By Julie Falconer 

GONZALES, Louisiana—Most of Katrina's canine victims have weathered far more than 150-mph winds and heavy flooding to find themselves sitting in crates here at the Lamar-Dixon temporary shelter. They've faced unimaginable hardship, beginning with the absence of the very people who have provided them with comfort and food. They've braved collapsed and moldy buildings, contaminated water, blistering heat, no reliable food source, and sometimes even the dusty, toxic streets of New Orleans, which have at times resembled a war zone.

Thanks to their perseverance—not to mention the thousands of people who have worked day and night to rescue, shelter, and help reunite them with their owners—hundreds, perhaps thousands, of these dogs will return home. Or return to a new home if the old owners cannot support a pet at this time. But for several breeds generally lumped under the umbrella term "pit bull," life after Katrina has included one more major obstacle—overcoming a bad reputation not of their own making.

This is the story of how one San Francisco-based group has worked to save hundreds of pit bulls rescued in Louisiana. To do so, the group has had to overcome its own obstacles: shelters that won't accept pit bulls, people who fear them, and municipalities, including one in the New Orleans area, that ban pits outright.

Pit Bull Predicament

Louisiana has a bit of a reputation of its own: as a top pit bull-producing state. After Katrina hit, many of those pits found themselves homeless, abandoned or trapped without food and water. Some were pets, some were fighting dogs, and some were probably breeding animals. But no matter what role they played in their pre-Katrina lives, they usually ended up in a line of kennels at Lamar-Dixon, away from the other populations of dogs and cats. Officials at Lamar-Dixon also beefed up security around the pits and provided "escorts" for owners looking to reunite with their pit bulls, just to make sure no undesirables wandered off with these valuable dogs.

The precautions were necessary not just to prevent theft, but also to promote safety: Pits are bred to be aggressive to other dogs, and dogfighters exploit that trait by training the animals to be relentlessly vicious. Pit bulls' fearsome reputation—borne from the growing popularity of underground dogfighting—now follows the dogs no matter where they go, or how they behave. Cities, such as Denver and Toledo, Ohio, and counties, such as Plaquemines Parish outside of New Orleans, have banned pits. Some insurance companies refuse homeowners coverage when a pit is part of the family. Even some shelters refuse to take on the responsibility of housing a breed too often seen as unadoptable.

Enter the pit bull rescue and education group BAD RAP (Bay Area Dog Lovers Responsible about Pit Bulls). Members of the San Francisco-based nonprofit traveled to Lamar-Dixon in late September to help these much-maligned animals shed their tarnished image and showcase their potential as loving and loyal pets.

BAD RAP Executive Director Donna Reynolds and her team helped find homes for dozens of pit bulls rescued in the aftermath of Katrina. (HSUS/Julie Falconer)

Executive Director Donna Reynolds and cofounder Tim Racer arrived with a veterinarian, a technician, and two vans full of medical supplies to help care for and assess pit bulls rescued from south Louisiana. Relying on temperament testing and their years of experience with the breed, they spent six days identifying the most adoptable dogs and encouraging shelters to include pit bulls in their transport trucks, which arrived daily at Lamar-Dixon to fetch animals for relocation.

"BAD RAP's commonsense approach and teamwork made them invaluable in placing a large number of these dogs in qualified foster homes across the United States," said John Snyder, senior director of Companion Animals for The HSUS. "These foster homes are with people who understand the nature and needs of the breed. The pit bulls at Lamar-Dixon had a real friend in BAD RAP."

Guardian Angels

BAD RAP wasn't the only group at Lamar-Dixon advocating for pit bulls—The HSUS, ASPCA, and others worked to encourage shelters around the country to accept pits—but the Bay Area organization certainly proved to be the dogs' most protective guardian angel. And there were plenty of pits to protect. Literally hundreds have come through Lamar-Dixon, many displaying a similar kind of behavior: simultaneously frightened and grateful for any attention shown them, eager to please their human handlers, and a bag of submissive trembles when encountering other dogs.

Although "pit bull" is an umbrella term for any dog with pit bull characteristics, the vast majority at Lamar-Dixon have been purebred American pit bull terriers—many from the "Boudreaux" bloodline, Reynolds noted. Louisiana's Floyd Boudreaux, the so-called "godfather of dogfighting," was one of the most infamous dogfighters and breeders in the United States until his arrest last March on 57 felony counts of dogfighting and two counts of animal cruelty.

But a "Boudreaux" or fighting-line heritage doesn't necessarily spell disaster for these dogs who have already survived the biggest disaster of their lives. In fact, fighting-line dogs are specifically bred to be trustworthy with people, which could literally be the animals' saving grace.

It was BAD RAP's job to sort through the pits and determine who would make a suitable pet and who would not. To make its determinations, the group used a process known as temperament testing, which measures a dog's aggressiveness toward both humans and other animals.

Though many individuals in every breed can't be trusted to share the same space with their own species, pit bulls can be more difficult to successfully place in homes with other canines. Any breed of dog can be aggressive, said animal behaviorist Scott Jetter, who notes that the most aggressive dog he's ever worked with was a golden retriever from a puppy mill. "Pits just need to be with the right owner because they can cause more damage if they're aggressive."

That's why temperament testing was so important at Lamar-Dixon. Known in the Bay Area for its expertise in handling pit bulls, promoting responsible ownership, and training shelter staff in temperament testing, BAD RAP's team members conducted detailed behavior evaluations on almost every pit at Lamar-Dixon, including an exercise in rough play to provoke the dogs to see who might literally bite the hand that feeds them. The team also evaluated aggression toward other dogs, though as Reynolds noted, "a little dog aggression is acceptable as long as they're responsive to the handler's command."

"We pushed them pretty hard," said Reynolds. By the end of its stay, the team had identified dozens of dogs who were "rock-solid with humans in every situation." Of the 200 dogs tested, only three failed to pass the tests. Reynolds estimated about a third were suitable for adoption to the general public.

When BAD RAP members packed their bags to go back to San Francisco at the end of September, they loaded 13 pits with them to foster out to preselected homes in California; they also placed 25 other pits with shelters and rescue organizations. Even better, dozens of pits continue to be transported to shelters around the country, perhaps in part due to BAD RAP's work at Lamar-Dixon and beyond.

These rescued pits "may not be dog park dogs, but they're fabulous with families," said Reynolds, noting that some pits become less dog-tolerant as they mature. Racer added that "all the positives (of owning a pit bull) are worth having that little bit of extra responsibility—the companionship of pit bulls is unmatched."

Some people at Lamar-Dixon discovered this truth on their own. Like volunteer Tim O'Brien, district manager of the Connecticut Humane Society, who quickly learned why pit bulls are such a popular pet in the bayou. "They're amazingly nice dogs—beautiful, friendly, outgoing, and attention-loving," he said.

As if to back up those words, O'Brien and his team handpicked nine pits bull to transport to Connecticut for sheltering and foster care.

Julie Falconer is an editor in Publications at The HSUS.