Becky contines her story
By: Becky Monroe, Best Friends Network VolunteerClick here to read part one...The auction started with products – bowls, blankets, beds, microchip scanners. All things I had a hard time believing anyone used, when considering the conditions these dogs were in. None of them had water. None of them had cages with smooth bottoms. They were all walking on chicken wire.
The cold, ominous day at the auction barnMargie and I sat numb and sick in the bleachers. We were trying to figure everyone out. Were there rescues here? Who were they? The Amish and the Mennonites' dress made it easy to identify them, but the others, in regular street clothes, left us wondering; who was here to save and who was here to continue to the cycle of cruelty?
There were children and families and people eating concessions. It was actually an event for many in the audience. I just couldn’t fathom enjoying one moment of it.
The dog bidding was about to start. Margie showed me on the back of the bidding card the numbers of the Doxies she wanted to save. There were 6 of them all together. The bidding on them was one of the first. The auctioneer shouts, “Number five, male dachshund, checks good. Start at one hundred dollars.”
“Checks good.” What is that? Such a sterile and inhumane phrase. These are animals not cars.
I believe my soul checked out for a while. I felt like a body sitting there. No life in me. I was in complete shock at what I was witnessing. This could not really be happening.
All the Doxies went above Margie’s invisible price limit. We had no idea what we were doing. And yet, we were trying to learn the game and figure out all the players.
One breed at a time the dogs were auctioned. They would go from $20.00 to over $1000.00. The French Bulldogs taking in the most money.
Some of the females were even pregnant. Most of the dogs were a year or younger.
Not #171. He was the oldest dog at the auction – and it showed. He was the one I was waiting for.
When I had opened his cage to pet him, he actually came to the front and ever so gently licked my fingers. When I slowly went to pet him, I felt nothing but mats. His fur was 100% matted. He had to be miserable. I worked in the county shelter for a year and a half and never did I see anything like him.
Margie and I had discussed on the long ride there if we would take any home. We also wondered how would you pick just one? It is hard to decide which one will you save. But #171 stuck out like no other. In my mind and heart, he needed to get out of here. And so I waited….
For the most part, they go in number order, and obviously #171 was going to be near the end. Maybe it was a good thing. I was focused on him, so I wasn’t as tempted to randomly bid on others. And, I think my desire to save him is what got me through the 3 hours of torture.
Each dog put on the table for auction was more frightened than the one before. The auction assistants have to hold the dogs up or they coward. They could place a dog on the table and it wouldn’t go anywhere.
Some were visibly shaking – others didn’t even seem alive.
There were families there looking to get a new house pet – much cheaper than they would at the store. Little kids cheering when they got their puppy. I even felt relief that at least the dog wasn’t going back to a life sentence of breeding.
When the breeders would win the bid and more than one dog was on the table, instead of saying which one they wanted, they would say, “Just give me the best one.”
A gut wrenching response to anyone who has had a dear pet. “the best one?” Don’t you mean the one you want – the one you made a connection with?
To this I would wipe away the tears and continue to feel sick and numb. There was no compassion, no care, no love. These animals were things – not living creatures. What a statement that makes about the world we live in.
Margie and I never moved from our seats. Frozen in fear and horror, it was all we could do not to throw-up or scream or cry in outrage. After three hours, I could see them take #171 out of his cage.
“There he is Margie, that’s him.” I was actually attached. The protest leader outside had told us when we asked how she felt about people rescuing the dogs, “If you take a dog out of there today, the best thing you can do is make sure to make a story out of him. Show the people how he looks, what his illnesses are, how he behaves. Don’t let his story go untold.”
And so it was… During the auction, I had named him Thorp. It was the town the auction was held in and it actually seemed to fit him. Later, I would wonder if giving him that name would hinder his future. Naming his after his past. But, I would decide that truly, it is not our past that defines us but we make of our future. That would be Thorp – a dog with a new future.
There were two dogs ahead of Thorp and I had been thinking what if I was about to bid against a rescue? I wouldn’t want them to pay more than they had to. Margie and I had no real proof that there were any rescues present, but there had been a lot of evidence to suggest that there were rescues there. There was one woman in particular who always seemed to bid on the ones in bad shape. We were fairly certain she was a rescue.
Without hesitation and with newly found courage, I got out of my seat and practically ran to her chair. I sat next to her and in seconds blurted out, “Are you a rescue?”
Hesitant to reveal her purpose to me, she asked, “Who are you?”
I explained my purpose as a volunteer writer for Best Friends and that I was interested in saving the Chinese Crested and just didn’t want to bid against her.
Satisfied with my answer, she told me, “Yes, I am a rescuer.”
A moment of pure relief came of over me. It was the first time that day, I actually felt a sense of comfort. She explained that she was low on funds to save him, but thought that the Chinese Crested Rescue would take him.
So, I bid. #171 started at $20.00 and with determination and not a lot of interest from anyone there – I won #171 for $60.00.
It still breaks my heart.
Because of my bluntness, we had broken through the invisible wall and now all the rescuers were coming over to us. Margie had joined me next to my new “friend,” Carol. We were suddenly part of the circle. And, it felt good to no longer be so alone.
A wonderful rescuer gets these two dogs out of the misery.Instantly, they were telling us who rescued what. Thankfully, all the Doxies Margie was concerned with went to rescue. We were exchanging emails and backgrounds and learning so much about this entire ring.
While sitting there, more dogs were being auctioned. It was nearing the end. They were doing mixes now. These were all very hairy, floppy dogs. The kind all of my friends know I love. Margie kept pushing me to bid and in an unexplainable action – I had just “won” another dog. A Bichon-Poo.
I openly admit that it was an irresponsible thing to do. #171 was more than I could handle, what would I do with this one? At least it had escaped another day in Hell.
The auction ended and we began friendships with a group of concerned and caring rescuers. They had started a circle at a previous auction in Thorp so that they would know not to bid against each other. Everyone was making plans for even better communication before the next auction in the fall.
I got in-line to pay for the two lives I was so proud to save and yet so anxious because I had no idea what I got myself into. In line, I stood with Carol and a few other rescuers and was meeting even more.
The woman in front of me was a Humane Officer from Violas County. We talked and she said how she wished she could save more, but only had a limited budget. Without thinking, I asked if she would take the Bichon.
She would love to! Thank God. She said that at the last auction they rescued a large group. The auction was on a Saturday and by Monday afternoon, they had adopted out all the dogs or had them in foster homes. She said people are already waiting for us to get back to help these dogs.
In the last hour of the auction, we met so many wonderful people trying to change the fate of a small portion of these dogs. Trying to make a difference.
That difference is a controversial topic in the animal welfare world. Many of the protestors outside oppose saving any of the dogs. They believe it just contributes to the puppy millers profits and keeps the cycle going. There is no doubt that it does.
On the other hand, it is impossible to see these helpless creatures and not want to change their fate. Sadly, this difference in the animal welfare world, is slowly dividing the group.
It’s unbelievable that any state would allow such abhorrence to society. I would challenge even the most stoic leader to attend a dog auction and not feel ashamed or guilty for the treatment of these animals. There can be no reasonable way to justify such inhumanity. It is a senseless act of humane indecency.
Relieved that I found a home for the Bichon, I paid for my rescues and eagerly went to find them. I got the Bichon to the Violas County rescue. She told me, “He will go fast. We have so many seniors who want dogs just like him.”
It was a perfect ending to a horrible beginning for that fuzzy little guy. I petted him and wished a good, well-deserved new life.
Then, without further hesitation made it to cage #171. My heart was racing and the tears were welled up in my eyes. I went to him and said, “Its over. The Hell is over for you. I promise that everything is going to be okay.”
Tears were streaming and I asked the Mennonite man if I could have MY pup. I showed him my paper and he handed him to me.
#171 was shaking and licking my finger. He was in such bad shape. It was the worst and best day in my life. Though I was holding him and grateful that I could change his fate, it was still painful to look around and see many more whose fate probably didn’t change. They would leave here and go to yet another cage in another cold barn and wait until the next auction or…
Many rescuers came up to us and thanked us for getting him out. “He needed to be saved, he was the oldest one.” “Look at how bad his fur is.” “Thank God he gets a chance for a new life.”
Margie and I said our goodbyes to all the wonderful people we met and made our plans to come back in the fall. Carol had befriended a Mennonite man who asked if she would come to his farm and take more Chihuahua puppies. She agreed to go along with 4 other rescuers.
We walked out of the barn; out of the nightmare we had stepped into only hours ago. Our lives would be changed forever. So would #171’s – the puppy mill dog we now call Thorp.
Thorp and I leaving the auction. He is on his way to a good life!All photos by Becky Monroe, Best Friends Network VolunteerArticle posted by Brandi Bennett, Best Friends Network Staff