We Need To Be Their Voice – Loudly

For as long as I can remember, I have loved animals.

As a child, I grew up on a small farm. It wasn’t your average farm, though. We didn’t eat our animals; they were our friends. Over the course of my 17 years growing up on the farm, we had show chickens, a donkey, a llama, ducks, geese, pigs, emus, rabbits, barn cats, and goats. On the inside, we had dogs, snakes, lizards, parakeets, guinea pigs, hamsters, ferrets, fish, turtles, hedge hogs, and even a skunk once.

I grew up loving all kinds of animals, but the one that has clearly stuck with me through it all is dogs. I love dogs and strive to be an advocate for them. They have no voices so I’ve always felt that it is important to speak up on their behalf. I’ve picked up my fair share of stray dogs (even once on vacation), and I’ve called the cops on my fair share of possible abuse cases. I can’t let a dog continue to be in distress when I have the power to say something.

Perhaps no abuse, however, is as bad as the abuse I witnessed this week done to Carl, my step-brother’s (and neighbor) dog.

At around noon on Sunday I received a distressing call from my mom asking me where I was. “At home brushing Caesar,” I said.

“Carl’s been attacked by a wild animal; Cord is bringing him back. Can you come help clean him up?” my mom anxiously replied. Immediately, I grabbed my dog first-aid kit and ran next door.

Cord had tried to take Carl to the vet, but it was Sunday and they weren’t open, so he then tried to take Carl to my moms, who told him to meet me and her back out at the house. I beat Cord there and watched as he pulled back into the drive-way. He opened the back doors, and there was blood everywhere; Carl and the truck were covered in it. I picked Carl up and put him on the back porch and told Cord to get me water and towels.

Carl gently laid down beside me and let out little cries as I cleaned his wounds. But as I began to clean the blood from his neck, I realized that the only injuries were to the top of his head, and that his face was swelling fast. He had a huge gash on the top of his head and little gashes all around. In my mind, I was already piecing together that an animal attack didn’t make sense.

I’ve lived in the country nearly my entire life – raised animals nearly my entire life. When a wild animal attacks, they go for the neck and body. They don’t attack the top of your head.

As I was cleaning Carl up, one of my step-brother’s friends was on the phone and said that someone saw what happened. They saw the person who did this to Carl standing over Carl with a large rock. When the person who saw the act said, “That better not be Carl!” the person with the rock started making excuses like, “I think he was injured by a coyote.” Immediately, they went inside to get my step-brother, who then scooped Carl up and drove him to the vet.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but knowing that someone purposely did this to Carl made the injuries far more serious. He needed to see an emergency vet. We took him straight to Fort Wayne to NIEVES and they said they had to keep him overnight. His eyes were not responsive and his pupils were unevenly dilated, which means he had suffered brain trauma.

When we got home, we called the Van Wert County Sheriff’s Office, and I took photos of everything–the blood splattered on the dog Igloo outside, the tie down strap that was tied around a light pole and then used to tie Carl down with only maybe a foot of movement (also with blood on it), the grass in the area covered in blood, and then the large rock covered in blood that was used to beat Carl.

Someone purposely tied down this dog and kept hitting him with this rock. I can’t imagine what he was thinking in those moments. Just a little earlier, one of Cord’s friends said Carl was sleeping on the couch. So this monster woke Carl up, took him outside where he probably thought he was going to go play, tied him up, and then proceeded to try to kill him.

To make matters far worse, as Cord went to tend to the chickens that evening, he found that all the pens had been unlocked and left wide open. In one pen, eight bantams laid dead. They looked as if they were stomped and thrown against the barn walls. There was blood prints on the walls six feet up. Another chicken lay dead outside of the cage–his beak and comb sliced off and his wing skinned of all feathers. Another chicken lay dead in the barn with knife wounds. We called the Deputy back out. He took more photos and left. Then as Cord began cleaning up the dead bodies, he found a chicken with a machete still in it! Again, we called the Deputy who took the machete as evidence.

I’ve been trying to wrap my head around everything I saw, and here’s what I can figure out: a sick, disturbed individual went to the barn and killed several chickens–some he stomped to death, some he threw against walls, some he used a machete on. Then, when that became boring, he thought to himself, “Let’s try the dog next!” He then went inside where only three other people were, grabbed happy Carl from his resting place, took him to a light pole where he tied him up, and then proceeded to beat him in the head with a rock until, thankfully, he was caught. There is no doubt in my mind that if someone wouldn’t have interrupted him, Carl would absolutely be dead.

And this leads me back to the title of my blog. On the way to the vet my mom said to me, “It’s too bad he’s a dog.” And I knew exactly what she meant. She meant that he can’t verbally tell the police who did that to him or what happened. He can’t defend himself. He can’t stand up and say, “That man tried to kill me!” But I can.

I have a big voice and I have never been afraid to use it. I also have a big audience who listens to me, and I’m not afraid to tell them.

Someone saw this person nearly kill a dog. But this isn’t just any dog, this is a dog that Kirsten Barnhart, Van Wert’s biggest dog lover, knows, and I will not rest until justice is done for Carl.

I hope that the justice system does its job in this case. I have to admit, I have little faith. There are not strong enough laws to protect animals and they need more vocal advocates willing to yell and yell until someone finally hears them.

Dogs and chickens don’t have a voice, but they have a mind and they can think, feel, and express emotions. They deserve to be heard. They deserve for people to fight for them. We must speak out when we see an injustice done to anyone. We must not tolerate animal cruelty – ever!

NOTE 1: The suspects name has been left out of this until he is charged.

NOTE 2: Carl is staying another day at the vet. He has a lot of swelling in his face and brain. However, they expect him to recover. Carl’s vet bills are nearly $3,000 right now, and we expect more. He has a long road to recovery. I created a GoFundMe for anyone willing to help. I appreciate it so much!

https://www.gofundme.com/f/fne5c8-justice-for-carl?utm_source=customer&utm_medium=copy_link-tip&utm_campaign=p_cp+share-sheet