4
A few weeks after The Barking Lot opened, Marie brought home her third set of fosters from that summer. I was pretty admittedly stoked on my way to the shop to meet them since all previous doggies had been personable and rad. Plus, new friends of the 'Lot always created a fun atmosphere with that first day meet and greet, and slobber. Marie met me coming out of the day care into the lobby and told me a dog just nipped her hand. Really, I asked, like a schnauzer or min-pin or something? No, she informed me, our new foster, a pit bull, Billie. I stopped in my tracks - "I thought you weren't going to allow aggressive dogs in here, especially THOSE kinds", my voice dripping with contempt. Marie tried to convince me a nipped hand is not an uncommon occurrence when working with a variety of different animals of all shapes, sizes, and breeds on a weekly basis. Her pleas did nothing however to deter my knee jerk belief that behind that wall, in that next room, was a snarling, bloodthirsty demon-beast that would smash through the suites and destroy the tranquility of our humble establishment.
My first inclination of what a pit bull even was, perhaps the first time I even remember hearing the term was in the mid 90's when NBA basketball player Latrell Sprewell's 4 year old daughter was attacked by their family dog resulting in a severed ear. Horrifying story exacerbated by the fact that Sprewell's public response to the episode was simply "stuff happens". A short few years later I found myself living next door to a surly redneck and his 5 Rottweiler’s. Each one barked louder than the next and the entire pack charged the chain link when so much as a bird flew by. It was no leap to assume any of these dogs would have attacked and bit if they got loose.
Indeed, I let those experiences cloud my thinking. And I can now admit, that's unfair. It's unfair to even refer to them as experiences - I had no direct contact with the pits; surely I never rolled in Latrelle Sprewell's posse. The next door neighbor was later arrested for domestic assault of his long suffering wife and Sprewell strangled his own coach. Twice. In other words, I was making the prime mistake that has long frustrated pit bull and Rottweiler owners - I was impugning the breed and not the deed. Or the lousy owner. And naturally all of this was on my mind as I walked into the day care and met Billie. That all said, this was my job and every job has hazards and I was intent on showing this dog we weren't going to take any of its hostile crap or let it bully the little pups who were already considered part of our Barking Lot family. Well, not to get all squishy but wouldn't you know this so-called monster heard my voice and looked up at me and whimpered. No barking, no charging, no nipping and certainly no biting. Marie informed me the dog, as is the case with most of our fosters, was a rescue dog - most likely abused, certainly neglected, and any number of experiences could have shaped her disposition.
In Billie's case, we learned quickly she responded more positively to deeper, baritone human voices. Within no time, this vicious four-legged sociopath was trotting along as my sidekick. Every time I looked down I saw in this animal's eyes a basic plea for affection. I relented. A few days prior, a human friend of the 'lot had fascinated (and sort of nauseated) us with the story of how she came to love spiders having witnessed a particularly large one corralling her children back into the nest in species transcendent motherly fashion. I figured she was just planning on eating them but I didn't want to say that and I now figured, if she can find love for those eight legged freaks, I can in turn find a little for this dog. I employed my famous head and face scratching routing on Billie.
How I learned to like Pitt bulls
Canine Conversation/Oct 2013
This space for up coming issues will be dedicated for the K-9 Kwestions.
To ask a question about anything canine please email us at: [email protected]