There has been much said about the government's response to Hurricane Katrina. People were disarmed. There were people killed by police as they fled on a bridge. People were herded into a sports stadium not fit to live in. They were not allowed to leave. All kinds of excuses can be made, some of them valid perhaps.
But what stays in my mind is the fate of a little boy and the dog that was taken from him. After several days a number of people were to leave the area. They were loaded onto buses, two per seat. A woman sat with her child, a boy of about five. In his arms he held a tiny white dog.
A uniformed officer approached him. She took the little dog away from him. "No dogs," she said. She carried the dog away as the boy began to cry. When the bus pulled out the boy cried, "Snowball, Snowball." He could have continued to hold the dog in his arms, but a rule must be enforced, in some minds.
Little things mean a lot to us, like little dogs. This is what I remember even today. I remember you, little boy, and I remember your dog, Snowball.