A guest post by Cathy Hester, as told by Moses
My Old Life
My name is Moses. For the first 16 years of my life, I had no name. I had no person. I had no life. I lived at an Amish farm in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. I lived in a dirty hutch in a dark barn. I walked on wire. I suffered in the heat and the cold. I was a breeder. I had no life.
My personality was feisty. I barked a lot and I liked to fight. I would fight the farmer when he grabbed me to shove me into the hutch of a female dog. I bit the farmer and I bit the female. To prevent me from biting, my teeth were knocked out. My jaw was broken. I could not close my mouth. To prevent my barking and disturbing the neighbors who would complain, my vocal cords were broken by a pipe shoved down my tiny throat. I had no voice. I had no life.
I endured this existence for three days shy of 16 years. Then the impossible happened. The farmer was finished with me. He called a local rescue that he trusted—A Tail to Tell Puppy Mill Rescue. He told the nice lady to come quickly to take me and some other dogs away. If they didn’t hurry, we would be killed—shot, drowned, beaten with a shovel, burned, or put into a wood chipper. The lady hurried to the farm and saved us. I had no idea what was happening.