Doors unlock and swing open at 7:30 AM (sometimes) and we, the kennel staff stride in donned in stretchy pants a loose fitting T-shirt and a smock. Like the smock protects anything right and I am more than shore that in two weeks time there will be more crimson red of bleach stains than the canvas blue in which it had been manufactured. We hear it from the front as we clock in, the sounds of desperate hunger whining beckoning feed me, love me, notice my life. It's been a long night for the little orphans. No midnight snacks from mom or a gentle nuzzle from one of their littermates just the cold bars of metal beneath their wobbly-legged paws. I turn the handle of the door and the yipping barks and elongated puppy howls escalate to caterwaul of morning welcomes. I do my walk down the row of cages gazing in at the happy hunger faces. Only some, which were in questionable condition yesterday, are to weak to stand and simply lie there and look up at me through the bars with glossy glazed over eyes. I quickly make note of whom will be making the quick trip to the sick room before they can infect the troopers. I look into the hole of the blue Boston's I immediately call over the manager their eyes are stained with running tears their noses clotted with snot and a cough that could rival an emphysema patient on their last week of life. They should be sent directly to the vet or even further the animal hospital just down the road, but alas to the sick room it is. I bite back my advisement and reach into the cage and pick up the two limp gangly bodies one tucked in each of my arms and walk to the airtight sick room – Isolation. There are seven currently stocked in the cages of the room. With these two new fighters there will only be one more cage available for aliments. Did I mention we had another shipment in tomorrow? No doubt from whatever mill they were taken from would be riddled with kennel cough. We'd need to do some redesigning I believed. Every time the owner would tell happy customers as they gazed in at the playful puppies on the display wall that they came from premium breeders I had to hold back the urge to spit which had collected in my mouth. Of course he could pass of the wall of the "healthy" dogs as had come from worthy breeders. If only they took a look in the room hidden round the corner I think they would be less likely to nod agree and smile. After chauffeuring the Boston's to their new kennel I begin the morning routine of filling the bowls for distribution. I take the first bowl filled with kibble and just a bit of wet food to the first cage my un-admitted favorite of the bunch, a tiny white Pomeranian with blue eyes that I had named so cleverly Biggie Smalls. I call to her and scrabbling paws and small yelps are made as I approach her. I reach in and place her in my apron and put her food in for when I return. I go about my morning feeding Biggie smalls happily peeking from my pocket and my hand occasionally dipping down to pet her fluffy white head and sneaking her a piece of kibble or a chunk of mush from the other dogs bowls. They wouldn't know. Fat Patty a bulldog, a very sweet female bulldog grunts as I put food in. It's gone as soon as I placed it. I knew I would never have to put her in the sick room she was a warrior of different kind. I pull Biggie into my arms and let her lick my face. I love her. I know I shouldn't for she is for sale and will soon be gone, she is a beautiful pup. I look into her light greyish blue eyes and kiss her saying in a mock angry tone. "You're killing me smalls." I place her back in her kennel and she goes on to eat her breakfast. After breakfast has been cared for I go about cleaning removing all the disgustingness from the trays, cleaning the grates, and finally the kennel itself. When I tell you I nearly passed out from the fumes of sticking my head the enclosed kennel and cleaning it with bleach and fragrance it killed me to think after I was done and placed the pups back in that they would linger in there for two hours until the air and product drifted away.
That day I noticed the blue mural female Aussie hadn't eaten and had barely moved I sat and tried to hand feed her. She wouldn't even take it from my hand. I than requested to go get some cold cuts that might be more appetizing. She ate three small pieces from my hand and that was all. It worked for the day. She was lethargic, weak and could barely stand yet in the display case she remained. Someone had wanted to look at her and I demanded to the manager she not be shown if they held her they'd feel how malnourished she was. It would sicken them. It caused quite the spat between me and the Owner whom I hated, but in the end he knew – knew he was wrong.
Later that day my heart shattered into a million pieces. Biggie Smalls was no longer on display when I came in. I check the sick room she wasn't there. I panicked until I heard shrill wailing from back cage. She was there doing her dance for me. I petted her once softly before going to the front to ask why she had been moved. They told me she had to bad legs and busted tendons therefore she would be "sent back to the breeder" I knew what it meant. They would put her down for she would make a useless pet with very high medical bills.
I went home that night and thought only of the small white Pom. How badly I wanted her. I had a Rottweiler at home that would make a meal of her. I knew this but I couldn't just let her be euthanized. I woke the following morning set to go in and do my job, do it as best I could even with all my morals getting the way. I went in and started to the back saying a quick hello to Biggie. I made my way down the aisle looking in to each cage. My heart stopped. There was the blue Aussie on its side limp with drool handing from its mouth. She was dead. I snapped running to the manger screaming things like I quit and Animal Abuse and Give me my dog. I didn't even know what I was saying only that this was wrong. So very wrong. I left. Driving like a maniac and crying for the loss of creature one of which had barely begun to live and died without a name.
I was without a job for a month. Scraping together money just for a pack of cigarettes. I really needed that job but morally I couldn't keep it. All I ask is that you keep your eyes open and know what you see is not always what's going on behind the display case.
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