5432 dogs saved and counting
It's about the dogs.
It's about the dogs.
Rest in Peace
Born: 1/17/2000
Died: 5/13/2008
Lily's Tribute
Born: 1/17/2000
Died: 5/13/2008
Lily's Tribute
our founder - Lily
read more here
read more here
“TEMPEST” - One amazing dogs’ story from puppy mill to loving home
Late February 2010 - We’re off on a rescue, a small one this time - transporting 30 dogs to rescue partners on the east coast, as our kennel is totally full and these dogs are in danger.
Darrell, our tried and true transport coordinator, and I arrive at the puppy mill in Iowa in a foot of snow. We’ve never worked with this “breeder” before but she’s under the gun with the Department of Ag and the dogs have to go or they’ll be destroyed. She greets us in her driveway carrying a couple of filthy, matted Bichons, one under each arm. She has a look in her eye, untrusting to say the least. She doesn’t say much.
Over the next hour, she and a young lady that works for her, go back and forth to the barn and carry out the dogs for us to load into our vehicle. We aren’t allowed in the barn - heaven forbid we should see the living conditions. That’s fine, we’ve seen it all before and the condition of the dogs tells the whole story anyway. We’re frozen to the bone. Our main goal is to get the dogs and get out.
All the dogs are loaded and the young lady comes out of the barn carrying a Husky, a pup, about 4 months old. “Something’s wrong with this one”, she says. Oh yes, something’s wrong alright. His eyes are two huge blued out saucers, darting side to side, up and down, covered in what looks like black spider webs. He is completely blind. The breeder says she’s never seen this condition before and everyone tells her to just shoot him.
I spend a few minutes in the snow laden bed of a pickup truck with him - petting him and talking to him. He’s so sweet, so alert and clearly enjoys the attention. Knowing full well we didn’t have the room for him, let alone ourselves, I make a pledge to her that we will be back to get him. She agrees to hold onto him until our next run to Iowa which is now, a priority.
Simply stated, this is the hardest part of what we do - leaving dogs behind, never knowing if they will still be there when we get back. Every time I walk through a puppy mill, I make a quiet promise to every dog - “I’ll be back and hopefully next time, it will be your turn to get out.” This is the kind of stuff that keeps rescuers awake at night…. Whose eyes did you look into? Who did you make that promise to? Will they ever have a chance at life outside the darkness of this hell?
We knew we were facing a snowstorm of epic proportions, due to hit the east coast early the next morning. Going against the rule of sleep after 18 hours of driving, we forged on to our destination, Darrell at the wheel every minute of the 23 hour drive - a guy thing, I guess!
Several times during the long drive, we talked about the Husky puppy, wondering what happened to his eyes, wondering if he was in pain, wondering if she would really hold onto him, wondering if we should have just found a way to pack him in with us.
For myself, I can say I worried - something I’m very good at. I worried that he wouldn’t be there when we went back. After all, we had no idea when that would be. People make promises, but there are two kinds of promises a person must keep, a
Darrell, our tried and true transport coordinator, and I arrive at the puppy mill in Iowa in a foot of snow. We’ve never worked with this “breeder” before but she’s under the gun with the Department of Ag and the dogs have to go or they’ll be destroyed. She greets us in her driveway carrying a couple of filthy, matted Bichons, one under each arm. She has a look in her eye, untrusting to say the least. She doesn’t say much.
Over the next hour, she and a young lady that works for her, go back and forth to the barn and carry out the dogs for us to load into our vehicle. We aren’t allowed in the barn - heaven forbid we should see the living conditions. That’s fine, we’ve seen it all before and the condition of the dogs tells the whole story anyway. We’re frozen to the bone. Our main goal is to get the dogs and get out.
All the dogs are loaded and the young lady comes out of the barn carrying a Husky, a pup, about 4 months old. “Something’s wrong with this one”, she says. Oh yes, something’s wrong alright. His eyes are two huge blued out saucers, darting side to side, up and down, covered in what looks like black spider webs. He is completely blind. The breeder says she’s never seen this condition before and everyone tells her to just shoot him.
I spend a few minutes in the snow laden bed of a pickup truck with him - petting him and talking to him. He’s so sweet, so alert and clearly enjoys the attention. Knowing full well we didn’t have the room for him, let alone ourselves, I make a pledge to her that we will be back to get him. She agrees to hold onto him until our next run to Iowa which is now, a priority.
Simply stated, this is the hardest part of what we do - leaving dogs behind, never knowing if they will still be there when we get back. Every time I walk through a puppy mill, I make a quiet promise to every dog - “I’ll be back and hopefully next time, it will be your turn to get out.” This is the kind of stuff that keeps rescuers awake at night…. Whose eyes did you look into? Who did you make that promise to? Will they ever have a chance at life outside the darkness of this hell?
We knew we were facing a snowstorm of epic proportions, due to hit the east coast early the next morning. Going against the rule of sleep after 18 hours of driving, we forged on to our destination, Darrell at the wheel every minute of the 23 hour drive - a guy thing, I guess!
Several times during the long drive, we talked about the Husky puppy, wondering what happened to his eyes, wondering if he was in pain, wondering if she would really hold onto him, wondering if we should have just found a way to pack him in with us.
For myself, I can say I worried - something I’m very good at. I worried that he wouldn’t be there when we went back. After all, we had no idea when that would be. People make promises, but there are two kinds of promises a person must keep, a
promise to a child and a promise to a dog. My guts churned every time I thought about him. I knew we would be back for him but would the breeder really wait for us to return?
Over the next few weeks, I stayed in touch with her, reminding her that we were coming for the Husky pup. During one of those conversations, she told me about a litter mate to our blind boy. She said he had gotten into a fight with another dog and one of his eyes was injured. I agreed to take him too.
In early April, while working his paying job for the railroad, Darrell had an opportunity to pick up the pups, a mere 200 miles out of his way. Finally, the worry was over.
What a relief it was to see these very special boys arrive safe and sound at our kennel. They were christened “Matrix” and “Lakota” and they immediately captured the hearts of many. First stop was the eye specialist. The diagnosis, Congenital Glaucoma. Poor breeding. Matrix had the condition in both eyes, Lakota in one eye. And yes, the Doctor said Matrix is totally blind and for the sake of his comfort, the eyes have to be removed. Fortunately for Lakota, it was only one eye. Check our website for Lakota’s happy ending under “Their Stories”. He is mischievous and thriving in his loving adoptive home.
For the month prior to his surgery, we worked to get Matrix healthy and strong. He was infested with intestinal parasites and needed to put on a few pounds. During that time, so many of our volunteers marveled at his loving nature. Every day, you could find someone in his kennel run, sitting on the floor with Matrix in their lap. How could this dog that had such a painful and rough start to his life be so loving and so kind? That is simply the nature of dogs...
May 8, 2010 - today is surgery day. Everyone is concerned. The rest of the story of this astounding dog will warm your heart, all because of the love, care and courage of three extraordinary volunteers; a man, his wife and their amazing girl. These are the stories that keep us going.
Theresa Strader
Over the next few weeks, I stayed in touch with her, reminding her that we were coming for the Husky pup. During one of those conversations, she told me about a litter mate to our blind boy. She said he had gotten into a fight with another dog and one of his eyes was injured. I agreed to take him too.
In early April, while working his paying job for the railroad, Darrell had an opportunity to pick up the pups, a mere 200 miles out of his way. Finally, the worry was over.
What a relief it was to see these very special boys arrive safe and sound at our kennel. They were christened “Matrix” and “Lakota” and they immediately captured the hearts of many. First stop was the eye specialist. The diagnosis, Congenital Glaucoma. Poor breeding. Matrix had the condition in both eyes, Lakota in one eye. And yes, the Doctor said Matrix is totally blind and for the sake of his comfort, the eyes have to be removed. Fortunately for Lakota, it was only one eye. Check our website for Lakota’s happy ending under “Their Stories”. He is mischievous and thriving in his loving adoptive home.
For the month prior to his surgery, we worked to get Matrix healthy and strong. He was infested with intestinal parasites and needed to put on a few pounds. During that time, so many of our volunteers marveled at his loving nature. Every day, you could find someone in his kennel run, sitting on the floor with Matrix in their lap. How could this dog that had such a painful and rough start to his life be so loving and so kind? That is simply the nature of dogs...
May 8, 2010 - today is surgery day. Everyone is concerned. The rest of the story of this astounding dog will warm your heart, all because of the love, care and courage of three extraordinary volunteers; a man, his wife and their amazing girl. These are the stories that keep us going.
Theresa Strader
Rescue day
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