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.

Originally appeared on CathyRosenthal.com | The Kerrville Flood: The Pets Who Help Us Heal and Survive

Cathy M. Rosenthal is a seasoned animal advocate, author, and syndicated pet columnist with over 35 years of experience in the animal welfare field. To learn more, visit CathyRosenthal.com, or connect directly through Spay Neuter Network by sending your pet questions to her at Cathy@spayneuternet.org.