Mill

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My feet hurt. There are scars all on the bottoms of my paws. The chicken-wire cage I stand in is too small for me. I have to hunch down to fit. I can only walk in circles. My fur drags along the holes and gets tangled easily. My nails are overgrown and scrape the wire. My stub of a tail is bothered by the wire. The air is putrid and my feces falls into the cage below me. My friend in the cage below knows it isn’t my fault. It is something we must simply do to survive. To remain in this hell hole until God knows how long. Those humans will never stop. I’ve heard them. They laugh at us and call us names. It hurts me, it hurts all my friends around me I’ve never been able to sniff and greet. I’ve seen what they do to those who have passed. They stuff them in big bags and simply throw them in the garbage cans. Those who are not useful to them, most of the time, get shot alive. Some of my fur falls out because I have had absolutely no grooming in the seven years I’ve circled this cage, waiting. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but I know it can either be bad, or good somehow. It’s just a matter of time before I am useless to them.

            My friends, all around me, have been bred at least twice a year. Producing young they love so dearly, but at the same time wonder why they must go through this experience over and over again. It is a painful miracle of life. Once their young turn 8 weeks of age, the humans invade the cage and take them from their mother. The mothers are devastated, but know they must keep doing this until they no longer can. We have no idea what those people do to those young ones. We have never been outside this building, let alone our cages.

            Everyday, I see my friends running around in cages that turn, like hamster wheels. I am lucky to even get this cage. They have to live their life in circles, literally. I see the larger ones outside in pens. The mud up to their ankles, they howl and plead for the touch of grass.

            I get fed often, but it’s within the confines of my cage. In the seven years I’ve been here, I have stepped not one paw outside my cage. I feel like a prisoner, in fact, that is exactly what we are. We are not even animals to them, the humans. We are money. We are a product. We are equal to livestock. They have no sympathy or compassion for us. We are merely a source of profit. We have lost almost all of our hope. I have lost count many times, but I estimate there are at least a hundred of us, including me, in this room. We all want the same thing; to be free. To feel grass, to walk, to play, to swim, to be loved. Loved. We just want to be loved.

            I wake up today in the same state as always; hungry, sore, and I yearn to stretch my legs. Something different is in the air though. I can feel it. Someone is here. Not another new addition to our large, cramped family, but a human. I feel fear as I always do. Who knows, they might take me away to someplace better, or worse. I pray it is better. Our “owners” walk through the door. A woman trails behind them. She wears a plain jacket and a hat. Her face looks different to me though. She does not look like she will bring me harm. She looks around the room with an astonished look. I don’t blame her. She smells of innocence, and I feel as if hope has washed over me. She walks through the room, stepping over my friends in their cages. Then, she stops in front of me. I feel panic. I don’t know how to react. My legs tremble beneath me. A tear escapes her eye and I instantly feel that she knows of my suffering. The man speaks to her; she wipes her eye and goes back to him. I lay back down, knowing she might never come back.

            Only about an hour later, the woman comes back in. She looks confident now. She makes her way over to me and opens my cage. It feels as if a new, fresh, reassuring wave of hope has cleansed the air. She cradles me in her arms, whispering “You’re going to be alright.” I believe her. She takes me out of the room, and for the first time, I breathe in clean, cool air from the outside. The grass is greener than I thought and the trees tower over me. I look back to the dogs outside that are pouncing up on their fences. I feel sad for them; they are not coming. The woman puts me in some sort of crate, to my joy it is big enough for me to jump up in! I have never felt so welcome in a cage. Yet I long to be let out again. There is another one beside me in the next crate. I don’t recognize him and realize he must be from a different room.

            “Congratulations there. Looks like she’s chosen us.” He says to me. “We will finally get a better life.”

            “Better life?” I am confused about this situation.

            “Yeah, I found out that she is some sort of animal rescuer. She said to the man that she is going to take us to a shelter.”

            “A shelter?” I have never heard that word.

            “I don’t know what it means either, but from the sound of it, it’s a thousand times better than staying here.”

            I smile. A thousand times better? I can’t wait. I fall asleep dreaming peacefully.

 

            People are bustling about the large, clean room I’m in. It smells good and I am in the woman’s arms. She smiles at me and playfully asks, “What’s your name, girl?” My name? I don’t have a name.

            I see that my fur has been cleaned and cut. My feet are not sore anymore and my nails have been cut.

            “You’re going home today, girl. You don’t have to stay here anymore.” I’m going where? And with who? Today? A rush of thoughts run through my mind as I try to gain sense of this situation. Suddenly, a little human runs over to me. She is smaller than the woman holding me. It is also a girl and her smile is toothy. Her hand reaches out to pet me. It feels so gentle and soft that I find myself stretching my head to her hand. She giggles and rustles my ears. A taller woman comes up behind the little girl. She speaks with my holder and I am transferred from her arms to this new woman’s arms. She whispers to me, “You’re going home with us!” The little girl chimes in too.

            “Yes! You’ll get lots of toys and belly rubs and food!” I am deeply pleased by all of this.

            “What do you want to name her, Katie?”

            The little girl goes into deep thought and blurts out, “Princess!”

            The mother of this girl laughs and agrees, “Okay,” she talks to me, “You’re name is Princess!”

            The three of us walk out of the building into the bright, shining light. My name is Princess, and I am loved.

Author's Note

I watched an Oprah show once on this topic and I can't even describe how horrible those puppy mills are. I was very deeply moved. About 50% of dogs and 70% of cats get euthanzied at shelters because they cannot find homes. Please consider shelters when you decide to add another family member. Thank you for reading.

Reviews

[Burr the Story Sorceres..]

Awwww. A happy ending. I'm glad for Princess.
Cats are in the same boat as dogs. All of my cats are rescued.
Humans aren't nice to humans most of the time, which is sad enough by itself, but they can't even be kind to the creatures in their care. That is the saddest of all. People who believe in my God sould be glad God is so forgiving. If I was God, I'd be sick and tired of humans by now and stop caring about them. It is a really a good thing God is more forgiving then me.
Anywho, enough of that. This is a really nice story!

[alltheloveabove]

[Cara]

Oh my gosh!! This story is amazing. It definitely has the description. It's moving. I love it.

This was a great piece of informative writing! I liked how it had a happy ending. If I ever get a dog it will be a rescued one. I loved the description and the flow. Very good!

[Indigoshadows]

You did a good job on this piece... I like how you included embarassing things like pooping on his friend below and not being able to help it. This sense of not being able to control yourself really adds to the humilation in the piece. Many dogs, even if they are saved, have to be put down b/c of aggressiveness. Perhaps you could have an aggressive dog or two in there... they are so angry b/c they are hurting. That's the only improvement I'd suggest at this time.
Also, perhaps you can help send a message around. There is an artist that took a dog to an art gallery and let it starve to death. They call it art but it's inhumane. They are going to do it a second time and we need to get as many petitions in as possible.
Everyone needs to go to:
http://www. msplinks. com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LnBldGl0aW9ub25saW5lLmNvbS9lYTZnay9wZXRpdGlvbi5odG1s

to sign the petition. It's real easy. You just add your email (which is kept private) and your name. I wish I could tell you more, but I learned about it from a friend on Myspace.

[jen -- JG]

You did a very good job here - stating facts from the puppy/ dog point of view.

You took what you saw with human eyes and then turned that into the dog thoughts, feelings and emotions. You "walked a mile in her shoes " as they say.

Perhaps you could offer this story to some of the Vet or Animal Shelter magazines as well ..

This is a sad and sensitive story handled very well, with sensitivy and great care.

Princess has been saved ... so many others are not.
VERY WELL DONE.

jen-JG

[Ice Queen of the Vampir..]

Oh, where are my tissues?? At least this story has a happy ending. It's so upsetting that animals are treated like that. This is a fantastic write, wonderful job!!!

Heather

[Nova]

*tear* this was heartbreaking. im glad you feel so strong about this. It is sad that people have to be cruel enough to let animals that didnt even do anything to them die.

[Adventerous Amy]

awwwwwwwwww sooooo sweet to write that.................... well i already have 3 cats but if i had 0 i'd go help 3 cats out!!!
;-))))))))))))))))))))))

[[untitled]]

This was sad. I think it was a very good piece. I liked how it was from a dogs point of view. I think you did a great job of informing the public.