In today’s world, that is a very loaded statement. It’s more like an  accusation.  “I told the television news reporter that I breed dogs,” a friend  from Dallas told me recently. “He looked at me like he thought I was  a harlot.”  Dog owners have allowed the animal rights movement to redefine our  language in order to paint everything we do in the worst possible  light. If we say that we breed dogs, the looks we get ask us if we  own a “puppy mill” or if we are a “backyard breeder.”  If we reply that we are a “hobby breeder,” someone immediately asks how we can consider living creatures a hobby. Some of us try the  word “fancier.” We fool no one.

 The most pathetic response to the question is when we call ourselves  “responsible breeders.” Responsible to whom? Who defines  “responsible” and “irresponsible?” Some bureaucrat? A politician?

 Animal rights cretins who say there is no such thing as a  responsible breeder? Animal rights fanatics would rather kill all  animals than see someone love them. In fact, that’s their plan. If we say we are not breeders, it makes us “pet hoarders.” We are  tarred as mentally ill people in need of psychotherapy.

 The entire language about dog ownership has been hijacked by the  rhetoric of the animal rights movement.

The worst part is that we have allowed it to happen. We are too  fearful and wimpy to stand up for ourselves. We keep searching for  inoffensive euphemisms to describe what we do, so that we don’t open  ourselves up to attack.

 By doing that, however, we have engineered our own demise.

 T he animal rights movement will not go away. Its agenda is to  destroy our right to own or raise animals. Animal rights groups have  declared war on all animal ownership, and they won’t stop until they  either win or we finally have the courage to stand up and defeat them.

 T hey have not taken that kind of power over us. We have given it  away. We have surrendered our beliefs to the enemy.

 We apologize for what we do. We make weak excuses for things like  animal shelter euthanasia, accidental matings, dog fighting and  dangerous dogs. We take at least part of the responsibility for  these problems onto our own shoulders, when in truth we have no  responsibility at all for creating them.

 None whatsoever!

 I am sick and tired of watching dog owners constantly apologize and  grovel, and allowing themselves to be put on the defensive.
  Enough! It’s time to stop sniveling about who we are and what we do.

 Let me state clearly and for the record: I am a dog breeder. I breed  dogs. I raise puppies. I like it. I’m very proud of it.

 If you don’t like it, you are free to take a flying leap. I don’t  care what you think of me or what I do.

 I raise one or two litters of Standard Poodle puppies a year. I  wish I could raise more puppies, but can’t figure out how to do it  without driving myself into bankruptcy.

 I do not feel bad (and certainly do not feel guilty) if someone  decides to breed a dog from my kennel that I did not choose to keep  for myself when it was a puppy. It still will be a very nice dog,  and I have worked very hard on my breeding program to  assure that very high quality genetics will be passed along and  concentrated in any dog that I sell.

 On occasion, I have a puppy that has a serious flaw. I don’t sell  those puppies, even though they would make many people very happy. I  give them away free to good homes, and the definition of a good home  is mine because it’s my puppy. I own it. You don’t.

 My responsibility is to the puppy. It is not to you, and it’s not to some gelatinous glob called “society.” I consider myself to be  personally responsible for every puppy I raise, from birth until the  day it dies. It always has a home in my kennel, if its new owner  can’t keep it or no longer wants it.

 T hat’s a contract written in blood between the puppy and me. It’s a  contract written with a handshake with the puppy’s new owner.

 By now, I assume that I have pushed all of the buttons of the animal  rights crazies. I can hear them snort and see their pincurls  flapping in indignation. It makes my day.

 Can’t you hear them, too? T hey are calling me an exploiter of  animals. T hey are saying that I ruthlessly cull and manipulate the  genetics of my dogs. T hey will say that I do this to feed and gratify my own fat ego. T hey  will say that I sell them for money and exploit them for personal  gain.

 Terrible, terrible me! My mother should not have had a daughter like this! She  was such a nice woman.  Well, I plead guilty to all of the charges. Know what else? I don’t  feel guilty, not even a little bit. I do it. I like it. I feel good  about it.  Now I will speak in my own defense – as a dog breeder.

 I happen to love dogs. I love being around them. I love working with  them. I love watching a puppy grow up and discover its potential. I  love having the privilege of experiencing a truly great dog in its  prime. I love sharing supper with my dogs, wrestling with puppies,  and sacking out with them on the couch. I lose sleep when they get  sick, and work myself unmercifully to care for them. I spend almost  all of the money I have on them, and some money that I don’t have.  My heart breaks when they grow old and die. I have a dozen lifetimes  worth of beautiful memories.

 What do the animal rights freaks have? T hey have their ideology.  T hey look in the mirror and feel smug and self-righteous, as if God  has personally anointed them to protect animals from the likes of me.  What they have is nothing at all. Utter sterility. A world devoid of  life and love.  T hey can keep it.

 My life is filled with love and joy and beauty, and I owe most of it  to my dogs. T hey have helped to keep me sane when sanity was not a  given. T hey have given me courage on the days when all I wanted to  do was lie down and quit. T hey have given me strength to endure on  the days when all I wanted to do is run away and hide.  I owe them my life.

 The animal rights folks are right. I ruthlessly cull and manipulate  genetics. To make the cut, my breeding dogs have had to live up to the most exacting possible standards. I am very proud of doing that.

 The result is that the vast majority of people who buy a puppy from  me love it. When I sell a puppy, chances are that it has found a  home for the rest of its life. The puppy will have a great chance of  leading a wonderful life. I produce puppies that make people happy  to own them and want to keep them. That’s my job as a breeder.  That’s what it means to be a breeder.

 Does that feed my ego? Yep. I like having my ego stroked. Don’t you?  If you don’t, you are in very deep trouble as a human being.   But I’ll tell you what else it does. It makes for happier dogs. It  makes for dogs that lead better lives, find permanent families and  homes, and get to experience love in many forms.  Yes, I am very proud of being a breeder.

 I am proud, too, that I am producing dogs that are so intelligent  that it’s scary, so loving that you want them with you every  second of the day, so bold and brazen that nothing bothers them, and  just plain drop-dead gorgeous to boot.  They make me smile a lot. I think I make them smile, too. But, the animal rights whackos say I am doing it for the money. They  accuse me of exploiting animals for profit.   Yep. Every chance I get. I am very happy when I am able to sell a  puppy for cold, hard cash. It makes me feel good.

 It makes me feel good because it shows me that someone appreciates  the work I am doing. It makes me feel good because I have earned it,  and earned it honestly. My only regret is that I have not made more money as a breeder. With all of the sacrifices I have made and the hard work I have done, I  should be rolling in money.  Alas, I am not. Usually, I lose my shirt.

 It takes money for dog food, supplies, veterinary bills, repairs, vehicle use,  advertising, internet, phone bills. It takes money. Lots of money. Bundles of money. Oh, Lord, please help me to sell some more puppies!   Besides, what’s wrong with making money? It is a rather fundamental  American value. Making money is something to be proud of, as long as  it’s done honestly.

Life is not pointless drudgery and exploitation.  We provide living proof that joy, beauty and personal fulfillment are possible in life.  I just don’t think of those qualities when I think of the animal  rights fanatics I have known. They seem a rather sad and sorry lot  to me. I’ll take my dogs’ company any day.