From Victims to Fosters to Family Members - The Story of a Puppy Mill Rescue - by Kierra Jursch
“What do you think about fostering dogs?” I asked my mom in my junior year of high school as we sat at the kitchen table. “Delta Animal Shelter really needs more foster parents since they’ve taken in all of the dogs from the puppy mill raid.” I had been volunteering at the shelter for years and wanted to find a new way to help the animals after volunteering was shut down due to COVID-19.
“Hmm,” my mom paused to consider. “We’ll have to think about it more and figure out the logistics, but it’s definitely a possibility. Now would be a good time to do it since we’re all home because of COVID shutdowns.” I smiled knowing that was a yes. I wasn’t the only animal lover in my family. A few weeks later we were driving to pick up two eleven-week-old German shepherd puppies. Although we had been asked if we wanted to foster any particular breed, we told them to give us dogs they were having difficulty placing. Our plan was to help in any way we could. Ready to roll up our sleeves and get to work, we pulled into the animal shelter parking lot and headed inside to meet our new housemates.
“Hello!” The head of fostering greeted us as we walked in. “I just have a few forms you need to sign and then we’ll bring out Ranger and Delta.” Once the paperwork was complete, she left and returned with two small, fluffy, floppy eared dogs. “We washed them earlier today, but they had diarrhea and rolled around in it just before you got here.” My eyes widened in shock as the foul-smelling, poop-covered dog was deposited in my arms. “Due to their living conditions, they never learned not to go to the bathroom where they live and sleep,” she said apologetically. I looked at the stinky, little, fluff ball I was holding and my heart broke.
“Set up the kennels in the back of the mini-van,” my mom sighed. “They’re not riding home in my car like that!”
While the two puppies sniffed and licked my fingers through the kennel bars in the backseat, I thought about the horrendous living situation they were rescued from. When police and rescue workers arrived at the puppy mill, they were shocked to discover 134 dogs covered in flies and feces. The dogs had no access to food, water, or shelter. They had spent their lives stuffed into crates or small pens with dirt floors and no roofs where they baked in the sun, soaked in the rain, or huddled in the snow. The mother dogs had dug holes in the ground to deliver their puppies with no human support, and they were so weak and traumatized that they had no energy to care for and teach their puppies. Most of the dogs were emaciated and had ribs showing through their skin. Some had fur that was so matted it had to be removed in large sheets of tangled fur, dirt, and feces. Many of them had painful infections and injuries, all had parasites, and a few of the dogs died at the shelter. The two pairs of puppy eyes watching my every move on the way home did not know it yet, but they would never suffer such abuse or neglect again.
I’m pretty sure they felt abused, however, when they had to get 10 baths over the next 24 hours. The concept of not relieving themselves where they slept was so foreign to them that they would just roll and play in it. I remember getting up one night at three in the morning to help my parents try to wrestle a puppy into the bath.
“Come on. Your fine. Hun, can you help grab him?” my mom asked my dad as Ranger howled. We got him into the bathroom and closed the door. My dad turned on the water, and the second he did Ranger started yowling even louder.
My dad tried to calm him. “You’re okay, Buddy. We’re just gonna give you a bath. You don’t want to be covered in poop, do you?” Ranger wanted exactly that based on the struggle he put up. Bathing him was at least a two-person job. One person cleaned him, and any others tried to keep him from jumping out.
“Grab him! Quick!” my mom shouted as he made his first escape attempt.
“Buddy, the water hasn’t even touched you yet,” I told him as I deposited him back in the tub. “Plus, I have to imagine that being covered in warm water feels better than being covered in poop.” I don’t think he listened to my argument as he just howled louder.
After dragging ourselves out of bed to give two reluctant puppies baths every few hours during the night my dad decided to sleep on the floor next to their kennels. Every time they moved, he would get up and take them outside. One morning he remarked, “My back hurts, but it’s better than spending all night giving baths.” A week later they finally started to understand and enjoy the wonder of clean, dry sleeping areas.
Training the puppies to relieve themselves outside when they were not sleeping in their kennels was a whole different matter, especially if it was raining. My dad built a roof over half of their outdoor potty area to keep out the rain, but they still would just cry to get back inside. We could stand outside with them for an hour, and the second we came back inside they would pee or poop on the floor. My dad built a bigger, longer roof, and after 4 months of determination, patience, and clean ups, they were finally house trained.
Another daily struggle involved food. Our pups were so used to not having food and water that they would fight to get to the food before we even set it down, knocking it out of our hands. To avoid this, we developed an odd feeding routine.
“Okay you got them?” my mom asked as she picked up the food bowls from the kitchen counter.
I made sure I had a firm grip on both of their collars before replying. “You're good, but hurry.” Both puppies were struggling hard to twist out of my grip and whining at full volume. My mom walked quickly into the other room and set down the food bowls inside of their separate kennels.
“Release the hounds!” my mom cried as she dramatically held up her arms. Both dogs sprinted to the food and my mom tried to guide them to the correct food bowl. Sometimes they would both aim for the same kennel and if that happened, they would fight over who got the food until she could wrestle one into the other kennel. This was not the cute, stumbling, excited chaos of healthy puppies running for dinner. The struggle to get to food was desperate and the fight was real.
For a long time, they would also eat dog feces or urine whenever they could. This was not a casual curiosity or a nibble off something they found on the ground. They would watch closely for any indication of a dog ready to do his duty, and race to be the first to eat it while we raced to stop them and get it cleaned up. They would also drink urine if they were anywhere without water and got thirsty. This was an issue with most of the puppy mill dogs, as that was often the only “nutrition” they had access to at the mill. Whenever we let them outside, we had to watch them constantly, so they didn’t sneak a snack. Once we were distracted while talking with the neighbors, and suddenly my dad took off across the yard. He had a sore knee, so he was limp-running as fast as he could while yelling, “No, no, no, no, no!” We turned to see our black lab in the far corner of the yard having a bowel movement. To our dismay, both puppies were wrestling for the best position behind her with open mouths like they were eating from a soft-serve ice cream dispenser. It took a good six months before our puppies trusted that they would always have food and water and did not need to fight for it or lap up urine or feces. Nevertheless, they still need to be watched closely as they sometimes revert to old habits in times of stress.
We went into this adventure with the intent of fostering dogs in need, not adopting them. After all, we already had four cats and one black lab! When the animal shelter decided it was time to split the foster dogs up further into individual foster homes, we were faced with having to choose which puppy to give up. We made this heart-wrenching decision based on which puppy seemed most confident and able to adapt to a new home, which was Ranger. His new foster family was extremely nice, lived on a farm in the country, and adored Ranger. They ultimately decided to adopt Ranger, and we periodically share pictures and updates with them. However, losing Ranger from our family broke our hearts and we knew we could not do that a second time. When a judge finally determined that the shelter could adopt out the rescued dogs, there was no question about where Delta belonged. We happily became “foster failures” as Delta is a permanent member of our family now.
Even though all the rescued dogs are now permanently in loving homes, the effects of the abuse these dogs have suffered continue to show up in new behaviors over time. Delta is happy, healthy, and showered with love and attention, but even now he still surprises us by the ways in which he regresses when something scares him. Over the summer we put a kiddie pool in the dog pen for the dogs to play in. Delta took one step outside and immediately asked to go back in. I didn’t think much of it and opened the door to let him back in. “Just checking out the yard buddy?” I asked as I pet him while he walked past me. Once he was inside, he ran into the kitchen and peed on the floor. My whole family stared in shock as he hadn’t done anything like that for 6 months. Just seeing an unfamiliar object in his space was enough to make him terrified to leave the house. We had to remove the pool so he would go outside again.
Raising these puppies has taught me how much of an impact abuse can have on a creature in the long term. While working with the shelter and other foster parents I have seen and heard about countless ways that past abuse continues to affect animals over time. Delta has been with us for over a year and he still fears men in baseball hats, refuses to go outside if it’s raining, and hates being left alone. The older dogs that were rescued have even more intense fears and reactions. Delta’s mom finally wagged her tail for the first time four months after she was rescued and still cowers around new people. We won’t know for years if there are more physical issues that will show up from malnutrition, mistreatment, neglect, exposure to the elements, and poor breeding practices. We have learned, however, that the mental effects of their early life trials are always hovering in the background, waiting to return them to a state of fear and regression when something new or stressful pops up.
Experiencing the long process of recovery with Delta has also made me think more about the long-term consequences of abuse and neglect in people. Whether the victims of abuse and neglect are puppies or people, short term or long term, or young or old, the effects can be manifested in a myriad of unexpected ways. Those who experience trauma, even at a young age, will carry it with them for the rest of their lives. Fostering these dogs has made me realize how important it is to be understanding and realize that the impacts of abuse don’t just go away as soon as someone is safe. The mental scars these dogs and other victims of abuse carry with them may never heal.