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The Great Escape of 2004
Written by Janetta Chrysler
Friday, October 9, 2004, its pouring rain, Francine, Jim, and
I headed off to a small town in Arkansas on a mission to a rescue
at least 30 Golden Retrievers and whatever else we could afford
at a puppy mill auction. What we did not know was how it would
forever change our lives and the lives of some 80 dogs.
During the 11 hour drive, we planned our bidding strategy,
made jokes, got flea preventative divided up and ready in zip
lock baggies along with Capstar to kill the live ones. We got
collars ready with pretty pink and yellow ribbon holding on
a tag on which to write the dogs auction number. It was a fun
trip with lots of laughter.
We arrived in Ft. Smith, AR around 8pm and checked into a local
Motel 6. We found a Waffle House to get food before returning
to the motel for some much needed sleep. It was still raining.
At 6am, Jim called the room for our wake up call. Francine
and I showered and got ready for the big event. We had a good
laugh at each other wearing our “miller clothes”
that we purchased at Goodwill a few days before the trip. The
three of us walked in the rain over to McDonalds for breakfast.
There was a couple and their teenage son ordering food as we
walked in and we joked about them going to the auction.
Two hours later, after eating and checking out of the motel,
we found North River Road and I felt as if someone had just
punched me in the stomach as we pulled onto the grounds of the
puppy mill. We sat in the vehicle for a few minutes to catch
our breath and watched the millers unload their dogs that they
had brought for consignment. I do not think any of us were prepared
for what we would encounter on that Saturday, the 10th of October.
Earlier we had decided that Francine and I would stay together
while Jim went on his own. As soon as we walked through the
farm gates, there were two 6-week-old mixed breed black and
white puppies in a hamster cage in the bed of an open pick up
truck. It was chilly, windy and raining. These puppies were
shivering with a sign on the truck that said, “FREE, take
if you want.” You bet we took them! Two puppies were saved
from being bred just for their milk and their future newborn
puppies saved from being drowned because they were not wanted.
Francine and I put the puppies in a warm crate with a towel
in the bottom. Jim laughed at us, and called us those “damn
rescue do-gooders!”
As I was walking around the mill looking at all the eyes pleading
for release, I tried not to look horrified, but rather as if
I was used to seeing dead eyes and lost souls everyday. I tried
my best not to stick my fingers in any of the cages for I did
not want people to think I actually cared about these pathetic
looking creatures.
There were old trailers and portable buildings all over the
grounds with cries and barking coming from them all. Francine
and I got brave and started walking in them one by one. The
stench, the flies, nothing in my life had prepared me for this.
I have been in poorly run, falling down shelters and filthy
kennels. Nothing compared. The smell of stale urine and fresh
feces burned my nose and made me gag as I walked in the tiny
buildings. Wire cages were stacked 3 high on both walls and
crammed full of tiny puppies. They were literally dieing for
attention and since we were alone in the dimly lit building,
my fingers went inside the rusted wire cages, if only for a
second, they were given human attention. I wanted so badly to
open the cages, love on all of them and set them free from the
hell they were in. About an hour later, all the portable buildings
now had signs posted that read “Do Not Enter.” These
puppies were never auctioned off.
All the dogs up for auction had tight cheap metal chains around
their necks from which hung flexible plastic cattle tag lot
numbers. I guess they ran out of cheap chain because the rest
of the dogs got wire wrapped around their necks and the cattle
tags hung from that.
We found some of the Golden Retrievers and while there were
some that were just as terrified as we were, for the most part,
they were friendly and outgoing. I bent down to read a tag number
on a beautiful female and I whispered to her, “You are
getting out of here, I promise, you are getting out.”
The registration trailer was finally set up so we headed over
to register and get our numbers, 60 and 64. Numbers Bob and
Chad, the auctioneers, had memorized with our faces by the end
of the day. We walked around a bit more, then headed over to
the tent and waited for the auction to begin. As we sat on the
cold hard bleachers, I turned around to see who was behind us
and possibly eavesdropping, it was no other than the couple
and their teenage son from McDonalds!
The auctioneer was getting started. He introduced himself as
Bob and his teenage son as Chad. The rest of the family was
also introduced. Bob went over the auction rules including the
no camera rule. If anyone was caught with a camera, it would
be confiscated and the person would be escorted off the premises
to a waiting squad car and charged with trespassing, a felony.
Selling of equipment was starting. A miller’s equipment
consisted of surgical scissors for doing ones own stitching
and galvanized box kennel feeders along with metal cage cardholders.
The Chihuahuas were the first dogs up. As the high school aged
kids brought up the dogs three at a time, I felt a lump in my
throat and I had to remind myself to breathe, it was starting,
the selling of dogs for breeding had begun. The first three
chi’s were females and Bob stated they may have been bred,
meaning they were already pregnant and checked out fine. The
bidding began at $300, with no bids Bob went down to $50. It
was fast and furious with millers bidding left and right, SOLD
for $120 and the winning bidder picked which dog out of the
three he wanted. It started all over again for the remaining
two dogs. The winning bid was $250 and the lady said she wanted
them both. In came the next three and Bob stated that she was
a 98 model and had been bred. Her poor belly was so swollen
and she looked miserable. Her body was sold for $475. The last
of the Chi’s came out. On the table was an adorable 5-year-old
male named Slick Willie’s Snowball that looked just like
Francine’s Chi Chi that she had just lost to old age and
two other males. Once again the bidding began and at $35, I
raised my number, but by the time the auction helper got to
me, it had gone up to $75! Before I knew it, I heard, “sold
to number 60!” “Ma’am, which one do you want?”
I looked at Francine and together we said, “The blonde.”
The auctioneer chuckled and told the assistant that we wanted
the blonde, the third one.
We curiously watched in disgust as people were bidding on these
defenseless, frightened creatures like there was nothing to
it. All 13 of the female Cocker Spaniels were sold for anywhere
from $85 to $360 each. The male cocker puppies were next. Four
puppies were brought in, all 04 models as they were called.
Three of the puppies were said to have checked okay but the
black and white one named Spots Whopper Daddy had double cherry
eye. Bob announced that he could still get it on; he didn’t
need his sight for breeding! After that comment, I was determined
to get him. Bidding started out high, but due to these males
being young pups, they have not been “proven” to
breed yet. The starting bid kept going lower and lower. I wanted
this precious boy and I saved him for $25! There were now two
males left another young pup and a 3 year old. Bob told the
crowd that the 01 model had an un-descended testicle, but the
one he did have was big, and boy could it swing! The mob of
greed was quiet and the opening bid got down to $10, I raised
my card and heard “SOLD to #60.” When asked which
one I wanted, Francine and I looked at each other and without
hesitating we took them both for $10 each. Disgusting and a
true insult to the breed, but now they too are safe.
Bob announced that the large dogs would be auctioned off in
their kennels. We headed out of the tent and walked in the rain
and mud to where the Golden Retrievers, Golden Doodles, Bernese
Mountain Dogs, Australian Shepard’s and Akitas were. The
Goldens were up. Jim was looking nervous, yet he was confident
and looked like a professional. I made my way through the crowd
to Francine who was in charge of keeping track of how much Jim
had spent. The smell of feces made me gag and I had to turn
around and quickly walk out. I caught my breath and told myself
to suck it up as we were doing this to save lives. I braved
the flies and the stench once more. The bidding war had begun
between Jim and a friend of the auctioneer named Dell. The first
kennel had five dogs in it. Dell gave up at $200 and Jim took
the entire run. Kennel number two was packed with Goldens. Once
again, Jim won the bid and took the whole run. This went on,
kennel after kennel after kennel! Dell was now getting quite
angry and the crowd was all eyes on Jim, the man buying ALL
the Golden Retrievers. All I remember hearing was “SOLD,
number 64 buys the lot!” Bob did not have to ask Jim how
many he wanted from each kennel, he knew he was determined to
get them all. Jim had saved that entire kennel area of Goldens.
He called his wife to tell her the good news. Francine and I
saw the Golden Doodles were being auctioned off so we quickly
went back in the kennel. We had missed the females but we shouted
and stopped Chad, who had taken over for his father. Francine
asked what the bid was and we were told one male had sold for
$15. Chad asked if we were interested, hell yes we were. “SOLD!”
The last three were saved!
We found Jim still talking to his wife away from the crowds
and told him about the Doodles. The hoards of men, women and
children moved up the hill to a few more Goldens, Saint Bernard’s,
and Burmese Mountain Dog puppies. The adult female-bred Berners
bids were no higher than $200 and the miller said she would
not let them go for that. I’m so sorry girls that you
were left in that filth to have your precious babies. Saint
Bernard rescue was able to get all three of the Saint puppies.
Once again the Bernese Mountain Dogs were not getting much attention
and the bidding went down to $10. They were not in great shape
and looked to have hip dysplasia already at 8 months of age.
I got in on the bidding and it stopped at $25. “SOLD to
#60.” Each bidder was allowed to pick a dog. Jim got the
rest of the Goldens in that area.
I was starting to feel that the pores in my body had soaked
up the entire stench from around me. I was surrounded by human
greed. I was surrounded by cruelty. I had to take a walk away
from it all. I needed to clear my head, I needed to be strong.
Jim was on a roll at the upper kennels that contained the Golden
Retrievers for consignment. I stood back and watched Dell roll
his eyes and throw up his arms as he lost kennel after kennel
to Jim. I heard some women talking about the man in the blue
jacket at the end of the run. I casually looked down that way
and they were speaking of Jim. His cover was blown and they
along with everyone else had figured it out. These dogs were
never going to be bred again. They were getting out of this
filthy greed. They will never have to lie in their own urine
and feces. They will be kept warm in the winter and cool during
the summer months. They will never live in a kennel again. They
are free, they have escaped this horrible thing the millers
call a living.
A few Goldens were left and the millers were driving the prices
up to try and outbid “that rescue man.” Bob asked
Dell if he was ready and paying attention. Dell had already
given up and realized he was not going to get the twenty females
he had come to the auction for. Next it was off to the building
with mammas and their puppies. Once again Dell and the other
millers there, to raise the bidding, lost to Jim. In that building,
he saved two nursing moms with two puppies each. The rest of
the litter to one mom had been hosed down the drain and the
others pups had been eaten by the other dogs in the kennel with
her. One more Golden was left. She looked worried about where
her puppies were to be born. She was miserable in her wire-bottomed
cage. She too is now safe. You lose Dell, the Goldens have won
this auction!
Hours and hours had now passed and we are all getting tired
and wondering how we were going to get all the dogs home. Jim
went to the trailer and got his final total of dogs and money
owed. On his phone, he told his wife the wonderful news. Jim
went back to our vehicle to figure out a plan on transporting
about fifty more dogs than we had planned. Francine and I went
back to the auction tent to watch the disgust of bidding wars
on the small dogs.
Bulldog number 99 was up. He checked out fine for an ‘02
model and had even been semen tested. The beautiful boy was
bought for $450. Next came the Bacon Frise’s. All five
of them were 04 models and unproven males. We were shockingly
surprised when no one was biting at the opening bid of $1,000.
Why would anyone want to put up that much money in an unproven
male? Who cares how adorable they are. That was not the game
we were playing that day. Two Bichons were sold to us for a
measly $30 each.
The insanity went on for hours. In those cold wet hours, we
were able to save an Italian Greyhound and a Rat Terrier, both
looked scared to death. A male Schipperke was also freed from
his hell. I am not a big fan of Schipperkes and apparently millers
are not either. It was Larry’s Man Smokey’s turn
on the chopping block. Bidding started at $25, no bidders, down
to $20, still no bidders, down to $10, nothing. Bob said $5,
then gave up and asked if anyone even wanted this boy for free.
My arm shot up and Bob asked if I would pay a nickel for him.
Of course I will I told Bob. Another one saved.
Francine left to help Jim start loading up the truck. For some
reason, I could not pull myself away from this disgust, I was
hooked and I wanted more dogs out. Unfortunately, I could not
afford any of the Pugs, Westies, Maltese, or Min Pins. The last
dog of the auction was a ‘96 model female Japanese Chin.
Bob announced that she was missing several teeth and had a large
umbilical hernia. Another miller asked if she had been bred
and Bob put his hand under her to feel the stomach. I was not
prepared for what happened next. “Folks, she is bleeding
right now!” Bob showed the crowd the blood on his hand,
and then wiped it across his shirt. “The bitch is in heavy
season.” I decided at that moment, I was not leaving that
tent until I got this girl. No matter what the cost was, she
was going to be set free. I was not going to let this girl be
bought just for her uterus. Bidding started out high, and then
quickly went to $10. Another round of furious bidding had begun
and this time I was in the middle of it. Slowly, one by one
other bidders were backing down, not me. Then I heard the words
I had been waiting for, “SOLD to number 60 for $75!”
As I breathed a sigh of relief that I had saved the Japanese
Chin from being bred again, I started to feel a sense of grief.
There were so many dogs that the miller would not sell. What
was going to happen to all the others that were bought by other
millers? In the back of my mind, I knew exactly what was going
to happen to them.
I found my way to the trailer and settled up the bill. I wanted
my dogs, but I had to find another trailer to pick up their
paperwork and sign off on the USDA forms. With papers in hand,
I ran to what became known as the “Big Yellow Truck”
and boasted to Francine that I got the female Japanese Chin.
She was busy loading all the Golden Retrievers up and she and
Jim were worrying about available space. I could not be worried
about space right now I had prized possessions to get. I was
off to collect our dogs. One by one, I carried them out of their
filth to the truck, the whole way whispering to them, “It
is ok, I am getting you out of here, you are safe now.”
We did end up having to buy several crates from the millers.
The miller’s entire family stayed with us at the Big Yellow
Truck and helped us load. One teenage boy was instructing his
friends to remove the wire from the dog’s neck before
they got loaded, as Francine had previously instructed him.
The miller thanked us for coming and buying the dogs. She knew
we were from a rescue and she admitted that the dogs we had
bought were now safe. She even brought out another Golden puppy
and asked us to buy him for $100. Jim told her we did not have
room, as he knew the game she was playing, and she went down
to $50, yet another saved. I told her these dogs would never
be bred again and would only go to the best most loving homes
we could find. As our eyes met she whispered thank you.
It was a very long drive home and had started to get dark.
It was still raining. The stench these dogs had taken with them
was unbearable. The stench we had taken with us was unbearable.
We were covered in urine and feces ourselves. While trying to
take our minds off the burning odor, I loved on a Golden Retriever
puppy for about 10 minutes. Add being covered in dog vomit to
the urine and feces list.
We drove for a few hours before stopping at McDonalds for a
quick bite to eat. Adding to my notes for the next trip: Do
not eat a Big Mac then get back in a vehicle full of 80 plus
dogs that have just escaped a puppy mill. I was about to vomit
from the stench and had to lie down on the floor, in the back
with all the dogs using a roll of paper towels for a pillow.
The windows were down most of the way home needless to say.
There was no laughter on the trip home.
Arriving home in the early hours of Sunday is much of a blur.
One moment that will be forever engraved in my head is when
I was letting all the dogs out of their crates in Francine’s
front yard. All the dogs slowly came out, sniffed the grass
for the first time and relieved themselves, except for one dog.
The Italian Greyhound, no longer known as Prince’s Feisty
Rascal #173, came right up to me as I knelt on the ground. He
put both front paws on my thigh and gently licked my cheek before
running off to enjoy his new found freedom.
All of the dogs are doing extremely well and adjusting to the
good life quicker then I thought they would. Their past is exactly
that now, the past. It is I that is having trouble getting back
to normal. I knew the weekend would be hard, but I had no idea
it would affect me the way it did. While the “escapees”
are comfortable and in a deep sleep dreaming of the loving family
that awaits them, I am having nightmares about the ones we had
to leave behind. Nightmares about not having crates to get the
ones we saved home. Nearly a week later, my nights continue
to be troubled by the faces, the sorrow, the filth, the suffering.
I awake soaked and gasping for fresh air wishing I had never
gone to that damned place called a puppy mill. Then every morning
when I see the shining faces, the indebted eyes, and the joyful
wagging tails of the dogs thanking me for going to that damned
puppy mill, I am the one that knows it is going to be ok now.
© 2004 by Janetta Chrysler
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