ALTHOUGH WE WILL ALSO REQUIRE A PHONE CONVERSATION IN ORDER TO RESERVE A PUPPY, THE FIRST STEP IN ADOPTING A PUPPY OR AN ADULT DOG FROM STARTOP LABRADORS IS TO COMPLETE OUR PUPPY QUESTIONNAIRE
All Startop puppies sold with AKC limited registration
We DO NOT normally sell or place puppies into show or breeding homes.
Any potential show dogs remain here for our program as that is why we breed in the first place....Thank you
and please read "Puppy Buyer Etiquette" for a view from the breeders side....
Occasionally, we have an older puppy or adult available for placement. Reasons are generally that he or she didn't quite turn out to be the show prospect we had hoped for, or we are simply retiring them from our program and would like to see them go into a wonderful family home.
I am always very honest with prospective adopting families about why I am placing the particular dog.
Although it is always hard to say goodbye, we know that by placing them in carefully selected homes we are assured that they will get the wonderful life they deserve and will no longer have to compete with 10-15 other dogs for attention.
If you are interested in a dog we have listed above, please go to the questionnaire link and take the time to answer some simple questions we ask all potential homes before we consider placing a dog with them.
We will be happy to get back to you and discuss the adoption process.
We have no rescues available at this time
We take our responsibility very seriously and therefore our doors are open to any puppy/dog we have placed for the rest of it's life.
Be sure to check out these informative links...
Rescue Success Stories
We pulled Levi from a high kill shelter in SC. He had been shot with a pellet gun in the leg, was emaciated and and in sad shape.
He spent a year with us and is now living with the most wonderful couple in Albany!
Maizy was owner-surrendered. We were told she "got too big to be in the house"
~Black female Labrador mix~
Ivy was rescued from a kill shelter in South Carolina 1 day before her euth. date.
Thank you to the volunteers who pulled, vetted and spayed her for me and then sent her here to NY State!
Ivy, now known as Cloe is adored by her new mom Katie in NH!!
~Yellow male Labrador~
I rescued Roscoe from a high kill shelter (gassing chamber) in North Carolina 1 day before his euth. date.
Roscoe, now known as Vito, is adored by his new mom Buffy in PA!!
~Black male Labrador~
Tribute was rescued from a high kill shelter in Indiana just hours before his euth date.
Through hours of phone calls and pages of emails, and a combined effort, Tribute made it to NY.
He is now in his forever home and cherished by his new mom in NY!
~Yellow male Labrador~
"Q" - short for Res-Q", was rescued from a high kill shelter (heart stick) in Ohio the day he was to be euth'd.
He was so sick with bacterial pneumonia when he arrived that he required an emergency trip to the vet and 'round the clock care for more than a week. He nearly died.
Thanks to Susan & John, who volunteered to care for him at their home instead of me bringing him on the 5 hour trip to mine, he lived.
"Q" is now in his forever home and couldn't be more loved in NY!!
How Could You?
A Doggy Poem By Jim Willis, 2001
When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend.
Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" -- but then you'd relent and roll me over for a belly rub.
My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect.
We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.
Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.
She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -- still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy.
Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a prisoner of love."
As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch -- because your touch was now so infrequent -- and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.
There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.
Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.
I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers."
You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed, "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life.
You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?"
They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago.
At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind -- that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me.
When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room.
She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days.
As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago.
She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"
Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself --a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place.
And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her. It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.
"If 'How Could You?' brought tears to your eyes as you read it, as it did to mine as I wrote it, it is because it is the composite story of the millions of formerly "owned" pets who die each year in American and Canadian animal shelters. Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a noncommercial purpose, as long as it is properly attributed with the copyright notice."
"Please use it to help educate, on your websites, in newsletters, on animal shelter and vet office bulletin boards. Tell the public that the decision to add a pet to the family is an important one for life, that animals deserve our love and sensible care, that finding another appropriate home for your animal is your responsibility (along with the advisement of your breeder) and any local humane society or animal welfare league can offer you good advice, and that all life is precious. Please do your part to stop the killing, and encourage all spay and neuter campaigns in order to prevent unwanted animals."