Buck

Buck, Jake and Flood Waters Finally, after the worst of the storm Jake and Buck left the building in ankle deep water and less than ten minutes later, the streets were gushing with flood waters deeper than they could stand up in. The current carried them along gasping for air and looking for something to grab onto. Buck and Jake could swim, but they floundered in the water like rag dolls. Buck was traumatized and kept looking around for his master as he was carried along in the water. Jake had grabbed onto a tree and was hanging on for dear life. He watched Buck go downstream with the current unable to do anything about it. Jake was weak and hysterical as he clung with all his strength to the tree and wondered for the first time about his family. His dog was gone and now he was all alone. Jake hung on for about four hours before someone in a boat came along and tried to pull him from the water. In trying to get him aboard, the boat capsized and all three men fell into the water. They managed to grab the boat, haul themselves back inside and finally get Jake inside as well. Jake was sick, cold, weak, and exhausted. They moved on to get some medical assistance for Jake and continue watching for other flood victims. Jake lay dazed in the boat shivering and somewhat delirious. Buck swam among the rushing water and was swept along by the current for a long time until he found a piece of wood to pull himself up onto. He was exhausted and coughed up a lot of water. Buck tried to keep his balance on the piece of wood for as long as he could. I am sure it was hours, but for Buck it seemed like a lifetime. He traveled at least five or six miles down the flood creek and finally came to a patch of higher ground that the wood ran upon. At this point, Buck and his wobbly legs came ashore and wondered what to do next. All he could do at the moment was lie down, rest and try to regain his strength. Jake was taken to a local and temporary medical facility, checked over and allowed to rest until his strength came back. He was fed bread and jam, water and dried fruit and he seemed to feel a little stronger within a few hours. The problem was his need for alcohol was kicking in with a vengeance and he had stomach cramps, nausea and almost hallucinating thoughts of bugs and other unpleasant things crawling on him. This is called D.T.s and people with alcohol dependency are all familiar with these symptoms. He remained in the medical area and had to deal with this without much attention to his needs. There were too many other people who were missing or had been rescued with life threatening issues for medical personnel to give Jake enough time to sort through his personal problems. He moved from the medical facility to a local shelter and began to get sicker with, not only his physical issues, but also mental ones of having ignored his family. There was no power and no functional phone lines. The Brown family didn’t have a phone at the house, so it was doubly frustrating. Everyone was talking about the devastation, the deaths, the floods, and people on roofs and the general condition of this area. Jake began to hear horror stories, i.e., since the evacuation was not total, many people survived the 30-foot storm tide by climbing into the second-floor attic, or knocking out walls and ceiling boards to climb onto the roof or nearby trees. People had swum to taller buildings or trees. Over 100 people were rescued from roof tops and trees in the Mississippi. The good news is fewer than 300 people died in Mississippi during Hurricane Katrina. He hoped his family was not included in that number. Jake decided he would try to make his way back home somehow. He gave up his spot at the shelter and started walking south open to any idea that came along to get back home. He found out, unfortunately, that all traffic was blocked from going back into the area and there were no means to get there. He met up with some homeless people near a railroad and eagerly shared some whiskey to settle his nerves. Jake was now a homeless alcoholic without support of any kind at the moment to aid his efforts to find his family. He buried himself in whiskey or whatever else he could beg, borrow or steal. He slept with other nomads around the railroad and drowned his troubles in a bottle. The Mississippi Gulf Coast had been devastated. The extent of the devastation throughout Mississippi was also staggering. Since Katrina hit, more than half a million people in Mississippi were in the process of applying for assistance from FEMA (Federal Emergency Management Agency). In a state of just 2.9 million residents, that means more than one in six Mississippians sought help. More than 97,000 people are today still living in FEMA trailers and mobile homes. Another 5,000 to 6,000 are still waiting for FEMA trailers. Surveying the damage the day after Katrina’s passing, the Mississippi Governor called the scene indescribable, saying “I can only imagine that is what Hiroshima looked like 60 years ago.” This is our tsunami.” Most animal shelters in the area were destroyed. Pet enthusiasts developed portable shelters called, “Camp Katrinas” to continue their rescue work to save animals. Cities ran rampant with stray, sick, and malnourished animals. This was true even farther north where the flood waters were not so prevalent. One could drive along any street and see five or six dogs in a dead-end street, all looking traumatized and ill. Local authorities saw a growing need to clean up their cities, so they began to pick up the animals in mass every day. Unfortunately, these animals were put down. Buck, too, was homeless and began his struggles and adventures to find refuge. Chickens, Voles and Lyman, Mississippi Buck hobbled to find a rock formation with an overhang to get under and out of the worst part of the rain. He only stayed there for a little while. He observed the cuts on his paws after climbing onto land. For a long time, he lay on the patch of higher land licking his cuts and grooming down his thick fur that was covered with mud and water. Buck’s big eyes were bloodshot from the water and the stress. He looked pretty rugged and felt exhausted and insecure at this time. He walked down as far as he could back in the direction of where he was separated from his master; but couldn’t get a scent on anything as there was so much water everywhere. Not being able to understand what had happened or why, he began to walk among the trees and brush looking for someone or something to break his thoughts of confusion. It was still raining hard, but Buck walked for miles and came upon nothing but more trees and brush. He began to feel really lost and abandoned. He would lie down from time to time to rest his sore paws and lick them. Two places were bleeding and the walking did not help his cuts. At least he was alive. In northern Harrison County, Mississippi where Buck was wandering, everything was rural and desolate. Farms and small communities were scattered throughout the county, but distance between them was great, especially for a walking dog. By nightfall the first night, Buck crawled under another overhanging rock and tried to make his body as small as possible to break the chill and get out of the rain. It was impossible, however, to stay dry. Mosquitoes and insects were a nuisance; Buck kept biting back at his tail where the insects would land. He was a very frustrated and unhappy dog at this point. He was dripping wet, hungry, walking with sore paws in the rain and fighting the insects. At daybreak, he started out again. After about three hours Buck came upon the outskirts of the small community of Lyman, Mississippi. He saw a house with some smaller buildings around it and headed in that direction.