Puppy Mills

This is Baxter and he is now my poster pup for puppy mills. This little 1 1/2 pound Yorkie pup was rescued last weekend from the 4th worst puppy mill in the state of Oklahoma. (He's so tiny, his little paw is no bigger than the tip of my little finger.)

In a roundabout way, my aunt and my friend Becci rescued pups because "the breeder was getting out of the business." Thanks to Becci's research, we learned it's likely because the state is about to shut them down.

As you can tell from the links on this blog, I support supporting animal rescue (yes, I said supporting support!) In my group, I'm the cat collector. I'm not against dogs, I just don't understand them and their incessant need for approval. Cats just don't give a rat's ass, unless it really is a rat's ass. Then just try and keep them away! (haha, little joke....)

Anyway.... Becci is the dog collector. She loves little Yorkies like no one else I know. So when given the chance to add a third to her brood this past weekend, she was all over it like white on rice.

It began innocently enough. My aunt emailed me and let me know she was getting a Yorkie on Saturday. I called her to find out the details and was told that a relative of one of her co-workers was a breeder and was getting out of the business, so was giving away the puppies. When I told Becci, her immediate reaction was "I WANT ONE!!"

So I called my aunt back and asked if there was any way to add Becci to the free puppy list. There was! And so the three of us settled in to await the arrival of the pups from Oklahoma. I wasn't getting one, but I was just as excited.

We waited and waited. Finally around 5:30, we met up with them in the parking lot of the hospital. Tabitha and Carolyn start pulling out little scraps of fur from a carrier and everyone was getting all caught up. Unfortunately, the poor little bits were covered in vomit and poo because they had gotten carsick on the four-hour ride back to Texas. Becci was given a choice of an older, larger male, or a smaller, younger male. Sight unseen, Becci decides on the smaller one.

So they reach into the carrier and pull out this teeny little bit of fur that wasn't even moving. I wondered if the poor pup was actually alive. We all did. They told us he had been sat on during the ride because he was the smallest.

OK, so now I'm totally pissed off because they didn't do more to take care of the little bit. A) why did they take just one carrier for six dogs? B) why didn't they stop and take the poor little thing out of the carrier? and C) well, what the hell? Why wasn't more done to make sure he didn't get into such a condition? I mean, he wasn't moving! We could barely get him to open his eyes. I kept checking him just to make sure his heart was still beating. I was so afraid he'd die from one breath to the next. Becci's heart was already wrapped up in him no matter what his condition. So would mine have been, if I had been in the same position, because let's face it--neither of us would turn away from a creature in such distress.

Becci carried him home in her arms like a baby. A few hours later I called to check on him and she said he had taken a little water, but other than that was pretty passed out. A few hours later, however, she called me from the vet's office. They had decided to take him in so he could get some fluids and get his blood sugar back up. Which was good, because within an hour, he was on his feet and eating the vet out of house and home.

Little Baxter made it through that day by the skin of his teeth. And her "free" dog cost Becci $400 at the emergency vet clinic. But as sweet as he is, he's worth every penny. There is no telling what conditions he came from in Oklahoma, nor do we yet know what health problems he may encounter in the future thanks to his breeding. What we do know, however, is that this little pup is now going to be one of the world's most spoiled and best loved itteh bitteh puppehs on the planet.

Don't buy a pet. It only encourages the unscrupulous. Skip the breeders and pet stores and go to your local pound. Rescue one. Or in Sam's case--let one rescue you.