Four years ago, in mid-October, I’d stopped by a convenience store to get newspapers on which to carve a pumpkin. When I came out of the store, I almost ran over a dog; scrawny, scared, scarred, and desperate. She was yellow, with big brown eyes, and obviously some sort of pit bull mix.
I got out of the car, and talked to her for a bit. She was desperate for affection; soon she wouldn’t leave my side. I checked in the store, and nobody knew who owned her; she had no collar on. So, I took her home. My Shepherd mix met her out in the front yard, and seemed to approve. Before I let her in the house, I told her that this was only temporary; that the next morning, I’d find her owner, or she’d be off to the Humane Society.
Well, the next morning, there was no owner to be found. And the pound was no longer much of an option after I did some research on how likely pit bulls are to be adopted, versus how likely they are to be put down. So, I took her to the vet.
He opined that she’d been out on the street for months, based on the thickness of the pads on her paws. That she was only about six months old. And that she’d probably been fought. I had him give her her first round of vaccinations, and took her home. Where she became the world’s sweetest, cutest dog.
For about three weeks. Then she ate the couch. Seriously. Totally destroyed it. And later on shoes, bedding, another couch, a wallet, stereo speakers, another couch, and finally I decided that when I’m not home, she’s an outdoor dog.
We built a pen for her; it’s large, is tall enough to prevent any possible climbing escape, has a built-in wire mesh floor that prevents any digging escape, and a nice big doghouse to keep her in the shade. She stays there whenever there’s no-one home. We walk her and our other dog three times a day, leashed, and we make sure we pick up after them.
Our biggest problem? She’s aggressive toward other dogs. The only time it’s a problem is when there are unleashed dogs around. There’s nothing quite as ridiculous as being reassured by an owner whose dog is charging toward yours that “They’re friendly! Don’t worry!” when your dog is yanking on her leash, thinking that she’s about to fight for her life.
She’s fun, she’s funny, she’s adorable, she’s incredibly loving. Every time any of our friends come over, there’s an inevitable ten-minute Gracie introduction, that involves her getting her tummy rubbed vigorously. She snuggles up next to whoever’s on her couch, and is completely content just to be near her favorite humans. And sometimes, when I’m working at my computer, she’ll sneak up and lick my elbow, just to get some affection. She’s the Pit Bull of Love.
The moral of the story, then. Some people own pit bulls for other reasons than the desire to have aggressive dogs. And everyone should leash their dogs, whenever they’re out. Period.