Diary
of a Woman Chained
Chain Off 2004, State College, PA
 Tammy
Sneath Grimes lived chained to a doghouse for 33 hours June 3-4,
2004 in State College, PA as part of the Dogs Deserve Better
Chain Off event. She was then followed by Amandah Povilitus at the
Lackawanna County Stadium in Moosic, PA for 8 hours Sunday, July
4th. (Amandah's photos/wrapup below.)
Tammy
created a journal of her experience, in photos and in words,
which we hope you will enjoy and pass along.
2:30
a.m., July 3nd.
I
wake up, can't sleep because I'm nervous about Chain Off in the
morning. I've never done anything this brave/crazy before, and I
know it will take all the courage I have to pull it off and make
it work. I know I need my sleep, because 33 hours is a heck of a
long time. Needless to say, just knowing I NEED sleep is enough
to keep me awake most of the night.
5:00
a.m., July 3rd.
I
try over and over to meditate to calm myself down, but my mind is
racing.
5:30
a.m., July 3rd.
 I
give up trying to sleep or meditate, I know the alarm will go off
in 1/2 hour. I decide to do a yoga video instead. It's the perfect
thing, it relaxes me and stretches my muscles. I then take care
of the kittens I'm fostering, as well as all the dogs, and check
our list of items still remaining which need to go in the van. I
shower and dress. I've decided to wear business attire, skirt and
blouse and heels, to show that dogs who are chained are just as
worthy of attention as any other dogs. I know it will make me more
uncomfortable physically, but I feel it's the right choice. Rocky
helps load the car and get Max (Sharpei/Shiba Inu mix) and Chloe
(Boxer/Beagle mix) in, and we leave for State College at 6:45. We
wished we could take Luke too, but three dogs would be a lot to
handle. Chloe and Max have better chances of getting adopted.
7:30
a.m., July 3rd.
We
arrive at Sheetz in State College, and I go to the bathroom quickly
so I can last awhile. I realize I forgot/didn't have time to eat,
and I'm not planning to eat more than once a day in solidarity with
the dogs. If I don't eat at all I get less hungry, so I figure it's
for the best, even though I think longingly of food.
7:45
a.m., July 3rd.
 We
arrive at our first nine hours of chain off, in the parking lot
next to Snowball. Terri Bunge and Amy Smith are already there, setting
up. They arranged all the permissions, and got us on local radio
and tv by sending out beautiful media packets. I owe them a lot
for all they've done for this event! I was able to relax knowing
so much of it was taken care of. I experience a feeling of gratitude
for them. It's great to have people you can rely on!
We
see no signs of Snowball.
Eric
Bunge is putting trucks with our signs on them up and down the road
to 'pique interest'. One says, "Why is Tammy Chained to the
Doghouse?" and the other "Why has Snowball been Chained
for 15 Years?"
7:50
a.m., July 3rd.
 Channel
10 cbs has shown up to get video of the chain attaching. Tom, the
videojournalist, has a great time, and stays for over an hour taping
the box from all sides, doing interviews with me and the others,
and generally being very creative. He promises if we drop off a
tape he will give us a copy of everything, since we won't be home
to see the news that night.
9:30
a.m., July 3rd.
I
call Dan Paden, a contact at Peta, who promises to help us out by
sending information of what station has footage to the national
media. Who knows if it will work, but we have to try. I am grateful
for the help.
Snowball's
'owner' walks across the parking lot to get a look at what we're
up to, apparently he doesn't know that we know who he is. We just
watch him. Nothing happens.
10:00
a.m., July 3rd.
 We
get rolling, people are showing up, some have seen our signs as
they come by, some heard us on the news/radio and wanted to show
support. Ruth Cummings is the first to come by, a local animal advocate
and friend. She's proud of us, and wants to let us know.
My
friend Karen Giles, with whom I've canoed and done political work,
surprises me by coming by with her daughter Kristie, who wants to
write a story on me and DDB to try to get published. I'm touched.
Bill Perkins has also come up with his big Rottweiler, Sarge, in
support of the event. Bill brings another $120 in donations he's
collected from friends, giving him a total of $400 raised for the
event!
10:30
a.m., July 3rd.
I
don't have time to think about being hungry and thirsty, and I'm
rarely sitting on the ground right now, because folks are really
showing up. Terri, her sister Jenn, and Amy are handling the booth
for the most part, so I don't have to worry about that. They do
a fantastic job of pulling people in!
 I
don't take time to think about how I'm feeling, or if I'm feeling
like a chained dog. I'm too busy talking. Now Robyn and Jason Fanelli
come with their son Mason, and they are all wearing their Chain
Off T-shirts. We take a few photos of the group wearing their DDB
attire. It's wonderful! Jason falls in love with Chloe, who's old
doghouse I'm using for the event. She was rescued in State College
when her caretakers gave her up to us in 2003. Chloe's been in foster
care with us for quite awhile now, and it was time she found a home.
Jason thinks Chloe's "the most beautiful dog", and since
I've known Robyn for a couple years, Chloe gets to go home with
them today. They're excited, and I'm excited she now has a forever
home! She deserves it!
11:00
a.m., July 3rd.
Someone
shows up from the management company of the shopping center, to
make sure we're where we said we'd be. We are. She tells us that
the Emels kept calling to complain about us, and they finally had
to hang up on him. She wasn't angry. She tells us they were going
to protest us protesting them. They don't.
1:00
p.m., July 3rd.
 There's
a brief lull, and I'm sitting on the ground by my doghouse, resting
my feet which are already hurting in the pumps. Terri and Rocky
keep trying to get me to drink water, but I say I'm waiting until
later. I'm very thirsty, not really hungry yet. Not eating earlier
has helped, I think.
A
reporter from the Penn State Collegiate newspaper shows up, and
we do an interview. She hangs around for awhile, and then goes to
interview Snowball's 'owner's'. We haven't seen Snowball since we've
been here, and I think they've pulled him out for the day. We can't
see behind the 'privacy fence' they've erected to keep people from
complaining about his living conditions.
1:30
p.m., July 3rd.
 I
take my first bathroom break, amazed I made it so long. Who knew
I was able to do that! Bill wants to be my 'stand-in' while I'm
in the bathroom, and plays it up for the camera.
The
Pittsburgh rep, Becky Herron, shows up with her friend Jane Zaremba,
and I'm thrilled they've come from Pittsburgh to support us. I'm
happy to meet Becky in person.
Channel
6 NBC news shows up and tapes a segment, quickly, he's out of there
in ten minutes.
3:00
p.m., July 3rd.
The
sun has gotten very hot, and the shade provided by the tree has
disappeared with the passing day. I sit under the tarp for some
shade. I'm feeling very tired and thirsty now, and the remaining
hours stretch in an endless continuum. 26 hours to go!
I
break down and have a bottle of water. Sorry, dogs, just too thirsty!
I'm still with you in spirit...
4:45
p.m., July 3rd.
I
go to the bathroom one more time before we move, and am called over
coming out of the building by a teenage girl in a beat up car. She
hands me a note that says that Snowball is her dog, and I am a liar
saying he has been chained for 15 years, he's only 12. I walk away
from her, and she calls me a bitch. The Emel children and friends
have been at us for awhile, standing by their yard and staring over.
Every time they gather I begin to videotape them, and they scatter
to avoid being taped. We break down the booth and load me and the
doghouse in the truck. As we're leaving, the children call us 'biscuit
eaters' (what is that?), and other savory names, and Dave Emel yells
at me to 'tell the whole story'. What does that mean?
5:30
p.m., July 3rd.
 We're
now set up downtown in front of Websters Bookstore, but here no
one has come exclusively to see us. We get mostly passersby on the
sidewalk. They don't know what we're about, and don't stop to ask
most of the time. They stare and make funny faces, puzzled faces,
and disgusted faces. For the most part I'm able to blow it off,
but I can't resist at times feeling very vulnerable and naked by
the looks/attitudes I encounter. One old man, chubby with greased
back hair and thick glasses, looks at our sign, goes to the booth,
and then stops to talk to the people sitting nearby. I hear him
say, "With all that is going on in Iraq, the price of milk
going up, the price of gas, they expect me to care about this?"
I am furious, and I guess I'm getting tired and crabby. I want to
pummel him, but I don't, just in my mind. I stare him down, and
he finally leaves. I'm glad to see him go!
6:30
p.m., July 3rd.
Becky
and Jane show up, and Jane buys me a veggie quesadilla from Chili's
for supper. And then Lisa Rivera, a woman we've just met today,
brings us two pizzas. I get very full! I also have another water
and a biscotti for dessert.
8:30
p.m., July 3rd.
 I'm
not as comfortable downtown here as I was earlier today, mentally,
but the change of scenery is nice and I know it's more than the
poor chained ones get. I try to value it. Chris Ameduri, the Gettysburg
rep, has driven up with her friend Bob, and they soon show up. I'm
happy to see them! Terri, Amy, and Jenn finally take a break, they've
been working the booth all day, and go to have a drink. They deserve
it...I hang out with Chris and Bob to work and keep me company.
More than the dogs get!
9:00
p.m., July 3rd.
Rocky
comes back, having gone home to drop off Max and check on the other
animals. We had a couple people interested in Max, and one really
perfect-for-Max-sounding home. They all take adoption applications
with them, we pray for the right home. He's a great dog, I'm quite
in love with him, and he deserves to live a happy life too. I'll
make myself give him up...we've kept too many already.
10:00
p.m., July 3rd.
I'm
fighting with Rocky because he brought his car back, and the tv
was in the van...I wanted to show video because it would show up
better at night, although we'd have to string the cord across the
sidewalk. He leaves to drive back home and bring the van back again,
a two hour round trip. The poor guy! He's been very supportive,
and I should try to be nicer about things. I suddenly feel very
belittled and dehumanized by the chain. I want to cry. Everything
hurts.
11:00
p.m., July 3rd.
Amy
and Jenn finally go home, and Terri, Chris, and Bob stay with me
until Eric comes at midnight. Eric and Rocky will watch me overnight
so that I can get some sleep. I feel badly they will stay up all
night for me, but grateful.
12:00
a.m., July 4th.
 I'm
so tired, the collar is killing me, scratching at my neck. I know
I have a run in my left foot stocking, and my feet smell. My pantyhose
are chafing my legs, which I've never experienced before, but I've
never worn them this long either. I got sunburned despite wearing
sunscreen, my lips hurt. I just want my bed so badly! Rocky makes
me a bed in the alcove of the store, on a sleeping bag with a little
pillow. I know I said I would sleep on the ground with nothing like
the chained dogs do, but I give in...the ground looks so yucky and
hard! I just want to sleep! I go to the bathroom and put leggings
under my skirt.
12:30
a.m., July 4th.
It
is exactly the halfway point now...It starts to feel like it's possible
to get through this; after all, I did bear two children without
drugs, surely I can live this way for a mere 33 hours! At least
for me there's an end in site, the dogs don't have that luxury.
Rocky
is playing guitar, I love that! I fall asleep.
2:15
a.m., July 4th.
 I'm
awakened because the bars have closed, and the drunks are walking
home now. They don't bother us for the most part, a couple even
stop to see what we're up to, but I'm awake for awhile. I go to
the bathroom, and try to doze off again.
3:00
a.m., July 4th.
Our
friend John Johnson shows up and he and Rocky decide to play guitars.
He goes home to get his. They play up the street a ways, so that
I can sleep; from afar the music is soothing, but if too close I
know it will keep me up.
I
wake up at one point, and see a strange man by the booth, with no
sign of Rocky or Eric. I get a weird feeling, and a feeling of fear.
I think, "Rocky will be so into his music, he won't even notice
this guy killing me!" But I am wrong, next thing Rocky is there
talking to the guy, and everything's ok.
3:30
a.m., July 4th.
 My
heart open up for the dogs, and I become truly one with them. I've
put myself in their shoes, and I experience their daily life. I
also experience solidarity with the plight of the homeless people,
sleeping in the doorway of a store, while people walk by and avoid
looking at me. I go back to sleep.
5:30
a.m., July 4th.
I
wake up, with about 4 hours sleep total under my belt. I feel pretty
good!
6:00
a.m., July 4th.
I
go to the bathroom, brush my teeth. I planned to NOT do so, but
my mouth felt so grotty, and I knew I had to talk to people all
day. I already have the foot smell and the pit smell going on, I
think it's better to present at least a clean mouth to avoid having
people running in fear!
6:30
a.m., July 4th.
I'm
up now, so Eric goes home to get some sleep. I thank him profusely
for helping us, and he is happy that he was able to be a part of
it. Rocky and I lay back down, he hasn't slept yet either. He falls
asleep, I'm awake yet resting.
 The
garbage man comes and removes the garbage from the street. Our balloons
are wilted on the doghouse.
The
weather is overcast, but I don't have an impending sense of rain.
(We dogs know when it's coming!)
I
can smell Rocky's cologne and hear the birds chirping. In the peaceful
moments before the city wakes, I have time to think and feel. I
am at one with Snowball, and I think to myself, "Snowball and
I are going to write a little more." I give that some thought,
and feel suddenly terrified and sad that maybe he doesn't KNOW I'm
with him, doesn't even know he's not alone. Maybe he can't feel
my oneness of spirit. I want to cry and I do.
It's
so unfair to these dogs that people treat them with so little respect.
Dogs save people's lives, they alert them to seizures, help the
handicapped. I love them so much! I sob for their pain. I can see
clearly that I denied the inhumanity of my condition from the start
of my chaining. I didn't want to feel that humiliation. I remember
now 23 hours ago, when I first snapped that chain onto my collar,
that I felt a brief moment of humilation and victimization, but
I quickly squelched it because I knew I had to be strong for the
dogs and interact with all those who came out to see me. Now I remember.
 I
feel an overwhelming sadness and anguish. I haven't sobbed like
this in a long time, I'm always so busy, there's no time for such
things. My body heaves with my sobbing. This is SO NOT RIGHT! Why
can't they see it? I didn't even suffer all the things they suffer
on a daily basis. I feel alone, but I was never truly alone at all
since we started. Terri, Amy, Jenn, Rocky, Eric, what amazing compatriots!
Dedicated friends and loving animal advocates. My gratitude for
them abounds. I am truly blessed by their presence.
The
dogs are almost always alone. Right now, they are awakening like
me, alone. Starting their day, much like all the other days that
have come before, alone.
7:30
a.m., July 4th.
Rocky
wakes up, goes to Paneras to get us some breakfast. I figure I will
eat early today, and then hold off the rest of the day. I am actually
alone for the first time, and I feel a twinge of fear. Fear of abandonment
on this chain, and fear of being harmed because I can't get away.
I relate more and more to the dogs.
I
still could sob for the chained dogs. I have somehow become even
more bonded with them through this experience. People continue to
walk by and look away. Just like they ignore the plight of the lonely,
sad chained dogs they pass and the homeless people. "It's none
of my business. There's nothing I could do about it anyway. I don't
want to get involved," they are telling me with their actions.
Did
I say my feet stink yet?
I
realize I dressed up as much for me as for the dogs. I instinctively
knew the shame, the demoralization and the dehumanization I would
feel being chained. Dressing for the office gave my sense of worth
an added boost, no matter what I had to go through. And it also
makes me feel the inherent value and worth of the dogs who are left
outside as if of no value. They ARE valuable!
My
face is itchy, my lips hurt.
8:00
a.m., July 4th.
 Terri
and Amy come back, we sit for awhile and chat, then begin to move
things up the street. We are moving to the main gates of Penn State
University Campus, and it is a great location for visibility, for
foot traffic as well as folks driving down the street. As we begin
to set up, a policeman comes looking for our permit. Of course,
Terri and Amy have everything in order, and he says he'll tell the
other shifts we're ok to be there.
10:00
a.m., July 4th.
We've
not had many 'customers'; many, many curious looks from the passersby
across the street and driving down the road, but not many have crossed
over to our side to see what we're doing and talk to us. I often
stand and wave to the people driving by, and I'm certainly noticed,
although I'm not sure understood at a quick glance! Two guys quickly
pull up and get out with their German Shepherds. They've heard us
on the radio, and rescue dogs themselves. They wanted to come by
and meet us. It warms our hearts!
11:00
a.m., July 4th.
 I've
been upset because my family will not come out to support me. I
feel they're not much interested in being there for me, as I'd be
for them. They think I'm crazy, and I guess I can't totally blame
them. However, my younger brother DOES show up with my nephews,
Austen and Scott, to see their 'crazy Aunt Tammy' chained to the
doghouse. They are laughing, but not in a mean way, and they are
excited to see me. I'm so happy someone from my family has come!
I then decide I'll go to the family event after I get unchained,
I had been going to boycott it.
Chris
Ameduri and Bob come back, and so do Becky Herron and Jane. After
they leave, Rocky takes photos of Terri, Amy and I, with Amy's dog
Annie.
12:00
p.m., July 4th.
Only
five hours left! I've oddly enough felt better all day today than
yesterday! Maybe because I knew I was in the home stretch, and there
was not such a great length of time to go. Nothing seems to hurt
as badly as yesterday, even the collar doesn't chafe as much.
1:00
p.m., July 4th.
 A
man I spoke to brings me back a book he thinks I will enjoy. It's
by the editors of Bark Magazine (who incidentally DID print an article
about DDB last year.) It's called Dog Is my Copilot, and I thank
him. I do a radio interview via cell phone with Suzanne Dragan in
New Jersey. She also interview Amandah from the Lackawanna County
event which will follow ours. I'm happy about it.
2:00
p.m., July 4th.
We've
had another busy time, and then we go into our 'afternoon lull',
which happened both days. Everyone must get tired and take naps
during that time! The clock starts to crawl...
3:00
p.m., July 4th.
 Barb
Kurtz Showalter and her sister Lisa Kurtz come up from Ephrata in
support of the event. They drive 3 hours to stay for an hour or
two! Unfortunately, they've hit our slow time, but it enables me
to spend time talking to them. They are wonderful women too, and
I'm grateful for the support we've had throughout the event.
4:30
p.m., July 4th.
Only
1/2 hour left! The reporter from the Collegiate shows up again,
and asks me how it went throughout the night. She tells me that
Emmel told her he has contacted his lawyer about us having Snowball
on our t-shirts, and asks me what my response is to that. I don't
believe there's anything they can do legally. I think we'd welcome
the publicity! She sticks around to see if anyone else is coming,
and a few people come, but for the most part it's over.
4:50
p.m., July 4th.
 We
form a circle around the doghouse, and light candles to celebrate
the conclusion of our vigil. Terri, Amy, Eric, and Rocky and I each
say a few words about the event. I tell them how grateful I am for
all they've done, and what this has meant to me.
5:00
p.m., July 4th.
I
jump in the air to celebrate, and then unhook myself from the chain.
What a great feeling to be free! I forget and leave the collar on
for a few more moments, and then realize my neck is still heavy.
Terri helps me remove it.
Totals
from the event: $878.00 in sales and donations.
593 links of our chain broken.
Amandah
Chained
Chain Off 2004, Moosic, PA
 Amandah
Povilitus, a truly remarkable young woman who at 17, still in
high school, has a full-time job as a restaurant supervisor, made
time to represent Dogs Deserve Better and the chained dogs at the
Lackawanna
County Stadium in Moosic, PA for 8 hours Sunday, July 4th.
17-year-old Vince Griseto, who is about to enter Bloomsburg University
to study geology, also helped out. Vince passed out pamphlets and
steered people to the letter-signing table.
Approximately 87 people signed two letters apiece, one to the state
senator and one to the state representative.
 This
was a phenomenal response for this area, and as we become more of
a fixture, we expect we'll get many, many more signatures.
Click
Here to Help Us Break the Rest of the Chain!
If
you'd like to donate via regular USPS mail, you may print
out this form in .pdf
format, and send to P.O. Box 23, Tipton, PA 16684
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