A Canine Krewe Puts on the Dog

Sadi and Stella sat demurely in a corner of Louis Armstrong Park, a pair of perfect canine ladies waiting for their annual walk with the Mystic Krewe of Barkus Mardi Gras parade.

Like true Southern belles, the girls had endured tail-teasing and fur-fluffing to get their costumes just so for the annual pooch parade.

After much debate, their owner had decided to deck out the Labradors in the season’s finest Hurricane Katrina fashion: neon-orange life preservers that were strapped snugly around their bodies. Signs around their furry necks read, “Follow the Water Line Home.”

Over the last 14 years, the Mystic Krewe of Barkus has evolved from a bar prank to one of the largest and most eclectic of the processions to parade during the Carnival season. So it was early Sunday afternoon, as a river of barking, yipping and howling dogs wound through the narrow road along Vieux Carre. “There are a lot of strange and wacky things you see during Mardi Gras, but this is clearly the top dog,” said Melissa Hymel, 29, who owns Sadi and Stella. “It’s silly, but after everything we’ve all been through, it feels good to laugh.”

Originally just a few friends and pack of parading pooches, Barkus now attracts more than 1,100 registered dog participants and as many as 4,000 people, said Charlotte Bass-Lilly, who sits on the Barkus board of directors.

Participants paid a fee to join the parade, and proceeds are divided among animal rescue groups in Louisiana and Mississippi. Last year, the krewe raised about $75,000, Bass-Lilly said.

Like the other mainstream parades, Barkus has its own royalty and an annual theme, typically with a nod toward hound humor. “We were going to go with ‘A Street Dog Named Desire: Meaner Than Katrina,’ but we decided that we didn’t want to have anything to do with the storm,” Bass-Lilly said.

Instead, the group opted for “The Wizard of Pawz: There’s No Place Like Home.” Scores of dogs were dressed up as “Wizard of Oz” characters: A golden retriever, complete with a shaggy lion’s mane, sniffed at a fuzzy male poodle who wore red-glitter shoes, a gingham dress and blond braids pinned into his fur.

“Who knew gingham was such a good look?” deadpanned Janice Huff, a retired teacher who had turned a lawn-fertilizer cart into a float for Moonbeam, her Pomeranian.

This year, the king was a shepherd mix named Amigo, who had been rescued by a wealthy patron in the Bahamas. (He now splits his time between a home in East Hampton, N.Y., and a beach house in the Caribbean.)

Queen Patches was found roaming the streets of New Orleans after Katrina hit. Rescue workers found her -- they believe she’s a dachshund-cocker spaniel mix -- hungry, spooked and seemingly lonely. She went unclaimed for months and then was added to an online database for displaced animals.

Glenda Swetman, a dermatologist doing research at Tulane University, found Patches while looking for a friend’s dog. It was love at first sight.

On Sunday, Patches pranced and preened in a sparkling crown as hundreds of other dogs followed in procession. As some animals stopped for a pat from the throng of tourists lining the sidewalks, their owners quietly shared stories of how they’d fared in the last six months.

“My husband and I are living in a smaller place, and it was tough finding a rental that would accept dogs,” said Jennifer Traughber, 33, a psychologist who is in the process of rebuilding their home. “We found a place big enough to keep our pug, Bugsy. But we have to keep our German shepherd with family in Kentucky.”

Emily Roberson, a researcher at Xavier University, nodded in understanding.

She had dressed her brindled pit bull, Trap Jack, as a flying monkey. The black fabric wings bounced with each step and a small cap kept drooping over his eyes. Trap Jack, munching on Milk Bones, didn’t seem to mind.

“At least we have our animals,” said Roberson, 22, recounting the story of a co-worker who lost her cat when she was evacuated. “She’s been hysterical. It breaks my heart.”