August 22nd, 2008 What Happened

I have always believed that breeders are responsible for the dogs they breed from birth to death. I do believe that it is entirely inappropriate for breeders to dump their excess stock on rescues. In my opinion it is wrong. Period.

So what am I doing asking for help from rescues? Good question, excellent question in fact. How did I get into this position? Another excellent question. Will this ever happen again. Not in my case it won’t; absolutely not! Am I asking for myself? No I am not. I am asking for the sake of the dogs.

My policy for placing dogs is as follows. I do not deal with auctions, brokers, labs, or petshops. Each dog is placed with their new person on an individual basis, after an in-depth interview. Dogs that are placed as pets go with a spay/neuter contract; and a limited registration. Every dog is placed with a contract stating that if they can not keep the dog it is to be returned to me. Under no circumstances are dogs from my ranch to be placed in shelters/dog pounds.

When/if I have puppies again they will not be going with a spay/neuter contract. They will already be spayed/neutered before they go to their permanent homes.

So what happened? How did I get in this position, how did I allow my dogs to get into this situation:

In 2003 after looking for a long time we bought this ranch. We actually bought it for our Poms. The idea being to raise happy healthy poms and place them in loving lifetime homes, board dogs, and do a bit of rescue. Happy as a clam I started working on the place.

I’d had a nifty little set up for my Poms in our previous home, along with a small scale dog boarding/doggy daycare business. I had plans to set up something similar on our ranch, with the addition of huge running yards that people could come out and run their dogs in a safe environment.

The summer of 2003 as I was working on some preliminary pens. Pens that were supposed to be simply outside exercise areas and temporary at that. I started getting sick. As the summer progressed I became more and more exhausted with one symptom after the other. When I finally went to the doctor I found out I had West Nile Virus. Nasty little bug that is.

Working through the West Nile I placed my available Poms. Wonderful people providing lifetime homes. By autumn I was partially paralyzed, with constant pain in my arms and legs, and very easily tired. By spring I had regained most of the use of my legs, and the pain in my arms and legs had receded for the most part. Thanks be to God and some very good vitamins and minerals.

I thought the worst of it was over. I was wrong. I still got tired pretty easy, so I paced myself. I seemed to be getting stronger. I placed the Poms I had available into wonderful permanent homes.

The next year’s breeding schedule was already in place. When I stared failing again. I thought it was some carry over from the West Nile that just had to be worked through. I was wrong.

I worked along for quite a while, and then things picked up speed. As in mind bending pain, and blackouts. I wasn’t thinking clearly or my dogs would have been separated from their breeding partners. For the most part I still had my available Poms placed.

By this time I was sniffing around a body bag for my self. I could feel myself sinking. Sometime around the end of August 2005 I remember screaming at my doctor that something was going to have to be done. I remember this conversation. He asked me what I wanted to do; and I told him I wanted him to step up and tell me what needed to be done; that I had done everything I could do and did not have much time left. At that point I was living on Skelaxin (antispasmodic) Vicodin, and Ibprophen stacked every two hours and was still blacking out from the pain. He promptly referred me to another doctor. Who reviewed the cat scan and ultrasound, told me that the surgery I needed was more than this hospital could handle, and sent me to the regional hospital for surgery.

We discussed the possibilities of what could be coming up. The prominent things I remember were being concerned about the strong possibility of a mass of cancer in my ovaries, and uterus and recovering from having my abdominal muscles cut.

It was a maybe dead if you do have surgery, definitely dead if you don’t have surgery conversation. September 9th 2005 I had surgery.

I was in surgery for over 8 hours. My left ovary was the size of a large cantaloupe and had split and was draining some kind of fluid that was crystallizing into sharp points throughout my abdominal cavity. My uterus was the size of a large grapefruit, and my right ovary was the size of a large grapefruit. My entire abdominal cavity was matted together by adhesions.

My surgeon removed my ovaries, uterus, and cervix, detached my bladder and reattached it, cleaned out the crystalline crud that was all over the place, cleaned out the matted mess of adhesions off my organs and intestines and put them back in.

They sent samples of the ovaries to 2 different labs to confirm. There was no cancer in my abdominal region.

By this time this massive mess inside of me had shifted my pelvis so that one leg was ¾ inch shorter than the other and my spine was pulled out of alignment causing major nerve pain and extreme difficulty in controlling my legs and some loss of motor control in my arms.

In order to perform the surgery they cut my abdominal muscles from my navel to my bikini line. What wasn’t cut was extremely strained from the spreaders they used to keep them out of the way so they could do what they needed to do for me to survive.

I went into this miserable mess strong enough to dead lift a railroad tie and walk off with it. Yes with some effort. I came out of the hospital unable to even lift my coffee pot.

I remember thinking just get through the surgery and it’s over. Wrong. I came across a website after surgery that was an invaluable help to me. www.hystersisters.com

My dad came down from Minnesota and stayed for a month, my husband helped when he could. He is gone ¾ of the time for his work.

After I got home from the hospital I remember going out to my dogs. I couldn’t even pick them up. My babies were jumping around me wanting to be hugged and I couldn’t lift them.

I went to work on my recovery, got through one major infection draining stink like a dead cow on the prairie that had been there a week in the sun. Of course the mood-swings like Sybil on bad acid trip. Swelling up from head to toe. In the mornings the swelling would usually be down somewhat. By Nightfall I couldn’t get my shoes on.

My doc put these 4 to 6 inch steri strips horizontal across my incision in between the staples to help hold it closed. I live out on a ranch and she was concerned that if my incision ripped open there wouldn’t be anyone there to get me to the hospital.

Her plan worked, we kept the incision closed, there is a bit of gapping in one area but nothing in comparison to what it could have been. And the scar is healing flat not puckered and hard.

My abdominal region did bloat so much that the steri strips ripped off the skin, but the staples were able to hold. So both together did work.

I quit wearing my wedding rings because my hands were swelling so much that my finger would turn blue.

I was doing my best to keep from rupturing or prolapsing, at the same time I was working with my dogs. I tried hiring some help. That didn’t work out well. I was unable to work on the construction projects so the dog runs I had planned to be temporary are still in use.

Onward ho… recovery was progressing nicely, still get exhausted (no surprise there), pick up my dogs again. Working with the ones that need socialized before going to their new homes. Had some happy puppies being placed as well. Working on reducing the numbers in my kennel. I still refuse to use auctions and such. This was summer 2007.

Next bloody crisis. Looking back this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Me being the camel.

I had been trying to get this particular breeder to stop breeding and place her dogs in homes for years. The dogs in question were infested with fleas. I don’t mean a flea here and there or even a moderate amount of fleas. I mean more fleas on a dog than print on a newspaper page. They were dying from the fleas.

When the opportunity came up to remove the dogs in question I jumped on it. Even though I should not have. One of the local churches helped to build dog pens for them, and one of the ladies helped me to dip and de-worm them. All of a sudden I had 50 more dogs.

I’d sprayed the areas they were being put into. And all the surrounding areas to keep whatever fleas survived the dipping process from spreading. After they had been here a couple of weeks I treated them all again. This time with flea sprays and dewormed again. We (we being me myself and I) seemed to have the fleas in check.

At this point we were getting in to late autumn and I was strawing down pens & houses putting up tin over the front half of the dogs runs to add to their shelter and trying to get coats on these poor naked dogs. They had been so over run with fleas that they were covered in flea bite dermatitis.

I thought I would probably lose part of them because they were in such bad shape. I lost only one out of 50 plus dogs.

What I did lose was the time and energy to work with and socialize my own young dogs. It took everything I had to keep them fed /watered with layer upon layer of bedding to keep them warm.

The dogs put on heavy coat. Especially mine. Very Heavy Coat. This was an excellent thing for the winter considering they had to deal with the cold. On the down side all the attention they got was a pat on the head while I was feeding and watering, and throwing bales of straw into pens.

We got quite a bit of snow, or rather some snow and wind which made snow drifts. Most of them were having a grand time playing in the snow. Total hairballs.

Then came spring, and melt. Wet coats and wind. Wet Pomeranian hair and tumble weeds are a nightmare. They do pretty well in the cold snow, but wet hair, clay, wind and tumbleweeds can mat a coat in a day.

I’ve been working my way through them cleaning up coats. Frankly it’s more than I can handle. My males and females are separated. There will be no more puppies until I have these numbers down and my kennels set up the way I want them. Then there will never be numbers like this again. Ever.

I counted on people I should not have counted on. Learned a valuable lesson there. I didn’t take on that other kennel because I needed or wanted any more dogs. I took them on to clean them up. The agreement was that if they came here they were to be spayed/neutered. Of course there has been a battle over this. The dogs have been with me around a year now. So legally they are mine now. Emotionally it’s a nasty situation. The person I rescued those dogs from is a relative of mine that has extremely different views on breeding than I do.

Taking these extra dogs on resulted in heavy costs to my dogs. As in not getting the quality of feed they were used to, not being groomed as they had been.

Financially it has been a nightmare, as I have had to put my main business on hold because there simply was not enough of me to go around. No my main business is not dog breeding!

I would come in from taking care of dogs and collapse. About to lose my mind because my dogs were out in straw and houses in the cold, or having to live on mud, and mess.

I have been slowly working my way through spay/neutering. Trying to socialize but am completely overextended. I kept praying asking how am I going to do this, how can I get these dogs into homes. And a spay and neuter clinic came up. I called to send some dogs. And we started talking about what has happened here and about placing some of the rescues that I brought in.

Eventually I’ll get them placed or die trying. By myself it will more than likely take several years. Then I look at them and the grooming situation. We are looking at another winter and I don’t have all the coats pulled. Of course they are matting in. I can’t just cut the coats off because then need their guard coats for the coming winter. ARRRAAAAGGGGHHHH!

Am I getting calls for dogs? Yes I am. I refuse to put a dog in a home that has not been socialized. It’s not fair to the client and it certainly is not fair to the dog. There simply is not enough of me to keep them fed and watered and socialize them as well as interview photograph etc.

I can’t hire anyone to help, because it is taking everything just to take care of the dogs. There is nothing left of me to work on my main income generator. At this point we are relying solely on my husband’s income, or we wouldn’t be able to feed them at all.

I have turned down people that want to take part of them to breed breed breed. Supposedly this person in particular was so in love with some of the dogs I brought in on the rescue op. So I told her the dog was spayed, and asked her if she still wanted her. Her answer was and I quote “No she is no good to me now” then she proceeded to ask me if I would take 5 of her pugs to place into rescue. AAARRRRAAHHHGGG!!!!!! Why on earth would I place a Pom with this person? They are better off matted in snow mud and feces than in that situation.

I understand that there is concern that if rescues step up and help to rectify this situation. That I will just turn around and do it again. Frankly I would rather be dead than ever be in this situation again.

I was raised by a dog breeder that bred solely for the money. With very little regard to what she bred. I have seen more crud than I ever cared to. I learned a lot of what not to do by watching her. I am not nor will I ever be that person.

Will I ever breed Poms again? I can not say that I won’t. I can say that there is no way there will be an abundance of puppies here ever again. Not unless I am working with a group of rescues to place another kennel’s mess.

Frankly I am not doing that again either, unless I already have connections set up to help handle it and funding from my main business in place. Not to mention my facilities set up to my satisfaction.

I am going to have some seriously disappointed clients because I am not releasing Poms to the public. I won’t do it without them being socialized.

If you can help get these wonderful little dogs socialized and into loving lifetime homes It would be wonderful. If you can not then I understand. I’ll keep working on it regardless, one day one step at a time I will do as much as I can; as long as I am physically able; because that is all there is.

I’ll groom as much as I am physically able, keep them fed and watered, straw down their houses, and give them as much attention as I can. At this point it’s a pat on the head while they are jumping up around my arms as I rinse out their water pans.

I know I sound rather calm, I am not. I am extremely upset that my dogs are suffering because I made a poor decision and counted on some people that were not reliable. I thought erroneously that I had help coming when I took on the rescue dogs. I was wrong. I should have known better and my dogs have suffered for it. My dogs are suffering because of another person’s selfish greedy lying crap and I am livid-I am beyond angry. By the way yes I did try to get the state she lives in to do something about it; before I took them. More than once.

My Dog Pens are a disgusting mess. My Dogs are a disgusting mess. My House is a disgusting mess. I am completely exhausted and unable to keep up with adequate dog care. Not to mention premium dog care, the basics are failing. My health is breaking down again from the strain, If I go down there is no one to take care of them.

I could let the ones I cleaned up go back to the flea ridden shit hole they came out of. No I can’t that is out of the question. She has had a year (without the dogs there) to get those yards cleaned up and they haven’t even been raked. Sending them back there is condemning them to a prolonged miserable death.



They deserve better.

What are my options? How do I get these wonderful little creatures socialized, vetted, and into loving lifetime homes?


Will this ever happen here again. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you want to know who I am, yes you can know. If you are planning on ripping it into me. Step Off, there is absolutely nothing you can say to me that I haven’t already said to myself, repeatedly.

At this point there isn’t anything else I can coherently say. Besides I hope there are some people out there that can help, before I collapse and there is no one to take care of them at all.