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Abuse of pets still unnerves owners

They and others keep a closer eye on their animals after the attacks by two teenagers.

By ED QUIOCO, Times Staff Writer

© St. Petersburg Times, published April 28, 2002


They and others keep a closer eye on their animals after the attacks by two teenagers.

There was a time when Kay O'Rourke didn't worry about letting her 600 or so cows roam free. Her ranch in Odessa is away from the city, surrounded by fresh country air and friendly neighbors.

But that was before Brandon Eldred and Robert "Bobby" Pettyjohn sneaked onto the ranch one night armed with bow and arrows.

The two East Lake teenagers shot two sleeping bulls, killing one and injuring another. Since that attack on Jan. 17, 2001, O'Rourke says she has become more suspicious of strangers who stop by the ranch.

Sometimes, she says, she has to remind herself that "there are plenty of good people out there."

"We had no idea this evil was lurking," O'Rourke said. "Then bingo, there it is. Right on your own place."

That loss of innocence and security is a feeling O'Rourke now shares with others whose pets were attacked by the two teens -- as well as some of those whose pets were not attacked.

Friday, Pettyjohn pleaded guilty to beating two pet llamas on Ranch Road more than a year ago and agreed to serve eight years in prison. That moved the residents a step closer to regaining the sense of security and tranquility that once set their still-rural home apart from the rest of the Tampa Bay area.

The attacks occurred in an area that straddles northeastern Pinellas and northwestern Hillsborough. Here, just about everyone's neighbor has a farm animal or two grazing in the yard.

In East Lake, Ranch Road is a neighborhood of 5-acre lots, large homes and picket fences. Many homeowners raise farm animals ranging from goats and turkeys to donkeys and horses, both miniature and full-size.

Immediately after the attacks, one horse owner said, "It could have been any of us on this street." Another said he never thought of having to own a weapon before but that he had started to think that way.

More than a year later, those whose animals were attacked still watch their livestock more closely and think about what they lost.

"Right now, I feel really sad about it," said Susan Appenzeller, whose family owned the two pet llamas. "That it happened. That it got to this point."

The family reminds itself that bad things happen but "there is more good than there is bad," Appenzeller said.

Pettyjohn and Eldred beat the Appenzellers' 3-month-old llama and gouged its left eye on the morning of Feb. 11, 2001. They also sodomized and killed a nursing mother llama named Monopoly.

"I honestly try not to think about that," Mrs. Appenzeller said. "Because if you think about what happened and everything that Monopoly went through, you just can't do it."

Mrs. Appenzeller and her husband Keith would rather focus on sympathy notes and support their family received from people all over the country, including students and a church Sunday school.

"That has been a tremendous help," Appenzeller said.

Instead of talking about the horrific details of the attack, the couple told their children, Dylan and Dustin, to remember how so many strangers cared enough to send cards to the family.

Still, the couple can't help sometimes wondering at night if everything is okay with their llamas or checking the pets when they leave in the mornings, just to be sure, Appenzeller said.

That's similar to the feeling Ken Avery gets with his pets, thanks to Eldred. The teen sneaked into Avery's 2-acre lot in East Lake about two weeks before the attack on Appenzeller's pets and slashed his llama, Sir Lancelot, in the face with a titanium meat clever.

Sir Lancelot, or Lance, survived but is missing a piece of his mouth. Attacking the 7-year-old Lance would not have been difficult because the llama loves to greet visitors by putting his nose on their faces so he can smell them.

When Eldred approached, the llama leaned forward, and Eldred blew a stream of marijuana smoke into its face, according to court records. Sir Lancelot spit at Eldred, and that's when Eldred grabbed the cleaver and swung it.

Today, more than a year later, it's not unusual for people, especially families, to stop by Avery's lot on Old Keystone Road to take a look at his animals. He has donkeys, three llamas, horses, a large pig and dogs.

But now, he's a little more aware of who is stopping by, he said.

"I keep an eye on them more now than I ever did," Avery said.

In all respects, it seems Lance has recovered fully from the attack. The llama still likes to greet visitors by nuzzling up to them and even has sired a baby with Freckles, Avery's other llama.

Avery hopes Lance grows old without getting complications, such as an infection, from missing a piece of his mouth.

"Hopefully it won't affect him in his older days," Avery said.

Willie Wonka, who was about 60 pounds when attacked last year, also has recovered from injuries and seems to be coping well with just one eye. He now weighs more than 200 pounds.

"He loves to be loved and petted and he loves to have his head scratched," Appenzeller said.

The attack also has affected another llama at the Appenzellers' pen. Monopoly's offspring, Marshall Montana, has grown up without a mother.

For a while, Marshall would try to nurse with Willie Wonka's mother, Shania, but "she would not have any part of him," Appenzeller said.

"I feel really bad" for Marshall, Appenzeller said. "He's kind of a lost soul."

In Hillsborough, things have gotten back to normal at O'Rourke's ranch. But before Eldred and Pettyjohn were charged in the bow-and-arrow attack, O'Rourke had workers hide her bulls at a secluded pasture on her large ranch to protect them from whoever was hunting them at night.

"It just makes you start thinking differently than you ever thought before," O'Rourke said. "It's just unreal that they are as young as they are and they had these evil, horrible thoughts and acted on them."

What's worse, O'Rourke said, is that the two teens seemed to get some sort of pleasure from their attacks.

"It takes a really big person to come up on a sleeping animal with a bow and arrow," O'Rourke said. "It was just meanness. For them to do this for no reason but to just get a thrill out of it, that's what really terrorizes me."

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