By Heather Cammisa

For a sheltering professional from the mid-Atlantic region, working on a project focused on spaying and neutering in the post-Katrina Gulf Coast region has been an extraordinary experience. Euthanasia rates are high.  Shelters are often the unwanted stepchildren of municipal governments, and their budgets reflect that status. Privately run shelters struggle to raise funds in an economically stressed area. 

During my time in the Gulf Coast region, I have met amazing, dedicated people who are working themselves to the limit in these shelters. They've told me of adoption rates that eroded after the storm, of animal intake spikes due to increased population and abandonment, and of programs that failed after volunteers moved away. Transport programs are drying up. Some shelters have rebuilt but others are operating out of buildings that are literally crumbling as a result of neglect or the devastating force of Katrina.

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Frank and Tony with the author.

They are working hard under difficult conditions, and although I was there as part of a broader, big picture effort, to change the norm in these communities, I felt compelled to do a little more.

That's how it happened that I took away two pups for transfer after I visited St. Bernard Parish's animal shelter, in an area terribly affected by Katrina. 

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Post-Katrina shelters work to get back up to full capacity.

Active with a shelter up north that is committed to assist other organizations whenever room and standing in-state agreements permit, I called to see if there was "room at the inn."  Happily, there was, so two four-month-old shepherd mix pups, who I thought would have good prospects for adoption, would be going north. 

I did a quick study of airline requirements and hit a store for supplies. Luckily, my hotel was animal friendly, and my traveling partner was supportive.

A last minute meeting at the Humane Society of South Mississippi would have conflicted with the pups' veterinary appointment. They needed health certificates to board the airplane in two days. When I shared my dilemma, HSSM staff were upset that I hadn't considered asking for their help. You see, I'm a shelter person. Disease control is perhaps the largest issue in an animal shelter and you don't risk bringing a disease into a facility.  But the HSSM folks insisted. 

So, off we went the next morning to pick up the dogs with crate, leashes, collars, food, toys and bedding. The shelter employees at St. Bernard were thrilled. We learned that the pups had been abandoned there two months prior. At HSSM, both dogs got a bath. We left the dogs with the clinic staff for examinations and rabies vaccinations.  Later on, we made a donation to cover rabies vaccines and exams. 

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Frank and Tony show their appreciation

The dogs walked with me along the Gulf of Mexico. I named them Frank and Tony in honor of the two saints celebrated for their kindness to animals. The pups were amazed at sand and surf.  They were especially puzzled by the hotel elevator.  The dogs had lived outside at St. Bernard due to space constraints and they fell fast asleep in the cool temperature-controlled air in my room.  My large bathroom was converted into a puppy playpen. They loved it. They were little angels – no accidents, no barking. 

When I reached the cargo section of the airline, the gentleman at the counter quoted me a price $100 higher than I was told on the phone. The dogs were just over the weight class I estimated due to the weight of the carrier. My husband was going to kill me.  Filling out the paperwork I was asked the dogs' story. When I shared it, the man expressed gratitude for helping out animals in his community and shaved a few pounds off. 

I was distracted the entire flight, worrying about Frank and Tony. Their lives had been pure chaos over the past 24 hours. They went from an outside pen where they had lived for two months to a 2-hour car ride to a grooming tub, to a clinic, to a hotel, to a beach, to an airport and now they were in a cargo hold flying at 35,000 feet. 

After landing, I bolted from the plane to the cargo pick-up counter. I was certain the dogs would have messed in their cage and be covered in urine and feces. 

When they arrived, they looked happy at the front of their crate. No stress. No mess. The airline workers had given them water. 

At the first possible stop off the highway, I put their leashes on and took them for a walk to do their business.  Then they fell asleep for the rest of the ride home.

After a short foster period they spent several weeks at Jersey Shore Animal Center (JSAC) where they received the rest of their shots, were neutered, and adopted to two responsible, loving homes. Their new owners hope to arrange play dates so they can continue to see each other. The high school boy whose family adopted Tony tells me that Tony sleeps in bed with him and that Tony is a great dog, although they're teaching him not to jump on people.

This was one happy ending, one effort to right the wrongs of the owner who did not spay or neuter and who abandoned these dogs. Yet it took the hard work of those at the St. Bernard Parish shelter, my traveling partner and me, the folks at HSSM, a pet-friendly hotel, JSAC staff and volunteers, the kindness of airline workers, my husband, and two loving families. When the hands are many, it seems, so are the rewards.

Heather Cammisa, HSUS Research Associate, is working in the Gulf Coast states as part of The HSUS’s ongoing recovery efforts in the region.