
These are dogs.
Just like yours.
Ridglan Farms is a facility where humans breed puppies for torture — and torture them on the premises for profit.
That is not hyperbole. State inspectors found 311 violations — devocalization of conscious puppies using paralytic drugs, surgeries performed by unlicensed workers without anesthesia, dogs bleeding from wire floors for 18 years. There were countless more violations that were never documented. The District Attorney ignored over 1,000 cruelty complaints over a 6 year time period.
On July 1, Ridglan will give up its breeding license. But between now and then, every dog still inside can be sold to a laboratory — force-fed chemicals, fitted with inhalation masks, surgically implanted with devices. And then killed.
Unless someone goes in and gets them.
The sweetest dogs you'll ever meet.
Beagles were chosen for laboratory use for one reason above all others: they are gentle. They don't bite. They don't fight back. When a technician restrains them to force a tube down their throat, they don't resist — they just look up with those eyes. The industry calls this “ease of handling.” The rest of us call it trust.
These are the same dogs that sleep at the foot of your bed. The same dogs that greet you at the door like you've been gone for years when it's been five minutes. The same dogs that curl up next to children, that chase their tails, that howl when the fire truck goes by. Some of us have them in our houses right now.

A rescuer carries a beagle across a frozen field during the March 2026 action at Ridglan Farms.

Activists hold a rescued beagle in the moments after removal from the facility. For many of these dogs, it was the first time being held.
What happens inside.
Devocalization
At Ridglan, 30-40 dogs per month had their vocal cords cut — not with anesthesia, but with succinylcholine, a paralytic agent. The dogs were fully conscious. They could feel everything. They just couldn't move or scream. The procedure was performed by unlicensed workers, not veterinarians. After it was done, the dogs could no longer bark. They could only make a hoarse whisper. They were silenced — literally — so the facility would be quieter.
Cherry Eye Surgery
When beagles developed cherry eye — a common condition — the proper treatment is delicate repositioning surgery under anesthesia. At Ridglan, unlicensed workers cut the gland out with scissors. No anesthesia. No blood control. Dogs thrashed and bled. The gland produces 40% of the eye's tears. Removing it guaranteed chronic dry eye for the rest of the dog's life. Veterinary experts called it “mutilation.”
Wire Mesh Floors
The dogs at Ridglan lived on wire mesh flooring — metal grating designed to let waste fall through. Their paws pushed through the gaps. Their feet bled. Some dogs developed chronic injuries that were never treated. They couldn't lie down comfortably. They couldn't walk without pain. The wire floors were documented in violations going back to 2006 and were never fixed.
Where They Were Going
Beagles are sold to vivisection facilities where they face daily oral gavage (a tube forced down the throat to administer test chemicals), inhalation toxicology (forced to breathe aerosolized compounds through face masks for hours), and cardiovascular telemetry (surgical implantation of monitoring devices in the abdomen). At the end of the study — 90 days, 6 months, sometimes a year — 95% are killed and dissected.
Why is this place still open?
Because the system designed to protect these dogs failed at every level.
The DA received 983 emails about Ridglan and refused to prosecute for six years. It took citizens petitioning a judge for a special prosecutor — and a viral undercover investigation — to force the state to act. Even now, with the license surrender coming July 1, dogs are still inside.
The ones who made it out.
In April 2017, investigators entered Ridglan and carried out three beagles: Julie, Anna, and Lucy. Julie — facility ID “DPS6” — has lived in a loving home for eight years now. She sleeps on a couch. She plays in a yard. She knows her name.
In March 2026, rescuers went back. Twenty-two beagles made it to safety. Twenty-seven people were arrested. For all of these dogs, it was the first time they had ever been outside.

“She looked up at me and I knew — she had never been held before. Not once in her entire life.”
There are still dogs inside.
Every day that passes, Ridglan can sell another dog into a laboratory. The license surrender doesn't mean the dogs are safe — it means the clock is ticking. We can wait for July 1 and hope for the best. Or we can go get them.