Letters to the Editor
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my pit bull story
it was night. it was summer. i was sitting on a bench next to a HUGE pit bull the size of a small bear between me and the owner. he was licking my face. maybe he liked my alcoholic breath (my wife didn't, that, and that i am talkative as well as fearless when drunk made me go to the nearby projects where people sit out on hot summer nights and talk). suddenly the pit bull stopped licking my face. he went into high alert. no movement except for electric tension in the air. i got up. i'm no cesar millan. i am not going to dispute who is pack leader. i see the owner looking downcast. i ask him what is wrong? he says i didn't thank him for the cigarette i had asked for, before. that was all it took for the dog to go into kill mode. i told him, my kids tell me that all the time and we shook hands. i went back to my seat, more to prove something to myself than the dog, who wasn't kill ready anymore but no face licking either. a few minutes later i left, having learned something. these dogs can make mistakes. after all they aren't human, they can't be reasoned with or begged or bribed or simply left. i think "dog love" is something we should have gotten rid of when we left *our* packs, but so many people love them, you just have to accept them. but realize, if you want a big dog, what you really want to do is to intimidate. if you are that fearful it's more honorable to buy a gun and do your own dirty work, not hire a hitmandog to do it for you.