shape, and she could not do anything. She was not around much either. The second woman was a talker; do I need to say more? The third was her daughter, who was pregnant, and not able to do anything either, other than answering the phone. The way I figured it was; these three women were running a grooming and boarding kennel, so why not take advantage of dummies like us who drive over 2000 miles to Louisiana and use them for their own purpose? So when the “Talker” and the daughter told Ruthann she and another volunteer should bathe and groom a St. Bernard type of dog who belonged to a customer, I hit the ceiling. Very quiet, of course, because we had planned on taking some of those poor dogs out of this horrible situation back to Maine.

The smiles on our faces faded very quickly when feeding time came in the evening. The “Talker” and the daughter actually worked for the first time all day: They put ONE bowl of food into each run, no matter if there was one or five dogs in there, and no matter how scared to death one dog was of the other!  We still had to put on a nice face, after all, we wanted something from them -- dogs. So Ruthann started walking with the “Talker” through the kennel, pointing out several smallish toy dogs which she said we could place very easily up here and who were very traumatized by what was going on there. The women said about each and every one Ruthann pointed at: “That one is mine, mine, and mine . . ." She was a collector, plain and simple. About 15 dogs were hers, even though they all had been rescued and were totally ignored in this kennel.

So Ruthann, myself and another girl who was also volunteering her time  decided we had enough and would go somewhere where we really were needed and could make a difference. Trying to stay on the good side of the “Talker”, we promised to come back in the morning, wash the runs, and after that go to either Slidell where Noah’s Wish had set up a rescue center, or to Gonzales. The Talker said: Well, if you have to go to help there for a little while, go to Slidell, because we just took 50 of our animals to the Gonzales Shelter and they killed them instantly there!” Now why the hell would they take 50 dogs there when they had all these empty runs and empty cages? That did it for us. The next morning we washed part of the kennel and then drove on to Slidell. Noah’s Wish is a rescue operation which goes to disaster areas to rescue all the animals, domestic or wild, livestock, anything. They had rented a huge warehouse, which housed about 900 plus cats and dogs in cages. Outside, underneath tents there were about another 120 cages, filled mostly with pit bulls and other large dogs. Volunteers were working in unbelievable hot and humid conditions to clean and walk all these dogs, and groom and bathe them when they had helpers to do so. The girl who had come with us was a groomer from Minnesota. Noah’s Wish was ecstatic over having her help. Ruthann ended up in the small dog section. I was asked if I could handle walking the big ones. I was never very fond of pit bulls, but I changed my mind there. These poor animals were so traumatized, so very grateful for their twice daily five minute walks! So sad, so poor. I swallowed my tears and got to work, along with Ruthann. After two days in 97 degree temperatures, drinking 10 bottles or more of water and not being able to use the bathrooms once the whole day, we were exhausted. So when we heard that “Rita”, another "Category 5" hurricane, was coming in and New Orleans, 20 miles away from us, was being evacuated again, we decided to cut our losses and drive back home. We had planned on going back to the first kennel to rescue some of the dogs, but since we had not gone back there to work for them, they had told a lady at Noah’s Wish that “It would be a cold day in hell” before we would get some of their dogs." Noah’s Wish has a policy of keeping the animals at least 30 days to give their owners a chance to find them. They let us have only the ones which had been surrendered by their owners, or when it was certain that the owners had died. Plenty of pit bulls and plenty of cats, but just three “regular” dogs, which we immediately took.

Mary already has more cats then she can handle, and another huge vet bill for the yearly vaccination looming over our heads next month, and with no one adopting cats, we had no choice but to take these three dogs. Pit bulls, even though all of the ones I walked, had a beautiful disposition towards people, are not placeable up here, and many of them had been used in dogfights by ignorant nasty money hungry, so-called, human beings. We could not help them! The three pictures you see below will show the dogs we did bring back.

We got back to Maine Friday night, and with the help of Mike we put each one of the crates which had housed a dog on the drive back in each inside run along with a blanket inside and out. I went to sleep shortly after, but woke up again at midnight because I was cold. Thinking about those three dogs and the weather change for them, I went into the kennel to see how they were doing. Sure enough, all three were shivering. So I locked them inside, put a blanket around the carrier so it would stay warmer, and tried to go back to sleep. That’s where YOUR help is needed: We need to place these three dogs as soon as possible. They are fairly small; I don’t think they weigh over 35 pounds. Louis (short for Louisiana) is a young male, not neutered, but very well behaved. So is Georgia, who came from the same family, and is also very well behaved I believe she has a bit of a hunting instinct in her, because her nose is always on the ground. Whoever adopts her should probably always keep her on a leash when she is outside, or have a fenced in yard. The third dog, Chief, is a different story. He is scared of strangers and has to get used to them first. He fell in love with me first sight, and I with him. But since he is very food aggressive and we already have three dogs, and one of them very senile, messing in the house whenever he gets a chance; I cannot take Chief. He is a very afraid little guy, and may have a problem with men. He took to me instantly, and also to Ruthann.

My next question for you: How many of you would be willing to sponsor in your own home some New Orleans dogs until we either find someone who adopts them, or you will yourself? I feel so bad for all those poor lost souls down there, and Jim and I would be willing to take another trip down next month, after the fundraiser to pick up more. But first, we have to know if we can at least foster them out, since they are warm-weather

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