Rescue leads to good life for dogs
Animals that were seized in 2003 in Sharp County raid found happier times
BY LINDA SATTER
ARKANSAS DEMOCRAT-GAZETTE

A fond memory for those who knew him, Buck’s big brown eyes and long, floppy black ears grace the cover of the fall 2003 edition of AWI Quarterly, the Animal Welfare Institute’s magazine.
   Although Buck died in September from a lingering case of heartworms, his cover picture for the private, nonprofit lobbying group’s publication remains posted as a symbol of hope on another Web site — that of an animal rescue group based in Bixby, Okla.
   The group’s president, Marcia Cowen, said the lovable coon hound’s sparkling eyes, affectionate ways and unabashed excitement upon getting his first toy are etched on her heart.
   He and another coon hound, Max, came to Cowen’s Doberman Rescue Group of Oklahoma in September 2003 after federal agents spent a week scouring the premises of a Sharp County kennel in north Arkansas.
   The agents, from the U.S. Department of Agriculture and the U.S. Postal Service, ultimately seized 125 dogs and one cat. Buck and Max were the sickest of the animals seized in the raid.
   In the 15 months since, the USDA has issued a 108-page complaint accusing Chester C. Baird, his wife, Patsy, and other family members who operate Martin Creek Kennels outside Williford of numerous violations of the federal Animal Welfare Act.
   The complaint, pending before the U.S. secretary of agriculture, seeks "maximum civil penalties" and revocation of Baird’s license as a Class B dealer. That license allows him to legally sell dogs and cats to animal research facilities.
   Aside from allegations of animal mistreatment and neglect, the regulatory complaint cites improper and falsified recordkeeping that makes it hard to trace the origins of all the animals or to discern if some were stolen pets. A hearing before an administrative law judge, who will decide whether to shut Baird’s operation down, is scheduled for this month.
   U.S. Attorney Bud Cummins, the chief federal prosecutor for the Eastern District of Arkansas, declined to say whether a related criminal investigation is under way.
   "We don’t comment on ongoing investigations," Cummins said Wednesday.
   Cummins also declined to discuss the case when he held a news conference on a hot September day 15 months ago outside the swine barn at the State Fairgrounds, where the animals were kept temporarily under 24-hour armed guard. He said only that he wanted to address repeated inquiries from news organizations in the hope that public awareness would help the government find homes for the animals should they be turned over to federal authorities.
   The seized animals, which the USDA said represented only about one-fourth of those housed at the kennel, soon thereafter were deemed federal property and the adoption process began.
   "Those dogs were so beaten down, they stayed at the [local ] vet clinic for seven months," Cowen recalled recently of Buck and Max. While there, she said, the short-haired black and tan dogs, both of which had advanced cases of heartworm, became close friends.
   "They both knew that they were loved. They had big cushy beds and would lounge around together," she said.
   When the dogs were well enough to leave the clinic, they both went to "foster" homes — Buck with the father of local veterinarian Mike Jones, and Max with an Oklahoma family.
   Buck died unexpectedly from internal hemorrhaging on a trip to Dr. Jones’ office.
   Max remains well.
   "He is now fat," Cowen said. "He is so happy. He bays good morning to the sun every single day. ... He gets to sleep on the bed, and he has his place on the couch."
   Baird repeatedly has declined to comment on the raid or the USDA investigation. His attorney, Kent Rubens of West Memphis, could not be reached for comment.
   Baird’s wife, Patsy, declined to identify any attorneys who are now representing her or her husband and said she did not want to discuss the case.
Sharp County Sheriff Dale Weaver, whose deputies worked alongside state troopers to help with traffic control and security during the federal raid, said at the time that about 600 animals remained at the kennel after the others were seized.
   Patsy Baird declined to say how many animals remain at the kennel, but she said, "They’re doing great." She also said she supposed that the animals confiscated by the government had long since been euthanized.
   "They wouldn’t have had the money to pay for them all," Patsy Baird said, referring to federal authorities.
   Linda Lipe, an assistant U.S. attorney in Little Rock who helped coordinate efforts to find homes for the animals, said that they all were adopted, including the lone cat.
Lipe said the pale gray, tortoiseshell cat that had an infected eye "is living the life of Riley" in a Little Rock home, while the dogs were divvied up among various nonprofit animal welfare groups, some specializing in certain breeds.
   Through a large networking effort, the dogs eventually were transferred to new homes — albeit temporary foster homes in some cases — as far away as Michigan and Arlington, Va.
   A USDA veterinarian of Staples, Texas, worked with many of the confiscated dogs while they were at the fairgrounds and ended up taking one of them home.
   The veterinarian, who asked not to be named, said that while vets worked in a makeshift clinic at the swine barn, they were surrounded by many dogs who weren’t "socialized" and were frightened of people.
   "Some were so fearful, so petrified, that they looked catatonic," the vet recalled in a recent interview.
   But one little beagle — the vets named her Maggie — "spent the whole time on her back feet, with her front feet up on the front of the pen, wanting people to pet her."
   While the other beagles were given to rescue groups in Texas, Louisiana and Ohio, the veterinarian — who also has five other dogs, three cats, two parrots, one horse and 50 goats — had to have Maggie, who had nearly died of heatstroke on the day of the raid.
   "We didn’t want her to get lost in the bunch," said the vet, who stepped down last year as chairman of the American Water Spaniel Club.
   Maggie had never lived in a house or been on grass, and, "it took her several weeks to learn she could go outside to urinate," the vet said. She said the 23-pound dog seemed uncertain about the texture of grass, so she at first "would just hold it."
   Despite being raised to live in a research lab, "she’s totally a house dog," the vet said. "She sleeps on my husband’s couch. ... When I came in tonight from chores in the barn, they were sitting together cuddled up in an afghan in his chair."
Wannda Turner, a Jonesboro woman who operates a nonprofit animal rescue group called Northeast Arkansans for Animals, took 29 of the seized dogs to farm out to a series of foster homes.
   Turner, a dog obedience trainer, still is looking for a permanent home for Tyler, a treeing Walker hound that weighed just 43 pounds when seized but now weighs a normal 97 pounds.
   Thinking back on some of the other dogs she took from the government, Turner recalled "a large hairy mix named Kujo" and called him "probably the best success story."
Kujo initially was aggressive, but he changed the day he was let into someone’s home.
   "As soon as he got inside, he ran back and jumped up on the bed and was a totally different dog," she said, wondering if he had once been an indoor pet. Kujo, now renamed Bear, lives in Missouri with a family that includes children ages 7 and 10.
   The only one of the seized animals still in Little Rock is the cat, whose owner, Phyllis Ruocco, calls her Cuddles.
Ruocco, a pianist who chairs the music department at Philander Smith College, said the adult cat, believed to have been at the kennel for breeding purposes, has been spayed and had a badly infected eye removed.
   Cuddles had a chance to show her appreciation of her new owner last year.
   "A year ago, I had pneumonia, the flu, a sinus infection and strep throat," Ruocco said. "I almost died and was in the hospital for several days. When I came home, Cuddles did not leave my side. She stayed basically on my chest. She’s very nurturing."
   Despite many of the seized animals’ special needs or ailments, those who have taken them in say it’s been well worth the effort.
   Cowen said that even though Buck lived only a year after the raid, he left a lasting impression on everyone who knew him and seemed to have a great last year of life.
   "Dr. Jones’ dad loved that dog so much," Cowen said. "Buck got to be loved and cared for — and got to be a hound. One day just before he died, he got off his leash and put his nose to the ground, and he took off. He went through every wooded area he could find. He was a happy dog."