In a world that that mocks the investigation of election fraud, believes Antifa is just an idea, considers burning buildings to the ground a peaceful protest and turns a blind eye to human trafficking, how could anyone possibly give a rat's ass about where their pet shop puppy comes from? It's "just a dog" anyway, right?
This world is very foreign to me. We want everything right now, by any means necessary. Nothing is questioned. The media's word is scripture and what is reported is the only thing given any merit.
Meanwhile, puppy mills are humming along producing puppies to be sold at local pet shops. Our government fights the animal advocates every step of the way because this is a very lucrative industry. An industry that is not spoken of by the media, so must not exist. A conspiracy theory of sorts in its own right.
I am here to tell you that "commercial breeding", the puppy mill's namesake, does exist. The parents of these commercially bred puppies can find themselves shoved inside a wire bottom crate with several other terrified dogs at an auction house to be sold to the highest bidder. Moving from one hell to another.
In 2017, members of the rescue community were excited to hear about The Dog Factory: Inside the Sickening World of Puppy Mills being written by Paul Solotaroff. He had gone undercover to the same auction house were rescues infiltrated in an effort to remove breeding dogs from the cold, loveless life they were born into. He saw, heard and smelled the same conditions we had. His story would give a voice to our mission and expose what we were fighting against. This would be a game changer.
Unfortunately, that voice was stifled by denials of the offenders and a lack of further mainstream coverage. The rescue community still needs to save dogs from the conditions Paul exposed and as a result I find myself opening our home up to another dog that is broken and scared. A product of the world he was rescued from. My gentle touch and soft kisses make his body tense and quiver. He retreats in fear, standing on his back legs while pushing me away with the front ones.
He is the father of your poo-mix, designer breed, exorbitantly priced pet shop puppy.
He didn't have a name, only a number - #146 listed in a catalog containing 300+ dogs for sale November 21, 2020.
He was saved by a new rescue organization, Bars ii Beds, and is known to them as Gravy. They saved a handful of dogs that day, all with Thanksgiving themed names. I am still working on his "Cavka" name. He did look like a snuggly teddy bear before I groomed him. Now he has a "Pulp Fiction", Samuel L. Jackson, kinda vibe about him. I'm sure he could go for a "tasty burger" too!
While he looks like a 'normal' dog, he carries much baggage from his past at the hands of his breeder. Now it is my job to peel away the damaged layers of the onion and expose the sweet heart soul inside with the help of my pack.
Meal time takes some coercing. Noises scare Gravy so he doesn't stay focused on the task at hand. He may eat a kibble or two from his bowl and then I have to hand feed him one morale at a time. Unless, of course, he hears a noise from another room, then he is on high alert and can't let his guard down enough to eat. I'm trying different locations and methods to get him to finish a bowl without help, but haven't figured out what makes him feel safest yet.
Retired mill dogs come with a myriad of challenges, one is getting them to go through a doorway. Gravy likes to be inside and outside but getting from one to the other is daunting to him. He channels his inner brave warrior and has followed the pack through at times with no issue. However, 9 times out 10 he requires the door be left open and for me to stand out of sight before he will cross the threshold. It's far too scary a task when being watched.
He is extremely sensitive to his feet and ears being touched. His ears had a mild infection but after a few cleanings and the removal of some dark nastiness he shows less resistance to his ears being touched. During his bath I made sure to examine his feet since they seemed to bug him most. No matting or objects were in between his pads that I could find. I can only imagine his feet are painful from the crate he was housed in prior to his arrival. Sadly, these dogs are typically kept in a wire bottom crate to allow urine and feces to fall through. For the convenience of the breeder, definitely not the comfort of the dog.
When approached, Gravy runs away in fear. For the time being he has a leash dragging from his harness so I can catch him without the trauma of 'chase and capture'. The good news is he has only been with me for a week and I have already witnessed progress. It will take baby steps with him, really any dog with a similar resume. After all, he has three years of mill life to swap out negative memories for. I'm up for the task and hope to fill him with so many positive experiences that the past doesn't riddle him with fear any longer.
How could I not? Just look at that face.