Hope this is OK> a little "reality" post
ok, some of you may know, that have been to my home page, that my wife works for GRREAT (Golden Retriever Education and Training.....a 5 state large rescue org. here).
This took place a little while back... a master plan pulled of.
Jim spent $16,000.00, alot of it out of his own pocket for this to happen.
this sunday, mary and i are doing a transport leg from the NC border to N. Va. for four of the goldens, the oldest being only 8 months old.
yes, I know... it's terrible....and something that will make you sick.... but the ending is what you must focus on.....
my point? tell your friend.. DONT but from pet stores.......lets shut these sickning people down.
__________________________________________________
Permission to Cross Post Granted
The Great Escape of 2004
Written by Janetta Chrysler
Friday, October 9, 2004, its pouring rain, Francine, Jim, and I headed off
to
a small town in Arkansas on a mission to a rescue at least 30 Golden
Retrievers and whatever else we could afford at a puppy mill auction. What
we did not
know was how it would forever change our lives and the lives of some 80
dogs.
During the 11 hour drive, we planned our bidding strategy, made jokes, got
flea preventative divided up and ready in zip lock baggies along with
Capstar to
kill the live ones. We got collars ready with pretty pink and yellow ribbon
holding on a tag on which to write the dogs auction number. It was a fun
trip
with lots of laughter.
We arrived in Ft. Smith, AR around 8pm and checked into a local Motel 6. We
found a Waffle House to get food before returning to the motel for some much
needed sleep. It was still raining.
At 6am, Jim called the room for our wake up call. Francine and I showered
and got ready for the big event. We had a good laugh at each other wearing
our “
miller clothes†that we purchased at Goodwill a few days before the trip.
The three of us walked in the rain over to McDonalds for breakfast. There
was a
couple and their teenage son ordering food as we walked in and we joked
about
them going to the auction.
Two hours later, after eating and checking out of the motel, we found North
River Road and I felt as if someone had just punched me in the stomach as we
pulled onto the grounds of the puppy mill. We sat in the vehicle for a few
minutes to catch our breath and watched the millers unload their dogs that
they
had brought for consignment. I do not think any of us were prepared for
what we
would encounter on that Saturday, the 10th of October.
Earlier we had decided that Francine and I would stay together while Jim
went
on his own. As soon as we walked through the farm gates, there were two
6-week-old mixed breed black and white puppies in a hamster cage in the bed
of an
open pick up truck. It was chilly, windy and raining. These puppies were
shivering with a sign on the truck that said, “FREE, take if you want.â€
You bet
we took them! Two puppies were saved from being bred just for their milk
and
their future newborn puppies saved from being drowned because they were not
wanted. Francine and I put the puppies in a warm crate with a towel in the
bottom. Jim laughed at us, and called us those “damn rescue
do-gooders!â€
As I was walking around the mill looking at all the eyes pleading for
release, I tried not to look horrified, but rather as if I was used to
seeing dead
eyes and lost souls everyday. I tried my best not to stick my fingers in
any of
the cages for I did not want people to think I actually cared about these
pathetic looking creatures.
There were old trailers and portable buildings all over the grounds with
cries and barking coming from them all. Francine and I got brave and
started
walking in them one by one. The stench, the flies, nothing in my life had
prepared me for this. I have been in poorly run, falling down shelters and
filthy
kennels. Nothing compared. The smell of stale urine and fresh feces burned
my
nose and made me gag as I walked in the tiny buildings. Wire cages were
stacked 3 high on both walls and crammed full of tiny puppies. They were
literally
dying for attention and since we were alone in the dimly lit building, my
fingers went inside the rusted wire cages, if only for a second, they were
given
human attention. I wanted so badly to open the cages, love on all of them
and
set them free from the hell they were in. About an hour later, all the
portable buildings now had signs posted that read “Do Not Enter.†These
puppies
were never auctioned off.
All the dogs up for auction had tight cheap metal chains around their necks
from which hung flexible plastic cattle tag lot numbers. I guess they ran
out
of cheap chain because the rest of the dogs got wire wrapped around their
necks and the cattle tags hung from that.
We found some of the Golden Retrievers and while there were some that were
just as terrified as we were, for the most part, they were friendly and
outgoing. I bent down to read a tag number on a beautiful female and I
whispered to
her, “You are getting out of here, I promise, you are getting out.â€
The registration trailer was finally set up so we headed over to register
and
get our numbers, 60 and 64. Numbers Bob and Chad, the auctioneers, had
memorized with our faces by the end of the day. We walked around a bit
more, then
headed over to the tent and waited for the auction to begin. As we sat on
the
cold hard bleachers, I turned around to see who was behind us and possibly
eavesdropping, it was no other than the couple and their teenage son from
McDonalds!
The auctioneer was getting started. He introduced himself as Bob and his
teenage son as Chad. The rest of the family was also introduced. Bob went
over
the auction rules including the no camera rule. If anyone was caught with a
camera, it would be confiscated and the person would be escorted off the
premises to a waiting squad car and charged with trespassing, a felony.
Selling of equipment was starting. A miller’s equipment consisted of
surgical scissors for doing ones own stitching and galvanized box kennel
feeders
along with metal cage cardholders.
The Chihuahuas were the first dogs up. As the high school aged kids brought
up the dogs three at a time, I felt a lump in my throat and I had to remind
myself to breathe, it was starting, the selling of dogs for breeding had
begun.
The first three chi’s were females and Bob stated they may have been bred,
meaning they were already pregnant and checked out fine. The bidding began
at
$300, with no bids Bob went down to $50. It was fast and furious with
millers
bidding left and right, SOLD for $120 and the winning bidder picked which
dog
out of the three he wanted. It started all over again for the remaining two
dogs. The winning bid was $250 and the lady said she wanted them both. In
came the next three and Bob stated that she was a 98 model and had been
bred.
Her poor belly was so swollen and she looked miserable. Her body was sold
for
$475. The last of the Chi’s came out. On the table was an adorable
5-year-old
male named Slick Willie’s Snowball that looked just like Francine’s Chi
Chi
that she had just lost to old age and two other males. Once again the
bidding
began and at $35, I raised my number, but by the time the auction helper got
to me, it had gone up to $75! Before I knew it, I heard, “sold to number
60!â€
“Ma’am, which one do you want?†I looked at Francine and together
we
said, “The blonde.†The auctioneer chuckled and told the assistant that
we
wanted the blonde, the third one.
We curiously watched in disgust as people were bidding on these defenseless,
frightened creatures like there was nothing to it. All 13 of the female
Cocker Spaniels were sold for anywhere from $85 to $360 each. The male
cocker
puppies were next. Four puppies were brought in, all 04 models as they were
called. Three of the puppies were said to have checked okay but the black
and
white one named Spots Whopper Daddy had double cherry eye. Bob announced
that he
could still get it on; he didn’t need his sight for breeding! After that
comment, I was determined to get him. Bidding started out high, but due to
these
males being young pups, they have not been “proven†to breed yet. The
starting bid kept going lower and lower. I wanted this precious boy and I
saved him
for $25! There were now two males left another young pup and a 3 year old.
Bob told the crowd that the 01 model had an UN-descended testicle, but the
one he did have was big, and boy could it swing! The mob of greed was quiet
and
the opening bid got down to $10, I raised my card and heard “SOLD to
#60.â€
When asked which one I wanted, Francine and I looked at each other and
without
hesitating we took them both for $10 each. Disgusting and a true insult to
the breed, but now they too are safe.
Bob announced that the large dogs would be auctioned off in their kennels.
We headed out of the tent and walked in the rain and mud to where the Golden
Retrievers, Golden Doodles, Bernese Mountain Dogs, Australian Shepard’s
and
Akitas were. The Goldens were up. Jim was looking nervous, yet he was
confident
and looked like a professional. I made my way through the crowd to Francine
who was in charge of keeping track of how much Jim had spent. The smell of
feces made me gag and I had to turn around and quickly walk out. I caught
my
breath and told myself to suck it up as we were doing this to save lives. I
braved the flies and the stench once more. The bidding war had begun
between Jim
and a friend of the auctioneer named Dell. The first kennel had five dogs
in
it. Dell gave up at $200 and Jim took the entire run. Kennel number two
was
packed with Goldens. Once again, Jim won the bid and took the whole run.
This
went on, kennel after kennel after kennel! Dell was now getting quite angry
and the crowd was all eyes on Jim, the man buying ALL the Golden Retrievers.
All I remember hearing was “SOLD, number 64 buys the lot!†Bob did not
have
to ask Jim how many he wanted from each kennel, he knew he was determined to
get them all. Jim had saved that entire kennel area of Goldens. He called
his
wife to tell her the good news. Francine and I saw the Golden Doodles were
being auctioned off so we quickly went back in the kennel. We had missed
the
females but we shouted and stopped Chad, who had taken over for his father.
Francine asked what the bid was and we were told one male had sold for $15.
Chad asked if we were interested, hell yes we were. “SOLD!†The last
three
were saved!
We found Jim still talking to his wife away from the crowds and told him
about the Doodles. The hoards of men, women and children moved up the hill
to a
few more Goldens, Saint Bernard’s, and Burmese Mountain Dog puppies. The
adult female-bred Berners bids were no higher than $200 and the miller said
she
would not let them go for that. I’m so sorry girls that you were left in
that
filth to have your precious babies. Saint Bernard rescue was able to get
all
three of the Saint puppies. Once again the Bernese Mountain Dogs were not
getting much attention and the bidding went down to $10. They were not in
great
shape and looked to have hip dysplasia already at 8 months of age. I got in
on the bidding and it stopped at $25. “SOLD to #60.†Each bidder was
allowed to pick a dog. Jim got the rest of the Goldens in that area.
I was starting to feel that the pores in my body had soaked up the entire
stench from around me. I was surrounded by human greed. I was surrounded
by
cruelty. I had to take a walk away from it all. I needed to clear my head,
I
needed to be strong.
Jim was on a roll at the upper kennels that contained the Golden Retrievers
for consignment. I stood back and watched Dell roll his eyes and throw up
his
arms as he lost kennel after kennel to Jim. I heard some women talking
about
the man in the blue jacket at the end of the run. I casually looked down
that
way and they were speaking of Jim. His cover was blown and they along with
everyone else had figured it out. These dogs were never going to be bred
again. They were getting out of this filthy greed. They will never have to
lie in
their own urine and feces. They will be kept warm in the winter and cool
during the summer months. They will never live in a kennel again. They are
free, they have escaped this horrible thing the millers call a living.
A few Goldens were left and the millers were driving the prices up to try
and
outbid “that rescue man.†Bob asked Dell if he was ready and paying
attention. Dell had already given up and realized he was not going to get
the twenty
females he had come to the auction for. Next it was off to the building
with
mammas and their puppies. Once again Dell and the other millers there, to
raise the bidding, lost to Jim. In that building, he saved two nursing moms
with two puppies each. The rest of the litter to one mom had been hosed
down the
drain and the others pups had been eaten by the other dogs in the kennel
with
her. One more Golden was left. She looked worried about where her puppies
were to be born. She was miserable in her wire-bottomed cage. She too is
now
safe. You lose Dell, the Goldens have won this auction!
Hours and hours had now passed and we are all getting tired and wondering
how
we were going to get all the dogs home. Jim went to the trailer and got his
final total of dogs and money owed. On his phone, he told his wife the
wonderful news. Jim went back to our vehicle to figure out a plan on
transporting
about fifty more dogs than we had planned. Francine and I went back to the
auction tent to watch the disgust of bidding wars on the small dogs.
Bulldog number 99 was up. He checked out fine for an ‘02 model and had
even
been semen tested. The beautiful boy was bought for $450. Next came the
Bacon Frise’s. All five of them were 04 models and unproven males. We
were
shockingly surprised when no one was biting at the opening bid of $1,000.
Why
would anyone want to put up that much money in an unproven male? Who cares
how
adorable they are. That was not the game we were playing that day. Two
Bichons were sold to us for a measly $30 each.
The insanity went on for hours. In those cold wet hours, we were able to
save an Italian Greyhound and a Rat Terrier, both looked scared to death. A
male
Schipperke was also freed from his hell. I am not a big fan of Schipperkes
and apparently millers are not either. It was Larry’s Man Smokey’s turn
on
the chopping block. Bidding started at $25, no bidders, down to $20, still
no
bidders, down to $10, nothing. Bob said $5, then gave up and asked if
anyone
even wanted this boy for free. My arm shot up and Bob asked if I would pay
a
nickel for him. Of course I will I told Bob. Another one saved.
Francine left to help Jim start loading up the truck. For some reason, I
could not pull myself away from this disgust, I was hooked and I wanted more
dogs
out. Unfortunately, I could not afford any of the Pugs, Westies, Maltese,
or
Min Pins. The last dog of the auction was a ‘96 model female Japanese
Chin.
Bob announced that she was missing several teeth and had a large umbilical
hernia. Another miller asked if she had been bred and Bob put his hand
under
her to feel the stomach. I was not prepared for what happened next.
“Folks,
she is bleeding right now!†Bob showed the crowd the blood on his hand,
and
then wiped it across his shirt. “The bitch is in heavy season.†I
decided at
that moment, I was not leaving that tent until I got this girl. No matter
what
the cost was, she was going to be set free. I was not going to let this
girl
be bought just for her uterus. Bidding started out high, and then quickly
went to $10. Another round of furious bidding had begun and this time I was
in
the middle of it. Slowly, one by one other bidders were backing down, not
me.
Then I heard the words I had been waiting for, “SOLD to number 60 for
$75!â€
As I breathed a sigh of relief that I had saved the Japanese Chin from
being
bred again, I started to feel a sense of grief. There were so many dogs
that
the miller would not sell. What was going to happen to all the others that
were bought by other millers? In the back of my mind, I knew exactly what
was
going to happen to them.
I found my way to the trailer and settled up the bill. I wanted my dogs,
but
I had to find another trailer to pick up their paperwork and sign off on the
USDA forms. With papers in hand, I ran to what became known as the “Big
Yellow Truck†and boasted to Francine that I got the female Japanese Chin.
She was
busy loading all the Golden Retrievers up and she and Jim were worrying
about
available space. I could not be worried about space right now I had prized
possessions to get. I was off to collect our dogs. One by one, I carried
them
out of their filth to the truck, the whole way whispering to them, “It is
ok,
I am getting you out of here, you are safe now.â€
We did end up having to buy several crates from the millers. The miller’s
entire family stayed with us at the Big Yellow Truck and helped us load.
One
teenage boy was instructing his friends to remove the wire from the dog’s
neck
before they got loaded, as Francine had previously instructed him. The
miller
thanked us for coming and buying the dogs. She knew we were from a rescue
and
she admitted that the dogs we had bought were now safe. She even brought
out
another Golden puppy and asked us to buy him for $100. Jim told her we did
not have room, as he knew the game she was playing, and she went down to
$50,
yet another saved. I told her these dogs would never be bred again and
would
only go to the best most loving homes we could find. As our eyes met she
whispered thank you.
It was a very long drive home and had started to get dark. It was still
raining. The stench these dogs had taken with them was unbearable. The
stench we
had taken with us was unbearable. We were covered in urine and feces
ourselves. While trying to take our minds off the burning odor, I loved on
a Golden
Retriever puppy for about 10 minutes. Add being covered in dog vomit to the
urine and feces list.
We drove for a few hours before stopping at McDonalds for a quick bite to
eat. Adding to my notes for the next trip: Do not eat a Big Mac then get
back
in a vehicle full of 80 plus dogs that have just escaped a puppy mill. I
was
about to vomit from the stench and had to lie down on the floor, in the back
with all the dogs using a roll of paper towels for a pillow. The windows
were
down most of the way home needless to say. There was no laughter on the
trip
home.
Arriving home in the early hours of Sunday is much of a blur. One moment
that will be forever engraved in my head is when I was letting all the dogs
out
of their crates in Francine’s front yard. All the dogs slowly came out,
sniffed the grass for the first time and relieved themselves, except for one
dog.
The Italian Greyhound, no longer known as Prince’s Feisty Rascal #173,
came
right up to me as I knelt on the ground. He put both front paws on my thigh
and
gently licked my cheek before running off to enjoy his new found freedom.
All of the dogs are doing extremely well and adjusting to the good life
quicker then I thought they would. Their past is exactly that now, the
past. It
is I that is having trouble getting back to normal. I knew the weekend
would
be hard, but I had no idea it would affect me the way it did. While the “
escapees†are comfortable and in a deep sleep dreaming of the loving
family that
awaits them, I am having nightmares about the ones we had to leave behind.
Nightmares about not having crates to get the ones we saved home. Nearly a
week
later, my nights continue to be troubled by the faces, the sorrow, the
filth,
the suffering. I awake soaked and gasping for fresh air wishing I had never
gone to that damned place called a puppy mill. Then every morning when I
see
the shining faces, the indebted eyes, and the joyful wagging tails of the
dogs
thanking me for going to that damned puppy mill, I am the one that knows it
is
going to be ok now.
© 2004 by Janetta Chrysler
