We had a couple of other memorable off-campus events, my favorite of which was the laundry day. There wasn't a lot of humor in the week, but on that occasion, when we opened the garbage bags of soiled dog & cat laundry in the laundromat, and geysers of flies shot forth like buzzing oil strikes, I laughed until I cried. (I believe the only alternative would have been to cry until I laughed.) One other time we bartered giving someone a ride into the Garden District for the only actual showers we had during the week. The small apartment that housed the shower also housed fourteen bored kittens who were delighted to have us as their new playthings. And on our final night there, a deputized U.S. Marshall who needed a ride into town bought us dinner on the only crockery dinner plates we saw all week.

MILITARY VISITORS Military personnel, US. Marshals, police, disaster workers and contractors stopped in frequently, I think because they were far from home and enjoyed visiting the dogs.
	While we were there, a couple of dogs were adopted by personnel stationed in the area.

When we did get out at noontime, we always tried to find something to eat. There was very little open and the two or three establishments that we did find in town only served pre-formed hamburgers or nachos as a sideline to their bar business, but it was a break from granola bars. And we were usually streaked with something unmentionable so a dingy establishment was fine. Later in the week, when we ventured in the direction of Metaire and the nearest WalMart, out towards the airport, we found a nice little café that served real comfort food for churning stomachs. Back at camp, there was dinner some nights brought by a wonderful man who had had his dog rescued by the Winn-Dixie crew and who fed the entire outfit several times during our stay on his own nickel.

After the noon break, we'd return for the afternoon walks, and to my everlasting shame, chagrin & nightmares, often there was no way with the help available to get them all out in the afternoon. By the time it got to be 5:30, there wasn't much point because we'd start the evening walks at 7 which often lasted until 10 p.m. or later. And just as we headed off to bed, the rescuers would begin driving up with the animals they had caught or found that evening.

Sleeping was hard. The noise of the generators, cars returning with animals in humane traps, incessant barking, the slamming of the Port-a-John doors and people walking around the parking lot defied all ear plugs. And nighttime temperatures seemed to veer crazily from much too hot to much too cold. It was a week of very hard physical work, emotional highs & lows, and not much sleep.

Maybe tomorrow I'll write about the dogs, or maybe I never will, but I will write more . . . .

CONTINUE WITH
IN THE EYE OF THE STORM:
KATRINA "A-TEAM" TRIP HERE