One Home Away Sheltie Rescue - Puppy Mill Story

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Patchwork Sheltie Rescue
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What is a Puppy Mill?

Puppy Mills are places that mass produce (breed) puppies. Often, these mills will have 20-40 different breeds of dogs, and breed each female every time she comes into season. Conditions are horrible and would shock you. Puppies and parents are never held, never played with and are seldom given proper vet care. Puppies are taken from their Mom's at a very early age, all so they can be sitting in the pet shop looking adorable when they turn 8 weeks old. Quite often birthdates are forged, so the puppies are young looking and more apealling to the puppy buyer.

ALL puppies purchased from a Pet Store, or a retail business, come from a puppy mill. Period. (The pet store certainly isn't going to tell you they buy from puppy mills) The truth is NO responsible breeder would ever sell puppies through a pet shop. Please help spread the word, and put the mills out of business. Breeding puppies should only be done by knowledgable, caring people who have the time to devote to each individual puppy. How to find a good breeder?

The following story was written by a Keeshond owner but could be anyone's story. Permission to crosspost was granted by her. If you print or crosspost, be certain to include the author's name and copyright information. The Other Victims of Puppy Mills Puppies are not the only victims of puppy mills, my story.
G. Kerry

I fell in love with a beautiful little teddy bear of a puppy the instant I set eyes on her and she let me know that the feelings were mutual. I knew nothing about puppies, the Keeshond breed or puppy mills. I only knew I had to have this adorable little bundle. She became the joy of my life and a delight to my soul and somehow we both survived her puppy hood. We were inseparable and the bond between us deepened each day. I soon learned that a Keeshond is a thinking being with a keen sense of humor and fair play.

The first time I tossed a ball for her to chase she ran after it and brought it back to me, also the second time. But the third time she didn't give me the ball, she just looked me in the eye, gave her head a toss throwing the ball across the yard then looked at me expectantly. I understood the message and dutifully ran, laughing all the way across the yard to retrieve the ball. I guess that was my first "obedience lesson" in taking turns and fair play. I must have passed the test because I got a great big laughing Keesie grin and some tender licks as my reward. I would play little jokes on her and she would play little jokes on me, often amazing me with the uniqueness of the things she would think up. She never ceased to amaze me and I could never look at her without thinking, how beautiful and intelligent she was. The very sight of her lifted my spirits and inspired me. We ate together and slept together, when I showered she would come nosing in through the curtain and join me, when I soaked in a tub full of bubbles she couldn't resist jumping in. When we hiked through the woods and streams together she would never let me out of her sight. At the ocean we would chase seagulls and splash in the water together. She was always happy to help me dig holes in the garden and I would help her chase lizards and other critters and dig in the gopher holes. We had such wonderfully happy times together and I loved her with all my heart and soul.

Little did I know she was a ticking time bomb of sorrow, pain and anguish for the both of us, through no fault of her own or mine. She had been born to suffer andbring grief by an insensitive, greedy puppy miller whose only concern was mass producing puppies for profit. These degenerates don't care if they reproduce puppies with genetic disorders, heart and immune system disorders, allergy and skin problems or any other inherited defect. They don't care about the future health of the puppies or the devastation they will cause in the lives of the people who love them. They over breed indiscriminately, as often as they can with as little cash output as possible for food and housing, in unimaginable filthy conditions and without veterinary care or loving attention.

My little partner began with allergies, then skin problems, heart problems followed. I sold my antique bellows organ to pay the vet bill and buy her prescriptions. There were times she would seem to get better, then she would get worse and I would have to lift her up and carry her outside to go for a ride or make a puddle. Her liver and kidneys began to function poorly, she retained water and couldn't make a puddle. Back to the vet, more tests, more medication. I sold my piano to pay for it all, to buy her a little more time. I called university research centers and talked to some very kindly researchers who shared any new information they had with me on her problems and I tried it all. It was hell, she was suffering and I was doing all that I could find out to do and it wasn't enough. I sold my wedding rings to pay the vet and prescriptions and buy a special concentrated diet that I had to put down her throat with a syringe when she stopped eating. After three years of nursing and caring for her, of hoping and praying for a miracle I finally realized it was time, time to make "that terrible decision". She couldn't eat or drink, she couldn't walk, run or play. She couldn't do any of the fun things she so dearly loved to do, she was suffering and she had lost her wonderful laughing Keesie grin. I was physically, emotionally and financially exhausted. With my heart breaking, sobbing uncontrollably, I called the vet and made the appointment for three days later in the afternoon just before closing. For the next three days I would carry her out to the truck and lay her on a cushion where she could see out of the window. I would drive up the dirt roads through the woods at 5 miles per hour all day, to all the places where we had shared so many happy hours together. She rested her chin on the open window sill and watched intently as we drove. She had always enjoyed riding along like this, woofing at deer and squirrels when we saw them. She seemed to enjoy the scenery now but only pricked up her ears at the sight of a squirrel with no woofing request to stop and let her chase it up a tree. On the last day, my face streaming with tears, I told her about my own near death experience, how beautiful and wonderful it was on the other side where she would be a puppy again without any pain or suffering. When we arrived at the veterinary office I apologized for my selfishness in not letting her go sooner asked her to forgive me and wait for me on the other side. She looked at me with the most intense look of understanding, gave me a tender lick and laid her face in my hand.

Tell me puppy millers, was your $25 profit worth it?

G Kerry (c) 9/19/2000