In Memory Of All The American Pit Bull Terriers
That have died in pounds and shelters,
put to sleep for no other reason than being born the wrong breed:
That spent their lives chained outside with only a barrel for shelter:
That have been bred repeatedly only to be tied and left in vacant buildings when no longer useful:
That have been fed ground glass, gunpowder and hot pepper to make them mean:
That have died fighting, ripped apart, suffering in agonizing pain:
That have been though, mortally injured, on dead piles to die:
That have been used as bait because they couldn't/wouldn't fight:
That were shot, stabbed, thrown out of windows,
and hung because they weren't tough enough:
That have been shot in the spine and abandoned to die of thirst,
starvation, and terror:
and that have been set on fire - forgive us all -

An Apology to Breed Ban Enthusiasts
I'm sorry you are frightened of my dogs and are trying to have them killed because they are Pit Bulls.
I'm sorry you lack the understanding of this breed's
true history, gentleness with people,
wonderful temperament, intelligence and behavioral conformation.
I'm sorry you won't read
the ATTS stats regarding our breed's true
temperament, putting it in the top four
for temperament, scoring better than breeds like
Golden Retrievers, and cocker spaniels.
I'm sorry that you side with and protect animal
abusers by marking the breed of dog, and not the
irresponsibility of the owner.
I'm sorry that by your logic I could steal a car,
run some people over with it, and then you can blame
the make of car for the accident, as I walk free.
I'm sorry you generalize one breed of dog with one group of people.
I'm sorry you can't see the love and determination
that many often highly educated, non-criminal and "normal" types of people show towards this breed and
the great personal sacrifices that they make to take care of their dog responsibly.
I'm sorry you cannot go into the shelters and see
the hundreds of abandoned and abused Pit Bulls, dying
only for the inane "crime" of being born the breed
they are.
I'm sorry you cannot see the look of disappointment in their eyes when someone walks by their kennel, and
refuses to consider adopting them based on an
ill-educated, fear-mongering reporter.
I'm sorry that you cannot be there when the animal
looks at a human for the last time, and in
spite of betrayed by all humans they have met, their
tail still wags as someone approaches with the syringe of Euthinol.
I'm sorry you cannot be there when law enforcement
shoots one of your dogs dead inside it's own home in
front of the children it mutually loves for simply
getting off the dog bed and walking over to say hello with it's tail wagging.
I'm sorry you cannot be there to rescue Pit Bull
puppies from a plastic bag in a dumpster,
dumped there by someone switching their illegal and inhumane activities to another, more lucrative breed.
I'm sorry you cannot understand the difference
between canine and human aggression, in the way that this breed can.
Yes, I'm saying my Pit Bull is smarter then you.
I'm sorry that the medieval witch hunting genetics of
intolerance, generalization, and racism make you feel the need to vilify a breed of dog.
I'm sorry that justice, equality,
tolerance, common sense are all things you hold dear
as a fellow Canadian, and expect from
others, but do not yourself offer them towards a
Pit Bull or its caregiver.
I'm sorry that you don't take the constructive time
to petition changes in the Canadian animal cruelty
act, and in the criminal code that would deal out
serious punishment to the real animal abusers.
I'm sorry you cannot see the disappointed look on a
puppy's face when the people petting it quickly
frown and walk away when you tell them it is a Pit Bull.
I'm sorry you feel the need to terrorize my family and my dogs for crimes we never have and never will commit.
I'm sorry you don't have to live in fear of your
dog's safety from hysterical and mentally unstable people trying to inflict all manner of evil upon your dogs.
I'm sorry that you cannot see my breed working in some of the best Search and Rescue groups in the world,
saving countless lives each year.
I'm sorry our media censors and refuses to print the breed name "Pit Bull' when in connection with a positive act such as
saving a person or child from a burning house, drowning, wild attacking animals, etc.
I'm sorry you cannot see the many Pit Bulls
registered as therapy dogs and bringing so much joy to another misunderstood,
neglected demographic in our society, the senior citizen.
I am sorry you can't see a Pit Bull kiss a child, step carefully over a kitten, or play in a sunbeam.
I'm sorry you cannot wake in the morning to feel a
warm Pit Bull cuddled next to you in bed, and know
that you are their total world, and even if the house caught fire and trapped you they would stay with you to the end.
But, now that I really think about it, I'm not at
all sorry you don't own a Pit Bull -- you do not deserve one.

How Could You
When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" -- but then you'd relent and roll me over for a belly rub.

My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love. She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -- still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a prisoner of love." As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch -- because your touch was now so infrequent -- and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.

There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf. Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.

I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed, "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you.

You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?" They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind -- that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.

I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?" Perhaps because she understood my dog speak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself --a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her. It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you.

I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.
Written by Jim Willis.

Dog, My Friend
When God had made the Earth and sky,
The flowers and the trees,
He then made all the animals
And all the birds and bees.
And when his work was finished,
Not one was quite the same.
He said, 'I'll walk this earth of mine,
And give each one a name.
And so he traveled land and sea,
And everywhere he went,
A little creature followed Him
Until his strength was spent.
And when all were named upon the Earth,
And in the sky and sea,
The little creature said, 'Dear Lord,
There's not one left for me!'
The Father smiled and softly said:
'I've left you till the end.
I've turned my own name back to front,
And called you DOG, my friend.'

A Pit Bull's View on Life
Never pretend to be something you're not. Everyone knows you are a 70 pound lap dog, so don't pretend that you are not.
If you have a stick in your mouth, you automatically switch to super overdrive, and will be compelled to run around like you are insane...
If your people won't let you on the bed, cry, whine and look pathetic until they do, and if they don't, jump directly on vulnerable parts when they are sleeping.
Be excessive, if they ask you to get a stick, bring back a tree, if they ask for a kiss, drench their face.
If someone seems to not want to be friends, follow them around, stare at them, bark at them, cry, and if they are sitting, sit directly on them, and kiss them until they can't breath.
Always sit where everyone is, and if they are in the same place, like the couch or bed, make sure to plop yourself in between them, and do not move.
If they try to move you, be stubborn, dig in your heels, and if they do move you, refer to the rule above.
If you want to add a little excitement to your life...chase something, the cat, squirrels, raccoons, see how your people come running and yelling. I have found that porcupines and skunks work exceptionally well, but don't ever catch them, or you'll end up in the bath tub or the vet's.
Baths are always bad, unless someone is already in there, or it's with the hose or the water gun they think is punishment.
Act as silly as you can when you do something wrong, and you should get away with it. The trick is to make them laugh...
Work that tongue of yours...let them come close enough and then surprise them with a lick "snake's style" right on the mouth!
Make sure to always go for the most comfortable couch in the house... even if it is already occupied. Same thing goes for your favorite lap.
When it's in your best interest, always practice obedience, keeping a keen eye on the hand that holds the treat, unless there is something more interesting within 100 yards, then ignore everyone and focus entirely on the more interesting person/dog/thing to the point of reaching a trance state.
Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy and prompt you to produce copious amounts of drool to leave on all interior car windows.
Never miss the opportunity to cuddle with a loved one...

Dear Mom and Dad,
I died today. You got tired of me and took me to the shelter. They were overcrowded and I drew an unlucky number. I am in a black plastic bag in a landfill now. Some other puppy will get the barely used leash you left. My collar was dirty and too small, but the lady took it off before she sent me to the great beyond.
Would I still be at home if I hadn't chewed your shoe? I didn't know what it was, but it was leather, and it was on the floor. I was just playing. You forgot to get puppy toys.
Would I still be at home if I had been housebroken? Rubbing my nose in what I did only made me ashamed that I had to go at all. There are books and obedience teachers that would have taught you how to teach me to go to the door.
Would I still be at home if I hadn't brought fleas into the house? Without anti-flea medicine, I couldn't get them off of me after you left me in the yard for days.
Would I still be at home if I hadn't barked? I was only saying, "I'm scared, I'm lonely, I'm here! I want to be your best friend." Would I still be at home if I had made you happy? Hitting me didn't make me learn how. Would I still be at home if you had taken the time to care for me and to teach manners to me? You didn't pay attention to me after the first week or so, but I spent all my time waiting for you to love me. I died today.
Love, Your Puppy

The Canine Bill of Rights
I have the right to give and receive unconditional love.
I have the right to a life that is beyond mere survival.
I have the right to be trained so I do not become the prisoner of my own misbehavior.
I have the right to adequate food and medical care.
I have the right to socialize with people and dogs outside of my family.
I have the right to have my needs and wants respected.
I have the right to special time with my people.
I have the right to only be bred responsibly - if not at all.
I have the right to some time and space all my own.
I have the right to be foolish and silly, and to make my person laugh.
I have the right to earn my person's trust and to be trusted in return.
I have the right to be forgiven.
I have the right to die with dignity.
- Carolyn Krause -

Misunderstood
I would like to tell you my story,
I'm so misunderstood...
Because there is no justice
For a dog from the 'hood.
I was raised as I am,
Without care, without love.
I long to be wanted,
To be free like a dove.
I didn't know it was wrong....
I would not harm a fly.
'Twas my master that made me
Go after that guy.
I was taught by my master
That killing was good.
I want to change what I did,
And if I could, then I would.
But now I'm in this cage
With a muzzle on my snout.
I'll go into that room
And never come out.
Now I sit here and wonder,
As I run short on time...
Why is it that I must pay
For my cruel owner's crime?
This is the story
Of a dog from the 'hood.
He was given no justice.
He's so misunderstood.
- Written by Priscilla C. -

Stray's Prayer
Dear God, please send me somebody who'll care!
I'm tired of running, I'm sick with despair.
My body is aching, it's so racked with pain,
and dear God I pray, as I run in the rain.
That someone will love me and give me a home,
a warm cozy bed and a big juicy bone.

My last owner tied me all day in the yard
Sometimes with no water, and god that was hard.
So I chewed my leash, and God I ran away.
To rummage in garbage and live as a stray.
But now God, I'm tired and hungry and cold,
and I'm so afraid that I'll never grow old.

They've chased me with sticks and hit me with stones,
while I run the streets just looking for bones!
I'm not really bad, God, please help if you can,
or I have become just a "Victim of Man!"
I'm wormy dear God and I'm ridden with fleas,
and all that I want is an Owner to please!

If you find one for me God, I'll try to be good,
and I won't chew their shoes, and I'll do as I should.
I'll love them, protect them and try to obey....
when they tell me to sit, to lie down or to stay!
I don't think I'll make it too long on my own,
cause I'm getting so weak and I'm so all alone.

Each night as I sleep in the bushes I cry,
cause I'm so afraid God, that I'm gonna die.
And I've got so much love and devotion to give,
that I should be given a new chance to Live!
So dear God, please answer my prayer,
and send me someone who will REALLY care..

That is, dear God, if YOU'RE REALLY there!

What Animal Do I Speak Of?
Their love is like no other,
their heart as pure as gold.
Yet while going on a friendly walk,
they're faced with stares of cold.
They're so very close to human,
in how they act and what they do,
Unless you've known their devoted love,
it's impossible to explain to you.
They are greatly more misunderstood,
thany any other breed.
We tend to punish this loyal dog,
Instead of mankind's deeds.
They are always and forever clowns,
with a wish for center stage.
Yet while displaying this sense of humor,
most people disengage.
They, oh, so want to make new friends,
and run and jump and play.
Yet when they happily approach,
most people shy away.
Often I've seen children poke,
or hop on for a ride.
And when I felt they might get mad,
they've only beamed with pride.
I've seen there children yank and pull,
with nary a reaction.
Yet media's not interested,
unless they've put someone in traction.
When other dog's have made the news,
this breed's name they affix.
But when this brave dog saves the day,
they call him "boxer mix".
They love to snuggle up real close,
to give lots of loves and kisses,
Yet they suffer more than any,
from unfair prejudices.
Their tails wag hard and hips twist, too,
more so than other mutts.
So those of us who know the breed,
we call them "wiggle butts".
What animal do I speak of,
Whose love is so unique?
If you've truly known one,
you know of whom I speak.
There is no creature on this Earth
who will ever make you merrier.
The animal I do speak of,
it's the American Pit Bull Terrier.
By Patty Letawsky