What's A Pibble?!?

I love this quote.

2008-09-19T07:28:00.000-07:00

There are many, many pit bulls in this country that are owned, loved, trained, and part of responsible dog-owning families. They remain largely unnoticed by the public and the media.
~Andrea Kilkenny

This quote was taken from a letter to the editor in an Iowa newspaper regarding owner responsibility for dog bite prevention. The whole letter was good but this last part struck a chord with me.

It's true that any time there's an attack on a person or animal by another dog it's almost always automatically deemed a Pit Bull. Sometimes the perpetrators are Pit Bulls. Many times they're not.

We don't often hear about the search and rescue Pit Bulls or the Pit Bulls who are service dogs. Pit Bull type dogs make some of the best service dogs. They're bomb sniffers and drug dogs. They can even be used as police dogs...the capacity for them to learn and obey rivals that of the Malenois and Tervuren, highly sought after breeds for use as working dogs.

It's true that most Pit Bulls need special management when it comes to being a house pet because of their prey drive and genetic dog aggression and there are hundreds of thousands of them out there living normal doggie lives with their families. However, it's the unsavory genetic programming that actually make them the best people oriented dogs. While breeding animal aggression in...human aggression was bred out. It used to be that the best dog fighting champion in the world would be killed and not allowed to mate if it ever so much as snapped at a person.

I wish we could put the spotlight on the good dogs. I wish the media representation of ambassadogs was a priority...unfortunately warm and fuzzy editorials don't sell. We blame the media for the irresponsible reporting of dog attacks...but we should really blame ourselves. The media only prints what the public wants to read...and the public is fixated on the monster image of the Pit Bull.

It's a damn shame.

I Finally Saw The Light

2008-09-05T20:15:00.001-07:00

Tonight I was waiting for the Michael Vick Dog Town special on NGO and I tuned in a little early. The Dog Whisperer was on and I was appalled by what I saw.

It was the last twenty minutes of the show so I missed all of the background info. A Pit Bull named Trinity was the subject and she is severely dog aggressive (DA). At the very moment I started watching Trinity was tearing up other dogs! It was bloody, it sparked the fight instinct in a bunch of the other dogs in Ceasar's huge "pack". It took a lot of effort to break these fights up and I felt horrible for all of the dogs.

I felt bad for Trinity because they kept setting her up to fail. I felt bad for the other dogs because they were put in harm's way for the sake of the cameras.

Many Pit Bull people can't stand Ceasar Millan. Actually, many animal people period can't stand him. He uses punishment and intimidation techniques. He treats Pit Bulls like their DA is sickness that can be cured.

There is a lady on Pitbull-L who has tons of Pit Bull training experience. She mostly rubs me the wrong way but she has a saying that I judge every dog by. She says "Temperament always trumps training." What that means is that you can teach a dog to be non-reactive when you are there to be in control but you cannot expect that dog to ignore his urge to fight when left unsupervised. This is the reason I stopped volunteering with FOHA. They mean well but they refuse to acknowledge that sometimes dogs just cannot be placed safely in homes. They think hiring a trainer can solve any problem.

At the end of this episode Trinity was interacting with the other dog in her household really well. I hope her owners stay diligent and never let their guard down. And I pray that Trinity is never left alone with another animal.

I'm so disturbed by what I saw that I want to write a letter to someone to express my dismay. I have no idea who to send it to. I probably will write the letter and when I do I'll post it here for all to see. And when I figure out who to send it to I'll let you know.

Why Do We Save Pibbles?

2007-12-11T19:28:00.000-08:00

A Pibble adores her people. Her world revolves around head skritches, belly rubs, kisses and snuggles. Her purpose in life is to love her family with her whole heart. She's happiest when you're with her and she waits patiently for you when you're gone. If you want a dog who has eyes only for you...you just might need a Pibble.

Pibbles are American Pit Bull Terriers, American Staffordshire Terriers, Staffordshire Bull Terriers....or any one of the three mixed with any other breed of dog. Major physical characteristics include blocky heads, muscular builds, short coats, and the most expressive eyes ever to be seen.

Pibbles are extremely intellegent dogs. They can be trained to do anything from basic obedience to search and rescue work. They are drug and bomb sniffers, therapy dogs and service dogs. Anything Lassie can do they can do better.

Many people don't know that Pibbles are the only breed of dog in history to be bred specifically NOT to bite humans. They have a high tolerance for pain and they are stoic. Because of this they are excellent with children of all ages. They can handle all of the ear pulling, eye poking, and tail yanking that an average toddler can dish out. It's no wonder that Pibbles used to be known as "nanny dogs".

These are not couch potato dogs. High energy and eager to please these guys participate and enjoy activites such as agility trials, weight pulling and flyball. The spirit with which they compete is contageous and strengthens the bond between man and his dog.

It's hard to imagine any person being as loyal and devoted to another being as Pibbles are.

Who Makes A Good Pit Bull Owner?

2007-12-11T09:30:00.000-08:00

The following is a sidebar article published on Dogtime.com

Pit bulls have the same needs as any other breed--quality time with their person, exercise (and lots of it, for younger pits), training, and socialization. But they have their own unique considerations too. Here's what to consider before you bring home a pit.

You'll get some flak. No matter how sweet your pup is, this is a breed that can make people cross the street, give you strange looks, or make less-than-friendly comments.

You may face discrimination. A landlord may turn you down for an apartment because of your pit bull; an insurance company may refuse to sell you a home owner's or renter's insurance policy. "People are shocked by how much public criticism and discrimination they get," says Reynolds. "This is the number one thing we try to prepare people for before they adopt."

Your dog will be an example. With all the negative press they get, a badly-behaved pit bull does the whole breed no good. Training is critical; a Canine Good Citizen certificate can help win over skeptical landlords, neighbors, and friends.

Know your dog's tolerance level. Some pits are dog-friendly, some are tolerant but will get into a fight if challenged, and some just don't play well with others. To keep everyone safe, you'll need to know your dog's attitude toward other canines, and and do everything you can to prevent a fight. BAD RAP has more on dog aggression in pit bulls.

Keep your dog warm.

Pit bulls hate the cold.
Plan to buy lots of cute

sweaters.

Jezebel sez: My mom made me wear this.

On a Serious Note...

2007-12-01T18:20:00.000-08:00

Pibbles are fantastic dogs. Unfortunately they have many obsticals standing in the way of allowing them to be the people loving dogs they are meant to be.

Responsible ownership is the most important part of enhancing the positive traits of all animals. In the right hands a Pit Bull will flourish and radiate loyalty and adoration. They will do anything to please their people and find joy in clowning around to entertain anyone who will give them attention. As with any breed of dog, in the wrong hands, the sweet nature of a Pit Bull can be slowly snuffed out and instability can emerge.

Many county run animals shelters will not adopt Pit Bulls out to the public. Others will allow adoptions but have strict guidelines that make it difficult for the average Pibble lover to qualify. Prince George's County in Maryland is the only county in the DC Metro area that prohibits Pit Bull ownership, though they will allow some Pit Bulls to be pulled by rescues and relocated to areas outside of their county.

Pit Bulls were orignally bred to be fighting dogs. It was a cruel and disgusting reason to create a breed HOWEVER fighting dogs had one positive trait bred into them that is exclusive only to them. They were bred specifically NOT bite people. Ever. Handlers in the fighting pits had to know without a shadow of a doubt that they could put their hands into a writhing tangle of dogs fighting to the death and emerge unscathed. Any fighting dog that would even snap at a person was immediately culled and destroyed, no matter how good a fighter he was.

Breed Specific Legislation (BSL) is a growing epidemic in many states. Media hype and public outcry have prompted lawmakers to try to put a Band-Aid on a problem that requires much more effort and diligence to overcome. Rather than enacting "dangerous dog" laws that would actually be easier to enforce they have instead opted to ban Pit Bulls in an attempt to prevent dog attacks on people. What the public doesn't know, and what the lawmakers and the media won't tell them, is that many, many attacks reported to be committed by Pit Bulls were actually the work of other breeds. Sometimes those other breeds resemble Pit Bulls, other times they aren't even remotely close.

BSL doesn't work. The unethical, irresponsible owners who are the intended target of these laws will always find a way around it. Meanwhile the responsible owners of perfectly friendly, well socialized, well trained dogs will be devastated when their canine family members are confiscated and destroyed for no other reason than they are the wrong breed.

Spreading the word about the joy of being owned by a Pit Bull is crucial to those of us who love and cherish our dogs. Good breed ambassadors are needed to parade around neighborhoods all over the US. Advocates need help reaching the Powers That Be to convince them that BSL is not the answer to dog bite problems. All dogs big and small should be held to the same standards of expectation.

If you've never met a Pit Bull consider meeting one today. Public shelters and private rescues are full of them. Go out, say "Hi", and let the Pibbles capture your heart.

Interview at the Dog Pound

2006-03-26T18:11:00.000-08:00

As a journalist, I decided to go to the dog pound, and interview some of the "inmates". I wanted to know what it was like in there from their perspective. What follows is not for the faint of heart.

I entered the building, and one of the workers accompanied me to the holding area. This is where dogs are kept before they are allowed up for adoption. IF they are allowed up for adoption. If the dogs are found to be aggressive in any way, euthanasia is employed. Fortunately, if "fortunately" is the word to be used here. This is a Canadian establishment, and they use lethal injection, not a gas chamber.

The pound worker led me past a big steel door that says "Employees Only". "What is in there?" I asked. From the look he gave me, I knew that this is where dogs go in, and never return.

We moved on to a row of kennels. The dogs were barking loudly, there was the acrid smell of urine and feces, and a feeling of despair seemed to permeate the room."Go ahead," the worker said. "They're all yours."

Pete

I looked into the first kennel, and saw only the back of a medium sized dog who was curled up in the corner of his kennel, shivering. He was mostly white, with some black spots.

"Hello?" I said. "May I come in?"

He lifted his head, as though it weighed more than he could bear. When he looked at me, I could see he was a Pitbull. His eyes were gentle, but filled with grief.

"Enter," was all he said.

I stepped in, closing the gate behind me. He put his head back down, facing away from me. I crouched down a few feet away.

"My name is Pete. Petey my Master called me," he said, still not looking at me.

"Why are you here Pete?" I asked.

"I am here because Master cannot afford to move to another province. I am here because someone with power said I am vicious, and a killer. Someone who never met me. Master took me for a walk one day, and some lady started to scream when she saw me. I got frightened, and barked at her. The dog police came, and they took me away. I have been with Master for 10 years. The last time I saw him, he just held me and cried. He kept telling me he was sorry. I worry for him. Whatever will he do without me?"

Pete shivered even more. A tear slid down my face. I am supposed to remain objective, but this was wrong. So wrong.

"Thank you Pete." I said.

He said nothing as I got up and left his kennel.

Popper

The kennel next to Pete's held a very young looking dog. Pure Border Collie by my guess. He stood on his hind legs, looking at me through the gate."

Hello. My name's Popper. " He tilted his head. "Are you here to take me home?"

"No, I'm sorry," I replied. "But I would like to talk with you."

"Sure. What would you like to talk about?"

"Popper, how did you come to be in this place?" I asked.

Popper dropped down from the gate, with a perplexed look on his face. He walked to the back of the kennel, then back to the front. I noticed he had one blue eye, and one brown. He was quite beautiful. His black and white coat was shiny and thick.

"I am not certain WHY I am here. I think maybe my family will come back for me. They bought me when I was only 6 weeks old. I remember they said how smart Border Collies are, and how it would be so easy to train me. They were very excited at first. The little ones played with me all the time. But the trouble with little Masters is, they refuse to stay in a group. I constantly had to nip their heels to keep them together." He looked confused. "Why won't they stay in a group?" he sighed. "So I did what I thought I should do. I am not quite sure why the little ones screamed when I did my job, but they did, and the Masters got very angry at me. They also got angry when I had to relieve myself, and did so in the house. I am not sure where they expected me to go. All they said was that I was the smartest breed in the world, and I should just KNOW better. Then they left me in the yard for amonth or so. I got bored a lot, and I dug holes in the grass. The next thing I knew, the Masters brought me here."

Popper jumped back up on the gate, his white paws protruding through the links. He looked at me with his lovely eyes, and asked "Will you please let them know I want to come home? Please tell them I promise I will be good?"

"I will Popper," I said.

Spartan

My heart was breaking. I was beginning to regret coming here, but their stories had to be told. I moved along. The next dog I saw looked to be easily 100 lbs., a Rottweiler . He was handsome indeed, except for the scars on his face and back. He tilted his head, and looked me right in the eyes.

"Hello. Who are you?" he asked.

"I am a reporter," I replied. "May I speak with you for a little while?"

"Most certainly. My name is Spartan. You ca n come in, I won't bite," he said.

"Thank you Spartan. I will."

I entered his kennel, reached out and stroked his giant head. He made a loud grumbling noise, and closed his eyes.

"Spartan, why are you here?"

Before he could answer my question, he was suddenly in the grip of a nasty coughing spasm. It sounded painful.

"Please excuse me," he said when it passed. "Kennel cough. It seems all of us who come in here get it. Why am I here? Well, about two years ago, I was born in the backyard of some person I can't even recall. I had 11 brothers and sisters. I recall a day when a big man came and gave that person some money, and took me away from my mother. They had to chain her up, as she was very angry that he took me. They chained her and beat her. I came to know the man by the name of Jim. I overheard him telling his friends that I would grow up to be big and mean like my mother. But as I grew older, all I wanted to do was play and be friends with everyone. Jim said I needed to be taught how to be mean, so he chained me up in the yard. No more house for me, he said, I was too spoiled. "

"When people came by to visit, I was so happy to see them. I wanted them to come and play. But that made Jim angry, so he beat me with sticks and chains. When he came near, I would roll onto my back so he would know I wasn't a bad dog. That made him beat me more."

Spartan's eyes clouded with grief. "Then he brought me here."

I reached out and stroked Spartan's massive gentle head once more.

"I am so sorry Spartan. Some people are just plain evil."

I gave him a kiss and left his kennel. As I walked away, Spartan called out, "What will happen to me, nice lady?"

I shook my head. "I can't say Spartan. Maybe someone kind will come and get you. We can only hope."

Patsy

I walked a little further down. I could see a shape moving at the back of the next kennel.

"Hello?" I called out.

Suddenly the shape lunged at the gate in a fury, barking and gnashing its teeth. I stumbled backwards, and crashed into an adjacent kennel. The other dogs began barking loudly and jumping at their gates.

"Don't go near her," a small female voice came from behind me. "She's mad."

I gathered myself back together, and saw a little Jack Russell Terrier behind me.

"Thanks for the warning,"

I was still trembling. Across the way, the other dog, apparently a Husky and German Shepherd cross, was glaring at me, lips curled back revealing brown stained teeth. Her ribs and hips showed through her dull, matted grey coat. The little dog invited me into her kennel, and I gladly went in.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Patsy." The little brown and white dog held a paw up to the gate in greeting."My owner surrendered me. She said she wanted a cute little dog like the one on the TV show, Frasier. She didn't bother to look into the type of dog I am." Patsy heaved a sigh."I suppose she expected me to just lie about and only need a short walk each day, just like Eddie , but my energy was so high that I needed to run and play."

She glanced at her surroundings.

'Now I am here. I suppose it could be worse. I could be like.her." Patsy looked towards the still growling dog across the way.

"What happened to make her so vicious?" I asked.

"From what we could gather," she replied. "she was found tied in a back yard. She only had a three foot chain. Some days there was no water. Rarely was there any food. One day a nice neighbour came by and brought her some meat. By then it was too late. She was already mad. She broke off her chain, and bit the poor man badly. We know she will be going behind the steel door. I am sad to say, I think it will be best. Perhaps then she will know some peace."

Just then, the door at the end of the building opened, and a woman stepped inside. All the dogs began to bark wildly, then one by one, they went quiet.

I whispered to Patsy, "Who is that? Why have all the dogs gone quiet?"

Patsy breathed deeply through her little nose, and closed her eyes. "SHE is a Rescuer. Can't you smell it?" she asked.

"Smell what?" I was confused.

"Compassion. Love. Sorrow. It emanates from her pores. She is here for one of us, but nobody knows who just yet."

Patsy looked hopeful. The Rescuer moved from kennel to kennel, looking at each dog. I sat quietly watching. I could see tears in her eyes as she made eye contact with each one. She stopped at Spartan's cage and spoke quietly to him."No more beatings my man. No more. You are coming with me. From here on in, it's all going to get better."

The Rescuer produced a leash, opened the kennel door, and took Spartan away. As he walked beside her, his little stubby tail wagged with delight.

Patsy sighed again. I could see the disappointment in her eyes, and it grieved me. They all had the same look, as they watched The Rescuer depart.

"I am so sorry Patsy," I said in a whisper. "But you are a little dog, and everyone loves little dogs. I am convinced you will be rescued soon."

Patsy's brown eyes twinkled at me, a little bit of hope returning.

I had heard and seen enough. I needed to tell people how it was for these unfortunate creatures. They were all here through no fault of their own. I stood to leave. I passed by many other dogs I did not interview, looking at each one, wishing I could take them all home with me and give them the love they deserved. I stood by the door taking one last glance back, when it opened, and one of the pound workers came in. His face was drawn and sad. He walked by without a word, and stopped at Pete's kennel. I heard him take a deep breath, then he paused, and opened the kennel door.The words were muffled, but I am sure I heard him say "I'm sorry old boy."He came out, with Petey in tow. The old dog's head hung down in resignation, and they both disappeared behind the big steel door.

Mercy's Song

1978-05-18T09:24:00.000-07:00

Mercy was a 10 month old Pit Bull mix who was doused with gasoline and set on fire. Though she was in excruciating pain she remained trusting and affectionate with the people who tried so desperately to save her. THIS is an example of how a true Pit Bull interacts with humans, even when humans have treated her so cruelly.