My writings on the night of the 28th, the night before Katrina hit the
gulf coast:
 
It is now 2:30am.  I am a news junkie tonight.  I am listening to Art
Bell's live coverage of hurricane Katrina as it approaches the gulf
coast.  Katrina is predicted to hit as a category five hurricane, with
winds of one hundred and sixty miles per hour.  All news sources are
saying that Katrina is going to be the worst hurricane to hit the gulf
coast in decades, and it looks as if New Orleans will be taking the
brunt of it.
 
I scour the internet while listening to Art.  I read that New Orleans
should already be evacuated for the most part, but many remain behind.
Many are staying in New Orleans' Superdome, of all places.  Art takes a
call from a man who is going to ride out the storm in his home.  Art and
the man talk about the man's reasons for staying behind, illogical as
they might be, but for some reason they shift to talking about pets who
are being left behind.
 
I remember from previous hurricanes in Florida that pets are not allowed
in shelters.  I understand the reasoning for this, in a desperately
pragmatic sense, but I cannot conceive of leaving my own pets behind.
The first thing that crosses my mind is that ferrets cannot swim.  It
only takes me a few moments, however, to realize that it would make
little difference.  I am guessing that most people who left their
ferrets behind would probably leave them in their cages.  I think about
the consequences of doing this, and it is like a bad dream.
 
I try to sort it out in my head.  If I had to absolutely leave them
behind, would I let them roam freely, hoping that they would make make
it to safety?  I think of the storm surge, and I realize that there is
no such thing as safety in that scenario.  Would I leave them in their
cages, hoping for the best-case scenario, secured in my house in case
doors and windows blew out?  I give up.  This is all lunacy.  My wife
and I would pack the car with our eleven ferrets, our dog, and some food
and water, and gladly live in cramped quarters ("live" being the key
word, here).  Maybe this is lunacy, too.  I live in Albuquerque, and
never having lived in a coastal city I cannot conceive of the reality
of evacuating my home with eleven ferrets and a dog.
 
I look at some news video, and I see that dolphins and seals from some
marine entertainment park are now in a Best Western swimming pool.  In
the wild, marine animals such as these would have long since found
safety, but these animals are not so lucky.  In the video, people are
laughing and enjoying the sight of dolphins and seals in a motel pool.
It is a surreal sight.  Even as the storm bears down on the gulf coast,
these animals are still performing.  Enough of this.
 
I check the internet for news on Katrina.  I find a bridge cam in New
Orleans, but the foreboding image shows little but a dark and wet lens.
Last reports are showing Katrina as a category five storm with sustained
winds up to one hundred and sixty-five miles per hour.  There is talk
that the storm surge might reach twenty-eight feet, ten feet above New
Orleans' sea walls.  Along Katrina's eye-wall, there are sixty-five foot
waves.  Art's guest talks about Katrina's worst-case scenario, where
it takes out the levees and puts New Orleans entirely underwater.  With
the levees gone, the city will be transformed into a churning sludge of
wreckage, chemicals, and sewage.  But enough of these doomsday
predictions, already.  For those watching Katrina from the safety of
their living rooms, it is so much info-tainment.  But for those in the
middle of this hurricane, it is a terrifying reality.
 
The FML pops into my inbox, and I read about the shelters who are
battened down and riding out the hurricane.  One post states that they
have been unable to contact a New Orleans shelter.  We can only hope that
they have made it to safety, but moving 20 or more ferrets is a major
undertaking.  My thoughts and prayers are with them.
 
I try to imagine moving eleven ferrets in a Suzuki Sidekick.  I'm not
even sure I could do it.  The only cage I have that would fit in my car
would not be large enough to house eleven ferrets.  I would have to fold
up the larger cage, and put my guys in carriers.  I realize that I only
have two carriers which I use when I take my guys to the doc.  The two
carriers would not be enough to transport eleven ferrets.  To boot, I
carelessly imagine this taking place in fair weather.  It is sobering to
imagine undertaking this feat in a stinging rain, with wind gusts of 30
miles per hour or stronger.  I can only hope at this point that all gulf
coast ferrets have already been safely evacuated.
 
Art takes a heartbreaking call from a man who has abandoned his home in
New Orleans and moved inland.  The man has taken the deed from his home
with him, and is taking refuge in a town of which he's unfamiliar.  He
anticipates the loss of his home, and it is easy to hear the desperation
in his voice.  It is not hard to imagine tens of thousands of people in
that same state of mind, waiting for Katrina to hit.
 
My thoughts and prayers are truly with all of the gulf coast this
morning.  I am comfortable and dry in the safety of my own living room.
Scritch wanders by, and I pick him up and nestle him in my arms, and he
stays there for a bit without fighting me.  Later, Shelby walks up my leg
and calmly jumps up on my computer desk, curious about what I'm doing.
They are my babies, alright.  But tonight all the ferrets of the gulf
coast are my babies, and my thoughts and prayers are with them.
 
For some reason, verses from the Bible pop into my head.  I only remember
parts of these verses, but I look up the rest.  And while I am not a
Christian in any true sense, I cannot help but take some sort of comfort
from them:
 
"But soon a fierce storm arose... Frantically they woke him up, shouting,
'Teacher, don't you even care that we are going to drown?'  When he woke
up, he rebuked the wind and said to the water, 'Quiet down!' Suddenly the
wind stopped, and there was a great calm.  And he asked them, 'Why are
you so afraid?..' " (Mark 4:37-39)
 
May God be with all living beings, both afraid and steadfast, who await
this unmerciful storm.
 
Roary
Albuquerque, NM
blog - http://ferretphilosophy.blogspot.com/
[Posted in FML issue 4987]