Tag Archives: amish

Tails: Thorp – Is This His Last Chapter?

Some readers might not know much about Thorp, so let me briefly explain. In 2008, I was a reporter at an Amish dog auction interviewing the protestors. They advised me that if I wanted to understand why they were protesting, I should walk in the barn and see everything for myself.

Completely unaware of what I would see, I walked in and immediately my heart sank and tears welled up in my eyes. In front of me were hundreds of dogs, completely neglected, so afraid, so broken. Each of them up for auction to the highest bidder – most of whom were puppy millers.

I made my way to every single cage and grew more upset as I looked into the eyes of almost every dog. When I came to #171, something in my heart and soul spoke to me. He was the oldest dog at the auction and was in horrifying shape. Without any explanation, I knew I would be taking him home.

I sat through the entire auction lasting over 3 hours. When #171 came up for bid near the end, no one really was interested and I bought him for $65.

Thorp the day of the auction.

I had absolutely no clue what I had done, but I knew I would tell his story as the protestors had also advised, “If you go in and end up buying a dog – make sure you tell his story.”

In those agonizing auction hours – I had decided without reservation – that I would buy this dog and I would tell his story.

Well, four years ago, Bark Until Heard was published and Thorp’s story was available for everyone to read.

His story tells of his rehabilitation. See the day I brought him home, I quickly realized he was unlike any dog I had ever had or fostered or cared for at the county shelter. He was afraid of everything. He didn’t understand stairs, door ways, grass, toys, and certainly didn’t trust the human hand. He was the most broken dog I had met (at that point in my life)

It took months and lots of training and patience and love to get Thorp to become a “normal” dog and eventually he became a certified therapy dog who worked with emotionally and behaviorally challenged kids.

Thorp at school on the reading blanket.

In short, Thorp was the dog who changed my entire life. He gave me purpose. He ignited my passion to make a difference. March 12, 2008 will be a day that I never forget. The day I took home the sickest, dirtiest, most scared dog I ever met. It is a day that altered my life goals.

So, flash forward 11 plus years and today Thorp is 16. The last year has really aged him. He shakes a lot. He is completely deaf. He has grown uncertain of the world around him. He pees a lot of the time – anywhere he wants. He often seems confused about his surroundings.

However, he also has moments where he sprints across the yard like a puppy. He rolls around the sofa and pushes all the pillows off like he is playing. He still walks well on a leash and appears excited for walks.

But, as I look into his eyes, I see an emptiness. I see a distance. Sometimes, I think see pain.

Physically, as far as the vet is concerned, there is nothing specifically wrong with Thorp. He has cataracts. He has weird moles. But, no real illnesses or injuries.

However, how do I fairly assess his mental state? When he looks at me and seems confused. When he stands up on the sofa and pees. When he appears lost in a corner and just shakes. When I go to help him on the bed and sofa and he just grimaces in pain.

He eats and drinks normally. He barks and then he also barks at what seems like just wind.

How on Earth do I know when the time is right, if he can’t tell me?

I have had other dogs (and cats) I have had to decide to humanely euthanize because of age and illness. While I loved them all so much, Thorp feels much differently. I feel like I owe him something. His presence has made my heart whole, made my soul find purpose. I cannot get this decision wrong.

And so I ask my dearest animal loving friends – what do I look for? And what are things I might not be seeing, but are already right in front of me?

There are days I worry that his dementia will take him back to the neglectful, awful days of the puppy mill. That when he wakes up scared and unsure, it is because he wakes up thinking he is back there.

I don’t want his last days to be any reminder of the hell he endured for nearly five years. I want him to remember being loved by me, by our family and friends and by all the children he worked with.

I want him to die in peace not live in any kind of agony. I worry I am being selfish keeping him alive and then I worry I am selfish for putting him down.

Part of me wishes he had cancer or some awful illness, so the decision would be simpler. Doggy dementia is tough. It is also tough to live with. When your dog doesn’t always recognize where he is, when he shakes laying next to you, when he pees on the floor as he looks right at you.

I admit a part of me has just avoided confronting the decision. We have three other dogs and two cats and it is easy to focus my attention elsewhere. To be honest, as I proofread blog this aloud to myself, tears are streaming down my face. My heart is breaking just considering the thought of any of it.

I know we don’t get to keep dogs forever. But, just when and how do we decide that the time we have with them has come to an end? How do I decide if this is the last chapter?

Thorp “pawtagraphing” Bark Until Heard.

Truths: Why I am Content Blaming All the Amish for Puppy Mills

The other night as we drove through an area of Wisconsin known for Amish communities, I posted what I thought was an innocent comment about the Amish.  I simply said that it seemed to me that whomever the God was for the Amish s/he would prefer they use electricity, buy an iPhone, and drive a car than beat a horse to death or breed dogs in filth and neglect.

While many people liked and even shared my post, there were some who felt it was wrong of me to blame all of the Amish for those behaviors.  I get it.  While I have yet to meet an Amish or Mennonite who doesn’t breed dogs, I bet there are a few out there.

This subject of Amish puppy mills is one so dear to my heart and soul that even I admit I might not be able to use rational judgement.  I wrote an entire book based on the cruelty and neglect of Amish puppy mills, so I think it is safe to say that I am in pretty deep when it comes to the subject matter.

None the less, since it was a few of my dear friends who posted the charges against me, I had no choice but to dig deeper into my own feelings to figure out why it is I am so content blaming ALL Amish for puppy mills.

One basic truth is that not all puppy mills are run by Amish.  There are hundreds across the country run by “English” (people like me).  Those mills can be just as horrendous.

So, I started REALLY thinking about this… and here is my belief.  As English people, we have no problem protesting, legislating, even criminalizing heinous, cruel behavior towards animals.  I KNOW there are millions of English people taking a stand against puppy mills (against people just like us as far as race and religion, etc…) every single day.  I see it in the pet store protests, in the political lobbying, and in social media posts.  I know that while there are people in our culture propagating puppy mills, there are also people ACTIVELY fighting it.  It is hard to accuse an entire community of being cruel, when half of the community is speaking out against the cruelty.

I have yet to see or hear of a single Amish person actively fighting against puppy mills in their communities.  I have never heard of anyone in the Amish community taking a stand for the better treatment of animals.  Yes, there might be Amish families who do treat their farm animals with compassion or have a family dog who sleeps in the house on his own bed, but until  they are willing to publicly take a stand against puppy mills or animal cruelty, they are only permitting the awful acts to continue.

I blame ALL Amish for puppy mills because no one within their community is trying to change anything.  I firmly believe that until members of their own community come out against the cruelty, they are all to blame.

Turning a blind eye to cruelty should be a crime.  The Amish people need to take responsibility for the actions of everyone in their community.  If they want to truly be the “kinder, gentler people,” they should be willing stand up and fight for the beliefs and actions that truly represent a kind community.  Keeping dogs in small wire cages, covered in feces and breeding them until they die is not what I consider a kind act.

It IS wrong to blame an entire community or race or religion based on the heinous acts of a few, however, when no one in that community appears to be against the heinous act, it isn’t a false accusation of blame, it is actually the truth.