American Dog - A Reflection on Dogs and the Media

Dogs are the best friends of men? A boy and his dog? We take them as pets, we love them, feed them, give them shelter. Their lives are in our hands.

As a dog owner, I get weepy when I see those darned ASPCA commercials. You know the ones I mean. Labs stuffed into overrunning cages, poodles half starved and covered with mange. Those commercials are emotional. It's horrible what we do to our charges.

Speaking of television, let's think about another little something you may have possibly seen. Flashing ambulance lights and hysteric people. Little Jimmy Doe from two towns over was attacked by two dogs.

When you see the news next, it's reported that Jimmy is now in stable condition and the two snarling pit bulls have been picked up by the local humane society or dog pound.

Now let me paint you a picture that you don't see on the news or any television special.

Big man doesn't just want any dog, he wants one he knows people fear on sight. So he goes to this guy whose name he heard through the grapevine or read in the local trading journal. Big man takes a look at what's offered, but of course he only wants the biggest of the litter. Money is exchanged, sometimes authenticity of breed papers, and Big man goes home with a sweet, cuddly little puppy. But puppy is raised in one lone room of the house, shouted at for approaching outsiders other than those it shares the house with; praised when it snarls or growls at strangers.

Yes, dog is a man's best friend, but that doesn't mean it should only have one friend.

Here's another picture you won't see on the news.

Little man's been raising dogs for years. The new round of pups is going into training, over thirty in all. They're given growth hormone shots, fed massive amounts of dog food daily, weights attached to their legs as they run, tires (one, sometimes two and three and four) tied to their chains when they are outside. Then one day they are left hungry, and the next day... and the next. Then, in a small area out back, little man throws two of the pups together with a piece of meat. They fight, not until death but just until one eats. Both are praised, given treats. This becomes part of their weekly training. Eventually fighting another dog becomes natural to them.

That doesn't mean it is their nature.

My friend and fellow horror writer, Damien Walter Grintalis, has recently posted this Quiet Plea to Writers on Behalf of Her Dogs, and I echo that plea. For far too long has the media (and that means all media... news, music, art) portrayed the American Pit Bull Terrier as some ferocious and uncontrollable beast that preys on mankind whenever given a chance. Most of these dogs you see are not the standard of the breed. It was indeed not even two decades ago that Spudz McKenzie was the most well known pit bull in the country. And well loved. The Budweiser dog was t-shirt famous.

I own pit bulls... I rescue pits when I can manage to. Damien is a pit bull owner and if I'm not mistaken, both her pits are rescues as well. We know that these dogs are gentle and loving and loyal pets. We know they can live alongside other dogs in happiness with nothing more than the general dog squabble that happens with any breed of dog if there are more than one in residence.

I'm asking that we change the standard. What these dogs get from the general public is fear. They don't ask for it... it's their standard. And they don't fucking deserve it.

One final note: Read Damien's post. Read this one. Know that you're hearing from better experts than Suzie Day on Channel 9. We own these dogs. I own these dogs still, even after my daughter was attacked by a dog of the very same breed two years ago on Halloween. Because I know that anything with teeth will bite. Our children do, but we raise them to know that they shouldn't bite. Why shouldn't we raise our dogs the same? Teach them better, they will be better.

I'm asking for those who know and write to write about this. If you own pits and know they aren't what the media makes them, write about it. If you are afraid of them because of what you've seen, please read with an open heart. If you're one of those that perpetrate this awful outlook on pit bulls, consider what you're doing. You're making them monsters... and they're just dogs. We're responsible for our children.. and for our dogs. Teach them better, and let them be pets.

We raise our kids... and we raise our dogs. Think about it.

~Effie

My Story as a Podcast and Hold Me To It Pt. 4

You simply must go and hear Jason Warden reading my story, Deadly Heirloom (clickable), on the Shadowcast Audio Anthology. Mr. Warden does a fine job reading it, and I'm so proud to have been a part of his podcast.

Now, for this week's progress. Not as much as I'd like, but 2385 words on the novel rewrites and another 322 on a short story.

Okay. So, I'm excited about my very first podcast and I'm going to go make other people listen to my story, haha!

Peace & Love
~Effie

When Just Rescue isn't Enough

Here's another insight to my life that my readership may not know. I'm a big dog lover. I love dogs of all kinds. St. Bernard's are my favorite breed, but the ones that really hold my heart like no other are pit bulls.

I have a four-year-old male pit named Sarrow. He's red and white, red-nosed and too gentle to bite at flies. He's been in my family since he was three weeks old, and been a complete joy from the moment we brought him home. He's a beautiful dog, weighing in right at 70 lbs. A good weight for a medium sized pit. He might be a tiny bit fat. I can't help it, I have to spoil him.

That's him above, in his play area outside.

Today, though, my heart was broken. I met a beautiful little girl pit named Chancey. She is only three-years-old, tawny and white. She seems gentle and has taken right up with my children, my husband and I.

Chancey, though, hasn't had such a happy life. For a long time, she was left on a mountain top with no food or sufficient water. She received no human love or attention--no one even lived at the place where they left her chained, outside, with no dog house or cover. She's full grown, as tall as my Sarrow, but poor Chancey can't weigh but 25-30 pounds. Every bone she has shows through her skin. She has no muscle mass, no fat stored on her body. She literally is skin and bone. The pads of her paws hang from her feet, even the joints of her toes knob through the skin and fur. I nearly cried when I saw her in the condition she is in. Her neck and legs have abrasions from being chained for so long with no slack to play on. Can you see the difference in the sheer size of these two dogs? Can you?

Well, what could I do? I brought her home with me. When a friend of mine and my husband's called and said he knew where a neglected female pit had been left, I had no idea how bad it was. I've seen neglected and abused dogs, rescued my fair share, and I've never, ever seen a dog this thin. My friend wanted to keep her himself, but he knew he couldn't afford to feed her. So he called me. And now, my family has grown yet again. Do I mind? Hell no, I don't mind. If I could, I'd rescue every animal I see that suffers neglect and abuse. I'd take them all.(And I'll post new pics of her once she's healthy again. This one doesn't show how ghastly it looks up close, but you know)

But it makes me wonder if rescuing is enough. There are times, as is the case with sweet, gentle Chancey, that it's never going to be enough. Will she always wait until she's alone to eat, so that nothing can take her precious food away? Will she always ache for attention, as I can see in her liquid green eyes that she aches now? When I held her, loved on her, she just leaned on me--like her frail frame could barely stand without my support. Her tail flicked back and forth with each stroke of my hand on her head, but it never reached a full wag. She just didn't have the energy. And when I took my hand away, I saw her lean under it, trying to make the gentle touches stay. She has missed being loved.

She will not miss it again.

I can't keep every dog. I know that. This will make my third amid a veritble menagerie of pets. Turtles, frogs, fish, birds, cats and dogs. I have some of every one of those animals. I can't take on all the abused dogs I see. Though I'm a horror writer, my heart is so big that if I could afford it, I'd give every one of them a home and the special attention they need. Because no one else will. Especially for a pit bull.

These dogs have been given a stigma that nothing but caring and understanding will out-do. These animals want only to be loved, like any other breed. They are not fierce killers, but gentle darlings who are forced to kill by the bastards who use and abuse their awesome strength. If they will not kill, they are left to starve, as Chancey was.

So next time, dear readers, you see a thin dog with sad eyes--stop. Take a chance, as I've done with this sweet girl Chancey. You may get a trusted friend... and you may instantly become a saving grace in a life that, before you, had no meaning beyond the three feet of chain that held it down.

There. I'm fairly certain I've destroyed my hardened image, but I don't care. Sometimes, it's good to be soft too. To love. Chancey has a chance now, and that is all that matters.

Peace & Love, y'all
~E.