Place ads in your local newspapers, especially if there is a questionable breeder/broker near you. Weekends are usually the best time to place ads. It might read something like this:
Cavalier spaniels, adorable, loving companions. Please call 1-(Your Phone Number) or visit http://yourpage
Read, copy and forward this poignant letter by a puppy mill rescuer:
I do not believe I will ever look at the world in the same way again.
This weekend was worse than I had imagined, worse than I had even been told to expect. I attended my first puppy mill auction in Missouri Sunday, determined to bring home every last cavalier on the auction block. We got all six cavaliers being sold. Hoorah!
But that was only 6 dogs out of 200+. I wanted them all. I wanted to run, ranting like a mad woman through the dirt isles of stacked cages, a screaming pied piper, opening and releasing every last one of those imprisoned souls. What I saw behind those latched doors broke my heart, and made it almost impossible to maintain my equilibrium or my sanity, much less the undercover role I was expected to play. Every 15-20 minutes my husband was at my side, asking if I was okay, telling me I could do this, HAD to do this, for the dogs. For the dogs....
Periodically, I had to escape the nasty atmosphere of the barn for a gulp of the cold Missouri air, hoping the frigid gusts would calm and fortify me.
Some cages held one-eyed dogs, others held dogs with recent cuts, and old, ugly scars, dogs with toenails an inch long, dogs whose hair was one large mat, pregnant bitches close to delivery, dogs missing ears, legs, teeth.
There were no wagging tails, no yelps of delight; no bright, trusting eyes or barks of playful banter. Most cowered in the farthest corners of their cages, two or more huddled close together, as if their closeness would bring them some measure of comfort in dealing with their shared misery.
Dog after dog was auctioned to the highest bidder, often with such sales pitches as: "Missing an eye, but sees well enough to hit his mark": "This girl is only a year old, but she has earned her keep by already producing one litter - now she's got another on the way - a bonus for you"; "This bitch has had 19 pups in a year and a half - just the kind you want"; "If you just sell one of this pregnant one's puppies, you will make more than you've paid for her"; "Bitch only has three legs - big deal, she won't be passing that on." And on one male dog, who refused to stand on the table because of an injured foot, the auctioneer remarked, "Don't let that bother you, he can still get it on."
Dogs were often held high in the air for all to see, tails lifted to gauge whether they were in heat, mouths probed roughly to check their bites, and abdomens poked and prodded to check for pregnancy because "this one's been running with Jax - could give you a surprise."
The cavaliers were one of the last breed on the block. My heart stopped, and my eyes welled when I saw the first, and only two females brought to the table. Their eyes remained downcast, their tails tucked, their bodies postured with fear. "Look at the coats on these beauties," the creepy auctioneer said. "These ladies have produced some gorgeous pups. " That sealed it -- I wasn't leaving that place until I had every single cavalier in my possession.
Our babies brought the highest and liveliest bidding, with bidding often reaching feverish levels, the bids coming so fast and furious, I was afraid I could not keep up. I hated bidding; I hated NOT bidding.
When I got the highest bid, the auctioneer said, "Which one do you want?" "I want them both," I replied. "Great," he said, "you're saving me time, little lady." When we got the final bid on the puppies, the last to be auctioned, I breathed a sigh of relief, and said a quiet thank- you to the man upstairs.
While waiting in line to get the dogs, one man approached us, and asked how many of "those Charlies" we had. I said I only had three. "Well," was his response, "you are certainly in business now." Yes, I told him, you better believe it.
Rescuing just a few is worth the effort, worth the heartache, and worth the dirt, stench and barren, desolate miles my husband and I endured. Six are safe, but so many more are not. Rescuing from these sleezy breeders is a necessary evil. It is only a drop in the bucket, I know, but it is SOMETHING. It certainly is not enough, and we must work diligently to try and save them all.
A number of people I talked to before leaving on this trip knew nothing about puppy mills. They know about them NOW. Educate. Please educate. Tell everyone you know, and people you don't know, what puppy mills are all about. Relate my horror story, and the stories of other rescuers. We CANNOT shut down the puppy millers without the education of the public.
Before I sign off, let me tell you about MY bonus. I came home with seven puppy mill dogs, my seventh being a male, 2 year old Lhaso Apso. He was placed on the table and the auctioneer opened the bids at $150. No bids came. Down to $50, still no bids. At $25, the auctioneer said, "Come on, folks, he's worked his tail off in his short life - been one busy little guy. Worth a heck of a lot more than $25. If you don't want him, I'll put him back to work for me." At $15, my husband saw the sadness in my eyes. The auctioneer said, "Well, do I hear $10?" My hand shot up before I could stop it. "Sold, to the little lady for $10." "Got yourself quite a bargain," was the auctioneer's parting shot.
The cavs hadn't even come up yet, and I knew we had a long way to go. "Sorry," I told my husband "I couldn't help it." "It's okay," he said. "By my calculations, using the luggage rack on top, we could probably haul back another 20 or so." He was joking, of course, he simply understood that this business was deplorable, and resigning these dogs to a pitiful existence was heart wrenching.
Tenman or RinTinTen, as we affectionately call him, is at the vet's with the six cavaliers. I will be looking for a loving home for him, too. I can't keep him, and he is a very frightened little fellow, but he will make someone a loving pet. He, too, deserves the best.
Find it in your heart to get involved with rescue, in whatever way you can. Attend an auction, donate your money, foster a rescue, or just encourage and advise those of us who are just getting our feet wet. You won't be sorry. Your heart may break, your eyes may be red-rimmed for days, but I promise you, you will be forever changed.
