Puppy Mill Chihuahua Mama

My 11th foster dog for 2009: a tiny Chihuahua girl who was a puppy mill breeder mama. She was one of four back yard breeder dogs turned into the Shelter last week. When does a "back yard breeder" become a "puppy mill breeder"?--well, in my mind, it's when the owner surrender form states: "We had these dogs only for breeding for top dollar puppies. We no longer make money with these dogs and are moving."

I don't know how the intake person who handled this "surrender" could keep calm. I think I would have gone ballistic. There were three females and one male. Three of the chihuahuas had horrible confirmation--long, skinny backs, outward-turned paws and weak mouths. The mama, named "Peaches," by her owners (although she doesn't appear to answer to the name) came with me. Peaches has an overall good body type, adorable markings, including a kissy spot of white on top of her round apple head, tiny ears and a peach-colored coat, but she has a severe underbite, crooked lower teeth and her ankles have fallen so far they nearly touch the ground. The ankle issue is probably a by-product of spending a life in a wire cage.

All the dogs were nearly feral, with poor socialization. This mama dog was not producing puppies for her owners because when the Shelter vet did the spay operation, the poor dog's uterus was filled with pus from a horrible infection. The Shelter vet did a full hysterectomy and gave her an antibiotic shot. I have started Peaches on Clavamox and have give her some Tramodol leftover from when my little dog got bit up by the Jack Russell foster (that happened in April).

Peaches nommed hard on my index finger put of fear yesterday while I was putting a harness on her, but she seems a bit less terrified today. Picking her up without a fuss is impossible, of course, but she did eat some boiled chicken out of my hand. She is probably not housebroken, but has piddled on the pee-pee pad.

While I was taking care of Peaches' paperwork, the dispatcher came in to say that one of the Animal Control officers was bringing in 10 Rat Terriers from a hoarding situation where there were at least 40 dogs. The Shelter is stuffed with dogs, and we're not really set up to handle these special cases. If you live in the Houston area, and would like to foster a special needs dog, please leave me a comment or visit the Montgomery County Texas Animal Shelter website, http://www.montgomerycountypets.com/. I'll be posting updates about "Peaches" and her kennel-mates.

Full Moon From a Backyard Breeder

I have been away from Off-Site Adoptions and the Shelter for about two weeks—thus the absence of posts since I don’t like to depend on filler posts—but I went to an Off-Site today and came home with a heckuva story!

We had a Foster-only event at Natural Pawz, a locally owned pet boutique located in a small shopping center fronting a busy highway in Tomball. I was there with my min-pin foster dog, Rusty. The shop’s manager, Ms. C., noticed a guy selling lab mix puppies out of the back of his pickup truck on a driveway next to the center. Natural Pawz had displayed a big, professional sign promoting “Dog Adoptions on Saturday,” and passing traffic wouldn’t know that the Backyard Breeder wasn’t part of our event. Ms. C. went out to tell the man that he should move, but he insisted he was parked on his property. Ms. C. called her landlord, who doubted this claim.

The store clerk asked me to accompany her outside because the landlord wanted her to take a photo of the man’s truck and license plate. I walked over to the truck with her, and at our approach, a potential client (a woman with two kids) hurriedly got into her car. Ms. C. had a small digital camera, and confidently snapped photos of the guy’s truck, the big magnetic sign advertising his Gutter business and then she walked around to get a shot of the back end (with a crate full of what appeared to be lab puppies) to take a shot of the license plate. The guy, a ruddy, salt-and-pepper grey haired fellow wearing a tee-shirt and baggy plaid shorts got irritated (naturally) and insisted he was on his property and could do what he wanted.

Ms. C. aimed her digital camera at the license plate on the rear end of the truck. Mr. Backyard Breeder smirked, hitched his belt with his hands, then swiveled, yanking down his shorts to expose a very white rear. Ms. C. calmly took the photo—but alas, the license plate, as you can see, is obscured by a full moon.

Still smirking the guy repeated that he owned the property. Ms. C. pivoted and we both walked away. “That photo will be just great when the county sheriff sees it,” I said to the man. He didn’t bother with a reply nor did he make any move to pack up. Shaken by the brazenness, not to mention the affront of being treated to a guy’s bare butt, we hurried back into the shop. I suggested that now would be a good time to call the police.

By the time the Tomball, TX, police officer arrived, Mr. Backyard Breeder had decided it would be in his best interest to pack up his puppy operation for the day. I gave the officer the information, including the guy’s business name and phone (captured clearly on the digital camera) and showed her the evidence of the full moon. The officer laughed and said, “I saw your call on my list and figured I needed to hear about this one.” Of course, she could do nothing since the guy had left, but she assured us that if he showed up elsewhere, this information—including his act of public exposure—could be retrieved.

As a public service, then, I present the full moon in progress (pixelated in the appropriate areas for decency's sake), complete with puppies in the background. Ms. C. said she posted the guy’s business name and phone number on a local dog rescue site with the note to avoid giving the man business.