Hurricane Katrina

Small Bites

News named Small Bites as a reminder to donate small-bite food (or cat food) for Gulf animals.

Urgent: St. John Shelter
St. John Parish Animal Shelter
488 W. 2nd Street
LaPlace, LA 70068
985-651-7387, lfasm@rtconline.com
View Animals

7/28/06, bdubourg@gmail.com  ~  St. John Parish Animal Shelter is full. Animals must be adopted or face euthanasia. The shelter is very small, with a wonderful staff. Dogs and cats just keep arriving. Please help lessen loss of life. Fosters, adopters and legitimate rescues are urgently needed. St. John shelter is located 30 minutes from the New Orleans area. Go by today and save a life.


Workshop: NOLA Animal Rescuers
7/23/06, Reply To: Pia Salk  ~  NOLA suicide rates have tripled since the hurricane. NOLA animal rescuers, in particular, face tremendous challenges. They are relentless and devoted, but engulfed in stress and tragedy. In June, I led a workshop in Potomac on this emotional toll. Many have asked me to offer the workshop in New Orleans. Feedback in Potomac was very positive. The only complaint? Too short. I'd like to give NOLA rescuers the support they've requested, in the form of a two-day workshop on or near Katrina's one-year anniversary. The 8/29 date alone stirs strong emotion. I can do this if one or more organizations are willing to sponsor/cosponsor the event. Please consider sources for financial backing so I can line-up professionals and figure out other related costs. Hopefully I can offer this much needed forum in NOLA.

A Miracle For Mikko And His Katrina Displaced Family

7/22/06, Letter From A Grateful Katrina Evacuee  ~  After 9 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days, I am wonderfully happy to announce that we found our cat, Mikko. On Friday, June 23, we drove from Houston, TX to Atlanta, GA, over-nighting in New Orleans. I'd been back to our home in the Gentilly area of New Orleans more than 5 times to salvage memorabilia and look for our missing cat.

We had two cats prior to Hurricane Katrina. On my first visit back to the city in October 2005, Gus came running to the front lawn when I called his name. He was scared and jittery but recognized my voice. I called and called for Mikko, but he did not come. I went back several times that visit and even left an item of clothing like the Humane Society suggested, but he did not return at my bidding. I visited in November, December, and finally in January. No Mikko. Many champions for animals surfaced throughout that time, tirelessly searching any lead to help us find our missing cat.

A wonderful lady found a photo on Petfinder, BFC 1978. We were almost certain it was him. Sadly for us, the family of BFC 1978, found nearly 30 miles from our home, had already claimed him. The search continued. I never lost hope and never let my daughter give up hope either. I told her he'd probably been trapped by rescuers and adopted by a nice family somewhere across the country. I refused to give away his cloth cat carrier salvaged from garage ruins. It sat on our back porch waiting.

As we drove into the outskirts of New Orleans, nostalgia rose like the tide at sunset. I had the strongest urge to visit our home, now gutted and overrun with grass. I drove to the exit and approached stealthily, it was 10:30 p.m. The main thoroughfare of Elysian Fields once bustling was now quiet and bleak. My daughter and I circled the block slowly as we talked about the neighborhood. Dim lights peered out from FEMA trailers on the neighboring streets. The Baptist church on the opposite corner had been razed. The starch contrast of newly refurbished dwellings, a bare frame blackened by fire and smoke, and vacant homes still marked with scarlet colored spray paint, decorated the scene before us.

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As we spoke in hushed tones and surveyed new beginnings my eyes darted to a small figure frozen in anticipation on the neighboring lawn. I halted my daughter in mid sentence with one ghastly phrase, "Epiphany, that's Mikko." She screamed, "Where, Momma?"

I stopped the car and rolled a window down. I called his name. The queerest look came over his face. I'll never forget it. It was as if he was searching his memory for a time when he didn't have to scrounge in a deserted, hurricane ravaged neighborhood for food and water, fend off predators, disease and harsh elements, and a lady and girl loved him, gave him a home and called him Mikko. He began to meow. Epiphany jumped out of the car and walked to him. He was skittish and untrusting but she kept calling his name. He threw himself to the ground and began squirming the way he would when he wanted someone to pet and scratch him. I sat in the car in total shock.

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It took us a while, but we got him into the car, calmed him down, drove 15 miles to get a cat carrier from my cousin, purchased cat food and a litter box from the only store open at 11:30 p.m. (Walgreens on Airline Hwy), and settled at a pet-friendly W Hotel located downtown. Whew! Thank God for Starwood points. The veterinarian gave him a clean bill of health the next morning, updated his vaccinations, and boarded him for us until we got back from Atlanta three days later. We drove Mikko back to Houston. He is adjusting well. He has been pretty jumpy, but I remember Gus reacted the same way when I rescued him after the storm.

Oh yeah, Gus. Ummm… I think Gus had gotten adjusted to our house being a one-cat-home again. We adopted Gus one year before Mikko. He had always viewed Mikko as a disgusting little brother who followed him around and mimicked his every move. Mikko weighs about 9 lbs. At 17 lbs., Gus is almost double his size. It's been challenging to re-introduce them. But I believe Gus now realizes that Mikko is here to stay. Mikko has staked new territory – on a rug underneath my bed. He has also taken to prancing around on rooftops of houses in Houston, a feat that makes my daughter quite nervous, but one I'm sure he acquired during his tenure in post-hurricane New Orleans.

Those of you reading this may or may not understand exactly what happened with [animal guardians] prior to Katrina. Many of them were not able to transport or evacuate their pets. I was one such [guardian]. I am an event manager. I had traveled to Miami on business the Wednesday before the storm. My daughter attends middle school in Orlando, Florida and had transitioned to her father's house at the beginning of August. Neither she, nor I were in New Orleans and our cats' care had been entrusted to my father and my friend. I was only to be gone away on business one week. Hurricane Katrina hit the coast of Miami on Thursday afternoon. I was there. It was accompanied by strong winds and rain.

On Friday, as I perused the Weather Channel at my computer, I saw that Hurricane Katrina had re-entered the Gulf of Mexico on a northwestward path. I remember thinking nonchalantly, "That doesn't look good." I closed my computer to head out the door for a busy weekend of award show after-parties. I heard about residential panic in New Orleans in a casual call to a friend to rave about the celebrity presence in Miami. The news sent me into a tailspin. I called family and friends to gather information on their evacuation plan. I am the youngest of five children. My mother is deceased. I was told that my brother would pick up my father, and my sister would follow them in the vehicle with my sister-in-law and their kids. My sister and brother-in-law who have five kids were evacuating to Dallas. My brother who is a New Orleans Police Officer would stay behind to serve, protect and defend. His wife and kids had already evacuated to a small town 120 miles west of New Orleans. Everyone was busy preparing to leave. No one would take my cats.

I am grateful my brother evacuated my father, a task that in my absence may have gone undone had it not been for his generosity. I am grateful that at my request he pulled open the attic staircase in my house. He also gathered my photos, memorabilia and computer hard drive and transported them in a plastic bag out of the city that would soon be submerged. I am however, most grateful for my friend Wendy, who stopped at my house to place all my cat food and a huge water-filled pot in the attic. She led the cats to the stairs to peak their curiosity thereby laying out the hurricane escape route the veterinarian would later say, "probably saved their lives." She and her family took refuge in the Federal Reserve Bank where her husband is employed.

I am most grateful for Debbie, the animal control officer from Dallas who volunteered to rescue pets in New Orleans. I met her while searching for my cats at the pet shelter in Gonzales, Louisiana two and a half weeks after the disaster. She took my card. She went to my house. She climbed over the debris left from 5 feet of water to get to the aforementioned staircase, ascend and give me the news that my cats were not dead in the attic. Debbie called for my cats but they would not come at her calling. She also marked my house as an SPCA feeding post, and left a pail of fresh water and a large bag of cat food under the carport. I am grateful for each person who went to my house and called out my cats' names in an effort to rescue them for me. I am grateful for my neighbors, whoever they are, wherever they are, who continue to feed stray cats and dogs, separated from their loved ones by this horrific tragedy.

And, I am most grateful for you who are reading this letter. You who sent my missing cat messages to everyone in your email list. You, who forwarded pictures, initiated rescue efforts, searched Petfinder listings and reports, reunited families and pets, fostered pets, facilitated adoptions and you, who prayed for the safe return, rescue, or care of the animals affected by the disaster in the Gulf Coast region. May God bless you and keep you. Yvette, Epiphany, Gus and Mikko