Rescuers help save hundreds of pets from areas hit by hurricanes
Lizzie's hurricane finally ended on a bright September day in a Washington townhouse, four weeks and 1,400 miles from the floodwaters that overwhelmed her Houston neighborhood in August.
"Welcome home, Lizziepoo," whispered Kayla Robinson, 26, as she carried the still-quivering Chihuahua mix across the threshold to a new life of plentiful food, squeaky toys and two dog beds of her very own. It was a comfy end to a journey that started at an emergency animal shelter in Texas, spanned nine states and touched foster families and rescue volunteers in five cities.
As a historically destructive hurricane season grinds on, Lizzie is one of hundreds of displaced pets now pouring through a pop-up pipeline established between storm-ravaged areas from Texas to Puerto Rico and urban centers throughout the country, including Washington, D.C. Here, the flow of Harvey-, Irma- and, soon, Maria-dogs is reshaping the local rescue landscape. Even as Hurricane Nate landed in Mississippi this weekend, groups were radically expanding their capacity to receive, shelter and place a stream of animals expected to continue for months.
"We're upping all of it – fundraising, volunteers, donated supplies, space," said Colleen Learch, spokesman for the Arlington, Virginia-based Lost Dog and Cat Rescue Foundation, one of several organizations on the receiving end of the onslaught. Last month, the group took over a defunct boarding kennel in Falls Church, Virginia, that can accommodate up to 200 of the animals it has been taking from the hurricane zones.
There has long been a supply-and-demand relationship between parts of the South, where spay-and-neuter traditions are weak, and adoption-crazy population centers such as Washington, New Jersey, Chicago and Seattle. But the hurricane bulge has vastly boosted the flow, and it will continue to grow. Many of the pets abandoned in Texas will never be claimed. Some families struggling to rebuild will surrender yet more animals to shelters or simply turn them loose, free to breed on the streets.
"There will be a puppy and kitten boom around Christmas," Learch predicted.
Lizzie's trek out of Texas illustrates the refugee railroad that has sprung up to move the animals northward.
She wasn't named Lizzie when, a few weeks after Harvey struck, the scrawny brown dog was one of 30 brought one day to a shelter set up in an empty Houston grocery store.