The Akitas are ancient Japanese hunting dogs that date back 2,500 years. They are large dogs similar to Malamutes or Huskies, and can weigh up to 150 pounds. “They were originally used in mating pairs to hunt the Yezo bears,” says Long. The Japanese later started breeding the dogs to make a larger and tougher breed for fighting. Since then, Akitas have been used as retrievers and police dogs.

The dogs are extremely friendly to humans and fiercely loyal to their owners. Because of their size, they are not a particularly popular breed and have gained somewhat of a tainted reputation — like many other breeds — because some owners illegally fight and exploit them.

“People still try to use them for fighting, and many (Akitas) also need to be kept away from other dogs of the same sex,” Long says. “Like with any breed a person is thinking of getting, the dog should be researched to see if it would be compatible with the family.”

At least half of the dogs at the Long rescue site come from puppy mills (Missouri ranks as the No. 1 puppy-producing state; Kansas follows a close second) and the rest were voluntarily relinquished by their owners.

“I have heard them all,” Long says while handing out treats to the anxious but friendly dogs. “From one person who said she got new carpet and the dog didn’t go with the new decor, to one person who told me her dog had a special ability to carry and transfer poison ivy on its skin.”

A few times a week, Long travels to Ottawa to pick up damaged sacks of donated dog food from Wal-Mart; to Melvern to haul water to their cistern and to Guy & Mae’s, a restaurant in Williamsburg that donates meat trimmings for the dogs.

“I don’t like to leave the place for long,” he explains. “We have been harassed by someone who doesn’t like us being here since we moved in. They have called the local sheriff and told him we are doing animal experiments and turned us in to the state several times. Of course, their complaints are always dismissed.”

Long’s facility is properly licensed as a rescue, a privilege he says costs him $200 a year. “We aren’t making money doing this and it only costs $100 more to operate a puppy mill in the state,” he says.

Worse yet, last New Year’s Eve morning, on the Longs’ wedding anniversary, Randy Long left the farm for only a couple of hours to buy a doghouse and when he returned found two of his dogs shot in their runs. “The one that didn’t recover was such a sweetie,” he recalls. “He was my own personal dog and was only 18 months old. He had been shot in the neck from about five or six feet and most likely didn’t die right away. I could tell by the blood trail that he was standing on his hind legs in his run to greet whoever shot him. That dog had never even barked or growled at anyone in his life.”

The local sheriff came out and filed a report, but the shooter has yet to be caught. “I don’t do a lot of things because I feel bad, because Randy almost never leaves here,” Suzie Long says. “We can’t leave them alone.”

Long says the local sheriff did what he could to find the shooter. Even if he is caught, however, it’s likely the case may not be prosecuted. Rural county prosecutors who have to try animal cruelty in the courts often find themselves overworked and understaffed, with too many cases to handle. And because breeders are supposed to be regulated by the United States Department of Agriculture and state health departments, many local prosecutors are hesitant to cross the line and criminally prosecute commercial facilities. The USDA is only allowed to bring administrative charges against commercial breeders, which could include penalties of fines or shutting down the facilities.

Jackson County, Kan., located about 30 miles north of Topeka just off Highway 75, has its share of puppy mills, according to animal welfare activists. They say one of the most horrific of those, called the Nielsen Farm, operated on the outskirts of Holton, Kan., for years.

“I went in there very stupid. I thought all people cared for animals until I visited that place,” says Patty Bowser, president of the local Heart of Jackson Humane Society. “I was very naive at that point.”

At the time, Bowser was a groomer in a veterinarian’s office when she first came in contact with Amy Nielsen, the owner of the puppy mill. Nielsen brought one of the dogs into the clinic because it wouldn’t breed or grow hair. “The dog was completely stressed. I cleaned her up and told (the owner) to take her home and give her some love,” Bowser remembers.

Bowser says she mistakenly assumed Nielsen cared for the animals because she had brought one in to the vet. Bowser later learned the dog was most likely only brought in so she could recover and breed again.

Bowser says she went to the farm twice thinking she could help some of the dogs by grooming them there. “There were cages stacked upon cages, and the dogs in the upper cages would urinate and it would just fall onto the dogs in the lower ones. It was like a concentration camp for animals,” she recalls.

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