By Julie Falconer
Returning lost pets to their families is the highlight of any animal sheltering work. But in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, reunions take on a special significance. They not only give rescuers and volunteers hope to keep going in their race to salvage as many lives as possible from the wreckage of the Gulf Coast, but they also give the human victims of the storm an important piece of their life back—maybe the only piece.
In the days since Katrina ripped into New Orleans and surrounding areas, more than 400 pets and owners have been reunited in Gonzales, Louisiana and in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, the sites of massive animal rescue and sheltering operations. Every time there is a reunion in Hattiesburg, folks ring a bell, and volunteers stop to applaud the happy return of pet to family.
But no matter where the reunion takes place, you'll usually find laughter, hugs, tears, and cheers. And why not? For a moment anyway, hurricane victims can forget about all they've lost, and instead feel deeply grateful that the life of a beloved pet was spared and the animal tracked down.
Here's the first in a series of snapshot reunions that we'll post on hsus.org. Please return on a regular basis to read others. You can also read previously posted reunion stories in the sidebar box above.
Jamie and Almonaster Johnson
Eight years ago, Jamie Johnson was driving a truck for an auto parts supplier when he noticed a reddish-gold puppy darting into traffic along Almonaster Boulevard. Johnson worried he could be fired if he stopped to pick up the animal in his work truck, but his humane instincts outweighed his fear. He took the puppy home and named the animal for the street where they first met.
A month ago, when New Orleans evacuation orders were issued, Johnson, his wife, his daughter, and his dog gathered with other relatives at a family member's home in Orleans Parish that was considered safer because of its higher elevation. When weather reports became more dire, they decided to leave the city, but Johnson's brother, Reyne, refused to budge. The Johnsons left Almonaster with Reyne, figuring the two would keep each other safe, even though they might be stuck in a house without electricity for a few days. None of the Johnsons foresaw the massive damage to come, or the flooding that would prevent them from returning to the city.
After two weeks, Jamie Johnson had little hope of ever seeing his brother or dog again. "I knew they were dead," he said.
But a few days ago, his wife, Roxanne, started to look through a Yahoo.com slideshow of Hurricane Katrina photographs. Picture 89 of 661 showed Reyne being led from the house by a Miami-Dade search-and-rescue team.
Reyne and Almonaster spent 17 days in the flooded house, seven of them on the roof. Reyne could have been rescued days earlier but because of his extreme shyness, he hid from National Guardsmen, certain that his family would eventually return.
"There was no way for us to get in touch with each other, and he had no idea we couldn't come get him," said Johnson.
Reyne was taken to a hospital and released. The Johnsons went to the Lamar-Dixon emergency shelter in Gonzales in search of Almonaster. They found him in the intensive care unit, a painfully thin shadow of the dog they'd left behind. Members of the Veterinary Medical Assistance Teams struggled to keep the animal alive.
Before the family arrived, Almonaster had refused to eat, and had the listless look of an animal who had given up the will to live. But after his family found him, Almonaster ate his first voluntary meal since arriving at Lamar-Dixon. Within an hour, a veterinarian arranged to transfer Almonaster to Louisiana State University's veterinary center for additional treatment, and promised to help raise funds to pay the bill.
Katrina's toll on Almonaster, however, was apparently too much. The dog had continued to gain strength at the LSU veterinary center, but he took a sudden turn for the worse following a blood tranfusion. If there was any blessing in Almonaster's brief reunion with his family, it was that they were by his side when he died.
Julie Falconer is an editor in Publications at The HSUS.
