Saving Gracie (3 page)

Five months later, the AKC did sanction Wolf on another count. The organization said he knew, or should have known, that registration applications he’d submitted contained false information about the puppies’ pedigrees—their family tree. After simple DNA tests turned up incorrect or faulty record-keeping, the organization suspended Wolf for six months and fined him $500.

A suspension by the AKC means a person cannot compete in AKC sports or register any dogs. But it doesn’t prevent a breeder from producing dogs. What happens inside a breeder’s dark barn or basement is anybody’s guess. Moreover, Wolf’s suspension made no mention of his partner, Trottier. In reality, Wolf could continue to breed dogs in Trottier’s name and face no repercussions whatsoever.

After serving his suspension, Wolf registered only a few litters with the AKC. From 2002 to 2004, he’d registered ninety-four litters with the organization. After 2004, he registered just three. Since he didn’t appear to be breeding much anymore, the AKC removed Wolf from its list of high-volume breeders. He was no longer being watched. The state of Pennsylvania had stopped tracking him as well. Without a state license, Wolf technically was forbidden to have more than twenty-six dogs on his property over a year’s time. But the absence of a license really meant that he could now go about his business without the aggravation of an unannounced inspection. If a dog warden did come knocking, Wolf had the legal right to turn him or her away.

In truth, he was conducting more business than ever—and conditions at Mike-Mar Kennel were worsening to the point that his neighbors were starting to object. In 2003, a year after the state revoked Wolf’s kennel license, Crystal Messaros complained about the smell to Lower Oxford Township officials. Messaros’s house sat on a hill directly behind Wolf’s property. The township secretary told a newspaper she’d approached Wolf about the matter and assumed the problem was resolved. It wasn’t. Messaros later said that her family was unable to sit out by their pool for three years because of the stench.

She knew Wolf had dogs, but she had no clue how many. There were so many dogs that Wolf and Trottier sold them via several websites. Not just puppies, either, but adult dogs, too.

One of the sites was called “Lightnings’s Papillons.” “Puppies available now!” the site announced. “Healthy and well socialized. Teens and adults occasionally. All colors available. Shots and worming up to date.”

The site featured several photos of dogs for sale. In one, three Papillon puppies lay together, so young that their eyes were barely open. In another, a dog with humongous ears stared solemnly at the camera. A third photo depicted a lighter-colored Papillon posing out of doors, his front legs perched on a log, surrounded by grass. Two more shots showed dogs lounging in fluffy beds.

The Cavalier King Charles Spaniels were featured on another website, pets4you.com. Accompanying the text were two pictures of Blenheim (chestnut and white) and tricolor (black, white, and tan) puppies with chin-length ears adorned with wavy hair. Other photos showed a puppy posed inside a mailbox covered with flowers, a handful of pups sitting amid plush toys on a plaid bed, and a Cavalier dressed in a frilly outfit. The site touted Mike-Mar Kennel as “home of many A.K.C. champions,” where the goal was to raise “top quality dogs.”

“My puppies are home raised,” the site said. “All hearts, eyes and hips are checked yearly. I can offer a very healthy, well bred cheerful puppy. To excellent pet homes only.”

Wolf and Trottier also sold Papillons and Cavaliers on anypet.com, abcpets.com, and on breeders.net. Their ads were full of half-sentences and grammatical errors. On breeders.net they wrote that “our Havanese are wonderful they are extremely smart with a cheerful disposition. It’s great they are non-shedding. All my dogs eyes Cerf’d there Patella’s are checked yearly.”

The site included a link to more information and photos. “I have been involved with Havanese for several years,” the breeders.net site went on to say. “My first one became a champion from the puppy classes. It was so exciting because Trina was a very special pet. I sell my puppies to pet homes only the dogs are really the happiest being a loved family pet. My puppies are raised in my home. I have all my dogs eyes Cert’d yearly also there Patella’s.”

The “I” in the description apparently referred to Wolf, but it wasn’t clear.

The page advertising his English Bulldogs stated that “Health is a very important factor they must breath easy is a number 1 concern. They need good hips and knees to carry the weight of a Bulldog. If they are constructed right you will have a happy wonderful friend.” The site offered some advice for prospective customers. “Remember that Bulldog is called a ‘head breed’ because 39 points is a head and face,” it said. “A compact package is what you are wanting. As far as color is concerned no good dog is a bad color. I can offer puppies that are healthy and close to the breed standard.”

The accompanying photos showed one Bulldog wearing a straw hat and a pair of Bulldogs staring pugnaciously from their seat on a low-slung chair. To a would-be customer, the dogs looked precisely the way Wolf wanted them to look—like much-loved pets.

Chapter 4: Orchestrating the Raid

As soon as shaw got off the phone with her supervisor, she and Siddons sped back to Chester County SPCA headquarters. An hour later, they gathered in the office of executive director Susie Spackman. Joining them were Becky Turnbull, coordinator of animal protective services; operations manager Dennis McMichael; office coordinator Jill Green; and spokesman Chuck McDevitt. Shaw described in detail the conditions at Mike-Mar Kennel: the crates full of dogs, the reeking ammonia smell, the overall filth. Filing a report wasn’t going to fix the problem, she told her bosses. The dogs needed to be removed, and the sooner the better.

Shaw was known for bringing passion to her work. Of all the officers employed by the SPCA, Spackman knew, Shaw was most apt to have a gung-ho, leap-into-action attitude. She was no less enthusiastic in this case, but Spackman could tell Shaw was also a little overwhelmed at the prospect of raiding a kennel. The SPCA would be committing itself to caring for 136 animals for who knew how long—the case could drag on for years. The financial implications could be crippling.

Staffers ran through the obstacles they might encounter trying to remove the dogs. For starters, it was impossible to guess how Wolf and his partners would react to a raid. The breeder had permitted Shaw onto his property this time; he might not do so again. The ramifications of bringing this many dogs into the shelter would be huge. The SPCA handled nearly 400 animals a year, but never anything of this magnitude all at once.

The final decision to go forward with the raid rested with Spackman, and once she heard the details, she was convinced that Shaw was right. The dogs had to be rescued. They were vulnerable and in a desperate situation. Morally, it was the right thing to do. Knowing what they knew, how could the SPCA even think of turning its back on these animals?

The group agreed to meet again the next morning to hash out the logistics.

Shaw’s nerves were ready to explode. She wanted nothing more than to race back down to Lower Oxford, load up Wolf’s dogs, and take them away for good. Instead, she drove home, an hour-long commute. Over dinner she filled her husband, Bobby, and their children, 15-year-old Chauna and Kevin, 10, in on the day’s events. The fact that their mother spent her days trying to save animals struck both kids as exceptionally cool.

Later, Shaw cuddled with the family’s German Shepherd, three Pugs, and four cats. Before turning in, she curled up on one end of the couch and watched a rerun of her favorite sitcom,
Reba
. But all night long she fought to fall asleep, struggling to rid her mind of the frightened brown eyes that had stared out at her from inside the wire crates. The thought of all those dogs enduring another day in such squalor gnawed at her.

She was back at work early Thursday, and by midmorning the SPCA brass had worked up a to-do list in anticipation of the raid. The shelter could accommodate Wolf’s dogs, but it would require considerable effort. Staffers needed to line up transportation for the dogs, round up crates to carry them in, and arrange space to house them once they arrived. It was a good thing Wolf’s dogs were small breeds, McDevitt pointed out. Half a dozen Cavaliers would fit inside a single cinderblock run.

On a typical day, the SPCA housed 100 or so dogs and cats who were available for adoption. Another 100 or so animals were kept in isolation—dogs and cats who were ill or injured or considered too aggressive to house in the main wing. The inn was nearly always full.

Chester County SPCA humane society police officer Cheryl Shaw. It was her job to orchestrate the raid on Michael Wolf’s puppy mill. (
Kathryn Sippel
)

To clear out space, the office staff went to work phoning breed rescue groups—organizations that take in and seek new homes for dogs of a specific breed—to see if they could handle some of the dogs currently housed at the shelter. Workers unearthed extra cages and carriers; they found a couple dozen in a barn adjacent to the main shelter. Humane officers cleaned the crates and got them ready for use. To augment the SPCA’s own two vans, McMichael rented two more.

More important than the physical logistics was the search warrant Shaw needed to have in hand before she could legally cart off Wolf’s dogs. The warrant needed to detail the conditions she and Siddons had uncovered the day before and outline the reasons they believed the dogs should be removed. Two signatures were required: one from the Chester County district attorney’s office and one from a local district judge. Shaw worked into the evening Thursday to draft the warrant. On her way home, she stopped at the animal shelter in neighboring Montgomery County to borrow still more crates.

In addition to their normal caseload, assistant district attorneys took turns being on call twenty-four hours a day for a week at a time. The assistant D.A. on call that week happened to be Lori Finnegan, a ten-year veteran regarded as thorough and tenacious. Shaw phoned Finnegan first thing Friday morning to let her know the SPCA was planning to raid a large-volume dog breeder in Lower Oxford the next day. Finnegan told her to fax over the search warrant.

Shaw sent off what she had. In stilted legalese, she’d written, “Your affiant’s visual observations of the animals lead your affiant to conclude that the strong ammonia type smell and the unsanitary conditions would be detrimental to the well-being of the animals if the situation is not rectified, for being kept in this situation could be a threat to the health and safety of the animals.”

Under items to be searched for and seized, she wrote simply, “Any and all animals, living or dead, and any evidence of animal cruelty.” The violation she cited was Pennsylvania state law 18, 5511, c, Cruelty to Animals.

Finnegan read over the search warrant and then phoned Shaw. “We need more detail,” she said. Shaw faxed a second version to Finnegan at 11:45 a.m., fifteen minutes before Finnegan’s on-call shift was scheduled to end. In a single-spaced page and a half, Shaw elaborated on the circumstances behind her request. She detailed the “overabundance” of dogs of various sizes and ages inside and outside Wolf’s residence at 1746 Baltimore Pike. She recounted the excessive heat and overwhelming ammonia-type odor “commonly associated with animal urine” that permeated the premises. She cited the confinement of dozens of dogs in rusty, unsafe crates two, three, and four high, covered in what appeared to be feces and urine. And she described the water bowls that were green and dirty, the green mucus that dribbled from the eyes of some of the dogs, and their scabby skin conditions.

The fleshed-out version of the search warrant passed muster. Finnegan signed the document and faxed it back. It still needed the signature of a district judge, but Shaw would get that on her way to Wolf’s kennel. When that was done, the SPCA would have the authorization it needed to carry out the raid.

On the way down, Shaw tried to phone dog warden Siddons to let her know a raid was imminent. Shaw had deliberately waited until the last minute to phone Siddons; the humane officer was mindful that the more people who knew about the raid, the greater the possibility the plans could be leaked. A few months earlier, according to Shaw, a raid on another puppy mill, Puppy Love Kennel in neighboring Lancaster County, was foiled when someone tipped off the breeder, Joyce Stoltzfus. Puppy Love was a notoriously derelict kennel but, forewarned, Shaw believed Stoltzfus had gone to work, scrubbing her kennel just enough to pass the inspection. As a result, the raid was a failure; inspectors were unable to gather the evidence necessary to seize her dogs.

The Chester County SPCA was determined not to let the same thing happen in Wolf’s case, so on the day of the biggest operation in the organization’s history, only a handful of people knew the raid was about to take place. The shelter’s rank-and-file staff had no idea.

Shaw was unable to reach Siddons. The dog warden had taken the day off. When her work phone went unanswered, Shaw punched in the number for her cell phone and left a message: “Please call me back as soon as possible. I need to talk to you.” Siddons never returned Shaw’s call. The raid would go forward without her.

Shaw and Green left ahead of time to stop by the office of Harry Farmer Jr., the magisterial district judge in Oxford who would be handling the case. Shortly before 1 p.m., they met up with the rest of the troops in the parking lot of the bowling alley, a couple hundred yards down the road from Wolf’s property. McMichael and humane society police officer Michele “Mike” Beswick rode together. Animal protective services officer Craig Baxter and kennel technician Liz Murray took a van. SPCA spokesman McDevitt drove himself.

Moments later, a highway patrolman pulled up alongside them. In Pennsylvania it was standard procedure for a highway patrol officer to be on hand to help execute a warrant. Shaw gave the officer a rundown of everything he could expect to encounter at Mike-Mar Kennel. She didn’t expect Wolf to be violent, she told him, and she didn’t think he’d interfere with the operation. But the trooper needed to brace himself for the foul condition of the property.

The convoy now consisted of half a dozen vehicles. Shaw followed the patrolman’s car, and the others fell in line behind her. “Oh God, here we go,”
Shaw thought
as they drove slowly down Baltimore Pike and, one by one, turned into the driveway of Mike-Mar Kennel. This was a big-time breeder she was dealing with. Wolf knew all the right people, and he knew how the game was played. Everything about the raid had to go perfectly because of who he was and who he had once been. Shaw’s heart was clutched with anxiety.

As soon as the vehicles pulled into the driveway, she spied Wolf in the doorway of the kennel. Immediately, she and the state trooper stepped out of their vehicles and climbed the stairs of the deck. The SPCA had a warrant, the trooper informed Wolf. “We’re here to remove your dogs,” Shaw said.

Wolf looked stunned. “You’re taking all my dogs? Why?” he asked. Nevertheless, he stepped outside, came down the steps, and escorted Shaw and the trooper to his residence. McDevitt and Beswick got out of their vehicles and joined them.

Inside the house, Wolf protested. They’d had an agreement, he said, and he was taking the steps Shaw had asked him to take. Across the room she could see a couple of Cavaliers who appeared to be newly shaved, and Wolf hastily produced a sheaf of papers. The day before, just as she had requested, he said, a veterinarian had visited the kennel and vaccinated one hundred dogs. Shaw glanced at the paperwork. It was disorganized and incomplete; it was impossible to tell which dogs had gotten shots. Besides, she wasn’t there to debate trivial improvements.

The conditions at Mike-Mar Kennel were unacceptable, she told Wolf. “You can’t have these guys living this way.”

The breeder shifted his argument. “Let me keep some of the dogs,” he said. But Shaw wasn’t interested in leaving any dog behind in this mess.

The game plan was straightforward. First, Shaw needed to inspect the perimeter of the compound and then every inch of the buildings’ interiors. She wasn’t expecting to find any more dogs, but she didn’t want any surprises. She needed to videotape everything she saw. It was important to capture on film the deplorable conditions the dogs were living in, including the dirty water buckets, the lack of food, and the dogs’ matted hair. She also wanted to show any diseases, infections, or injuries visible on the animals. The videotape would tell the tale in court.

Once that was done, workers would go room by room, starting with Wolf’s residence, removing the dogs from their crates. They would assign each dog a number and write down the breed, gender, approximate age, and physical condition. Rescuers would photograph each dog, then place the animal inside a portable crate and carry the dog out to a van. As soon as a van was full, Craig Baxter or one of the other animal protective services officers, Dave Harper or Gene Brooks, would drive it back to West Chester. It would be dirty, disturbing work, but in a matter of hours all 136 dogs would be accounted for and on their way to new lives. If everyone worked with assembly-line efficiency, they should be wrapped up by supper time.

The sun shone high above the trees, but inside Wolf’s house it was dark and nearly impossible to see. Rescuers opened the door to a bedroom and shone flashlights inside. Panicky eyes stared back—dozens of pairs of eyes, from every corner of the room, just as Shaw had described. The room reverberated with yelps. The rescuers peered inside a second room. Dogs lined the walls there, too.

Shaw was about to begin canvassing the grounds when the trooper approached her. He’d just finished circling the property on his own, and he’d discovered something.