In the aftermath of disaster, it’s often the smallest things that help us feel human again—a familiar voice, a dry pair of socks, a wagging tail.

Here in Kerrville, Texas, where I live, our community is reeling. The July 4th floods came quickly and took too much. We are mourning so many lives lost, especially the young girls whose futures were stolen in a moment. Grief sits heavy in the air here.

But there is also a quiet courage emerging, as neighbors care for each other and strangers from all across the country step up in big and small ways.

And in that space between sorrow and survival, I’ve been reminded—once again—that pets matter.

In every disaster I’ve witnessed over the years, one truth always surfaces: When people are holding on by a thread, they often cling to the animals they love.

This time, the crisis hit my hometown. But it brought me right back to another moment, nearly 20 years ago, when I first saw just how much people will sacrifice to stay with their pets.

In 2005, I was working at the San Antonio Humane Society when Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans. We had gotten word from the Houston SPCA that evacuees were coming to us on buses, and that many of them would be traveling with animals. Human shelters didn’t accept pets then, and we knew people might forego care for themselves to remain with their pets.

So we packed our gear and headed to Lackland Air Force Base, where San Antonio was prepared to help these evacuees. We asked if we could help care for the animals as people arrived. Our plan was simple: take in every animal that needed fostering while their families received help. But we were told “no.” Officials insisted no pets were allowed on the buses.

We explained that the Houston SPCA had alerted us that evacuees might arrive with pets, so we asked if we could wait nearby, just in case. They agreed to let us wait in a parking lot two miles away. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before a car arrived with someone holding a small dog. Then another pulled up with a cat tucked into a tote bag. Then they drove over to us a mother and child with a hamster hidden in the mother’s coat pocket. One by one, they came—people who had managed to bring their animals despite being told not to. Somehow, they had slipped past the rules—or maybe it was the drivers who quietly chose to look the other way.

Before long, we were asked to move closer, right next to the buses unloading evacuees, in fact. People had found a way. Told to leave their pets behind, they had tucked them into duffel bags, backpacks, and coat pockets—anything that might get them to safety. These people were stepping off buses, soaking wet, sometimes without shoes, but they had clung to what mattered most to them: their pets. (Sadly, it was the large dogs who were left behind, and the heartbreak of that moment still echoes across the animal welfare field today.)

In just three days, we took in more than 800 pets, including small dogs, cats, parrots, parakeets, hamsters, chinchillas, turtles, guinea pigs, rabbits, and even a betta fish in a cup.

That experience changed me, and it helped change national policy. It contributed to the passage of the Pets Evacuation and Transportation Standards (PETS) Act in 2006, which now requires emergency plans to include pets and service animals. And, all these years later, I see the same truth repeating itself: in disasters, people hold on tightly to the pets they love.

While volunteering with Kerrville Pets Alive this week, I met a man who had lost everything—his house, his car—but what mattered most, he told me, was that his two dogs were safe. Another man showed me a photo of his dog and asked simply if he could be notified if someone found him.

And through it all, I saw the extraordinary power of volunteers—not just at Kerrville Pets Alive, but throughout our town. Volunteers organized supply drives, delivered donations, helped people foster lost pets, and provided comfort to families searching for their families, friends, and animals. These weren’t just small acts. These were lifelines to people who were suffering and grieving. These are the threads that hold a community together when it begins to fray. Because in moments like this, helping pets is helping people.

And then there are the animals doing the rescuing—the search-and-rescue dogs searching for the missing and the therapy dogs providing comfort at shelters. These animals quietly go to work when everything in our world falls apart. They remind us that animals don’t just need saving—sometimes, they’re the ones who help save us.

There’s something grounding about feeding an animal when your world has been upended. Holding them. Whispering, “We’re okay. We’re still here.” Pets remind us we’re not alone. They don’t just survive with us—they help us survive.

As we begin to rebuild, we must also look at how we show up for both people and animals. Because when disaster strikes, it doesn’t just affect roads and homes—it reshapes lives.

To all the volunteers and first responders, there are no words big enough. You didn’t just deliver supplies. You searched for the missing. You showed up to clean up. You held space for grieving families. You brought order to chaos and comfort to heartbreak. Thank you for showing up with courage, compassion, and love.

To those wondering how to help, please donate to your favorite charity working on the ground here. Your gift can be part of someone’s healing.

And to everyone reading this, take this as a reminder to prepare. None of us is immune to disaster. In just one week, the U.S. saw three record-breaking floods. It could happen to any one of the hometowns at any time. Microchip your pets. Know your evacuation plan. Be ready.

When the world shifts beneath us, we reach for what matters most—the love of our family, our friends, the kindness of strangers who come from afar, and the pets we hold close to our hearts.

Dear Cathy,
My daughter got a red-eared slider for her 7th birthday. She’s now eight-years-old. Should I be worried about her getting salmonella? And how long will this turtle live?
— Rikki

Dear Rikki,

Red-eared sliders are fascinating pets, and they are often chosen for their quiet nature and ease of care. However, they come with a surprising twist—longevity. Red-eared sliders can live 20 to 40 years or more with proper care. For many, the commitment to their care, including regular tank cleaning, feeding, and ensuring they have a proper environment, can be overwhelming.

Many parents find themselves unexpectedly stuck caring for these long-living pets when their children head off to college. Life moves fast, and the realities of dorm living, tight schedules, and small apartments often make it difficult for young adults to bring their turtles to college.

Even if your daughter takes her turtle to college, life keeps changing. She may graduate, get married, and have kids—and each of these milestones brings new challenges in pet care. To be honest, most turtles do not remain with their original owners for more than a few years. Instead, as their care requirements and lifespans become clear, turtles are often surrendered to friends, animal shelters, rescue groups. Or worse yet, they are released into the wild, where they can disrupt local ecosystems or struggle to survive or they simply die from improper care.

If your daughter already has received this turtle as a birthday gift, though, let’s focus on what it takes to care for these creatures properly in the here and now and how to prevent salmonella.

The Basics of Turtle Care

Red-eared sliders are captivating and hardy creatures, but they are more complex to care for than many realize. Their needs go beyond a simple tank and occasional feeding. Here are the essentials:

1. A Proper Habitat

• Tank Size: Red-eared sliders need a spacious tank, as they can grow up to 12 inches in length. A single adult turtle requires at least a 75-gallon tank, and larger is always better.
• Clean, Filtered Water: Proper filtration is crucial to maintain water quality and reduce the risk of infections. Regular water changes are also necessary.
• Basking Area: They need a dry area to climb out of the water, warm themselves, and absorb UVB rays. UVB lighting is essential for their shell and bone health, preventing metabolic bone disease.
• Temperature Control: Water should be kept at 75-85°F, and the basking area should range from 85-90°F.

2. A Balanced Diet

• Variety is Key: A healthy diet includes high-quality commercial turtle pellets, fresh vegetables like leafy greens, and occasional treats like insects, earthworms, or feeder fish.
• Calcium and Vitamins: A calcium supplement with vitamin D3 is important to ensure proper shell development.

3. Regular Cleaning

• Tank Maintenance: Red-eared sliders are messy eaters, and waste can quickly build up, leading to poor water quality. Filters should be cleaned regularly, and partial water changes should be done weekly.
• Spot Cleaning: Remove uneaten food and debris daily to prevent bacterial growth.

While turtles might not demand daily walks or cuddles, they require consistent care and attention to thrive. Their habitat needs frequent monitoring to ensure proper water quality and lighting, and their diet must be varied and balanced.

Salmonella Concerns

You also asked about salmonella. It’s true that all reptiles and amphibians can carry this bacteria, but the risk can be managed with a few simple precautions:

• Always wash your hands thoroughly with soap and water after touching the turtle or its habitat.
• Don’t clean the turtle’s tank or accessories in sinks or tubs where food is prepared or people bathe. If possible, clean these items outside.
• Disinfect any shared surfaces afterward if necessary.
• Keep the turtle away from food preparation and eating areas.

Turtles, like red-eared sliders, can make wonderful companions, but they deserve thoughtful care and consideration. By being realistic about their needs and planning for their future, you can ensure the best outcome for your daughter’s pet—and your family.

Note: For anyone considering giving a pet as a gift, please check out Pets as Gifts: To Give or Not to Give – A More Thoughtful Approach.

Have a pet question? Send it to Cathy at moc.tidnuptepobfsctd-17799a@yhtac. Visit her website at cathyrosenthal.com.

Today, she has been named Cat of the Year by the ASPCA who said they picked her not just for ability to paw out a tune, but because she was an adopted feline and what better way to promote the adoption of cats than to show of the talents of Nora.

Ten remarkable animals and people, including Nora, the piano-playing cat, and a dog who helps a disabled veteran, will be honored for their heroic deeds on October 29 at this year’s ASPCA Humane Awards Luncheon in New York City. The event recognizes animal heroes who have made extraordinary efforts to impact the lives of animals during the past year.

Among the 2009 ASPCA Humane Award winners are:

ASPCA Cat of the Year

When Betsy Alexander and Burnell Yow visited an animal shelter in Cherry Hill, N.J., they never imagined they would adopt a feline prodigy. Nora is a 5-year-old gray tabby whose special piano-playing skills quickly became a YouTube sensation, drawing more than 15 million page views and inspiring a Lithuanian composer to arrange a symphony in her honor.  Nora is a talented example of how shelter pets — far from being castoffs — often make the best animal companions.

ASPCA Dog of the Year

Archie is an 8-year-old black Labrador retriever who serves as an assistance dog and social lifeline for Sgt. Clay Rankin.  Rankin suffered spinal injuries while serving in Iraq, and Archie is his primary caregiver and social safety net. Archie’s loyalty and perseverance in helping Rankin accomplish his daily tasks has allowed the veteran to regain his confidence and independence.

ASPCA “Tommy Monahan” Kid of the Year

Eleven-year-old Monica Plumb in Powhatan County, Va., decided to make a real difference after seeing a news story about a pet that was saved from a house fire due to the use of an oxygen pet mask.  Monica launched PetMask.com to collect online donations to purchase pet masks for fire departments, and has since purchased more than 50 mask kits for fire stations in nine different states.  (This award is dedicated to Tommy Monahan, a 9-year-old Staten Island boy who perished in 2007 trying to save his pet from a house fire.)

For more award stories, visit the ASPCA’s website.

According to a story on CBS Sunday Morning, elephants arriving at the Elephant Sanctuary in Hohenwald, Tennessee seek out the special friendship of a single pachyderm at the sanctuary, a best friend they can spend most of their days hanging around.

For most of the elephants at the sanctuary, there have been adequate elephants for these friendship pairings. But what happens when there are not enough pachyderm pals to go around? What’s a lonely elephant to do?

In the case of Tarra, an 8,700 pound Asian elephant, she decided her BFF would be a dog named Bella. A few homeless dogs, like Bella, have made their home at the sanctuary, but tended to keep away from the elephant crowd. Bella and Tarra, however, have crossed the huge divide.

In fact, Bella is so smitten with her new elephant friend, she actually lets Tarra rub her belly with her giant pachyderm paw.  When Bella injured her back and had to recuperate inside the sanctuary office, Tarra stood vigil near the building for three weeks. When the caretakers realized that Tarra was pining for her friend, they brought Bella out for a visit. Bella wagged her tail for the first time in weeks and Tarra bellowed in joy.

The two friends are inseparable, romping through grassy fields like two kids on summer break. And there is nothing sweeter than seeing two unlikely pals sharing a unique friendship. For some reason, interspecies friendships have a way of making us feel hopeful about the world.

Click here to read Steve Hartman’s wonderful story and watch the video of their friendship.

Apparently Freddie, who dislikes water so much that he walks around puddles and avoids baths, got disoriented during a walk on the beach with his owner, 73-year-old, Jean Brigstock. Apparently, it was a nice day, but a sudden fog rolled in and separated Freddie from Mrs. Brigstock. Never thinking her dog would enter into the water, she searched the shore. But Freddie had slipped into the sea and desperately paddled a mile out before being fished out by fisherman Jimmy Thompson.

Exhausted, Freddie slept quietly through the night, but returned to his normal self the very next morning, eagerly awaiting breakfast. While Freddie’s fear of water probably now includes the ocean, just to be safe, he should probably be walked on a leash next time.