Rose

A puppy mill survivor

This is Rose. She is the newest member of the family. Rose is about 5 or 6 years old. She was rescued from a puppy mill where she endured horrors that I can only imagine. She was in foster care for over a year before I adopted her just a short time ago. Having rose has really opened my eyes about puppy mills and how important it is to educate the public.

Rose even after being in foster care with several others dogs and getting lots of love, she is still very shy and frightens easily. She still gets scared when I approach her and when I take her outside, she is just terrified. Rose is going to need a lot of love and patience. She may never get over what has happened to her, but at least she will learn that she now has a forever home where there will never be a lack of love.

One thing that was surprising to me, was how the cats accepted Rose immediately. They have always from the start been nice to her. She hangs out with them a lot and I think that they are good company for her when I am gone.

Prisoner of a puppy mill

By Teresa Maro Rozich (teresa@maro.net) May 1998

I huddle inside my small cage. I can barely stand, it's so small, but that is ok, because the wires of the floor cut into my bare feet when I do. My skin is raw, and cut, where I've had to lay so uncomfortably for hours on end, days without end, years that go on forever. My body offers no comfort, as it's thin and bony.

I have no bed on which to lay my body, no blanket to cover me when I'm cold, no furniture on which to sit, no private place to do my "business". No friends to call my own. I am in Solitary Confinement, with only myself for company. My fellow "prisoners" can't help me, for they too are in total misery. Their lives are no better then my own. I often hear their cries in the night. Cries of pain, cries of sadness, cries of loneliness.

I am hungry and sick, but my captors don't really care. I receive no medical attention, as I'm not considered important in the entire scheme of things.

My children give me a few moments of joy, but they are taken to early, leaving my breasts filled with milk. I know a different kind of pain now, the pain of love lost. The pain of true misery.

My stomach has stopped growling. It's way beyond that, as I sit here with the pain. Yesterday I vomited blood, as my stomach began to turn on itself.

Today I saw hair falling out by the handfuls. What had been a beautiful golden hair is now gone. Part of me wonders if maybe it will be over soon.

I sit day in and day out, staring into space. I have no family to remember to give me strength. I know of no God to worship in times of fear. I have no love to remember in times of pain. I have no hope

I have no hope, for I am a prisoner of cruelty. A prisoner of pain. A prisoner of greed. A prisoner of War.

For I am a prisoner of a puppy mill

In Rose's own words

My name is Rose and I am a Puppy Mill survivor.  Many Puppy Mill dogs aren’t as lucky as me and live their entire lives in fear and misery. As it is, I am still very shy and frightened of humans even though I was rescued almost 2 years ago.

My story begins little over 5 years ago when I was just a puppy. I so loved playing with my brothers and sisters and snuggling with my mom at night. One day soon after I had learned to eat on my own, some people came to my house and took me away with the promise of loving me and giving me a wonderful home. I never got to see the inside of the house.

I spent the next 5 years in a large barn like building with very little light in a tiny cage along with many other dogs.  I had little to no socialization except when it was feeding time and that wasn’t always every day. I was lucky to have clean water to drink. I had nowhere to do my business and often was forced to lie in my own waste. I had no bed to sleep on and the wire bottom of the cage would hurt my feet. I no longer got to go outside or run and play. I never got to leave my cage. I never received any health care.

Every time I went into heat, I was forced to breed and had litter after litter of puppies. I felt so tired and weak. Due to lack of food, I often was not able to produce enough milk for all my puppies to survive and several would die. The others sometimes would eat the ones that died because they were hungry and we were not given enough food to eat. When my puppies were old enough, a man would come and take them away to be sold in a pet store. Some of the dogs would get upset when the man would come and take their puppies away. Those dogs got their jaws broken so that they couldn’t bite

Every day, I longed for the warmth of the sun and to feel the grass beneath my toes. I wanted to run and play and most of all, be loved. I could not understand what I had done for these people to keep me in a cage and ignore me, never showing me any affection The only thing that they cared about was all the money they made selling puppies to pet stores and not the quality of life for their breeding stock. That’s all I was to them, a cheap way to make money

Then one day, someone came to take us all away from this place of horror. We all got veterinary care for the first time. Some dogs were in such bad shape and traumatized,  that they were humanely put down. I got spayed and also lost some of my teeth due to their being in such bad shape. We all got shots. I then spent the next year and a half in foster care learning how a dogs life really was supposed to be. I learned that not all humans are bad and there is someone who loves me

I have been in my forever home for about 4 months now. I’m still really shy and afraid. I still have a lot of learning to do but my new human friend doesn’t seem to mind. She said I could take all the time that I need to feel safe and comfortable.

So the next time you see that cute little puppy in the pet shop window, remember me, the dog who spent  years in a cage having these puppies. Remember me, the puppy mill survivor

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