#30 DAY SHRED LEVEL 2 SET LIST CODE#
Input any ZIP code and youâll see the list of stores that sell pups rather than offer them for adoption. âIf you buy a puppy from a pet store, this is what youâre paying for and nothing else: a dog raised in puppy-mill evil.â The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals posts a database of pet shops for consumers to check before they buy. ÂMost every pup sold in stores in America comes from this kind of suffering â or worse,â he insists. I turned to John Goodwin, the director of the puppy-mills campaign for HSUS, and asked him how many puppies sold in this country â at Petland and Citipups and a thousand other pet stores â come from puppy mills as dire as this one. One hundred and five dogs came out of that house, many of them pregnant or in heat. Once triaged and tagged, they were loaded into crates on the Humane Societyâs mammoth truck, an 80-foot land-ship with clean-room conditions, and taken to a staging shelter. There, teams of vets from the Cabarrus Animal Hospital worked briskly to assess each rescue. Each was photographed, then carried downhill to the giant rig at the curb. Some went limp as the rescuers knelt to scoop them. They wept and bayed and spun in crazed circles as we toured the maze of cages. A cinder-block kennel, hidden from the street, housed the bulk of this puppy-mill stock: 50 or 60 more parent dogs whoâd likely never seen sunlight or spent a day outside this toxic room. Out the back door and up a dirt trail, the worst was yet to come. From somewhere in the house, we heard the howling of dogs, but they werenât in the bedrooms or the tumbledown john or the kitchen piled high with dishes. Damp laundry draped across every flat surface the floor was a maze of cat crates and garbage. Twenty of us â blue-shirted staffers from the Humane Society of the United States (HSUS) several members of their forensic camera crew the sheriff of Cabarrus County and his deputies and a contingent of veterinarians from a local animal hospital â tiptoed around the filth underfoot into a house caked in pet fur and waste. A stench of complex poisons pushed out: cat piss and dog shit and mold and bleach commingled into a cloud of raw ammonia that singed the hair in our nostrils. It wasnât till we opened the side-yard entrance that the horror inside announced itself. It was flanked by bigger and smarter homes on a two-lane strip in Cabarrus County, 25 miles north of Charlotte, North Carolina, but nothing about it suggested to passersby that inconceivable cruelty lived at this address. The house on Hilton Lake Road was unremarkable, a brick one-story with an under-watered lawn and a scrimshaw of patchy shrubs.
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