Dear Diary January 28, 2003

Dear Diary,

I am writing to Mom again. Time has been a stretched resource this month. I have not been able to keep up with you, and Mom has had a difficult time talking. She is short of breath.

Hi Mom, It's me. I miss you. I'd like to be propped up in bed watching TV with you. I know you have been weak this week. Since we weren't able to talk but a minute, I am writing you. I love you Precious. I am thankful for you.

Carol's little dog Max died. He was 16. She said he developed a sort of seizure, or something that caused him to turn over, and over, repeatedly. His vet had to end his suffering. I know Carol and Charlie are lonesome for him.

I called Harry, and Richie on Sunday. They are fine. They both wished I were there. It is good to have loved ones.

Mostly Rick, Tina, and I have been really busy. Rick has been keeping the sanctuary running, and our equipment. The van had to go in for a minor repair. We have been in touch with a few groups that may help with some of the dogs we have rescued. Tina has been a big help to us at the sanctuary.

I have been involved in getting reports, and photos to the home office, and the groups that aided with the closing of the Ripley shelter, and the Shannon, MS. puppymill. I have a buddy at the cable business in town who is consolidating our various videos to single tapes of each action.

Thursday I need to go to Jackson to meet with a few legislators. We have two bills that are headed for sub-committees. One of the bills would give definition to our State anti-cruelty to animals Statutes, the other would at last make it possible for shelters to humanely euthanize animals without being dependent on vets that may be too busy, or unwilling to help. There are a number of shelters that are killing animals by horrible means because they have no vet to work with.

On the way to Jackson I will pass through McCool to rescue two dogs that have been reported to be in terrible shape. They were abandoned when their guardians moved. Later I will go check on Taffy and Paco. They were adopted by guardians in Brandon, MS. I am concerned that neither guardian has responded to my follow-up calls. I need to make certain that they are safe, and in good hands. Taffy was with us on and off for five years, and Paco since Feb. of last year. I would be sick if anything bad happened to them.

I have aided with a number of cruelty cases over the phone. Tomorrow I will head for Ripley to see that the man who saw the vet put the puppy in garbage finally signs a criminal affidavit at the Justice Court. He has been hard to catch up with. I called Bob Crumpton to ask for his help in the afternoon. I learned of a man who is fighting dogs. Reportedly he has six chewed up dogs right now.

Tomorrow it will be a week since Bob and I looked into the report that closed the puppymill down. Mom, it was sickening. The shelter I told you about really couldn't have been worse, but this was just as bad.

Bob and I asked a Shannon, MS. police officer to accompany us to ask the breeder if we could have a look at his facility. The man was aged, and clearly in poor health. After I saw his facility I was amazed that he hadn't contracted a disease that would have further compromised his health.

The puppymill was less than a block away from a Jr. High School, and nestled in a cozy dead-end street with side-by-side houses. It was shocking to see that not only was the tin barn-like building the dogs were confined in shockingly filthy, but that when the excrement was scraped from the cages, it was dumped behind the building ñ just feet away from the neighbors lawn.

Instead of the 20-25 dogs he said he had, there were 66 inside the facility. Mom, the poor little dogs were freezing. They had no bedding. Their cages were caked with excrement, torn plastic bread bags, heaps of wasted stale bread that he tossed into their waste, and the hair that they were scratching off. Most of them were covered with mange. Two Boxers were completely hairless. The poor dogs looked like sci-fi creatures. Their skin was black and leathery from demodex mange. A Tupelo vet is trying to save them.

I had to keep putting down my cameras to stop fights. The poor dogs had just had it. You can imagine what we would do if we were imprisoned in crowded, filthy conditions in the freezing cold. I would probably kill. One precious little red pregnant dachshund was tackled and viciously attacked by two of her run mates. She bit the pazuzies out of me when I reached to help her. Robin and I had to kick out part of metal wall so that I could get to her. By the time the day was over I had a number of unpleasant bites, and so did Marie Parker. She works for the Tupelo/Lee Animal Shelter. We called them to help us. Thank God they weren't crowded, and these were mostly small dogs.

The wonderful police officer that was with us was a jewel. He was as upset as we were. He was thrilled when I told Bob we were going to have to get every dog out of there that day. Except for an emergency call he got he was with us the whole day. He and I even went up the hill to look into the desperate cries of a neighbor's puppy. We discovered the poor pup waist-deep in icy water. We talked to the man at the residence, and took all eight of his puppies. They didn't have bedding, or enough shelter, and the pup would have drowned, or died of hypothermia. The water container in the pen was knee high. The only way the pups could drink was to climb in. Beats me!

We called Dr. Rowan. He aids the Tupelo Shelter. He hurried over and aided in documenting the state of the facility, and dogs. I asked him to back me up when I told the breeder that we would have to take his dogs. By then the street was crowded with police, Sheriff, and media vehicles. At first the man would only agree to us removing the dogs for him to move somewhere else. He wanted to sell them. He finally realized that they were in such poor condition that the expense of treating, and caring for them until they could be sold would eat up his profit. I also got him to realize that he was facing criminal charges. There was no excuse for the deplorable conditions he had subjected them to. In the end his health saved him from prosecution, and he actually told me that this was probably the bet thing that could have happened.

When we started taking the dogs out, we had to cut through enclosures, and kick metal panels from the side of the building to get to dogs. The man had only made holes large enough for the dogs to get in and out. He walked along the side of the building with a pressure hose and made a 'half-*>#<*!' attempt to wash out the pens. About half of the dogs were in the filthy pens; the others were in the filthy wire hutches. All were as filthy after he cleaned as before he started. The poor little dogs were smeared with their waste. Really great for their raw mangy skin!

I tell you Mom; it never gets easier. Thank God for the vets that help, the other groups that pitch in to help move and care for the dogs. I would truly go mad if I wasn't able to see that what we are doing brings animals straight from hell.

When the dogs first got to the vets, and shelters they were in shock. After a few days of treatment for mange, bacterial infections, and relief from hunger, attacks, and the horrid freezing nights and days, they are becoming lighthearted. Guardians are lining up to adopt them. Yeah!

I got good reports today regarding the dogs that we took out of the Ripley Shelter. A number of them have gotten homes. Of course it has been the puppies, and small dogs that have been placed. The little dog that Gay is fostering will go to Texas next week. One of my friends will take her to their friend who just retired and bought a home. He was looking to help a disabled dog. Tiffany's back left knee is stiff from a break that wasn't treated.

I love you Mom. I wish you were still in good health. We'd whip ëem into shape around here. Thank you for teaching me to stand up for the defenseless. You're the greatest!

Talk to you soon.