Ninna Lopez works as an animal rescue volunteer.

Ninna Lopez demonstrates compassion for animals in need

Frequently, 318 Forum’s Tony Taglavore takes to lunch a local person — someone who is well-known, successful, and/or influential, and asks, “What’s Your Story?”

When you gotta go, you gotta go.

“We were in the middle of nowhere.

There was nothing.”

In the fall of 2007, daughter and mother were driving on a long, lonely road to Saline, La. Nature called. They had to answer.

“We pulled off on the side of the road. Out from one of those dead bushes comes this skinny, emaciated dog. I’m like, ‘Oh, my god. Mom, that’s a dog!’ That dog went right up to my mother. She had her pants down to pee. I said, ‘Mom, be careful!’ I didn’t know if the dog was going to bite her, or what its intentions were. I didn’t know what we were going to do.”

But she knew she wasn’t putting the dog in the car. At least not now. She was working — a mobile notary on the way to a client’s house.

“I found an old beer box on the side of the road. I said, ‘We’re going to put it here. ... If this dog is still here when we come back through, we’re taking the dog with us.’”

About an hour later, she and Mom were on their way home. They slowed down near the spot where they had relieved themselves and where they had left the dog.

“I could see the beer box. We stopped, and that dog was still there. We loaded her in the back of the car and brought her back here, not knowing what we were going to do.”

She didn’t know anything about animal rescues but found one — Pet Savers — and delivered the dog. In the process, she found her calling.

“I started volunteering with my son. Then, I started going every other day. I was improvements, fixing this and fixing that.”

Haughton’s Ninna Lopez, founder and president of Ninna’s Road to Rescue, told me that story — and [her] story — during a lunch at a place Ninna chose: Taqueria San Miguel in Benton. Ninna had the Ensalada Del Adela with fajita chicken and a Diet Coke. I had my usual, the Ensalada San Miguel with grilled chicken and water with lemon.

“I’ve always felt for the underdog a little bit. I’ve always been an animal person, ever since I was little. My dad would be driving down the road, and there would be a kitten on the side of the road. My mom would always tell me I would say, ‘Daddy, peees stop.

Daddy, peees.’”

Ninna was born in Bitburg, Germany, her mother’s homeland. Ninna’s father was from northeast Louisiana and was in the Air Force (a military policeman). The family — Ninna is the middle of four children — bounced between Germany and the United States. Growing up, she had a lot of pets — chihuahuas, German shepherds and horses. But a rocky marriage shook Ninna and her animals.

“When my parents finally got divorced, the horses were given away. It was just a constant rotation of animals. I didn’t like that. It always broke my heart. ... It taught me what I didn’t want for these animals. Every time that happened, it affected me in such a way that I never wanted to do that again.”

Even though Ninna is 62 years old, she still has a vivid memory of a traumatic event as a child.

“We had a cat when we lived in Germany.

The cat got pregnant and had kittens. The mother got run over in the street, so we had these newborn kittens. I remember (my father) driving — I don’t know why he took us kids with him — but he took the kittens to a dump in a cardboard box. I remember looking out the back of the station wagon, crying.

Bawling.”

Ninna’s emotional reaction likely caused her father to have second thoughts. He went back and got the kittens. Ninna, along with her mom and siblings, bottle-fed them and eventually gave them away.

“I think a lot of my wanting to save animals is because I didn’t feel my dad did right a lot of times by the pets we had. He just didn’t do right by them.”

Ninna’s husband of 38 years is also in the Air Force. Orders took them to Phoenix, where Ninna became a well-respected expert in real estate transactions. She would have loved to be a full-time rescue volunteer, but her family, with two children, needed a second income.

“I got a job at a title company, and man, my career skyrocketed. The pay was great. We were living high on the hog. I had never made that kind of money. I didn’t know people who made that kind of money. I ended up being the vice president of a large corporation. And that’s me with no college education.”

Then came 9/11. Ninna’s husband was on a year-long tour of duty in Korea. When he returned home, she was ready to return home to Louisiana. Ninna had trouble finding work, and in 2007, the real estate market crashed. That led to her becoming a mobile notary, which led to her finding a dog on the side of the road, which led to her volunteering at the rescue (where she ended up bringing home three dogs).

After five years, Ninna decided to go out on her own.

“I got myself a Realtor. I said, ‘I want to find a little place, and I want it to be a house. I want the dogs to live inside. It will have to be a small-breed rescue because big dogs can tear some stuff up.” (Though Ninna acknowledges little dogs can also do damage.)

At Ninna’s Road to Rescue, some 20-25 dogs live a carefree life in a 1,000-square-foot home. Approximately 60 volunteers — the oldest of whom is 79 years old — look after the animals.

“I don’t pay anyone. They need to want to be there.”

Dogs find their way to Ninna’s rescue for a variety of reasons. However, there’s one situation — animal hoarding — that still breaks Ninna’s heart, all these years later.

“People don’t see what we see. When you’re walking in a house and you’re slippin’ and slidin’ because there’s poop and pee and whatever else on the floor, and puppies are living in their own crap. On adult dogs, you can’t even see their paw pads because they are caked with feces.”

But when those dogs, with Ninna’s help, find their furever home, it’s a feeling Ninna finds hard to articulate.

“It’s a high, almost. I don’t know how to describe it. ... That life ends today. This is your new life. When I see them treated that way, if I know they’re getting out of that situation, I’m good. If I’m in a situation where I don’t have any control over them living like that and I can’t save them, that’s a problem.”

Visiting with Ninna, whose left arm is tattooed with paw prints and the statement “Our Arms are the Road to Rescue,” brought back still-fresh memories of Maddie, the golden retriever my fiancée and I adopted a few years ago. We had to put her down last November. Resisting the urge to ask Ninna if I could follow her to the rescue and look for a dog to bring home, I asked my final question. What is it from her story that she would like to pass along to others?

“If you can afford it, and you can do it, serve. Whether it’s animals or people. If you can’t do it on a regular basis, volunteer. Volunteer at a rescue. Volunteer at a senior living facility. Volunteer with kids. ... I just think that’s what people should do. And don’t just do it during a catastrophe. Do it on a regular basis.”

But be careful. You might bring home more than a good feeling.