ABOUT MR KIPPERS

MR KIPPERS'S STORY

I wore baling wire for a collar and I had broken ribs. I was dangerously anemic. My X-rays bear out these facts. I was 90% deaf because of a horrific ear infection. My teeth carry the erosion marks of my trying to chew through the wire and I was terribly thin and malnourished. I have three birth defects, including an elongated palate, which made it hard for me to swallow when I ate and even worse, difficult to breathe. I was born with an extra vertebrae and also have butterfly spine. Dogs are supposed to be born with 24 ribs, but I was born with only 23, and yet I was being used as a stud dog.


Then one day I got away. I was free, but sadly afraid, lost and confused. What had I done to deserve these grim circumstances?

I found myself standing in the middle of an intersection of a four lane highway in South Louisiana-terrified. Then fate intervened. A car drove up, the door opened and hands reached out and pulled me to safety. This had to be a dream- not everyone will pick up a starving stray, let alone a bull breed. Happily a lady named Tammie, who loves dogs, was the person at the wheel. Because I was almost deaf and couldn't hear the cars, I surely would have been killed in the traffic. I didn't know what would happen next, but it had to be better than the hell I was living. Tammie took me home and called my now adopted mom, Amanda, who is the Louisiana contact for BTCA Rescue (Bull Terrier Club of America). The paperwork was begun and I was going to be put into the "system". My age and physical infirmities were going to make my adoption difficult, but by the time we rolled into Shreveport, after the four hour ride from South Louisiana, Amanda and her husband Gordon said that I wasn't going into foster care. I WAS home!

Initially I went to the veterinarian for a physical, to have my teeth cleaned, to be neutered, vaccinated, chipped etc. An operation was required to correct my swallowing and breathing issues. The recovery time was about six weeks. The antibiotics I received for my severe ear infection gave me back most of my hearing. My anemia is under control and I have gained 27 pounds. I have since had six more surgeries in 17 months. I will always carry the scars on my teeth and on my neck, but I am one of the lucky ones ...for the scars on my heart have been healed by receiving unconditional love!


CLASSIC KIPPERS  HISTORY

One Spring afternoon in 2013, Mom and Dad asked me to join them on our veranda because they had something very important to share with me.
As a Renaissance bull terrier, all kinds of possibilities ran through my head. Was I going to the Cordon Bleu for culinary lessons? Perhaps tickets to an SEC football game? Or a trip to London to see a Shakespearian play at the Globe a Theatre where The Bard himself saw his dreams realized.
No, it was none of those things. IT WAS MY AMERICAN DREAM!
My parents had decided to back me in a venture that will help others like me.
They knew that my greatest dream has been to "pay forward" the blessings which I have received- most especially having been rescued. As you know, I am a bow tie kind of guy. Mom started putting them on me when I was first rescued, she thought it would lift my spirits to look in the mirror and see a good looking tie instead of the scars from the baling wire I wore. ( My scar is still there, but not as prominent) There are so many horror stories which are just too grim and gruesome to share with all of you in photos, but I do need for y'all to know why this venture is so very important to me.
One dog was set afire, for sport, by some teenagers who said that they were bored.
Another had most of his muzzle shot off because he was starving and got caught searching through a man's garbage for just a crust of bread- anything- he was starving.
Yet another had gaping wounds so horrific that, sadly, not even heroic efforts were enough. His muzzle had been duct taped closed before he was thrown into a dog fighting pit as bait.
And then one of the most tragic- but in a different way - and this happens all the time..
A woman surrendered her 15 year old dachshund to a shelter. She was moving and car rides made the dog vomit. She said he would be too much trouble. He had loved that lady unconditionally since he was a puppy. And now that he was in the winter of his life, he ends up in a cage, on a cold concrete floor, with just a towel on which to sit . The cacophony of other shelter dogs barking, reached a crescendo which made him shake uncontrollably. He didn't know where she went, nor why he had been left in that place. The required days passed and no one came for him. Very few will rescue an old dog, even one as hale and hearty as this fellow was. I will spare you the rest of the story.
There are so many people in "the trenches" helping abandoned and abused animals everyday. One animal at a time, though it seems that they never get ahead and in truth- they don't. They are the unsung heroes.
Because of Mom's wonderful Face Book friends, special people who have cheered me on since I was rescued, my story has traveled far and wide to over 82 countries to be precise.
Mom told me that I must continue to be a good ambassador for rescue. That I must loudly and confidently be the voice for those who cannot speak.
I told her that I would. We shook on it.