Meet Myron…
BMAR’s Hero
Myron Badger holds the title of Vice-President of Barking Mad Animal Refuge, Ltd. — a laughable under-statement, for sure. His true title should be “the indispensable personwho holds the place together with astounding forces of love.”
Myron could easily be mistaken as a good old Texas country boy — what with his rural farm residence and his pickup truck and such. But, nope — the real circumstances are much more interesting. He’s from Dyer, Indiana, an affluent suburb of Chicago, where only 0.7% residents live below the poverty line. He hasn’t lit a cigarette in years and merely tolerates country music. He’s not any kind of drinker — a case of beer on his
kitchen counter would sit there until the cans popped open due to old age. He will cop to meat-and-potatoes and being a fan of Tommy Lee Jones but laughs about the fact that Jones is a small-town Texas boy with a degree in English literature from Harvard.
Myron first met CJ Barrilleaux, BMAR’s founder, when she was picking up her kid sister from martial arts class. Myron was the sensei that day and the rest is history. Myron and CJ married in 1998 and he became a loving father to CJ’s son Justin. The men continue to enjoy an ongoing warm and strong relationship. Myron also remains dedicated to the sport of mixed martial arts and has even been inducted to the Universal MMA Hall of Fame on the recommendation of his peers.
Mr. Badger’s primary professional career was in law enforcement. This apparently included something described as “tactical weapons instructor” to urban specialty police forces in Texas. Myron doesn’t talk much about this, nor CJ, but one time I did ask her about his ability to keep all persons, dogs, cats, and cattle at BMAR and the farm safe. She answered back right away with two words, “Excellent marksman.”
I think she said that with a smiley emoji.
BMAR operates as a true sanctuary and refuges with dozens of dogs in residence at all times who are not adoptable for various reasons, usually size and aggression, and who have no place else to go. Many of these dogs live in their own area of the farm called the segregation unit or “seg line.” BMAR has made it part of their mission to provide a stable, safe, and even enriched environment for these dogs. They are not warehoused, rather they receive exercise, attention, and training every day. Not every
BMAR staffer or volunteer can work on the seg line, but Myron does regularly. He never treats these vulnerable dogs harshly and does not yell or scream but the seg
dogs all seem to instantly sense that Myron holds the alpha position and is not to be messed with.
As they say, big dogs don’t bark.
But Myron is the very antithesis of scary in person. Everybody that I interviewed for this post commented on the kindness and gentleness that shimmers off him in waves. Myron truly is the rescue’s gentle soul and superego — teaching, educating, supporting, quietly guiding behind the scenes, and getting the hardest jobs done. He abhors laziness. What CJ admires most about him is his patience.
And consider that Myron was originally not even a dog person! He is the pretty rare guy who prefers cats. When CJ got hurt several years ago, Myron knew that she would never stop trying to save and shelter dogs, even with a hand disability. About two months later, he retired from his law enforcement agency to work at BMAR — seven days a week and totally without pay, of course.
Because more than anything, Myron loves CJ.
