Dangerous Dogs, Dangerous People

Dangerous or darling?

To one degree or another, life has always been dicey for the American Pit Bull Terrier. The pit bull is the most abused, misunderstood breed in the USA, although Dobermans, Rottweillers and German shepherds are close behind on the enemies list. But if the lives of pit bulls have been largely brutish and short, their plight can always get worse. Once again, shelters are chock full and rescues are over-taxed by the heavy volume of dogs that people and breeders are dumping. It’s a post-pandemic crisis and pit bulls are paying the price. They are first to be euthanized and last to be adopted. But mostly, there are just too many bred and too many dumped in shelters, rescues and the streets. Breeders need to be penalized. They need to pay a price for the privilege of breeding their dogs.

Overbreeding is by no means confined to pit bulls. Take the fate of the most loved breeds in America, who are often sitting in puppy mills. Believe it or not the French bulldog just unseated the Labrador retriever for the number one spot. But the pug just won the National Dog Show and will soon be a contender. This is strange. Most “dog people” knows that the pug is a badly designed creature. The dogs frequently have eye problems resulting in blindness and have trouble breathing; their eyes pop out of their heads like doorknobs and they snore like sailors. I confess that I know some adorable ones. But do they really need to win the National Dog Show encouraging breeders to pump them out like widgets?

Dogs do not usually bite the hand that feeds them. They need a reason. But canine reasons are often not clear to homo sapiens. Here’s a recent case which is not for the squeamish. This past October, a 59 year old man named James Provost was mauled to death by a renegade pack of eight pit bulls in the front yard of a house in Albany. It is not clear why Provost was visiting the house. The attack, which involved intense barking and screaming, alerted the police who arrived on the scene and shot one of the dogs. According to the Times Union, there were 23 (!) dogs in the yard, including 15 puppies. Why Provost entered this yard is not known. He died at the scene. Provost was not the owner of the dogs, who, oddly enough, all lived next door—not in the yard where the attack occurred. According to the Times Union, a local Albany paper, a “caretaker” arrived on the scene to herd the dogs back into their own yard. Their owner, an unidentified woman, was not in residence or around. The number of dogs involved indicates that she might be breeding pit bulls. But why would anyone need to breed pit bulls? Hmmmmm.

"I do know that these were not dogs that were kept in what we would traditionally associate as a family atmosphere," commented Police Chief Eric Hawkins at a press conference the day of this tragic event. "There are a lot of questions that we have as to why they were there, exactly how these dogs were being raised, how they were being used and any other activities these dogs were involved in." Thus far, none of these questions have been answered. But Hawkins revealed one telling fact; the house had previously been caught up in a drug raid and the police were aware of the dogs next door. No formal connections have been made between the two locations, despite the fact that selling pit bulls and drugs often go hand in hand. I imagine there will be further reports and a hearing.

When someone presses charges against a dog, he or she can be deemed “dangerous” and a judge may order permanent confinement of the dog or even a humane euthanasia. The disposition of the 23 dogs in Albany, apparently residing at the Mohawk Hudson Humane Society, is up in the air until this case goes to court. One hopes that any judge will insist on getting the dogs, especially the pups, assessed prior to considering an order for their demise.

Spike was bred by a dogfighting operation in Alabama. I adopted him and he lived with my family for 8 years before he died of cancer. He nipped (playfully) virtually every person who came through my front door. This was his idea of a good time. My friends, however, were not amused. Spike lost the privilege of answering the front door. Eventually, he got used to this idea.

Several years ago, my friend Cydney Cross, then president of Out of the Pits, was called in to asses a stray pit bull who had bitten a homeless man in the street of a small town near Buffalo, New York. As an expert on American Pit Bull Terriers, and “dangerous dogs,” Cross often testified in cases where her view made the difference between life and death for some poor dog. On this occasion, we drove 4 hours to meet the pit bull in question who was being held in the basement of a local veterinarian’s office; Cross was scheduled to asses the dog and immediately testify at a hearing across the street. The court house was surrounded by corn fields.

When we arrived, we were immediately taken to meet the dog. The veterinarian told us, “None of us have been able to get near the dog, or even take him out of his kennel for a walk.” Cross gave me a look and said, “you stand back.” We turned the corner in the basement and at the end of a row of kennels sat a shaking, drooling, terrified, brown dog. Going into the kennel was out of the question. But here’s the surprise. The frightened dog wasn’t a pit bull. He was a chocolate lab. Nevertheless, Cross told us all to leave as she got down on the floor and tried to communicate with the dog. She spent an hour, talking quietly, yawning (a signal to the dog of friendship), throwing treats, trying to sooth the poor creature, but to no avail. The dog wouldn’t even eat liverwurst. He was traumatized for reasons we could not discern.

Cross walked across the street to speak with the judge, who had hoped she might be willing to take the dog home with her. He was reluctant to put the dog down. Instead, Cross told him, “The kindest thing you can do for this dog is euthanize him today. He’s suffering.” On the way home, Cross was silent. Sadly, this situation was not unfamiliar.

Pearl bred pups for a dogfighting operation for five years. I adopted her at age 5. She is currently about 15 years old. She has never bitten another dog or human. She loved Spike (above) and she probably still misses his bottomless affection for her.

PS: Thank you friends for appreciating this very irregular column. After a bout of Lyme disease, I’m back. This week, I begin a volunteer job at one of my local shelters to check in with reality. Will let you know how it goes.