Sunday, January 22, 2012

Stunned & Saddened

Each day I wake up, I wonder what the day will bring. I'm happy, or at a minimum, I'm too groggy to be a beotche. As the day progresses, things change my perspective to be happier, or a little less enthusiastic.

Today was one of those.

Bentley is 1.5 years old. In great dane years, that is still just a youngster. He's full of puppy zoomies, puppy antics, and God bless him, puppy lovin'! He pays with Hope, our dysplastic golden retriever, as if she were a chew toy (I stop that immediately) even when she instigates the play, it has to stop.

I started looking for an older pup a few weeks ago. Another dane, maybe a dane/lab cross, something from a shelter; my preference for a black shelter dog as they are often the ones left behind simply because of their coat color.

Enter, the bunny hole.

I went to a rescue site. Then to PetFinder. And then, I Googled.

Storm's breeder had been indicted on 46 counts of animal cruelty, neglect, and abuse.

Storm's breeder. The concocter of my soul was... and that's where I am stunned and saddened.

I do not believe she is a horrible person rather she is horribly ill. Hoarding, is the term that first comes to mind. She's been deprived of her dogs once before, unbeknownst to me. I had heard rumors that she'd lost her home but had no idea as to why.

I'm sad because her illness is very treatable. When I first met her 11 years ago, she was kind, thoughtful, seemed knowledgeable (what did I know, I'd only had rescue danes!). I'm saddened because it feels like somehow her tarnished reputation sullies Storm's.

I was proud of Storm's lineage, just as I am proud of Bentley's. I was proud of what an ambassador Storm turned out to be for the breed fully aware, that it took me socializing him daily, to get him to a point where he was comfortable in a crowd. I'd always said that he was just wired wrong. My vets always said Storm was wired wrong.

And now I know why, or at least, I have more clues.

Storm. He was my soul, he will remain my soul. Somewhere, out there, he's chasing some rabbit down a trail and looking back saying, "Mom, don't worry about my lines; you know who I was!"

And that is true. I'm just stunned that I was so naive about her and about him, and sad that at her age, she still won't get help and denies she needs it.

3 comments:

Rick said...

:(

Penelope said...

How horrible.

I hope that you will be able to protect your memories of Storm from what you've just learned.

Slamdunk said...

That must have been uncomfortable to learn.

46 counts? That is going to require lots of litigation.