I had planned to leave Baton Rouge around 2:00 in the afternoon on the 26th to make the 13 hour drive back to my office so I could work on the morning of the 27th. About that time, a call came in that rescue teams had found a cockatiel alive, and they wanted someone to come into New Orleans to pick it up. Since I had not actually been into the city, I volunteered to go, and Neil went along to act as my guide since he had been there many times before. He knew how to deal with the police and National Guard troops that would be stopping all traffic, and he knew his way around the city.
We grabbed my medical supplies and a small carrier, along with soap and a tub in case the bird needed to be washed. We had to stop and fill the gas tank since there would be no gas stations open anywhere near New Orleans. The drive was over an hour, with stop and go traffic as trucks went into the city with supplies, and came out with unknown loads of things probably best unknown. Along the way we saw houses that were flooded and cars submerged along exit ramps, but there was no way to stop and take pictures.
Every exit ramp was blocked by armed officers, and a line of cars at each was waiting to get permission to pass. We were refused at our first stop, but told to go to the next exit since the roads would be clear to our destination if we exited there. I started to doubt that we would get thru when I saw every car ahead of us turned away. We had put magnetic signs on the side of my rented van that said 911 Parrot Alert Rescue, Neil was wearing his 911 rescue shirt, and I had my Dr. Julie Burge name tag on and had my Missouri and Kansas veterinary licenses in my pocket. Fortunately, the officers decided that we were legitimate, and allowed us to exit, with the warning that if we strayed from the direct route to our destination, we would be arrested.
This Winn Dixie grocery store had become a central drop-off point for animal rescue teams conducting door to door searches for animals that still survived a month after the hurricane and flood. A dozen vans, SUVs and pick up trucks, all with some sort of rescue signs on their sides, were parked along the perimeter of the parking lot. Piles of broken dog crates, shopping carts, and garbage were randomly scattered and we have to weave our way around them. There were a couple of large RVs and a semi trailer parked near the front of the building, and a bulldozer off at the far end of the lot. I learned that someone had hotwired the bulldozer to clear debris after Hurricane Rita destroyed much of their equipment that could not be moved to safety.
As we approached, I could see that someone had spray painted the words "The Doggie Dome" on the side of the semi trailer. The doors of the store were boarded up, and I assume nobody would want to go inside as the place was probably full of rotten food. Huge wire dog crates formed rows, but all of them I saw out here were empty.
It wasn't until we got under the big tent that the hospital was visible. One of the volunteers told me that just two hours before we arrived, a big truck had come for most of the animals, but the cages would be filled again within a day. These were new arrivals that had just been found and were eating their first decent meals in 4 weeks. I asked why some of the dogs looked so good. "They were eating other cats and dogs," she replied.
This Rottweiller had probably been shut inside a house. He was skeletal, but he was able to eat and drink without vomiting. They could only give the animals small amounts of food and water at a time, because otherwise they would eat too much at once and be sick. I saw a woman sitting in a folding chair, holding a little Chihuahua wrapped in a towel, shivering despite the heat. An IV catheter was in his leg, and a bag of fluids hung from a pole dripping the fluid into his vein. I looked into the dog's eyes and saw everything that he had gone thru. His despair at being left behind by the family he trusted and loved, his fear of being alone in his house for 28 days, the starvation and dehydration he had sufferered, and now being worked on by strangers with big dogs all around. I could not speak to the woman as I was trying hard not to cry and was choking on my tears. I did not feel it was right to ask her if I could take a picture.
There were only four cats there since the others had been taken away to a shelter. One of the volunteers was thrilled that I had a health certificate with me and could fill it out so she could take two of the cats home the next day. They were found wandering loose, and the odds of anyone ever claiming them was extremely slim. I wanted to bring home a truck load of animals myself, knowing that the pit bulls and Rottweilers and Dobermans were not all going to find their owners or anyone to adopt them later on. This cat would have been the one animal I would have taken had I had the choice, even above the birds I saw. She was nothing but skin and bones, and her face was covered with chemical burns. She had been eating, but had not been sent out on the truck since she was too sick to tolerate the move. As I tried again to choke back tears and talk to the workers, the cat stood up and strained for a long time to defecate. She finally passed a small amount of stool, possibly the first bowel movement she had passed after weeks of starvation.
It turned out that two parakeets had been brought in just before we arrived, so we now had three birds to take back to Donna's house. They were all eating and drinking and I hated to stress them by pulling them out of their cages, and the cockatiel was whistling at himself in his mirror. I took the cockatiel out of his cage and trimmed his wings, placing him in the carrier we brought, since his cage was horrible with filth and too rusty to bother saving. We got the addresses where the birds had been found and started to load things back into the van.
As we worked, more of the volunteers came over to talk to me since they heard there was a veternarian on the premises. I learned that a number of vets had visited, had their pictures taken with an animal or two, and left within 10 minutes. They begged me to stay and help, and said they had all the medical supplies they needed, but technicians were having to make all the treatment decisions. They had requested a veterinarian from FEMA, the Humane Society, and any other organization they could find, but none had come to help. I had to explain that I hadn't worked on dogs or cats in 10 years, that I should have left to return to Missouri hours earlier, and that I had to take the birds and Neil back to Baton Rouge before dark when the streets of New Orleans would probably be closed.
I know that they understood, but I still felt guilty that all I did was show up, pick up a couple of birds, take a few pictures, and leave just like all the other vets. I promised them I would do whatever I could to make their situation known so that next time, at least one organization would try to have a veterinarian at the front line M.A.S.H. unit for pets.
After dropping the birds at Donna's for the other veterinarian (I'm so sorry I have forgotten her name!) to examine and treat, I loaded my stuff into the van, along with a bunch of little cages that I would try to sell so I could send the money back to Donna. I finally hit the road at 7:30 pm, drove until 4:30 am, when I finally had to pull over and sleep for two hours in the front seat of the van. Once I got back to work, we already started planning a third trip. I hope someone can loan us a van since there are 4 or 5 people who want to go and help, and we are running out of money.
