The Story of Valentine...
The following was submitted by Meg A. Massaro of New York, © 1998
APOCALYPSE
To Hunters and Trappers Everywhere
Burn the forest, boil the snow
Raze the grey and stony mountain
Snare the wind and watch it choke
Drown the earth in cold steel fountains
Pitch the sea over the sun
Stuff the moon inside the sky
Pluck the stars, one by one:
Today my Valentine will die.
Today all dogs will suffer, die;
Today all men should surely die.
Today with Valentine I die.
Today with Valentine I died.
M. A. Massaro
1/97
I found Valentine lying on the side of the road by White Rock Lake in
Dallas on the hottest day of August (103 in the shade ) in 1993. I was
training for a 100 mile bicycle race, questioning my sanity as to why I would
subject myself to the torture of both the exercise and the elements, when I saw
this "thing" just off the bike path. This "thing" turned out to be a dog,
whom I later named Valentine, my heart and soul.
Sick, starved, and obviously the victim of sustained abuse, this cowed throwaway was mottled with mange, covered with ticks, too hurt and terrified even to stand up. Still, when I approached her she looked up at me hopefully with enormous brown eyes, and thumped her stubby tail. I almost burst into tears right there. All I could do is question her over and over, "Who did this to you? How could they?"
Since I was on a bicyle and could not transport her, some Good Samaritans in a
truck picked her up for me and took her to my car so that I could take her
home. As I drove away with Valentine in the back seat (without doubt, her
first car ride), I sobbed and vowed that no one would ever hurt her again. I
devoted the remainder of the day to removing the myriad ticks which burrowed
into every conceivable piece of Valentine's flesh, even deep into her ears and
anus. The next day I took her to the SPCA, which told me that they'd likely
have to put her down. However, determined to keep my promise of safety to
her, I brought Valentine home again and decided to adopt her.
I had my work cut out for me, but Valentine metamorphosed into an eminently
confident, vibrant, loyal and loving companion. It didn't happen overnight -
in fact, hundreds of veterinary dollars and countless hours of obedience and
agility training went into her miraculous transformation. But every bit of it
was time and money well-invested, for Valentine's makeover was, for me, a
labor of love. I absolutely adored this dog, and from the moment I set eyes
on her, we were virtually inseparable. Valentine went everywhere with me -
to fancy hotels, the hairdressser, the coffee shop (where each day she carried
my bag of muffins back to the car). Valentine even accompanied me to bars
and restaurants with al fresco dining. Life without her was unthinkable.
Imagine, then, my anguish when without warning, on a cold January morning in
1997, my cherished dog died an unspeakably agonized and protracted death
due to a conibear trap. My husband and I, along with Valentine and our
other dog, Phaedra, were taking our daily six mile run along the paved bike
path which runs along the Mohawk and Hudson Rivers in Albany, New York. I
had just let the dogs off leash, as this section of trail has no leash law and
few people were around, when Valentine bounded happily up the path and off
into the brush . Had I only known, what lay in store, I would have called
her back immediately. And ever obedient, my beautiful dog would have come.
Moments later, Valentine was screaming and bucking in the air, her head
encased in a bucket which housed the lethal conibear trap. Though my husband
and I, as well as passersby and police, tried to extricate her, by the time
animal control arrived, an hour and a half later, my beloved dog was dead,
murdered by a too cruel trap set a mere 50 feet off a popular path near
picnic tables and park benches. My promise that no one would ever hurt
Valentine again turned out to be a lie. Furthermore, I did not even have the
comfort of taking her body home for burial, as my family was in the midst of
relocating from Texas to New York, and we were living in a hotel.
I came to learn that trapping in recreation areas in New York State was perfectly legal. Further, I found that trappers have a name for untargeted prey like my precious Valentine. They call them "trash animals," and no valid records on how many such incidents occur are kept because the state does not mandate that such incidents be reported, and no incentive exists for trappers to do so. In time I was to learn of other bereaved dog owners
whose dear companions died in a hauntingly similar fashion. Chief among these was
Susan Foster of New York, whose Jack Russell Terrier, Russell, was likewise brutally killed along the side of her own street as she walked her pets this past November.
For over a year, I have campaigned vigorously in New York State for changes
to trapping regulations, but thus far, the status quo prevails. I am determined that my priceless Valentine, Russell, and others will not have died in vain, and I desperately want others to know of the potential hazard to their cherished pets and even children, and hopefully, to effect meaningful change. No creature - domestic or wild - should be subjected to such an archaic, senseless form of torture. I beg the public to express its
outrage.
Meanwhile, I continue to mourn. My loss was and is monumental. There will never, ever, be another Valentine.
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