Trojan Rottweilers - Rottweiler Breeder in British Columbia, Canada

  

Rottweiler Breeder, Rottweiler Puppies, Rottweiler Stud dog, Rotti puppies, Mission, British Columbia, Canada, Rotties, Rotts, 

trjn - "...Of courageous determination or energy.  One who shows the pluck, endurance,

     determined energy, or the like, attributed to the defenders of Troy."


 

A Puppy Mill is....

A place where several breeds of dogs are raised and the breeder always has puppies for sale; 

A dirty, trashy place where one or several breeds of dogs are kept in deplorable conditions and puppies are always available; 

A place where a single breed of dog is raised in acceptable conditions and puppies are always available;

A place where lots of dogs are raised, where breeding is done solely for financial gain rather than protection of breed integrity, and where puppies are sold to brokers or to pet stores;

All of the above. 

The answer depends on who you ask. A hobby breeder dedicated to promoting and protecting a particular breed or two might consider all of the above "breeders" to be puppy mills. Animal shelter and rescue workers who deal daily with abandoned dogs might agree. Operators of clean commercial kennels, licensed by the US Department of Agriculture, will strongly disagree, for the very mention of "puppy mill" damages their business and that of the pet stores they deal with.

John Q Dog Owner probably thinks of puppy mills as those places exposed on "20/20" or "Geraldo". They have seen the cameras pan back and forth over trash, piles of feces, dogs with runny noses and oozing sores, dogs crammed into shopping carts and tiny coops, rats sharing dirty food bowls and dry dishes. They've seen the puppy mill owner captured on tape, dirty, barely articulate, and ignorant of dog care, temperament, genetic health, or proper nutrition. He's belligerent, too, demanding to be left alone to earn his livelihood.

But is the television crew simply seeking the sensational and applying these appalling conditions to the entire dog producing industry? Just what is a puppy mill?

After World War II, when farmers were desperately seeking alternative methods of making money when traditional crops failed, the US Department of Agriculture encouraged the raising of puppies as a crop. Retail pet outlets grew in numbers as the supply of puppies increased, and puppy production was on its way.

However, the puppy farmers had little knowledge of canine husbandry and often began their ventures with little money and already-rundown conditions. They housed their dogs in chicken coops and rabbit hutches, provided little socialization, and often eschewed veterinary care because they couldn't afford to pay. Animal welfare organizations such as the Humane Society of the US (before it became politicized by the animal rights movement) investigated conditions at these farms and eventually were successful in focusing national attention on the repulsive conditions at "puppy mills."

Puppy mill conditions were a major impetus in the passage of the national Animal Welfare Act. However, as often happens, the appellation has been bastardized to mean any breeder who breeds lots of dogs, no matter what the conditions of the kennel or the health of the puppies. The AWA is administered by the US Department of Agriculture. The act lists several categories of businesses that handle dogs:

Pet wholesalers are those who import, buy, sell, or trade pets in wholesale channels, and they must be licensed by USDA to conduct business;

Pet breeders are those who breed for the wholesale trade, whether for selling animals to other breeders or selling to brokers or directly to pet stores or laboratories, and they must also be licensed by USDA to conduct business; and laboratory animal dealers, breeder, and bunchers must also be licensed, as must auction operators and promoters of contests in which animals are given as prizes.

Hobby breeders who sell directly to pet stores are exempt from licensing if they gross less than $500 per year and if they own no more than three breeding females. 

The AWA does not list a definition of either "commercial kennel" or "puppy mill." The American Kennel Club also avoids defining "puppy mill" but does label a commercial breeder as one who "breeds dogs as a business, for profit" and a hobby breeder as "one who breeds purebred dogs occasionally to justifiably improve the breed, not for purposes of primary income."

AKC does not license breeders. [More on the AKC] The USDA issues licenses under the Animal Welfare Act after inspecting kennels to determine whether or not minimum standards for housing and care are being met. They require a minimum amount of space for each dog, shelter, a feeding and veterinary care program, fresh water every 24 hours, proper drainage of the kennel, and appropriate sanitary procedures to assure cleanliness.

USDA licensed more than 4600 animal dealers, more than 3000 of them dealing solely in wholsale distribution of dogs and cats, in 1992. Animal welfare proponents claim that there are many dealers (commercial kennels? puppy mills?) who have avoided the system, and that USDA does not have enough inspectors to seek them out and enforce the law. These welfarists have lobbied for stricter laws in the "puppy mill states" in the midwest.

It's easy to say that John Jones or Mary Smith runs a puppy mill or that pet store puppies come from puppy mills, but the label is tossed about so frequently and with so little regard for accuracy that each prospective dog owner should ascertain for himself whether or not he wishes to buy a dog from John Jones, Mary Smith, a pet store, or a hobby breeder. Here are our Dog Owner's Guide definitions to help you decide:

Hobby breeder: A breed fancier who usually has only one breed but may have two; follows a breeding plan in efforts to preserve and protect the breed; produces from none to five litters per year; breeds only when a litter will enhance the breed and the breeding program; raises the puppies with plenty of environmental and human contact; has a contract that protects breeder, dog, and buyer; runs a small, clean kennel; screens breeding stock to eliminate hereditary defects from the breed; works with a breed club or kennel club to promote and protect the breed; and cares that each and every puppy is placed in the best home possible.

Commercial breeder: One who usually has several breeds of dogs with profit as the primary motive for existence. The dogs may be healthy or not and the kennel may be clean or not. The dogs are probably not screened for genetic diseases, and the breeding stock is probably not selected for resemblance to the breed standard or for good temperament. Most commercial breeders sell their puppies to pet stores or to brokers who sell to pet stores.

Broker: One who buys puppies from commercial kennels and sells to retail outlets. Brokers ship puppies by the crate-load on airlines or by truckload throughout the country. Brokers must be licensed by USDA and must abide by the shipping regulations in the Animal Welfare Act.

Buncher: One who collects dogs of unknown origin for sale to laboratories or other bunchers or brokers. Bunchers are considered lower on the evolutionary scale than puppy mill operators, for there is much suspicion that they buy stolen pets, collect pets advertised as "Free to a good home", and adopt unwanted pets from animal shelters for research at veterinary colleges or industrial research laboratories.

Backyard breeder: A dog owner whose pet either gets bred by accident or who breeds on purpose for a variety of reasons. This breeder is usually ignorant of the breed standard, genetics, behavior, and good health practices. A backyard breeder can very easily become a commercial breeder or a puppy mill.

Puppy mill: A breeder who produces puppies hand over fist with no breeding program, little attention to puppy placement, and poor health and socialization practices. A puppy mill may or may not be dirty but it is usually overcrowded and the dogs may be neglected or abused because the breeder can't properly handle as many dogs as he has. Puppy mill operators often denigrate hobby breeders and their dogs in attempts to make a sale.

Unfortunately, some people who are well-ensconced in your local dog scene could be categorized as operating puppy mills.  Prospective buyers should be careful to question anyone they are considering as a source for a puppy.

Rescue worker Linda Smith's eyewitness description of the conditions at one puppy mill are described in Puppy mill nightmare. 

To learn a little bit more breeding and so forth, visit these pages on our website;

Should I Breed My Dog?  

Questions To Ask A Breeder

So You Want To Buy A Rottweiler

Dogs Needing Homes

Rescue Listings

Rottweiler Standards

Rottweiler Health Problems

Nutrition and B.A.R.F Information

 

Here are some pictures taken of puppy mills and dogs rescued from puppy mills.

 

   

This is a Sheltie with a severe skin problem.

This poor Sheltie is missing almost all its coat.

Notice the dead puppy inside the tire.

The poor dog on the right has a huge gash on its head.

Notice the cages all stacked on top of each other.

 

 

HOW COULD YOU?

By Jim Willis 2001


  When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad,"
you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" - but then you'd relent, and roll me over for a bellyrub.


  My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs," you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.


  Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your home comings, and when you fell in love. She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her.


  I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love."


  As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch - because your touch was now so infrequent - and I would have defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.


  There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.


  Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.


  I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers."


  You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you.


  You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked.... "How could you?"


  They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you - that you had changed your mind - that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared..... anyone who might save me.


  When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry.


  My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The "prisoner of love" had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.


  She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"


  Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself - a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. With my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her. It was you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.


The End - Jim Wllis


  ** A note from the author:
  If "How Could You?" brought tears to your eyes as you read it, as it did to mine as I wrote it, it is because it is the composite story of the millions of formerly owned pets who die each year in American and Canadian animal shelters. Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a noncommercial purpose, as long as it is properly attributed
with the copyright notice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

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