A Dog's Life

by Pa Rock
Whiney-Ass Animal Rights Activist

Seneca, Missouri, is a small town in extreme southwest Missouri that sits on the Oklahoma border. Both of my parents were born in rural Newton County close to that little community. A large part of the commerce of Seneca centers on an Indian casino that was erected a few years back just inside of Oklahoma. Recently another Seneca business enterprise has been in the local news, and today it was picked up nationally by the Associated Press.

Jewel Bond is the owner and operator of J.B.'s Precious Puppies, and though the business name suggests a peaceful kennel with happy little puppies licking the faces of prospective buyers, her operation was, in fact, little more than a torture chamber for man's best friend. I say "was" because Ms. Bond has just been closed down for the second time in two years.

Officers from the Newton County Sheriff's Office raided J.B.'s Precious Puppies and found over 200 dogs standing and living in their own excrement, many packed three or four to a cage. Some were sick and missing clumps of hair. The deputies also found skeletons of dogs and puppies stuffed in empty dog food sacks. Precious puppies, indeed!

Jewel had a license to breed dogs, but the Feds took it away from her two years ago. The state came in and auctioned her dogs off, but, unbelievably, Jewel bought some of the unlucky pooches back herself and started right back up. Jewel's license said dog breeder, but in actuality she was a puppy mill operator - a very low form of humanity.

Missouri's dog breeders, many of whom are reputable, fall under the jurisdiction of the State Department of Agriculture. That agency currently has eleven inspectors, not nearly enough to properly supervise the 3,200 licensed dog breeders as well as all of the animal rescues, shelters, and dog pounds. The Humane Society of the United States is conducting a "Stop Puppy Mills" campaign and says that Missouri should stop licensing breeders until it has enough inspectors to do proper supervision.

The Associated Press article also mentioned Marilyn Shepherd, a dog breeder in the Ozarks community of Ava, MO. Marilyn has been the subject of three federal licensing complaints, but she still has a state license. Journalists tried to view her operation, but she would not allow her dog pens to be toured or photographed. Marilyn said that pictures of caged dogs would set off protests by "whiney-ass animal rights activists." 'Nuff said.

And what about the "Jewel" of Seneca? She has been shut down again and is facing a possible two years in prison. Justice would dictate that she have to live in her own excrement crammed into a cell with a few dozen other puppy mill operators. It wouldn't be hard to find that many similar lowlifes to cram into her cage because Missouri is the national leader in puppy mills. (It is also the national leader in meth labs.) There are lots of opportunity for free enterprise way back up in those hills and hollers where John Law fears to tread!

(There are many, many reputable dog breeders in Missouri and across the United States. If you have questions regarding the integrity of a particular breeder, visit the premises and speak to the staff of a local veterinary clinic. If you run into a despicable puppy mill, report it to The Humane Society of America, The Association for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, the proper state agency, or the county sheriff.)

The Generation Before Mine

by Pa Rock
Personal Historian

There was something in the news from back home this week that saddened me. The Munitions Plant at Parsons, Kansas, is being deactivated by the Army. Don't get me wrong, I'm not pining over the demise of a bomb-making facility - any fool knows that there is no shortage of arms manufacturers or weaponry in the world today. But the Parsons Munitions Plant is different because it was a component in my mother's personal history, a significant part of her life that I heard her discuss on many occasions.

The Kansas Army Ammunition Plant was opened at the beginning of World War II to supply munitions for our nation's greatest war effort. My mother, then known as Florine Sreaves, had graduated from high school in Seneca, MO, in 1939. She was still a very young woman, and single, when the war began.

The young men were, for the most part, incorporated into the fighting forces as quickly as they came of age - with many volunteering to serve even before they were out of high school. The role of the women was not as readily defined, but many found ways to be active in the war effort. Tom Brokaw would later refer to the youth shedding their innocence during World War II as "The Greatest Generation."

My mom chose to do her part making bombs at Parsons, a job that could be, and often was, dangerous. Later during the war she moved to El Paso, TX, with her sister and brother-in-law, Christine and Bob Dobbs, where Bob went through his basic training at Ft. Bliss. During that time, if memory serves, Mom worked at the base Post Exchange (PX). (My dad, Garland Macy, graduated from high school in Neosho, MO, in 1942, and fought in the European Theatre with the newly formed Army Air Corps.)

I made a long audio tape of my mother telling stories about her life shortly after she was diagnosed with brain tumors. It was one of the last, lengthy sentient conversations that we ever had. We talked all morning, and enjoyed each other's company. That has been nearly twenty-five years ago, and those memories, and others, have grown dusty with time. But occasionally something happens to shake off the dust and bring back that ache that comes when someone important is missing from your life. The news of the closing of the Parsons Munitions Plant caused me to glance backward, if only for a moment.