With another hurricane about to hit in the Gulf of Mexico, we could use a heart-warming story to ease our tensions -- if just for a moment.
Below is a story that we ran today in the Star-Telegram about a nurse who evacuated from one of New Orleans' hospitals and was forced to leave her dog behind at the hospital. (Employees, families & pets sought shelter at the hospital during Hurricane Katrina. I remember reading about a doctor who was prepared to euthanize the pets left behind, rather than have them die in rising floodwaters if they couldn't be evacuated too).
This reunion took place in Aledo, Texas, a town of about 1,200 where my husband & I live. It's about 20 miles west of downtown Fort Worth on Interstate 20.
Posted on Wed, Sep. 21, 2005
A dog has her day
New Orleans couple land in Maryland, then find their dog in Texas
By Melody Mcdonald
Star-Telegram Staff Writer
ALEDO - Cheryl Landry sobbed as she tied Napi to a pole on the hospital's roof and repeatedly told her little dog goodbye. She wrote two cellphone numbers on a white hospital band and secured it around the dog's neck. "Napi Witland belongs to Cheryl Landry, RN," it read. Then Landry boarded a boat with her husband and daughter and, after four days of dealing with death and despair, sped away from New Orleans' Lindy Boggs Medical Center -- and her beloved 2-year-old pug.
Anesthesiologist James Riopelle, armed with a stash of morphine, had told his co-workers at the hospital that he would stay behind and take care of about 65 pets -- including a couple of guinea pigs -- for as long as it was safe.
If it became necessary, he would euthanize the animals rather than let them succumb to the rising floodwaters in the hospital.
"I'm thinking that Napi was dead," Landry said. "I thought they had euthanized her."
But then she got a phone call she thought would never come: Napi was alive and well in Aledo.
On Tuesday, in a reunion that brought bystanders to tears, Napi finally -- after three long weeks -- found her way back into Landry's arms.
Stuck at hospital
As the storm approached New Orleans on Aug. 28, Cheryl Landry persuaded her usually storm-stubborn husband, Larry, to ride it out at the hospital, where she worked as a nurse and her daughter worked as a medical secretary.
Napi went too, joining dozens of other pets brought there by the hospital staff and patients.
After Hurricane Katrina struck -- and the power went out and the water began to rise -- things went from bad to horrific at Lindy Boggs. Over the next few days, the hospital staff worked tirelessly in the sweltering heat to care for patients, fanning them with cardboard boxes and rationing food, water and medicine.
Many patients died. At one point, Larry Landry helped carry the bodies through the dark building to a makeshift morgue on the second floor.
"What we saw in the hospital was not normal," Cheryl Landry said. "There was nothing that we could do to care for these people. We did the best that we could with what we had."
Several days later, a fleet of boats finally arrived to begin evacuating patients and staff from the hospital.
That's when Cheryl Landry said she was told she could not take Napi.
"I didn't want to leave without my dog," she said. "The hospital administrator came and said, 'You can't. You have to leave her.' I couldn't fathom the idea of leaving her, that was like my child."
Cheryl Landry said she tried to sneak Napi out in a bag. Her husband, feeling his wife's desperation, begged a hospital security guard to try and save their dog. The guard said he couldn't.
"Meanwhile, she [Cheryl] is just going hysterical," Larry Landry said.
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Cheryl Landry took Napi up to the roof with the other workers' pets, where a dog run had been created, tied her down and sobbed.
"At that time, we had evacuated just about all of the patients," she said. "I think we had about nine left, and those patients weren't movable.
"At that time, everybody was so distraught. Family members were crying inside, and I had to go. They were begging me to hurry up. My daughter grabbed my hand and told me to come on."
Landry said that boats carried them to a causeway under the Interstate 10 bridge, where they waited with thousand of others.
"I get out of there in the crowd of people and I see all of these people with their animals," she said. "I felt so guilty."
From there, they boarded a school bus that carried them to a shelter in Lafayette, La.
The next day, they rented a car and drove to Baltimore, where Cheryl Landry's family lives.
Napi never left her thoughts.
"I cried from that point on," Cheryl Landry said. "All I could think about was the things she used to do -- you know, peep around the corner at me. Everywhere I move, all I hear is her little feet clicking."
She didn't know that Tenet Healthcare Corporation, which owns Lindy Boggs Medical Center, had arranged to have helicopters and boats evacuate the workers' pets from the hospital.
The animals were taken to Slidell, La., and then bused to an airport in Hattiesburg, Miss.
There, four people from the Aledo Vet Clinic -- Kent Glenn, Janine Theal, C.J. Bishop and Susan Hill -- set up a triage center, where they treated the pets, who, for the most part, were mostly just hungry and dehydrated. Only one of the animals, a cat, had to be put to sleep.
The team then loaded up the animals and drove them to Texas, arriving on Sept. 6. The pets were placed with foster families until they could be reunited with their owners.
"It's a blessing to give these people back their pets," Theal said. "For some, it's the one thing they have left."
Mary Lou Finsterwald, a second-grade teacher in Aledo and animal lover, took Napi home and instantly fell in love.
"She is a wonderful dog," Finsterwald said.
The next day, Finsterwald called the numbers on the hospital band around Napi's neck.
Phone tag works
Landry was sitting on her sister's porch in Baltimore when the phone rang.
"Mary Lou introduced herself and asked me if I had a dog," Landry recalled. "I said, 'Yes,' and she said, "Well, I have Napi.'
"I hollered!"
The Landrys said Finsterwald told her how Napi was rescued and assured them that she was fine.
"That was the greatest moment of our lives," Larry Landry said. "She said, 'Do what you have to do, take your time, she'll be ready when y'all are ready for her.' "
Landry said that she and her husband began making arrangements to drive to Texas to get Napi.
On Sunday, after deciding they couldn't wait any longer, they loaded up and "put the pedal to the metal," Cheryl Landry said.
Tuesday morning, the couple walked into the Aledo Vet Clinic, where they had agreed to meet Finsterwald. They cried and hugged and pumped the hands of the staff who were instrumental in bringing their family back together.
Then, Finsterwald walked in carrying their dog.
"Napi! Napi!" the Landrys cried, scooping up their pet as customers in the waiting room began wiping away tears.
Napi, wearing a hot-pink collar, began crawling all over the Landrys and quickly began making up for three weeks of lost kisses.
"It's a definite miracle," Cheryl Landry said. " My thoughts were that I would never see her again."
After Finsterwald gave them a scrapbook filled with photos of Napi taken over the last few weeks and that now-tattered hospital band, the couple got on the road with Napi and pointed their car toward New Orleans.
They plan to try to return home to retrieve photos and some valuables before heading back to Maryland to start a new life.
"This is the grand finale right here," Larry Landry said. "Thank you."
Below is a story that we ran today in the Star-Telegram about a nurse who evacuated from one of New Orleans' hospitals and was forced to leave her dog behind at the hospital. (Employees, families & pets sought shelter at the hospital during Hurricane Katrina. I remember reading about a doctor who was prepared to euthanize the pets left behind, rather than have them die in rising floodwaters if they couldn't be evacuated too).
This reunion took place in Aledo, Texas, a town of about 1,200 where my husband & I live. It's about 20 miles west of downtown Fort Worth on Interstate 20.
Posted on Wed, Sep. 21, 2005
A dog has her day
New Orleans couple land in Maryland, then find their dog in Texas
By Melody Mcdonald
Star-Telegram Staff Writer
ALEDO - Cheryl Landry sobbed as she tied Napi to a pole on the hospital's roof and repeatedly told her little dog goodbye. She wrote two cellphone numbers on a white hospital band and secured it around the dog's neck. "Napi Witland belongs to Cheryl Landry, RN," it read. Then Landry boarded a boat with her husband and daughter and, after four days of dealing with death and despair, sped away from New Orleans' Lindy Boggs Medical Center -- and her beloved 2-year-old pug.
Anesthesiologist James Riopelle, armed with a stash of morphine, had told his co-workers at the hospital that he would stay behind and take care of about 65 pets -- including a couple of guinea pigs -- for as long as it was safe.
If it became necessary, he would euthanize the animals rather than let them succumb to the rising floodwaters in the hospital.
"I'm thinking that Napi was dead," Landry said. "I thought they had euthanized her."
But then she got a phone call she thought would never come: Napi was alive and well in Aledo.
On Tuesday, in a reunion that brought bystanders to tears, Napi finally -- after three long weeks -- found her way back into Landry's arms.
Stuck at hospital
As the storm approached New Orleans on Aug. 28, Cheryl Landry persuaded her usually storm-stubborn husband, Larry, to ride it out at the hospital, where she worked as a nurse and her daughter worked as a medical secretary.
Napi went too, joining dozens of other pets brought there by the hospital staff and patients.
After Hurricane Katrina struck -- and the power went out and the water began to rise -- things went from bad to horrific at Lindy Boggs. Over the next few days, the hospital staff worked tirelessly in the sweltering heat to care for patients, fanning them with cardboard boxes and rationing food, water and medicine.
Many patients died. At one point, Larry Landry helped carry the bodies through the dark building to a makeshift morgue on the second floor.
"What we saw in the hospital was not normal," Cheryl Landry said. "There was nothing that we could do to care for these people. We did the best that we could with what we had."
Several days later, a fleet of boats finally arrived to begin evacuating patients and staff from the hospital.
That's when Cheryl Landry said she was told she could not take Napi.
"I didn't want to leave without my dog," she said. "The hospital administrator came and said, 'You can't. You have to leave her.' I couldn't fathom the idea of leaving her, that was like my child."
Cheryl Landry said she tried to sneak Napi out in a bag. Her husband, feeling his wife's desperation, begged a hospital security guard to try and save their dog. The guard said he couldn't.
"Meanwhile, she [Cheryl] is just going hysterical," Larry Landry said.
%
Cheryl Landry took Napi up to the roof with the other workers' pets, where a dog run had been created, tied her down and sobbed.
"At that time, we had evacuated just about all of the patients," she said. "I think we had about nine left, and those patients weren't movable.
"At that time, everybody was so distraught. Family members were crying inside, and I had to go. They were begging me to hurry up. My daughter grabbed my hand and told me to come on."
Landry said that boats carried them to a causeway under the Interstate 10 bridge, where they waited with thousand of others.
"I get out of there in the crowd of people and I see all of these people with their animals," she said. "I felt so guilty."
From there, they boarded a school bus that carried them to a shelter in Lafayette, La.
The next day, they rented a car and drove to Baltimore, where Cheryl Landry's family lives.
Napi never left her thoughts.
"I cried from that point on," Cheryl Landry said. "All I could think about was the things she used to do -- you know, peep around the corner at me. Everywhere I move, all I hear is her little feet clicking."
She didn't know that Tenet Healthcare Corporation, which owns Lindy Boggs Medical Center, had arranged to have helicopters and boats evacuate the workers' pets from the hospital.
The animals were taken to Slidell, La., and then bused to an airport in Hattiesburg, Miss.
There, four people from the Aledo Vet Clinic -- Kent Glenn, Janine Theal, C.J. Bishop and Susan Hill -- set up a triage center, where they treated the pets, who, for the most part, were mostly just hungry and dehydrated. Only one of the animals, a cat, had to be put to sleep.
The team then loaded up the animals and drove them to Texas, arriving on Sept. 6. The pets were placed with foster families until they could be reunited with their owners.
"It's a blessing to give these people back their pets," Theal said. "For some, it's the one thing they have left."
Mary Lou Finsterwald, a second-grade teacher in Aledo and animal lover, took Napi home and instantly fell in love.
"She is a wonderful dog," Finsterwald said.
The next day, Finsterwald called the numbers on the hospital band around Napi's neck.
Phone tag works
Landry was sitting on her sister's porch in Baltimore when the phone rang.
"Mary Lou introduced herself and asked me if I had a dog," Landry recalled. "I said, 'Yes,' and she said, "Well, I have Napi.'
"I hollered!"
The Landrys said Finsterwald told her how Napi was rescued and assured them that she was fine.
"That was the greatest moment of our lives," Larry Landry said. "She said, 'Do what you have to do, take your time, she'll be ready when y'all are ready for her.' "
Landry said that she and her husband began making arrangements to drive to Texas to get Napi.
On Sunday, after deciding they couldn't wait any longer, they loaded up and "put the pedal to the metal," Cheryl Landry said.
Tuesday morning, the couple walked into the Aledo Vet Clinic, where they had agreed to meet Finsterwald. They cried and hugged and pumped the hands of the staff who were instrumental in bringing their family back together.
Then, Finsterwald walked in carrying their dog.
"Napi! Napi!" the Landrys cried, scooping up their pet as customers in the waiting room began wiping away tears.
Napi, wearing a hot-pink collar, began crawling all over the Landrys and quickly began making up for three weeks of lost kisses.
"It's a definite miracle," Cheryl Landry said. " My thoughts were that I would never see her again."
After Finsterwald gave them a scrapbook filled with photos of Napi taken over the last few weeks and that now-tattered hospital band, the couple got on the road with Napi and pointed their car toward New Orleans.
They plan to try to return home to retrieve photos and some valuables before heading back to Maryland to start a new life.
"This is the grand finale right here," Larry Landry said. "Thank you."
