Geralyn Pezanoski talks about the experience of making "Mine"

Like millions across the country I was profoundly affected by the startling images I witnessed during coverage of Hurricane Katrina: people stranded on rooftops, suffering crowds at the Super Dome, and the decimation of one of America’s most culturally vibrant and diverse cities. And like millions of others I was devastated as well by images of the thousands of animals in distress – their helplessness bringing into even greater relief the chaos and overwhelming scope of the tragedy. So when I read about a nascent but quickly growing rescue effort being carried out by animal lovers from across the country and the world, I decided to go to New Orleans to document this incredible undertaking.

During the ensuing six weeks I filmed dozens of intrepid rescue workers, devoted animal rights advocates, and thousands of animals in need of saving - even after they were ‘rescued’. While a few residents trickled back into New Orleans and managed to reclaim their pets, most were displaced and barred from entering the city, so I watched day after day as these unclaimed animals were loaded onto trucks and planes and sent to shelters across the country, their fates uncertain. While the hope was that many of these animals would either be fostered until their owners claimed them, or adopted into new homes, the reality was that many of them would meet the same fate as millions of other animals around the country: being euthanized before the year’s end. It was this horrific thought that lead to my decision to foster (and eventually adopt) a Katrina dog, a pointer mix I called Nola. She was skin and bones when I met her, and she refused to leave my side for more than a couple of seconds. It didn’t take either of us long to bond.

As the months went on, my crew and I began to see an increasing number of residents returning to New Orleans to try to rebuild their lives. It became apparent that legions of them - people who had lost everything – were desperate to find their pets. We heard about hundreds of other cases across the county: people who were still displaced but on the hunt for their animals. But as broad and deep as the story went, there seemed to be strangely little information about it in mainstream media. I had many questions: Why hadn’t people been allowed to evacuate with their animals? Now that these animals were adopted into new homes, who had the authority to decide whether they should be left where they were or returned to their previous owners? Why were original owners running into such resistance in trying to find and reclaim their pets? What would I do if someone came looking for Nola, to whom I had become so attached?

I explored these questions and many more during the three years I spent making MINE. My primary focus was on a handful of extraordinary Katrina victims committed to finding their animals even years after the disaster, but the story extends to rescue workers and new adoptive guardians, who, like me, decided to take in pets left behind and care for them as their own. We met and interviewed hundreds of people over the years, and what emerged was a profound story of the bond between humans and animals, and the power of that bond to ameliorate human suffering. Equally striking, however, were stories both of the continuing prevalence of racism and classism in America, and the incredible power of compassion in the wake of tragedy. All of these stories become one in MINE.

I hope that MINE puts a human face on issues that may seem far removed from the lives of most Americans, but in fact affect us all - and that the film will promote much needed dialogue not just about how we treat our animals, but how we treat each other.