My name is Gracie. I've tried to tell myself that I have not needed your services. But it's gotten to the point where... well, My
mean owner Mom has stopped my evening walks (the reason I live and breath) because, according to her... I pick up fleas. (That's a story for another day) So, anyway... I really think this lady should be investigated. I've collected proof. I am being mistreated.
It started out when I was a baby. She kept me caged.
I used to cry myself to sleep at night.
And then I'd have to beg for food.
It was like a prison. No dog should have to beg for food!
One day she mistook me for laundry...
And she put me in the laundry basket. Hard to fathom, right?
She'd leave me alone for the longest time. I'd be sad and watch for her return. Sometimes she wouldn't come home for
She'd make me wear ridiculous hats... then she'd laugh at me.
I tired of her abuse. But rest never came... I had to sleep with one eye opened.
Often I would hide under the bed trembling with fear... afraid for my life.
Pretty sad stuff, huh?
She claimed she was laughing with me... but trust me... i was not laughing.
The humiliating outfits..
The time she left me all alone at the kennel while her and Dad went on Vacation...
It's all abuse, I tell you!
When she didn't like the way I smelled, she'd put me in a tub of soapy water and I'd come out soaked and shivering.
One time she locked me in the laundry room and then acted worried that she didn't know where I was! What kind of a mom would do such a thing?
She found pleasure in humiliating me.
And I tried to put on a happy face.
But it wasn't easy. She took me to obedience school where Mom says I faked being good.
At night time, I'm always chased to the bottom of the bed to sleep alone.
She laughs and laughs at me for no reason.
One day she cut big chunks of my fur away over my entire body saying she was clipping away stickers that I'd gotten into. Sure she'd say that. Makes her look good, huh?
I tried to stay hidden. Especially when she mentioned the words 'clean' and 'ears'.
But eventually she'd find me.
The silly bows...
The crazy costumes..
The using me as a Scrabble-tile holder....
Doesn't all of this fall into the category of abuse?
I wouldn't be writing this letter... if she'd just quit picking fleas off of me and start taking me for my evening walks again.
But from what I can see... it's not gonna happen anytime soon.
Oh, and one more thing. In order to get her to play with me...
I have to literally drop HER favorite toy in her lap.
And even then she hesitates.
So Peta, my friend... I urge you to investigate this one and get my poor innocent self out of this very abusive home so I can live happily ever after...
At least for a while... until Mom comes to her senses.
If you need to find me a place to live, I hear Golden Pines is cool.. and they let you go for walks just about every day. Just sayin'
Your friend, Gracie.