By Beth Rosen
In the third week of Hurricane Katrina disaster relief efforts, I was volunteering in The HSUS Disaster Call Center for the first time. I had heard that the calls coming into 1-800-Humane-1 had become increasingly complex as owners separated from their pets were now beginning to search for their lost companions. I was soon to learn how complex.
The first call I fielded from the switchboard came from a young woman named Fallon Mack. She was in tears. She had lost everything. One of her family members was still missing, and she had no idea if her home in Louisiana was still standing.
But, most important, she said, she needed to find her dogs: two Chihuahua terriers, named Cali and Peanut, and a Scottish terrier named Max. She had been calling the Call Center every day since September 2, when a volunteer had entered an urgent rescue request into our database, detailing the descriptions of the three dogs as well as the address where they were left.
I listened intently to Mack, trying to offer her some sort of solution or words of comfort. When I left my shift, the uncertainty of her canine reunion still weighed heavy on my mind.
Forced Separation
The story Mack told me broke my heart.
Like many residents of New Orleans, she and her family had no idea how bad Hurricane Katrina would be. While she, her grandmother, and cousins evacuated the area, her grandfather, Abrahm Causey, remained at his house with the three dogs.
On Sunday, August 29, Causey called Mack, using a cell phone, to say that there was no electricity. Then the next day he told his granddaughter that the bottom floor of the house was filled with water up to the ceiling. He and the dogs were confined to the second floor. He waited on the roof for rescuers to come.
On August 31, he was rescued from the roof, but was devastated to learn he had to leave behind the dogs. Once his rescuers took him to a holding area with other Katrina victims, Causey jumped aboard a passing motorboat owned by locals who were hoping to assist in the rescue efforts.
However, once Causey learned that he could not take his pooches on the boat, he asked to be returned to his flooded home so he could stay with the dogs. By September 2, most of the food that Causey had saved for the dogs was gone. He had nothing to eat or drink himself. As a diabetic, Causey was at serious risk of entering a diabetic coma because his blood sugar levels were so low.
He was rescued a second time, but this time, he was too weak to resist being separated from the dogs.
Uncertain Times
Mack told me that the dogs had had nothing to eat and little to drink since the beginning of September. We spoke on September 19, and Mack wanted answers, answers I did not have. I didn't know if her dogs had been rescued. I didn't know if they were still waiting for a rescue and, if so, if they had survived the days, or perished from starvation and dehydration. And if the dogs had been rescued, I didn't know for sure where they were. Because of the space restrictions at Lamar-Dixon in Gonzales, Louisiana, many dogs had been moved to other shelters, where they would be held for owners to reclaim them.
In short, I had no definitive answers except to say that rescue teams continued to work, and great efforts were being made to reunite animals with owners. Even as I relayed this to her, I knew that as long as Mack was separated from her animals, these answers would not be good enough.
Since she and her family had been shuffled from motel to motel in Texas, Mack had no access to a computer. I gave her my direct line at The HSUS, and told her to call me whenever she wanted. I took down all her information and promised her that I would look on Petfinder.com to see if I could find her beloved animals. Mack's story touched my heart, and I was determined to help her find her Max, Peanut, and Cali.
The Pieces Fall Into Place
The next day, we spoke in the morning, and I had no new information. At around 5 p.m., my phone rang again. It was Mack.
"Oh no," I thought. I still had no answers.
But, her voice was noticeably calmer. She told me that she had located both Peanut and Max. A doctor in Arkansas called Mack to say that she was fostering them until Mack could take them. Both dogs had been rescued by HSUS volunteers, and had made their way safely into foster care in Arkansas. A reunion! Hallelujah.
At first, I thought, "It's a miracle!"
But then I realized that this reunion, and the many hundreds just like it, are the result of tremendously hard work from the staff and volunteers working in the field along the Gulf Coast and at our Call Center outside Washington, D.C. Amid all of the chaos surrounding a natural catastrophe, HSUS's disaster response teams, along with so many others, are helping to alleviate some of the heartbreak that both humans and their animals are experiencing.
While Mack probably has lost all of her material possessions, she now has her two dogs.
When I last spoke with her, Mack had been reunited with her grandfather, and will soon be reunited with Max and Peanut. But her story still holds a bittersweet note. Cali, the shy female Chihuahua with a white belly and white at the tip of her tail, is still missing. Mack already called me twice today looking for updates on Cali.
I continue to pray that this little dog will soon be found.
Beth Rosen is the manager of planning and evaluation at The HSUS.
