Jackson: Coming Home and After The Rescue

I am the American breeder who produced Jackson -- the Golden Retriever who has caused an international stir. When I placed him as a seven-week-old puppy in 1991, I fully expected that he would lead a long,happy, healthy life with someone I thought was a reputable breeder who co-owned his sire.

Little did I know that this healthy, sweet-natured pup was destined for a

five-year odyssey that would take him thousands of miles from home; that he

would be subjected to unthinkable living conditions; that he would

miraculously return to me years later, or that his story would inspire an

international rescue effort for other dogs who share his fate.

In June 1996, my friend and noted American breeder, Sylvia Donahey, learned

that Jackson had been sold to Japan and was living in what we Americans

refer to as a "puppy mill" -- a place where dogs are confined in cramped,

dirty, unhealthy conditions, used as breeding machines, and deprived of

proper care and companionship. When she called with this news, I was

shocked and horrified. I felt physically sick when I confirmed that one of

my precious pups had apparently been sold for yens, without my knowledge,

into horrible circumstances. I was and am still dealing with the fact that the

original owner of Jackson (the stud-dog co owner) could have, as a supposed

friend and fellow breeder, lied to me for years and continued to lie about his

whereabouts. It is truly devastating and I was very angry at times and hurt.

As I came to grips with Jackson's fate, horror turned to resolve. I was

responsible for bringing him into this world, and I felt responsible for his

well-being. I would not rest until he was rescued, but how? Fortunately

for me and Jackson, others who heard of our plight and were in a position to

help rushed to our aid.

After several long weeks of extraordinary effort by Golden Retriever

advocates on two continents, the news I had been praying for arrived.

Jackson had been purchased out of the puppy mill. He was in the safekeeping

of a kind person, awaiting passage to the United States. I was greatly relieved,

but my worry would continue for several more weeks, until he could be

transported, first to California, and then to my home -- his birthplace.

I will never forget the day in late August when he landed in Kansas City.

All the way to the airport, so many thoughts were racing through my mind. I had

been forewarned by Jackson's rescuers of his poor physical condition. I was

trying to prepare myself for what was to come. How sick and weak would he

be? Would he be frightened? Could I undo the effects of years of neglect

and confinement to restore Jackson's health and spirit?

Eight months before I learned of Jackson's ordeal, I had lost his dam,

Dolly, my foundation bitch of eight years. I remembered Jackson as the sweet

Dolly son who always climbed up into my lap as a puppy. My grief over

Dolly's death had multiplied when I heard the news of her forsaken son.

Now, Jackson's homecoming offered the hope that I could reclaim a piece of

Dolly's legacy.

At the airport, a half-hour wait seemed an eternity. Although a friend had

offered to accompany me, I made the trip alone. If emotion got the best of

me, I needed my privacy. When the moment arrived, I descended the stairs

leading to the holding area downstairs, leash in hand. I approached the

crate, mustered my "happy puppy" voice, and called, "Jackson."

Remarkably, he began wagging his tail and appeared very happy to see me.

Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought he just might be remembering

that familiar voice from his distant past.

As Jackson emerged from the crate, he did not seem frightened -- just very

tired and weak. I wasted no time escorting him to the back seat of my car.

I never wanted him to be confined in a crate again. As I drove home, I

called Sylvia and others who had assisted the rescue. Jackson was home, and

he was safe. But how sound was he?

The next day, I took him for a complete veterinary examination by Dr. David

Theiss. Jackson stood patiently as the vet poked, prodded and x-rayed

the painful evidence of years of neglect. The exam revealed multiple

problems. Jackson had an enlarged heart, possibly caused by bacterial

infection at some time. His emaciated frame, deteriorated teeth and

inflamed gums showed the telltale signs of poor nutrition. His dead,

dry coat reflected poor general health and grooming. His atrophied hindquarters

and damaged spine were most likely the result of years of confinement in a

crate. His ears were so badly infected that they were swollen nearly shut,

impairing his hearing. On the brighter side, his blood tested normal, and

he was clear of heartworm. That was a start, but we had our work cut out for us.

I immediately started Jackson on a rehabilitation program. He began eating

nourishing food, working up to six cups a day. He also started a regular

regimen of exercise, walking several times a day with me or my two children

on our 18-acre property. The vet prescribed antibiotics for Jackson's

inflamed gums and frequent treatments for his infected ears.

A few weeks later, we returned to Dr. Theiss, and Jackson amazed him. He had

gained several pounds and was beginning to develop muscle! The raging

infection in his ears was subsiding, and his hearing was improving. His

swollen gums were healing, and his teeth began looking cleaner.

Affter four months of intensive care at home, Jackson gained more

than 12 pounds. His body was free of infection. He had hard muscles. He was

growing a new coat. He showed no discomfort when running and playing. His

enlarged heart was causing no problems.

Even more amazing, Jackson's spirit was re-born. He ran and ran

in the field as if to shout, "I am free, I am free!!" My puppies

 taught him how to play with toys and other dogs.

After the suffering Jackson experienced at human hands, I worried that he

might have difficulty relating to people. I was wrong. His resilience is a

testimony to the abiding character of the breed. He is so happy when we

called him that he nearly bowled us over. He became more outgoing with

strangers -- during my son's soccer games and at the school where he loved to

visit children. He was a big hit wherever he went. After all he

endured, he could have been understandably withdrawn, defensive, even aggressive. Instead, he was an incredibly gentle, loving, sweet-natured dog.

Jackson was lucky. 

People on both sides of the Pacific cared enough and

tried long enough to free him. I can never adequately thank all of

Jackson's rescuers. If they saw the difference in Jackson,

they knew that their rescue efforts were all worthwhile.  

I believe many of us have learned important lessons from

Jackson's ordeal about the right reasons to breed and sell and the

responsibilities we have to the puppies we produce. I, for one, have stiffened

the requirements for the individuals who adopt my puppies and breed to my

male dogs.

Much more must still be done to protect the breed that we profess to love.

The happy ending to Jackson's story tells me is that when enough good

people work together, they can prevail to give this trusting breed the kind of

life that every Golden deserves.

"How Many More Have To Go?" 

"Jackson's Chance"

"Jackson's Gallery"