Puppy Farms – Lucy’s laW

Blue Scarlet on…Lucy’s Law

I am absolutely incandescent with rage after seeing some disgusting posts on Gumtree raffling puppies. These absolute pathetic excuses for humans are asking 59 people to buy a ‘ticket’ for £10, and the winner takes the dog away to a life of God knows what. As appalling as this is, it isn’t the only way dogs are mistreated.

I shudder as I write this, knowing that some households will wake to a cute puppy on Christmas Day. He’ll be gorgeous. He’ll probably be wrapped in a satin bow. And unfortunately, by 6 – 8 weeks later, a large proportion of these dogs will be rejected by their owners, dumped on a social media or selling site, with the lamest of excuses, such as:
‘He does his business everywhere.’
‘He’s growing too big.’
or,
‘We just can’t give him the attention he deserves.’
I have seen examples of all of these. Please, please do your research before buying a pet.
I thought by now that the ‘Dog’s Trust’ slogan, ‘A dog is for life, not for Christmas’ would have penetrated even the thickest of numbskulls by now, but alas, the ignorance is still out there.

I have this weekend written to Nia Griffith, MP for Llanelli, asking her to confirm that she will sign the ‘Early Day Motion number 695,’ also known as ‘Lucy’s Law.’ The law would potentially prevent third party selling of puppies, such as pet shops and dealers, all of whom get their puppies from puppy farms, where hereditary diseases thrive, the puppies lie in their own filth, and the bitches are virtually bred to death. Some have spinal problems from being cooped up in cages, some have never seen daylight, and some never have the chance to show the unconditional love towards a caring owner.

Lucy was one such example, but after her rescue she was loved by Lisa Garner for three happy years. I remember how heartbroken I was when Lucy deteriorated and crossed the rainbow bridge just a year ago. However, she managed to find love and happiness briefly. If this article makes just one person THINK before they make a vital decision, then I will have helped the cause. You would not dream of dumping a baby on Gumtree because you couldn’t be bothered to potty train him or her, neither would you leave your child behind when you moved house, due to him or her having grown more than you had anticipated. Remember as well that if puppy farmers lose their demand (revenue), they will stop their supply (breeding).

I’ve said my piece. Now I’d like to hand you over to a very special guest, called ‘Rosie.’ She can say the words better than I can. Please make the right choice this Christmas.

‘I often wondered what my tail was for. Being born on a puppy farm, I wasn’t aware of what happiness was. I had no name, and the ‘nasty’ people never allowed me near them. My dear mother always looked so sad and worn out; she barely had the energy to stay awake to feed my brothers and sisters. One by one they left me, yanked away by the ‘nasty’ people without warning, never to be seen again. Sid, a friendly puppy nearby, told me they were going to the ‘grey city’.

I wondered why I was never chosen. I realised why I had to stay the night mother died. She was swollen underneath and when ‘nasty’ man noticed, he swore and told ‘nasty’ woman…
‘This one’s knackered. Get rid of her and start the young brat.’
I now know they meant me. That night they wrapped mother up in a ragged blanket. I tried to lick her face one last time as she left, but ‘nasty’ man pushed me away by my muzzle. She looked back and sighed,
‘Be brave, my lovely girl.’
I had no idea what she meant, as I never saw her again.

I soon found out. Day after monotonous day passed in my small cage of confinement, and my paws soon began to itch from the wee that I had to do in my cwtch, because there was nowhere else to go. I soon found out the hard way that I too would be bred, although I was too young, so the first time I really didn’t know what was happening. The second time I did, and I screamed and tried to run away. The third time, I closed my eyes in resignation. I was dead inside.

One night, as I lay in my emotionless trance, a torch was shone into my cage and a person in a dark blue coat looked in at me.
‘Oh, you poor darling,’ she murmured softly.
I was too tired to fight any more. Was I to suffer the same fate as my mother? Only time would tell. I was taken (along with Sid too, you’ll be pleased to know) to a kind man named a vet, who examined me. Although the strip lights were painful to my eyes, he clipped my aching nails and washed my stinking coat, as well as putting soothing ointment on the places that hurt the most.

The next few weeks were a blur, as I slowly got used to other dogs. I was told I was integrating, though for what? I didn’t know. I walked in the sunlight, which felt good on my back, and the people who worked in the magic place called ‘The Rescue’ were always giving me scraps of food. I found it very hard to let people touch me though; I was still afraid. Best of all. I found happiness! When I had loves and cuddles, my tail would wag so hard that I would try and catch it! It was so funny!
The people from ‘The Rescue’ loved that and said,
‘Look at darling Rosie smiling!’
Rosie. My name. The first thing I ever owned all to myself.

The best day of my life was my ‘Gotcha’ day.
I had seen this particular dog before. He was a really fun-looking dude with a silky black and tan coat, and he was with a really ‘smiley’ pair of humans. And here they were again, stopping by to say ‘Hi!’ Only this time, the helper lady opened my cage and let me out to greet the dog, whose name was Tim. Well, I circled him, a bit suspiciously at first, then he wuffed at me in a friendly way and I knew we were going to be pals. He smelt happy too. The ‘smiley’ couple smiled even more and I was put in a crate and in a big moving thing called a car. My tail went under again as I was a little unsure.

When I got to the place I now proudly call ‘home’…what a sight met my eyes! A warm house…glass portals showing the sun…a lovely, massive green garden full of smells…and a fluffy bed! I say all this now, but I preferred my crate for a while as it was my safe place. However, my bed is still only my third best place, after Mammy’s lap and Daddy’s lap. They worked very hard with me, getting me to trust them, and I’m so glad they persevered, because a cuddle is my favourite thing ever, followed by a bowl full of turkey of course.

If I had one wish, I would wish my darling mother could have experienced this happiness in her dark little life. I think of her every single day. It was too late for her. But I’m living my life for her as she would have wanted.’

Thank you for reading my story. Happy Christmas everyone!