My name is Emily, and I guess that I had better catch you up if you are going to be following my Peke boys!
The one pictured above is Mo Mo. His birthday is March 21st 2009, and he is a ball of energy. His full name is Montaro Raul Howell (Montaro means "Big Boy" in Japanese, so I figured that it works). When I wanted to get a dog, I applied to 9 rescue groups to try to get a dog but no one would adopt to me because I didn't have a fenced in yard, I am not married and I live with my boyfriend, and that I don't own my own home. I wanted a dog so badly and I was unable to find one through a rescue so I decided that I would try to buy one from a private breeder, as I didn't want to end up with a puppy mill supplied dog. We scoured the internet trying to find the perfect baby, and then our hearts melted when we saw Mo Mo. He was so happy and full of energy that the woman that was selling him couldn't even take a good picture of him. We knew instantly that he was ours. She was located in Georgia, and we discussed how we were going to get him over to us. She suggested flying him on a plane, but we decided against that because it isn't that far, and Wesley said that his grandmother was going through the area with his aunt and cousins and they may be able to get him for us. We were so excited, so we tried to call them and ask about it. We were immediately at ease with Mo Mo's seller because she had a sweet southern accent and sounded very much like Wesley's grandmother. It turned out that his uncle and cousin were actually lost out at sea (not kidding) and they couldn't be reached by phone. We looked at each other and decided to just get in the car and drive to Georgia to get him (10 hours one way!). Our trip was smooth, as we like to stop along the way to see the sights and take breaks on the way to get him. When we arrived, we thought that the house was very nice and comfortable looking. We knocked and there was no answer, so Wesley went to look around back. We were horrified to see that there was a shack out back made up of particle board, chicken wire, and wooden planks that there were several dogs housed in. It suddenly dawned on us that we had walked straight into a puppy mill. The puppy mill operator came to the door. She was very old and her face was very scarred, with the appearance that she had experienced chemical burns or skin cancer on her face. We entered the small back room of the house, and there were about 50 puppies in wire cages stacked on top of each other. The dogs were separated by breed. There was also a black cat in a cage, and three parrots in a cage. The dogs ranged in size from new born puppies to roughly two or three month old puppies. The youngest ones had their mothers in the cages with them. Several of the small dogs were unable to stand up in the cage because their legs were too small to maneuver over the wire cage. The smell was terrible. She had my Mo Mo in her arms, and she was using a large suction vacuum looking blow dryer to dry him off. She had just given him a bath. He looked so scared and he was shaking badly. I couldn't even speak, and I felt as though I was going to start crying any minute so my boyfriend, Wesley stepped in to save the day. He talked with her, asking her questions about the various dogs and generally keeping her occupied. I was just starring at the dogs. It was the saddest thing that I have ever seen. The dogs were barking very loudly, and the woman yelled "shut up, you! Shut UP!" and held up a fly swatter. All 50 puppies stopped barking at once. All of them. I have never seen anything like that. I think that she was using the fly swatter to hit them, and they were afraid. I hadn't spoken the entire time that we were there, but I did manage to ask if we could see Mo Mo's parents, so she took us outback to the shack where the adult dogs are housed. If I thought that the smell in the house was bad, that was NOTHING compared to the stench in the shack out back. In the Georgia heat, these dogs were housed with no air conditioning and there were not four solid walls that separated them from the mosquitoes and other insects, not to mention the sweltering heat. The floor was made of chicken wire and wooden planks that were held up over a concrete slab with a drain in it. There were about 100 dogs in that small shack. The air was being circulated by a very old fan running at a very slow speed. She had basically every sort of toy breed dog that you could think of. They were all sectioned off by breed and there were about 10 dogs per breed in each section. Toy poodles, shih tzus, miniature pinchers, yorkies, Chihuahuas, Lhasa apsos, and of course, Pekingese. The dogs had no solid ground to put their feet on. She had newspaper piled in the back of each dog's sections. We took Mo Mo, paid her the $400 pet fee that she was charging, and left. A lot of people ask me how we could pay her money. The answer is simple. I didn't want to leave him there. I didn't want to leave any of them there. He was shaking very badly, but he didn't get car sick. When we stopped to get gas, I went inside and called 911 from the gas station to report the mill. I also called PETA. The police showed up at the house, and they found that everything was legal! I was floored. They said that there was no animal abuse that they could see. I have never been so upset. I did more research and to my horror, puppy mills are legal!!!! I have made it my personal mission to stop these evil people that operate these torture chambers. Mo Mo was very lucky. He escaped with minor urine burns, an ear infection, and a cold. Other than that, he is healthy. He has very small nostril openings and we may need to get him some reconstructive surgery at some point.
