So here we are getting soaked by a tropical storm named FAY. That's cool, we can handle it. We have been through hurricanes, so this is just a minor inconvenience. I am fostering a little Chihuahua these days. I am not really a small dog person, I think that when it comes to dogs, the bigger the better! But this little guy, who I am calling Felipe', was rescued from a terrible situation, a Tennesssee puppy mill.
When I first became involved in the animal rights movement, I was inundated with literature about every animal issue you can possibly imagine, and then some. There were graphic photos of animals in labs, their eyes and skin burned and the suffering intense. There were "insider" videos of circus elephants being abused, and rodeo horses being sodomized with electric prods. Then there are the seal hunts, factory farming, chickens in battery cages, the fur trappers, marine mammels and the Higgens Pigeon Shoot. The list went on and on, and still does.
But something snapped in me the day I saw a video on television of dogs in a puppy mill. The video depicted a young dog, so young that she must have been a baby herself. She was in a tiny cramped cage, and she had a litter of about eight puppies. There was no place for her to go to get a break from those puppies, and the look on her face was a mixture of sheer exhaustion, panic and fear. I saw in her eyes a dog that still had some hope but was quickly coming to the realization that this was her life. Her puppies were clammoring for her attention, but the exhausted dog could only sit there, panting, looking for an escape that would never come. When I saw that video, my heart broke and it has stayed broken ever since. This was in 1985. And although the pictures of other animals who are suffering still get to me and cause me to become physically ill, it is that one video of that one dog that continues to haunt me. I will never, ever get the image of that dog's face out of my head. I really couldn't even tell you what breed she was because I was so focused on her terrified eyes.
And so, I decided to dedicate myself to putting a stop to puppy mills. And all these years I have been doing my level best to keep everyone I know from purchasing dogs from pet stores, online, or through "puppy brokers". How do you go about ending something as prevalent as puppy mills?
Humane education. That is the only thing that I know and so that's the tool I use. It is a very slow process and my efforts seem to effect nothing, and nobody. I never feel that I am making any headway.
So when Oprah decided to dedicate an episode of her show to puppy mills, I was thrilled. Although I had been writing to her on a weekly basis, visiting her website and faithfully clicking on the "comments" link. Week after week I suggested puppy mills as an important show to air. But it wasn't until someone leased a billboard outside Harpo studios that Oprah got the message and decided to do the show.
I tried leasing a billboard once. It was, ideally, in the parking lot of a shopping strip that included a pet store. I wanted to lease the billboard and adorn it with photos of dogs in puppy mills. But I learned that the monthly rent on that billboard was $3,000 and required a year's lease. I don't have $3,000 and couldn't raise it. So I depended instead on getting a few people together and having a demonstration outside the store. This angered the proprieter, who called the police. He was told that we were exercising our first amendment rights, which angered him even more. But the upshot was, eventually, the store did go out of business.
Then I figured I would try to get some legislation to put those puppy mills out of business. I tried calling the humane society, the animal rights groups, talking to my own legislators. Nobody cared enough to take this issue on. But then, one day, a person who has a lot of money and influence learned about puppy mills and, suddenly, there is a pending puppy mill bill moving slowly through the system.
As a writer, I have often asked my agent, editors and publishers if I could write a book about puppy mills. "Who would buy it?" They all countered. "It's not marketable," they all said. But then, this same person of influence came out with a hardcover book, A Rare Breed of Love, that tells the story of puppy mill dogs.
Someone once told me that in every movement there are those of us who chip away at the issue for years and years. They make slow progress, they rarely see the results of their actions. And then, suddenly, someone comes along and gives the issue a big, fat, aggressive push and things begin to happen.
The point is, it doesn't matter who brings about change, it's only that change is brought about that really matters. Oh, and it helps to have money. A lot of it.
But back to little Felipe'. The shelter where I work was involved in a seizure of 32 dogs from a puppy mill. It took the vet techs weeks to get these dogs ready for adoption. First, they had to be groomed because they had fecal matter matted in their fur. Their little paws had to be treated because the chicken wire on which they lived sliced through the pads. They all needed to be altered, of course. And what is strange about this story is that we have over four hundred animals in our shelter, but it took a puppy mill seizure to bring people out of the woodwork. Everyone wanted one of the puppy mill dogs when we had other, perfectly adoptable dogs who have been waiting for weeks to find a home.
The dogs then needed to be rehabilitated. Their emotional and psychological state was a mess. Some of them had to be put on amitriptoline (elavil) for anxiety. They continued to spin into madness, even though they were in long kennels instead of tiny chicken wire cages. Some of the dogs snapped out of it rather quickly, and they were soon adopted. But others continued to be catatonic, and unreachable. Felipe' is one of those dogs. He's a beautiful, pure white, long-haired Chihuahua. He'd make someone a nice companion. But we needed to get him to "come around". So I took him home, much to the chagrin of my big dogs and cats. Within hours he was wagging his tail. He became housetrained within a half a day, and is learning to walk on a leash. He's a good little soul who needs a home where he can be free to be himself and continue to work out his issues. I hope he finds a home soon. But in the meantime, I have an extra little bow-bow who has funny little habits. He likes to lick my hair, and he walks on the back of the couch. He plays with cat toys just like a cat would, batting the little mouse here and there and chasing after it. He runs to the safety of his crate when he sees any men--my husband and sons included. But I think he'll get over it and be just fine.
I am happy to be able to play a part in the rescue of an actual puppy mill victim. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And that's something all the money in the world can't buy.
Bye Ce
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