DECATUR - Several weeks ago, dozens of dogs were seized from an Arthur man accused of unfit breeding conditions. Their story was the topic of much discussion and quite a few news stories.

Teresa Weybright, Macon County Animal Control and Care Center shelter manager, who was present at the raid, said she saw dogs crowded in covered outdoor cages with wire bottoms to allow urine and feces to fall through. Amidst the stench and the flies were tiny puppies, a proliferation of new life.

Because of a lack of evidence, charges were not filed against the dogs' former owner, according to Douglas County officials. Some of the animals remain in the care of the Macon County shelter, and they are preparing to begin the next phase of life as they are adopted out into the community.

Some breed-specific rescue organizations have stepped forward to offer foster homes, but the department made the decision to care for most of the dogs itself.

Weybright said that because of the living conditions she observed, the dogs, which range from 1 week to 10 years, exhibit some of the classic behavior traits of puppy mill survivors, which have known lives devoid of socialization and affection.

The ideal homes for these dogs will have patience, she said.

"That is the first and foremost," Weybright said. "Some of these dogs are still terrified. Dogs are very forgiving creatures."

A 10-year-old black-and-white cocker spaniel, which had emergency surgery because her babies had died in her womb, is slowly warming up to kennel staff, but she spends much of her time huddled in the back of her cage. Lhasa apso mothers busy nursing their puppies warily peer out from their enclosures as strangers pass. None of the dogs have names, so shelter staff have taken to calling all of them "Mama."

"Don't adopt a puppy mill dog because it's got a sad story behind it, because this is a lifetime commitment for that animal," Weybright said.

Beth Spitzer has spent the past few weekends at the shelter walking the dogs, petting them and giving them human contact. In June, she fostered Gilli, a puppy mill survivor, through Westie Rescue of Missouri.

"I looked in her cage, and she was all the way in the back just huddled in there," Spitzer said. "She was really dirty."

Gilli's white fur was matted and discolored from standing in her own urine and feces. Her nails were long and curled up underneath her paws, and it was impossible to ignore her putrid stench, Spitzer said.

"I cuddled her immediately, you know, and told her how glad I was that she was here," she said. "I think they really respond to that, even though they've never known human companionship."

Someone who is interested in adopting a former mill dog should expect to spend extra time and effort helping the dog become acclimated to an environment in which it is part of the family, she said. Dogs need time, love and affection, but mill dogs just need a little more.

"That's the amazing thing about those mill dogs," Spitzer said. "They don't know love, but they want it. As soon as they get a taste, that's what they want."

Learning to understand Gilli's behaviors that stemmed from negative human interactions was an important step for Spitzer. Gilli had no housebreaking experience, didn't know what toys were and was deathly afraid of men.

Spitzer urged those in the market for a puppy to seek out reputable breeders and avoid inadvertently supporting any possible mill operations. Do research, and ask questions, she advised.

"When you're looking for a reputable breeder, you need to make sure that they are comfortable with you coming to visit," Spitzer said. "If, for any reason, you contact a breeder and they don't want you there, that is a red flag."

Holly Crotty, who is involved with Cairn terrier rescue, also stressed patience as an essential trait for the households welcoming these dogs.

"I love mill dogs," she said. "I think when they warm up, they are the most affectionate, loving dogs who feel like they appreciate their second chance at life."

But that doesn't happen right away, she said. It can take days, weeks or months. Lenny, a former mill dog Crotty fostered for nine months, was adopted and returned twice. He hid upstairs for almost the first three months with her.

"The first person who adopted him returned him because they said he wasn't a dog because all he would do was hide in the bedroom," she said.

Carolyn Warnhoff, another Westie rescue volunteer, advised adoptive owners to work at gaining the dog's trust with careful patience and find a veterinarian who is familiar with mill dogs.

"You can't expect just to bring them in the house all of a sudden and have them be the perfect dog because they're not," she said. "They all come with their own little baggage."

Warnhoff took in permanent foster Brodie three and a half years ago. His background is not fully known, but because of his health problems, Warnhoff guesses that he came from a situation in which he was used for commercial breeding.

He lives with the residual effects of chronic ear infections, bite scars and splayed feet, possibly from living on wire. His personality reflects a severe lack of human contact, she said.

"But Brodie's never come out of that," Warnhoff said. "He's what I call one of the lost ones. He wasn't able to move on, and we can't place a dog like that."

Brodie gives a warning growl if he is handled too much, a behavior Warnhoff said is more defensive than aggressive.

"He's letting you know, 'I've had enough abuse, and I'm not going to take any more.' "

Warnhoff has gone on a few missions to pick up dogs she convinced a puppy mill owner in Missouri to surrender.

"I got to speaking with her, and she started trusting me ¦" Warnhoff said.

She has seen some dogs with broken jaws, ear infections, missing toes and infected gums. The horrors she describes of the mill existence seem to fuel Warnhoff's passion as an advocate.

"Before you see the dogs, you smell the dogs," Warnhoff said. "Once you smell true puppy mill dogs, you never forget that smell. There's just no describing; it's a mixture of fecal, urine, birth, death. It's a smell you'll never forget."

agetsinger@herald-review.com|421-6968