A Prince Among Thieves

Once upon a time there was born a beautiful, sound and wished for litter of Shih Tzu puppies. Lovely, healthy and long sought after, we'll say there were four puppies because the actual details of the birth are fuzzy from the ravages of time. We do know the breeder was a dedicated show person, producing many top-winning dogs and wished to continue so. Perhaps at one time he was also considered a breeder of the  year, due to the Champions he had produced, if anyone had such an award.
 

We do know that the litter was thrilling, two lovely little puppies who were obviously going to go places, one maybe and the fourth, well, although he was correct to the standard, he wasn't quite as cleanly marked and he may be just a tad big, not over size, just bigger than his brothers. Oh, but he had Attitude! Tons of heart stopping, loving attitude! Naturally the breeder wanted only the best for his new puppies; the dam was kept in a climate controlled area, clean bedding, wonderful diet and lots of human interaction. After all, she had produced such stunning puppies; she was, quite literally, the queen mother! One of these small puppies could easily be the hoped for heir to the throne!
 

The puppies also received only the very best in anything a puppy could require. The best in veterinary care, vaccinations and diet. Their environment was perfect, not too hot and not too cold. The breeder was so proud, the socialization of these puppies was amazing, and they received a large quantity of positive human interaction.
 

The breeder could only beam with delight as he watched these small fuzzy infants learn to walk and explore their perfect world. As time passed, the breeder was even more delighted to see that the puppies were holding true to their promise of quality.
 

One, naturally, the breeder would keep. This wondrous young dog fast achieved his Championship and continued on to become a Best In Specialty Show winner! Quite a feat for such a young dog.  The other two, in due time were placed into other show homes, where in due course, they, too became Champions. The fourth, well, he was despaired of ever becoming a Champion.
 

The breeder placed this puppy into a different type of home. The person acquired this young prince and called him "Ben". Ben was, to the new owner's eyes, a remarkable example of the breed, although a little too big, not cleanly marked, a little dark in his face, but he had a pedigree listing many paragons of the breed. Naturally, he just had to be bred! The breeder, for reasons we can only guess at, had given the new owner an open registration, and had not insisted upon neutering him.
 

In time, this owner bred him time and again, but grew tired of him, or decided to cut back on the total numbers of dogs she had, or decided to get out of dog's altogether. You can take your pick of excuses. She, however, had other contacts, a member of the bloodless and heartless society of dog brokers.
 

This particular broker was very shrewd, very slick. This broker lived in the Midwest, but she bought her clutch of dogs from places further east of her. She bought them in cash and would promise anything, sign anything to get the dog. She'd connived several people to sell her their nice show prospect, on contract, none the less. Once she was driving away the paper flew out the car window.
 

Amazingly, as time passed the breeders tried to reach her, to no avail. She had simply vanished. She moved frequently, it appears. Other breeders, hiding behind the guise of words like "reputable", "ethical' and "honest", sold her their not quite so nice puppies and not quite so productive dogs. The sums received from the broker paid for another litter, another dog in the ring, another vet bill. It simply added to their bank accounts and they turned their heads, despite knowing her purpose in buying these dogs. A few breeders sold her many dogs and puppies, in one fell swoop.
 

As for Ben, the prince upon whose litter so many high hopes and wishes lay? His owner sold him to this clean and well dressed broker. After all, Ben had a pedigree of the kind that dreams are made of. In due course, the broker had an offer for her Shih Tzu, all 13 of them. She gladly sold them to another woman to improve the woman's breeding stock. Into a truck were piled several vari-kennels with 2 and 3 dogs in each kennel, on a midnight ride one cool autumn day. Their ride in that truck took many hours but eventually they reached their destination, a new home.
 

Ben and the collection of other dogs were unloaded into various pens and immediately they were shaved and then sorted into other  pens with other dogs, each pen holding 4 to 5 dogs. Each pen was approximately 6 ft by 6 ft, on a cement slab, with pig wire for fencing. Each pen held a large metal bowl, for food, and a second deeper crock for water and a new wonderful invention, a small igloo doghouse.  There were trees surrounding these lines of pens. For the younger dogs, they were placed into a strange pen, like a chicken coop, three feet off the ground, their footing was wire, and they were surrounded by wire. At the end was a wooden box with a small hole, as shelter against the elements.
 

This pen with its occupants was to become Ben's home for the rest of his life. His sole purpose was to breed. Until he was dead. Denied the kindness of man, he was destined to become livestock. As a cow or a sheep, such was the consideration given to "man's best friend". Once daily his new owner would pour kibble into the flat bowl, at feeding times it was a fight to the strongest for each to eat.
 

Once a year he was pulled from his pen for a hair cut, to the skin, and if he were lucky, for vaccinations. He wore a metal tag on a chain for identification. He was no longer Ben, only that ##### dog.
 

Every few days the owner would grab a female in the pen and feel her abdomen, to determine if she were bred. Sometimes the females were bred but the owner missed the symptoms. They would whelp in that pen, in all seasons. Often, so starved for protein or even a square meal, these new borns became a much sought after addition to the other adult dogs diet. Due to the extreme nature of Ben's new life, it can be expected his life span would not be as long as his litter mates. Perhaps that is a kindness in itself, or if dogs can pray, perhaps it is in answer to his prayer.
 

For Ben, no more toys, no more exemplary veterinary care, no more love from his god, his people, no warm bed to sleep in as the winter storms blow, no air conditioning when the heat is so hot as to melt pavement. No bath, no friends, no walks, no treats, no person's lap to  snuggle in, no hands to rub his ears and no voice to tell him how good he is, how special, or even how much they love him.
 

Ben's life will be spent in that pen. But Ben is lucky. At least, some kind of luck. His new owner is an USDA licensed breeder and state licensed, also. He has a cement slab to run on, instead of the mud and muck that could be his environment.
 

Ben's brothers, I pray, are loved still, being Champions in their home and his BIS brother, although middle aged by now, is probably still well thought of, and would hold a high value in his breeders mind. And Ben's great crime? Being too big, too dark, and not of clear color. But Ben has a heart, a mind and the affection that God gives these creatures, and I'm sure he wonders what became of his early home. If he does not, being "only" a dog, well, I certainly do.
 

The group of dogs that came to this place with Ben? One is the son of a BIS winner; he is blind now, due to neglect of an eye ulcer. One died that same year, requiring a c-section for puppies she could not whelp and the owner did not seek veterinary care for her. Can we imagine her blind panic and distress as hours, perhaps days passed and loss of blood and exhaustion overcame her? Two of the  others died of exposure that winter.
 

You'll ask "how do I know these things? Is this simply another fairy tale?" I'm afraid not. I was there. I saw Ben. I saw the others. I counted the dogs per pen. I examined the documents, saw the signature, received copies of the AKC slips and pedigrees.
 

I touched Ben. It may have been the first time in months he had received the touch of a human, without fear, a touch of compassion. I'm glad that I touched Ben, and I'm glad I was able to touch some of the others. It may have been the last touch of love they ever receive. As I walked away, my heart cried.
 

I looked back once, at Ben, as he stood patiently, so very patient, behind the wire fence.