Disposable pets

From the road, it looks like a typical rural dwelling. The only things visible from the gravel lane are a mobile home and a long, dirt driveway. Once on the property, there's no barking or other evidence suggesting that at least two dozen dogs occupy a plot of land with their human caretakers.

Randy and Suzie Long start their days early. Five days a week, Suzie leaves the mobile home to drive to her Westport hairstyling business in Kansas City, 73 miles from the Akita Rescue operation they have established on their land in Williamsburg, Kan., 45 miles south of Topeka in Franklin County.

After his wife leaves, Long tends to the chores of taking care of at least 20 Akitas, two pot-bellied pigs and two horses, one of which had been maimed by its owner to collect insurance money. "There is not a typical day in what I do," he says. "But there are constants that have to be maintained."

Long visits the two rows of large dog runs and waters, feeds, and gives treats to all the dogs, then plays with them so the dogs get a consistent dose of human interaction. Kennels are cleaned several times a day and when he is not tending to the physical needs of the animals, Long does administrative work: answering e-mails about rescues, setting up rescues in other states and wading through the paperwork necessary to obtain a 501 C (3) non-profit status with the IRS for the Akita Adoption and Rescue of Mid-America.

"This will allow for donations to be tax deductible for individuals and corporations. It would also allow for more effective fund-raising designed to improve our facilities, hire some staff, help defray the medical bills for the dogs we care for and increase our outreach," Long says.

Randy and Suzie Long's rescue is just one of the hundreds of grassroots animal rescues that have cropped up in Kansas and Missouri. For more than a year, the Longs lived on the property in just a pop-up trailer with no running water or electricity. They took their life savings and bought the property to operate their rescue. They became involved in rescue work five years ago when they were seeking to adopt an Akita from the founder of a Akita rescue who was retiring.

"There really was a huge need for rescue in this breed because there was no other rescue," Long says. "I haven't seen any changes (for animal welfare) that I can attribute to improvements in the laws. Pets are still sold by millers and backyard breeders without proper vaccinations and wormings, too early, and without the least in terms of education or advice for purchasers."

The Akitas are ancient Japanese hunting dogs that date back 2,500 years. They are large dogs similar to Malamutes or Huskies, and can weigh up to 150 pounds. "They were originally used in mating pairs to hunt the Yezo bears," says Long. The Japanese later started breeding the dogs to make a larger and tougher breed for fighting. Since then, Akitas have been used as retrievers and police dogs.

The dogs are extremely friendly to humans and fiercely loyal to their owners. Because of their size, they are not a particularly popular breed and have gained somewhat of a tainted reputation -- like many other breeds -- because some owners illegally fight and exploit them.

"People still try to use them for fighting, and many (Akitas) also need to be kept away from other dogs of the same sex," Long says. "Like with any breed a person is thinking of getting, the dog should be researched to see if it would be compatible with the family."

At least half of the dogs at the Long rescue site come from puppy mills (Missouri ranks as the No. 1 puppy-producing state; Kansas follows a close second) and the rest were voluntarily relinquished by their owners.

"I have heard them all," Long says while handing out treats to the anxious but friendly dogs. "From one person who said she got new carpet and the dog didn't go with the new decor, to one person who told me her dog had a special ability to carry and transfer poison ivy on its skin."

A few times a week, Long travels to Ottawa to pick up damaged sacks of donated dog food from Wal-Mart; to Melvern to haul water to their cistern and to Guy & Mae's, a restaurant in Williamsburg that donates meat trimmings for the dogs.

"I don't like to leave the place for long," he explains. "We have been harassed by someone who doesn't like us being here since we moved in. They have called the local sheriff and told him we are doing animal experiments and turned us in to the state several times. Of course, their complaints are always dismissed."

Long's facility is properly licensed as a rescue, a privilege he says costs him $200 a year. "We aren't making money doing this and it only costs $100 more to operate a puppy mill in the state," he says.

Worse yet, last New Year's Eve morning, on the Longs' wedding anniversary, Randy Long left the farm for only a couple of hours to buy a doghouse and when he returned found two of his dogs shot in their runs. "The one that didn't recover was such a sweetie," he recalls. "He was my own personal dog and was only 18 months old. He had been shot in the neck from about five or six feet and most likely didn't die right away. I could tell by the blood trail that he was standing on his hind legs in his run to greet whoever shot him. That dog had never even barked or growled at anyone in his life."