June 15--Dog - InkSpot.Com

Getting Acquainted

I spend most of my time playing alpha female for my pack of dogs. Lucy (Boston terrier), Harley (chihuahua). Hershey (miniature dachshund) and Jasper (standard schnauzer) are my entertainment and sometimes muses. Jasper is a puppy mill rescue dog and I'm in the intital stages of writing a series of vignettes of his life since the rescue contrasted with eduaction about rescues and puppy mills. I do actually have other interests than writing and my dogs. I love to scrapbook, watch ice hockey, listen to a variety of music genres and reading. My parents both were avid readers and passed that love on to me. I'll read a cereal box if you set it in front of me!

June 15--Dog

My name is Lucy and I was abandoned. Yes, even a purebred like me can be dumped on a country road. You see, I was a puppy mill dog.

What is that? Well, puppy mills breed substandard purebred or even "designer" dogs for profit. Often they advertise several breeds at once. It is difficult enough to raise one breed let alone many. They aren't concerned with breed standards or making sure the conformation of their dogs are keeping with each dog's standard. They are in it for the money.

The conditions we lived in were deplorable! Cages stacked one atop another. We are only allowed out of them for purposes of procreation. Think about this carefully. We are NOT allowed out at all except for the aforementioned reason. This means the dogs in the bottom cages get all the waste from the upper cages. It literally is a trickle down affect. We are often in bad health. The owners of these places don't care how we feel. As I said we are only dollars in their pockets.

The smell in the place is horrid. We are often housed in enclosed sheds. Waste, sickness and dead and dying dogs are the rule of the day. We live by our noses and this is torture to us.

Even though I consider myself among the lucky ones. You see, the owners of my puppy mill couldn't afford our "upkeep" in this economy. To hide what they do, instead of taking us to the shelter or a veterinarian, they take us out to a very remote area and dump us. A LOT of us. When I was set free, there were over a hundred dogs of at least ten different breeds, mostly small dogs. It was raining and cold and most of us didn't even know what grass was. Some of us ran into the road, some into the woods, and others huddled in the ditches.

A farmer was driving by and noticed us and how many of us there were. He called some other people. Soon they were everywhere. We could smell the food they brought with them and felt the warmth of their vehicles and trailers. Most of us were tempted by the comforting voices and promise of something good. We left that place, and the one before it, behind.

I remember the place they brought us to. It smelled of dogs and medicine. I was checked over from nose to tail and given some medicine and some shots. I didn't like that! But I felt better a day or two later.

When I felt more like a dog than I ever had, a woman came to the place. She walked along the kennels talking to each of us. She had kind eyes and smelled like home. A true home. She chose me of all of the dogs there and I went home with her.

Now I know what grass is. I know how the breeze feels on my face. I sit for hours just soaking it in. I learned how to run for the first time in my life. The woman treats me so kindly. She brings me tasty things and toys to play with. She ven lets me sleep with her! I lay my head on her pillow so I know she is there when I wake up.

I am one of the few lucky ones.

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