Letters to the Editor
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Pit Bulls and the "Little Rascals"
I've owned and loved a pit bull, a Staffordshire Terrier for the last nine years. I have also owned a German Shepherd and a Huskie and by far my pit is the smartestand requires the most love. Not only is he the exact replica of the pit in the accompanying photo, he is also a loving and wonderful animal who can be protective yet is normally friendly and playful with other dogs and people including small kids that pull on his ears or nose. Our dog has never slept outside, has home cooked daily meals and my husband has spent quite a lot of money on buying him "toys," that is, radio-controlled cars for him to play with when he isn't swimming.
Scientists will tell you that animals are incapable of emotion but most people who love their pets and spend time with them will recognize their mood shifts, fears and joys.
When I was much younger, a child in fact, the dog breed to fear was Doberman Pinchers. No one even talks or thinks about those large, quick dogs with fierce teeth as being a mad breed.
All dogs can and many do bite because they have teeth. If animals are abused, just like human beings, they will respond in an attack mode if they feel threatened. The unconscious fear of Pit Bulls is reminiscent of the past when white people feared blacks and would either clutch their purses or cross the street in fear to avoid contact with a perceived subhuman.
It is tiresome how people go out of their way to demonize a breed of dog or a race of people out of ignorance. When will it ever end?
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Pit Bulls and SUV's
On a cultural level, pit bulls are the SUV's of pet ownership. Something that looks menacing and intimidating, but is typically poorly managed and as much a hazard to its owner as to anyone else. Pit bulls and SUV's may not be to blame for what they are; it's Americans who have no excuse.
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I often wonder what happened...
...to a "pit bull"-type dog that someone once abandoned by tying him to the water spigot of the apartment building in which I was living at the time. I'd been hearing barking for much of the day, but was in the middle of doing some deadline-intensive work, so I never checked to see the cause. Finally, when done with the work, I went outside to see what it was. A group of perhaps a half-dozen kids, ranging from maybe 7-11 years old, were standing around the dog throwing stones at him. I shooed them away, asking them if they'd like stones thrown at them, and approached the dog with caution, if not trepidation. My grilfriend had come over, and I asked her to cook up a couple hot dogs for the dog (in hopes of curbing potential aggression, natch). I slid the hot dogs on a plate to the dog and eventually approached him in a crouch, hand out, palm turned inwards, so he could smell me and see I meant him no harm. Eventually, I was hugging the poor guy (despite the fact that he'd soiled himself because of his confinement all day), but had to leave to umpire a baseball game. Regrettably, I lived in a dog-unfriendly building, and I could not take him in.
When I returned from the game, Animal Control and the Chicago cops had finally responded to my calls and the calls of others, and were on scene to remove "the beast." I offered to assist, given the rapport I'd developed with the dog, but the cops, both with their hands on their guns, practically threatened me with arrest if I interceded on the dog's behalf. Eventually, the Animal Control guy was able to use his lasso-type thingie to corral the dog, who put up one hell of a fight, slamming repeatedly into the nearby wall and door in an attempt to escape the noose, but never attempting to attack his captor. After the drama played out, I heard from someone that one of my fellow apartment dwellers on that block had seen me with the dog, saw that he was not aggressive, and had expressed interest in adopting him once he'd been captured, and I truly hope that's how it played out.
While I don't agree with Father Flanagan of Boys Town's maxim that "There's no such thing as a bad boy," I do genuinely and wholeheartedly believe that there's no such thing as a bad dog, just bad owners.
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I want a wolfdog
They're pretty rare because dogs and wolves don't generally interbreed but if you get one they're just the fluffiest cutest little sharks you can find this side of a wolverine.
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Unfortunately the research shows...
that pit bulls do tend to be more violent dogs. They are responsible for many of the reported dog bites each year. I would not want them in my home since I have young children, and I hope that those with young children do their research before allowing these dogs into their home. And btw, yes, maybe there is something about the breed that they use pit bulls for vicious dogfighting and not say poodles or Maltese?
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Why people buy intimidating breeds?
Sometimes because they have a real use for them. When I lived on a very isolated ranch in the country, I had two German Shepherds and several Border Collies. Both the Border Collies and the German Shepherds would work livestock, but the Shepherds were slackers sometimes. They did not have the amazing stock working instincts of the Border Collies. Also, they were not as quick or high energy and would tire more quickly.
Sometimes I was all alone on the ranch. My husband could be miles away. There was no near neighbor and often I would be alone after dark. When it rained enough, even the phone went out. If I had had a problem and called the sheriff, it would have taken him thirty minutes to get there.
You can bet the Shepherds were useful. Often strange men would show up at the ranch. Sometimes they were lost. Sometimes they were looking for work.
My male and female Shepherd had puppies. One day a man showed up and said he had seen the puppies and had been looking at my male Shepherd who was solid black. I did not let this man in the house but stood talking to him in the driveway. My male Shepherd was glued to my side, tension showing in every line. Slowly, he moved so that he was between me and the man.
The conversation proceeded like this.
"I breed and fight fighting dogs. All alone here?" the man asked.
"My husband will be along soon," I said (a lie). "I am interested in one of your pups for a fighting dog," he said. "Is your dog tough?"
"Tough enough. He doesn't like men." At this moment, as if on cue, my dog growled at the man.
"I don't suppose he would let me touch him?"
"I wouldn't try." The growl turned into a snarl.
"We're keeping the pups, except those already spoken for." I turned and walked into the house, with my dog trailing my back. This guy really scared me. My thought was that I had guns in the house. When I reached the door, I pulled my still snarling guy inside and locked the door. I was really glad my dog had my back. I was really glad to see this guy get in his pick up and drive away. Something about him made the hair rise on the back of my neck.
Here's what's funny: In his 10 years of life, I had rarely seen my dog growl at anyone. I guess he knew shit when he smelled it.