Just how healthy is that puppy in the pet shop window?

September 24, 2009

By Patty Khuly, DVM  *  Special for USA TODAY

Ever planned on buying a perfect, purebred pup from a pet shop? Or maybe you felt sorry for that little fluffy kitten you glimpsed in the window. If so, you've got company. Hundreds of thousands of pets are bought and sold from retail establishments every year.

I should know … I see my fair share. And I'm sick of them.

Now, before you rush to condemn my insensitivity, let me explain: There's almost nothing I like less than the obfuscations, corruption and abuse that underlies much of this industry. There may be animal-selling retail establishments in the U.S. that don't deal in smoke and mirrors, but I don't know about them.

In case you've never had cause to consider these outfits —— much less complain about them —— you deserve to be informed before you suddenly get an urge to "rescue" a pup or buy a "purebred" on impulse.

Here are the basics: None of these dog- and cat-selling places is federally regulated, not even by the Animal Welfare Act, from which retail pet shops are specifically exempt. Meanwhile, only about half our states regulate this industry in any way. Of these, even fewer mandate humane standards of treatment that might reasonably include items such as access to water and veterinary care, according to the Humane Society of the U.S.

Yet even in my pet-shop-regulated state of Florida, the notoriously lax oversight offered by the Florida Department of Agriculture is geared toward protecting consumers from predatory business practices, not the health and welfare of the wares themselves.

That's why abhorrent conditions are common. Animals are more often sick and congenitally diseased than not. Puppy mill origins are the norm. And still there's a seemingly bottomless font of willing buyers prepared to pay up for the right to buy what very well might be a purebred disaster sourced from a disreputable establishment where abusive farming practices are the norm.

Every retail pet shop I've ever visited (and I've made it a point to visit a great many) has always disputed all the above points. In the face of sniffles and severe congenital ailments alike, pet shops have patently denied the defects, pointed to certificates, cited "championship bloodlines" and —— most egregiously —— often ignored my requests that they water their "widgets."

Don't believe me? Check one out for yourself. And beware the following tall tales many pet stores will tell when selling you on their products:

1. "Puppy mills? No way! Our pups come from responsible breeders."

I've never met a pet shop that copped to the truth of the matter. Because puppy mills are breeders, this particular untruth is a sin of omission — until you factor in the word "responsible."

2. "Our pets are sourced from USDA licensed breeders."

This is another obfuscation — not quite a lie. That's because the pets often do come from USDA-certified breeders. But that means just about nothing, given the spotty enforcement of the certification's provisions. In fact, USDA is usually industry code for "puppy mill." After all, who goes out of their way to certify their pet-friendly establishment as an agriculture-based endeavor?

3. "Your pet comes with a certificate of good health."

Most states require that each puppy sold be accompanied by an Official Certificate of Veterinary Inspection (OCVI). But most veterinarians will tell you this paperwork has nothing to do with health, per se. It's just about vaccines, drugs and intestinal parasite exams, no more. For example, freedom from congenital deformities and other obvious diseases are not required for OCVI "health certification."

4. "You should use our veterinarian because she's the best!"

Veterinarians who work with pet stores are often rewarded for overlooking major abnormalities. That's usually how they get the job to begin with. Many are willing to examine 40 pups an hour and issue "health certificates" for all. They'll also work happily with pet stores because they know the first "free" exam they offer buyers means another new client.

5. "If your pet gets sick in the first X number of days, you have to see our vet or we can't reimburse you."

Pet stores want you to use their preferred vets during this period because these professionals will charge far less if they know their pet store partners are on the hook for the bill. It usually means said vets are less likely to treat your new pet aggressively and/or appropriately. It's also the case that most pet stores won't willingly disclose the presence of "lemon laws" in states where these consumer protections have been legislated. These laws will often require that pet stores reimburse consumers for reasonable veterinary expenses and always allow independent veterinarians access.

In case you're wondering where a veterinarian gets her legal spunk, I have my expert sources. I ran these five "lies" by Florida-based animal lawyer, professor of animal law and pet store prosecutor Marcy LaHart. She agreed with my assessment.

So now you're armed for a pet store visit, should you choose to see for yourself.

As for me, I've seen enough.

Patty Khuly is a small-animal veterinarian in Miami, Fla. She is author of Dolittler.com, an award-winning blog on pet health; she writes weekly for the Miami Herald and monthly for Veterinary Practice News. Her USA TODAY guest column appears each Friday.

BARK Magazine - Puppy Mill Bust

May/June 2009

A report from the inside
By Jan Rodak

She was a timid thing, a tiny Chihuahua whose swollen belly was packed with five pups waiting to enter the world. Cradling this fragile, trembling mom-to-be in my arms, I carried her around the well-lit yet somewhat cramped quarters known as the “back wing” of the Skagit Valley Humane Society county animal shelter.

A rare uncovered window positioned at eye level sparked a sudden idea—I’d brighten her day with a glimpse of the outside world. But the pup failed to show excitement. In fact, she registered nothing at all. At that moment, I embraced the stark truth: An unwitting rescue from a life of dark, unspeakable cruelty, this dog—estimated to be three years old—had no idea what a window was, nor was it likely that she had ever set foot outdoors.

The petite Chihuahua and her two-dozen shelter mates were among hundreds of dogs seized in January from an alleged “puppy mill” ring operating in northwestern Washington state. The rest were farmed out to other shelters and foster homes. Malnourished and suffering from infection, almost all required immediate medical attention. Some didn’t survive.

Like others moved by such news accounts, I broke my years-long streak of avoiding the dismal atmosphere of animal shelters. I put on my big-girl pants and signed on to volunteer as a caretaker. I also resurrected the investigative aspect of my extinct career as a newspaper reporter. I needed to do more, but also to know more, and to tell what I knew.

Dogs in Limbo

The scope was astounding. Animal care costs for the two counties in which the operation was located—Skagit and Snohomish—skyrocketed within a week, reaching into tens of thousands of dollars. Already underfunded, overworked shelters found themselves deluged. Legal ownership of most of the dogs remained with defendants, who were facing multiple counts of felony animal abuse. Nonetheless, they refused to surrender their “property,” turning the dogs into de facto wards of the state and running up tabs with county coffers and nonprofit rescue agencies that would otherwise adopt them out.

The refugees I saw were, I suspect, the cream of the crop—the healthiest and least traumatized of the bunch. They’d been bathed, groomed and treated to manicures that brought their nails down to a manageable length. Nonetheless, visible signs of their plight were heartbreaking. Most cowered at the approach of caring humans who wanted only to help them. Some less timid dogs, starved for attention and desperate to be held, charged workers entering their pens. None was properly socialized.

This is the world of breeding for bucks, an insidious industry in which jaw-dropping sums of money are made through trafficking the offspring of dogs crammed together in cages and bred until they can no longer stand. Adult dogs are used as procreative vessels, and puppies are pawned off to pet shops and resellers who position themselves as small-time “hobby” breeders. Proprietors of these canine factories operate on the sly, locating mostly in remote areas hidden from the prying eyes of law enforcement officials.

Doing the Right Thing

Friends’ eyes are a different story. Brandon Hatch never thought he’d turn in his lifelong buddy to child welfare officials, but after walking in on a gruesome scene, he faced a moral dilemma. Hatch knew his friend was involved in breeding dogs. But what he saw on his last visit tormented him: 160 dogs stacked up in cages that were caked with feces and dripping with urine. The stench was overwhelming, Hatch told me, but it was the excrement on a nearby bed that left him no choice but to summon authorities.

“I knew there were children sometimes sleeping there,” he said. “In all honesty? It hurt to do what I did, but it was the right thing to do.” (Read more at PuppyJustice.com, Hatch’s blog.)

Agents inspected, then promptly called law enforcement. An ensuing raid led to searches of three residences in two counties, and the seizure of almost 600 malnourished, diseased dogs with a wide range of medical ailments, including spinal deformities, dangerous bacterial infections and—in a few cases—dental deterioration so severe that the afflicted dogs’ jaws had dissolved.

What Hatch uncovered was an unlicensed, mostly unattended, large-scale breeding operation—a “puppy mill,” in the vernacular of animal advocates, law enforcement officials and concerned legislators who for years have made attempts to shut them down.

Emily Diaz, an animal control officer in Skagit County, has seen her share of horror. Most of her cases are smaller in scale and “walk the fence,” as she puts it, between behavior in need of adjustment and actionable abuse. I asked Diaz to recount her emotions as she processed the dogs removed from that property.

Her answer was understandable. “What I was really feeling I probably shouldn’t say.” It’s essential not to let emotions overtake your ability to work effectively, Diaz says. But she never disconnects entirely. “The moment I quit caring is the moment I have to quit my job.”

Don’t look for Diaz to quit her job. She is a warrior working on behalf of the voiceless by attempting to educate rather than impound, and hoping for that one tip from a witness or complainant willing to go on the record as a source so she can build a case for seizure when necessary.

Taking a Legal Approach

As news of the raids sparked a groundswell of outrage and protests in the Seattle area and beyond, Washington state legislators were busy revisiting bills left over from an abbreviated 2008 session that would place stricter controls on breeding operations and permit inspections by animal welfare officials who have reason to suspect noncompliance.

While it sounds aggressive, Washington’s legislation is dwarfed by a new Virginia law that mandates inspections of licensed kennel operations and forbids retailers from selling pets acquired from breeders not licensed by the USDA and subject to that agency’s basic standards of care.

Washington State Sen. Jeanne Kohl-Welles, sponsor of Senate Bill 5651, would love to see even stronger legislation passed. But in an economic downturn, she said, few have the appetite to force rural, fiscally struggling counties to perform scheduled inspections. At a minimum, this bill will put breeders on notice: Cross the line into greed-induced, abusive practices and you will be held to account. (At press time, the Senate’s version had passed, but not unanimously.)

Opponents in the legislature worry about over-regulating responsible breeders and kennel owners, one of whom testified before a Senate committee that unannounced inspections were tantamount to a violation of her constitutional rights. Supporters rejected that contention, citing existing laws subjecting food establishments to mandatory, random inspections. Kohl-Welles emphasizes the consumer-protection aspect of her bill. “I understand these are financial endeavors that people have, that they are businesses, and that’s just fine,” she said. “But it also can be very costly to families and to individuals who purchase these dogs. And there is the more intangible impact of heartbreak. How do you measure that?”

Calculating the Costs

By Sydney Cicourel’s measure, the sum is $800—so far. That represents a one-day spay and dental surgery for a five-year-old Papillon named Butter, whom she adopted after authorities seized 111 dogs from an Eastern Washington operation in February.

Cicourel, a lifelong animal lover involved in pet-shop protests and dog rescues, knew the expenses of bringing Butter home would be enormous. Her beloved three-year-old Maltese/Poodle mix, Polly, came from a puppy mill, though that fact only surfaced after she’d spent $4,000 in veterinary bills and discovered that another $3,000 would be necessary to correct orthopedic problems in Polly’s hind legs. As Cicourel has learned, very few survivors of puppy mill environments escape genetic defects.

It’s a hard pill to swallow, considering that operators of these warehouses can take in a staggering amount of revenue. Prosecutors in the Skagit County case allege that its ringleader has netted several million dollars over the last decade.

Like many of those who purchase dogs through newspaper or Internet ads, Cicourel was duped by a seemingly scrupulous breeder. Her goal is to warn off future victims, both human and canine. She urges patience through education.

“You have to be forgiving of people. They don’t want to know ugliness,” she said. “They don’t want the drama, the horror of it.”

A degree of understanding even toward perpetrators is encouraged by Officer Diaz and Brandon Hatch, both of whom believe few people start out with the intent of inflicting devastating harm on animals. But when commonsense barriers drop and greed takes over, innocent victims are left rotting in their own waste. They are deprived of the most basic sensory stimulation necessary for any living being capable of feeling pain, misery and fear.

Cicourel hopes the high-profile stories in Washington and elsewhere fuel support for continued activism that will eventually stop unnecessary suffering. People who buy or adopt animals as pets are searching for well-tempered companions. Though through an inordinate amount of care and socialization, dogs from puppy mills may become these companions, many fall devastatingly short.

My heart sank listening to Cicourel’s impassioned tale. In the shelter, I’d cared for a select group of relatively fortunate victims snatched from the confines of mass breeders. But it wasn’t hard to get to the place she hinted at—a world of despair she likened to concentration camps.

“They all have this spiritless persona. They’re like ghosts; they look right through you,” Cicourel said. “They’re empty and broken. It’s one of the most gut-wrenching things I’ve ever seen.”

Jan Rodak is a former newspaper reporter (and prolific dog-sitter) living in northwest Washington state.

PUPPY HELL

Lax regulations have made Wisconsin a haven for Amish and Mennonite puppy mills – breeders who turn out deformed dogs.

by Mary Van de Kamp Nohl
Milwaukee Magazine * January 2009

ClickHEREfor the full article.