On the two-hour drive down to Peyton, CO, I tried to prepare myself for what I might see. I’ve heard the stories; I’ve seen pictures of the abuse. I made sure to bring tissues.

This story begins on August 12th, 2008 with a voice mail message from a woman I had never met, Celia. She called to tell me that my husband, Max, and I had been chosen. Chosen as the new “parents” to an 8 week old pug puppy, Wilson. I admit, this doesn’t seem like much of a story. And it wasn’t, until I met Celia in person and learned about Wilson’s turbulent and almost tragic beginnings.

Celia, and her husband, Bryan, are volunteers for the Mill Dog Rescue Network. At the end of July, Bryan was a driver on a rescue mission to several puppy mills in Missouri. He, along with MDRN’s founder, Theresa Strader and other volunteers, rescued 125 dogs that would have otherwise been “disposed of”. These dogs were either too sick to sell or too old to breed anymore. Wilson fell into the “too sick” category. I was told that the mill that he came from was completely concealed from the outside world. The mill owner was willing to give up these animals for a chance at a new life, but wasn’t willing to let outsiders view the conditions the dogs were living in.


So, a small opening was made in a fence where, one by one, these dogs were handed over to the rescuers. Most were older dogs, until this little pug puppy was handed through. According to the rescuers, this six-week-old little guy was barely alive. If it hadn’t been for these wonderful volunteers that day, he most likely would have been left for dead. Once the truck filled with rescued dogs arrived back in Colorado Springs, little Wilson was whisked away to Black Forest Veterinary Clinic where he spent several days in an incubator and was treated for pneumonia. After he seemed to be improving, Theresa took Wilson back to her home. As she sat in her chair, little Wilson lay on her chest. His head arched back as he gasped for air. Theresa thought he was taking his last breaths. She immediately rushed him back to the vet. After a little more time in the incubator and many tears shed by all those who crossed his path, Wilson’s health improved. When he was finally released, he found a foster home with Celia and Bryan’s family where they continued to nurse him back to health. Once Wilson was well enough for adoption to his forever home, his picture was posted on the Mill Dog Rescue Network website where HE found ME.

I couldn’t believe that this happy, energetic, bouncy little boy could have been involved in such an ordeal. In learning of Wilson’s journey, I felt that he deserved to have a name that represented his strength. So, Wilson became Vincent, which means “conqueror”. He has conquered an early death as well as the hearts of all those who have met him. We lovingly refer to him as “Vinny”.

Vinny’s story could be considered fairly mild compared to some of the other mill dogs that were rescued. And it’s nothing compared to the stories of the dogs who never even made it out of the mill. Since learning more and more about the life of a mill dog, I have been making an effort to educate anyone who will listen about this travesty. I’ve never been much of a do-good-er and I can’t say I’ve ever been on the look out for a needy cause. This cause found me and now I’m hooked.

On August 31st, I headed to Peyton, CO where MDRN has leased a kennel, which is currently housing the many sick dogs they rescued a week ago. The first dog I saw there was a nine month old poodle. He was missing skin across much of his back. The mill owner said she was clipping the dog’s hair and “cut a little too close.” Ya think? Another poodle was skin and bones with patches of missing hair. Other dogs had unexplained cuts, missing ears, splayed feet.

A male Cavalier King Charles Spaniel stole my heart. His name was Cowboy. He was suffering from mange and had splayed feet, likely from living years in a cage with a wire bottom. He was afraid of me at first, but I wouldn’t give up on him. I sat down in his kennel with him and I put my hand out so he could smell me. He slowly crept up to my hand, sniffed it and ran back to the other side of the kennel. I kept my hand out and he slowly came back, licked my hand and ran away again. This went on for about ten minutes, Cowboy coming a little bit closer each time. He obviously didn’t trust humans, but I could see that he so very much wanted to. By the time I finally left his kennel, he had nearly made it into my lap. He let me pet him and seemed to be in heaven when I rubbed his ears.

I could go on forever about each furry friend I made that day. Amazingly, I didn’t need the tissues. I went down there to learn more about these animals, and I did. Knowing the condition these dogs were in when they were rescued and seeing the difference a week made in the hands of hundreds of caring volunteers has really opened my eyes.

The next time you’re in the mall and you see those cute little puppies in the pet store window, please remember the mill these little guys came from. And the inhumane and unimaginable treatment their parents were subject to so that the pet store could have a “nice selection” for you to choose from.

There are SO many dogs out there who NEED a home, and want so much to be loved. Help put puppy mills out of business by looking your next furry friend at a shelter or at an animal rescue like Mill Dog Rescue Network.