Well, the trip was pretty uneventful. We left on time, more or less, arrived in New Orleans hungry, and headed over to Slim Goodies, only to find Kappa locking up for the day (she was having to re-stock, meaning that the restaurant would be closed for the first time since she’s returned). Eventually, we found ourselves at Clover Grill, enjoying a tasty though seriously curtailed brunch menu and catching up with a few friends.
When we finally got to the house, it was essentially as I left it a couple of weeks ago–same windows out, same debris on the street. The only difference was that this time there was a new notice on our front door: a photocopy on plain white paper explaining that the SPCA had come by and fed our cat.
This, of course, is after I’d already rescued the cat. It’s also after I contacted the SPCA, the Humane Society, and every other pet care outfit in the country, telling them to take our house off the list because I’d already retrieved the cat I called about the day after Katrina hit.
It gets better. Even more entertaining than the lack of internal communication at the SPCA was their apparent desire to cause still more damage to our home: not content to enter the house using the same broken window the National Guard had used, the SPCA felt it necessary to dismantle the gate on the other side of our house, smash a windowpane, and break down a set of French doors. All for a cat that I told them wasn’t there.
Now, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful–I’m very, very appreciative of the SPCA and the Humane Society and every other organization that’s been hard at work rescuing animals for the last five weeks. And ultimately, the damage to our house is so minor that I can handle the repairs myself: I mean, I’m pretty handy with a screwdriver, and I can re-set and glaze windowpanes in my sleep. Still, it’s a little troubling to wonder how many animals might’ve died while the SPCA’s teams were attempting to rescue pets that should’ve been crossed off their lists….
The rest of the trip was thoroughly unremarkable. Jonno and I were in the house for all of 30 minutes. He grabbed things for his impending trip, I boarded up windows, re-locked doors, and re-set the security system–though given the fact that we own nothing lootable except for a quirky, seven-year-old TV set, it was probably all in vain. We said a quick hello/goodbye to the neighbors who were slowly returning to the ‘hood and who said they’d keep an eye on the place until I return full-time in a few days. Ta-da.
Funny thing is, even with all the mess on the streets and the general lack of people in the area and the understanding of just how long it’s going to take to get things looking “normal,” I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed again.
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