My Name Is Blondie, and I Have a Pit Bull

Wow. I can't believe I haven't posted anything since 2011. I think Facebook distracted me, but I'm over it now. It's a little weird to post things in such a public way when my Facebook Friends are so diverse--from high school/college classmates to church friends, relatives, and co-workers--there is a whole lot of censorship going on over there. Also, I use way too many words, and the posts I want to post are way too long.

So, I'm back!  Because I'm pretty anonymous and only "talking out loud" here!

For today's discussion, I'd like to talk about Pit Bulls.  And my son. But first, I must provide "background" because I don't create "blog posts," I write ESSAYS.

BACKGROUND:
I have always been a "dog person" and grew up in a single-dog household. My parents started with Reagan, a mixed-breed dog found on the Indian Reservation that they had for years, until I was around 2, and she was old and cranky and started snapping at the annoying toddler in the household (me). Several years later, we acquired a St. Bernard-Collie mix from a neighbor (named Conan after "Conan the Barbarian" books, because my Dad was reading them at the time.)  After Conan, they had cocker spaniels, Toby, a sweet, adorable blonde, whose remains are buried under a juniper bush in the backyard of my childhood home, then Skyler, a black-and-tan cocker spaniel with an "attitude," who they had until my dad's retirement.  Both cockers had expensive health problems, and my parents shelled out thousands of dollars to keep them well and comfortable until their suffering became just too much. They wept and grieved with every loss, as did I.

When I got my first apartment, I got MY first dog--Princess, a mixed-breed/part German Shepard--from a no-kill shelter. I got Princess as a puppy, at around 14 weeks old, and raised her in an apartment. She was a great dog--the BEST dog, and I had her for 15 years, until I had to make the same awful decision my parents had to make--having to put her down because she was dying a slow, suffering demise from congestive heart failure. My kids were 4 and 6 at the time, so they have also been raised in a "dog person" household. After Princess died, I got divorced and had to move into a rental house with brand new carpet, so no pets, which was fine with me because I still needed time to get over losing Princess. I wasn't ready for a new dog, nor did I have the time or focus to care for one properly.  My sister, just like me, quickly acquired a dog of her own when she got her "first place" after college. She got a beagle. Then, she met and married a man who also had a dog of his own, a golden retriever. My sister told me she would never be a single-dog owner ever again because the dogs were such great companions for one another, especially since she and her husband worked and had to leave them home alone for several hours each day. They were the best of friends and complemented each other perfectly.

About 4 years after my divorce, my mother purchased a Welsh Terrier puppy from a pet store, and since my kids often went to Grandma and Grandpa's house for after-school care and "Nanny Services" when I had to travel out of town for work, they got to help train and play with the new puppy (Molly.) My mother went into the hospital for a difficult surgery and because my parents live "out on the mesa" with an unfenced yard (frequently "patrolled" by coyotes), they needed someone to take care of Molly. Since I had a fenced yard and lived in a more Suburban area, I got permission from my landlord to let Molly live with us for a few weeks. We installed an insert for the sliding glass door with doggie-door access to the backyard, so she could go in and out of the house on her own on the days I had to work in the office. The kids, of course, loved having her with us. Sadly, my mother suffered complications from the surgery, and died in the hospital. My father was still working full-time and had no desire or energy to take care of Molly, so we kept her. Shortly thereafter, my ex-husband moved back to town and promised the kids they could get a dog to have at HIS house, so when they stayed with him on alternate weekends and when I traveled out of town, they would have a dog there, also. He picked a Rottweiler-Cross from the Animal Shelter that was 9 years old with a questionable history (found chained up in the backyard of an abandoned house with no food or water.) The dog had recently been neutered, but had not fully-recovered from the surgery, and, in fact, may have had a bad infection with painful swelling in his nether-regions. While riding home in the car after visiting me, the dog shifted his weight during a turn, experienced severe pain, yelped, and when my daughter reached over to try and pet him and comfort him, he attacked her. My daughter has a 4-inch scar down her jawline from the base of her ear, to her chin. She also had puncture wounds in her scalp. My ex reacted quickly, throwing the dog out of the car, and Animal Control later found the dog, and immediately put him down. My daughter cried and cried because she felt so bad for the dog. To this day, the scar does not bother her--in fact, she LIKES it because she thinks it makes her "look like a bad ass."  Just 24 hours after the incident, my daughter said, "I still want to get another dog--just not a Big dog."  The City Animal Shelter, fearing a lawsuit (because they never should have released that dog to anyone, let alone a household with young children), offered my daughter the opportunity to take a look at some pure-bred mini-Doxie puppies that had recently come to visit, as their mother had died after birthing them, and they were being nursed by a Pit Bull-Cross Momma dog, who had recently weaned a litter of puppies.

Well, I don't know what it is about mini-doxies, but elementary-school-aged children LOVE them and find them irresistible!  Especially when they are tiny puppies that fit in the palm of your hand!  OF COURSE my daughter wanted to bring one home! So, that's how Buddy came into our family unit. Remember, he was supposed to be the dog that my Ex would have at HIS home. Well, my Ex did NOT grow up in a dog-friendly house. He grew up in a neighborhood where you had dogs to deter thieves. You kept them chained up in the backyard, and if they became destructive or pissed you off, you just threw them in the car, drove them out to the mesa, let them out, then drove away. He had no patience and no experience in dog-training, and had been known to KICK my beloved Princess after he came home to find that she had an accident or chewed up something he had left lying around. (I HATED the way he treated dogs--reason #23 why I divorced him!) He also lived in a remote area, was gone at work Monday-Friday for 8 hours a day, while I was working from home 2-3 days per week. The gate to his backyard had a 4-inch space between the gate and the dirt that Buddy could easily squeeze out of, and his neighborhood was frequently patrolled by both coyotes and hawks that could snatch our Little Budster for dinner. I also had the kids pretty much full-time, except for alternate weekends, AND a doggie-door. So, it just made sense for Buddy the Puppy to stay with me MOST of the time, so I could housebreak him and train him. Well, you know where this is going, right? I have to SHARE custody of my children, but I got FULL custody of the dog!

So, now I have a 2-dog household which includes 2 pure-bred dogs that I did not personally select. BOTH of these breeds are described as "high-energy, high-maintenance, stubborn, willful, and difficult to housebreak."  Molly, in particular, exhibits "aggressiveness towards other dogs"--to the point where she has drawn blood and got into nasty disciplinary sessions with Buddy or other unleashed dogs she encounters on walks. She has mellowed a bit now that she is older, and most of these incidents sound worse than they are (dogs snarling and yelping are like teenage boys fighting--there's a lot of posturing and "swinging and missing" going on.) Still, I worry about her because she is very intense and focused, and it is very difficult to distract her during an attack. These attacks are few and far between (mostly she just attacks the dogs and cats she sees on TV during pet food commercials), but that is only because we DON'T take her to dog parks or introduce her to other dogs on walks (usually, when we see one approaching, we just cross the street.) I'm just glad she doesn't attack Buddy anymore, but that's only because he is so submissive, he just immediately rolls over on his back and wets himself, even after he instigates the confrontation!)

I have to admit that I am a pushover when it comes to owning dogs and parenting. I love my dogs, and I love my kids, and I am indulgent with them all. I am very deficient when it comes to affection and nurturing, plus I am generally "distracted" by my job and other responsibilities, so I am not very structured, consistent, or attentive. To summarize, there is a lot of FREEDOM in my house, for both dogs and kids.

CURRENT SITUATION:
So, our Dog-Friendly Household has settled--Molly no longer attacks Buddy.  Molly and Buddy still pee and poop in the House if I travel out of town and leave them alone and unattended overnight. (Nowadays, when I travel, my Ex comes to stay at the House, so the dogs are never left alone for more than 6 hours a day.) Both dogs have access to most of the House, all the time.  The kids keep their bedroom doors shut while they are at school, but the dogs routinely sleep on our beds (Buddy sleeps under the covers in our beds), nap on the furniture, and yap at birds, ghosts, passing coyotes and skunks that may or may not be somewhere near our property line.

And then there is my 16-year-old son. He has been pestering me for WEEKS now about getting a "dog of his own" (Molly is MY dog, Buddy is his sister's dog, and he doesn't want some yappy, little dog, he wants a Big Dog.) My son is also, I think, going through a "coming-of-age" thing. He is shy. He lacks confidence. He is worried about his future--has no idea what he wants to do after high school. He has never been involved in sports. He fills up his free time playing video games, but I think he is finally "bored" by them and looking for something else to do. The kid needs a hobby! So, he comes to me and begs me to allow him to get another dog--he will train it, walk it, pick up after it, take care of it. I'm not sure Molly can handle another dog in the house.  Buddy can handle another dog, but he is such a little pest, he is likely to get a "beat-down," and I don't want to see him get hurt. Then my son tells me he wants to get a Pit Bull because he knows they are hard to place, and there are just WAY too many of them in our area, and he thinks they are a misunderstood and maligned breed and wants to provide a good home and save one.  While he was on Spring Break, he actually drove around to various shelters and noticed that they are FULL of Pit Bulls/Pit Bull Crosses--the dogs people abandon and nobody wants to adopt.

Hoo Boy!  A Pit Bull? I have to admit, I am prejudiced against them myself. I don't want to be, and it makes no sense for me to be afraid of them, but I am. I am used to little dogs--cocker spaniels, terriers, mini-doxie.  Big dogs kind of scare me, as much as I want to believe that "there are no bad dogs, only bad owners." However, considering what knowledge I DO have, I know at  least a dozen people who own Pit Bull/Pit Bull Crosses and declare them to be the BEST dogs they have ever owned--intelligent, easy to train, gentle, good with kids, good with other dogs, etc. Yet, the NEWS provides stories of Pit Bull attacks on little yappy dogs (like Molly and Buddy) and small children. Of course, the news stories are 15 seconds long and leave out a lot of important details, like the fact that these Pit Bulls were kept chained up in backyards without food, water, shelter, human interaction, obedience training, etc. I tell my son that he needs to do some research and PROVE to me he is willing to take on the responsibility of caring for yet another dog, especially one that REQUIRES training. I'm also thinking, "Wow, this could be a great opportunity for my son to develop confidence and a Hobby!"

So, we start googling! My son is watching Cesar Milan videos on dog training. I start looking at Rescue Groups and trying to "follow my heart" and provide a home for an older, fostered Pit Bull with a "profile" declaring his or her demeanor, behavior, and ability to get along with other dogs--especially difficult, annoying little yappy dogs (like Molly and Buddy.) Also, I really, REALLY don't want to endure another Puppy-Destructive-Housetraining Stage--it was so nice to see profiles of older dogs in Foster Homes that were "crate-trained, housebroken, and great with other dogs!"  We visited the City Animal Shelter, which made me cry. I want to rescue ALL of those dogs, but so MANY of them LOOK so scary and behave so badly because they are in such a horrible environment.  We even played with a 4-month old Pit Bull Puppy, and while she was adorable and happy, she bounded around like a Jurassic Park dinosaur, ripped holes in my skirt hem, and all I could think of was Buddy, trying to play with her and getting thrown to the ground and slipping a disk because mini-doxies are actually kind of fragile. And then I thought of Molly, getting annoyed with the puppy and snarling at her, and the Pit Bull possessing a jaw large enough to engulf Molly's entire head.

I found a Rescue Group dedicated to Pit Bulls and they were having an "event" at a local pet store in Albuquerque on Saturday. They had about 7 "older" Pit Bulls (6 months - 7 years old) for adoption, plus 4 wiggly, adorable 6-week old puppies.

My son instantly focused on the puppies. I wanted to focus on these sweet, older (house and crate-trained) dogs so in need of a good home. We took a few out for a walk and spent a lot of time observing them--poor things, confined to crates in the hot sun! Considering the conditions, these dogs--ALL of them--were the calmest, gentlest, sweetest dogs I have ever seen! Even my daughter wanted to take one of the bigger, sturdier pit bulls out for a walk.  He walked right next to her side, never pulling on the leash, and as soon as he found a bush large enough to provide some shade, he promptly laid down, and rolled over. He "looked scary," but he was so relaxed and well-behaved! The great thing about getting a dog from a foster home is that the foster owner is experienced with socializing and training. They can turn an abused, neglected animal into a great pet by providing security, necessities, kindness, and trust. Dogs are so resilient that way--they just want a good home. I wanted to take one of them home, and I would have--if I didn't have two other dogs already.

I have Molly, who has established herself as the "Alpha" (next to me) and has already exhibited aggressiveness towards other dogs. I did NOT properly-socialize her or discipline her. I also have a submissive, but annoying, mini-doxie who is incredibly fit--even "ripped" (we joke about how he thinks he's a Pit Bull because he is the most muscular mini-doxie you will ever find because he has been chasing around a Welsh Terrier his entire lifetime, which is quite a workout--we should have named him Rocky!) Buddy is kind of a pest. Molly has learned to ignore him, and finds his antics to be rather boring, but a boisterous Pit Bull? Well, not sure how that dynamic will play out.

And then, there is my son--the reason why we are here. He is wanting to "take a stand" and prove himself, but he is also unsure of himself and looking at those older Pit Bulls made him question his abilities, and the last thing he needs right now is an experience that makes him feel like a failure.

We both reached the same conclusion--we WANT to rescue Pit Bulls, but we also have NO experience or qualifications to do so; however, we are willing to learn! So we brought home a 6-week old puppy, named Arya (after a Game of Thrones character.)  I think Molly and Buddy will accept a puppy into the house more readily than an older dog who is far bigger than they are. My son can better prepare for training a younger dog than an older dog. Pit Bulls require/need an owner who provides direction and commands--a skill my son needs to develop, that will be more easily tested/administered to a dog than his peers right now.

I think we made the right decision, even though I am exhausted already by the thought of puppy-proofing my house again! My son thanked me, over and over again, for giving him this opportunity. He NEEDS this, and this sweet, little puppy, who is a Blank Slate right now, also deserves this opportunity to be loved and trained and cared for. Her ears and tail will NEVER be cropped. She will be spayed and never "bred" for additional dogs that will only be mistreated and abused. She will have access to the best quality dog food, veterinary care, and human attention/interaction a dog could ask for. We will love her, engage her, exercise her, and make her an Ambassador for her breed!

A little more about Arya's background:  she is the offspring of two Pit-Bulls owned by the same family that never bothered to spay or neuter their dogs.  Inevitably, they mated and birthed 6 puppies. (DUH! That's what happens when you own a male and a female and don't get them "fixed!") They "had to move" (probably because they were getting evicted ) and could only take Mom and Dad--puppies (the result of their failure to be responsible pet owners) were an "inconvenience." The litter included 2 males and 4 females. They placed the 2 males at less than 4 1/2 weeks old (puppies really shouldn't be separated from their mothers until 6-8 weeks.) They dumped the 4 females with a Rescue Group. The pups were born in a county in Northern New Mexico that is known for dog-fighting--which is WHY the MALE pups were easily-placed. I shudder when I think of what will happen to those male pups!

At this stage of my life, I think it is important to demonstrate and engage my kids in value-based decisions. While many of my friends and ALL of my family (which, at this point, consists of 2 people--my Dad and my Sister) will disagree with those decisions, I want my kids to be strong and fearless and willing to take on a challenge. I don't want them "backing down" out of fear that is based on news reports/media rather than actual facts and independent research, which includes consideration of oral testimony of actual Pit Bull owners.

Raising Arya is important to my son. Providing him with this opportunity reinforces my values, and represents the compassion and integrity I have tried to model. How could I NOT support it?

This is what Arya looks like now--cute, right?

Here is what she will look like a year from now. It won't matter how sweet and gentle and obedient we have trained her to be--people will still see her as "threatening."

Funny how the adjectives used to describe Pit Bulls are no different than the adjectives used to describe Welsh Terriers and Doxies. The ONLY difference is that Welsh Terriers and Doxies look like this:

 All 3 breeds are described as "energetic, willful, intelligent, focused, loyal, good with children, need regular exercise, and require leadership and direction."

Arya will grow up to have an Ugly Mug and a muscular build, but that does not make her a "Bad Dog."

My Name Is Blondie, and I Have a Teenager...

My son is a Freshman in High School this year, which, apparently, is a much bigger deal for ME than it is for him. I bug him DAILY about school, desperate for information about how he is faring in the scary world that IS high school. I worry about my son a bit because he is a keen observer of behavior and careful to "process" those observations in a way that ensures his own behavior flies "below the radar." He is careful NOT to draw attention to himself and to "stay out of trouble." He is sensitive when it comes to the volatile, neurotic interactions that define his peer group. I worry about him because I'm always afraid he will be "too nice" to navigate the minefields, and boys that are "too nice" often become targets.

But, I am learning that my son is actually far more astute and confident than I ever was at that age. He is still a "nice guy," but he is also equipped with certain advantages I never had. For starters, he is a BOY, and he is BIG for his age (5' 10" tall and 150 pounds at 14.) For boys, size matters, and we happen to live in a town where many boys in his peer group are little, wee persons, so JCH has an advantage by towering over most of his peers, plus, he also possesses a generally friendly, jovial disposition that makes him universally "likeable." He is also equipped with a quick wit that disarms potential attackers. He has a core group of friends that have been his friends since first grade, so even though he has no classes with them, they still meet up for lunch and spend countless hours connected through technology with their video games and social networking. These are GOOD KIDS, and they stick together. Also, they are BOYS, which means they are NOT subject to the "drama" girls have at this age. (PHEW!)

I have been trying to figure out where my son will "fit in" in the High School Clique Index. He is not an athlete, but he is also NOT a nerd because he has social skills. He is one of the millions caught "in the middle," flying under the radar. And I am okay with that as long as he is happy.

Homecoming Week took place a week ago. His FIRST HOMECOMING! I remember Homecoming in my hometown, and it was a BIG DEAL when I was his age. I kept bugging him about it--are you going to the game? What about the parade? Are your friends talking about going to the dance? And he looked at me like I was a complete idiot.

"Gawd, MOM, I don't care about the football team. All of the football players are assholes, and parades are stupid. YOU grew up in Los Alamos, 30 years ago, where nobody had anything better to do than go to a stupid dance."

Then Tuesday night rolls around, and he asks me to drive him to school at 7pm to attend the "Homecoming Bonfire." Wednesday night rolls around, and he "announces" that he is going to the Homecoming Dance on Saturday, and I need to take him shopping for suitable attire (semi-formal.) I, of course, ask "probing questions" and soon discover there is a GIRL involved, and Thursday night turns into a very dramatic shopping session, where my sweet, Momma's Boy Son suddenly becomes obstinate and REJECTS every suggestion I make as to appropriate pants/shirts/tie combinations. Much bickering ensues, and since there are several other teenagers and parents milling about JC Penney, we have an audience.

My son, for some strange reason, wanted to wear black pants and a black shirt.

I said, "Absolutely not! Only Maffia Dons wear black pants and black shirts, and you have a Baby Face and totally cannot pull off that 'Look'! At best, you will look like a Bouncer, or worse, a MIME!"

So we settled on a charcoal grey shirt or a deep teal shirt with grey or khaki pants. (JC Penney had a Buy One Get One Free sale going on.)

Lord have mercy. WHO KNEW it was such a problem to BUY PANTS? Pleats or plain fronts? Sleek, synthetic blends versus cotton? And don't get me started on dress socks (my son was perfectly happy to wear athletic socks, and when I tried to mock him by calling him "Cliff Claven," he looked at me with total confusion--"Cliff Claven? Who the hell is that?")

And then there was the "Choosing of the Tie"...

I LOVE selecting ties for men. Selecting ties for my dad, my ex-husband, and my brother-in-law are some of the happiest shopping excursions I have ever had. And today, men's ties are in their greatest glory. So many choices--so many colors--so many patterns! But, alas, all my son wanted was a boring old diagonal stripe or subtle geometric print in neutral colors. No paisleys, no fun colors, nothing that would distinguish him as a Sharp-Dressed Man.

Much bickering ensued. After my son retreated to the Dressing Room, not one, not two, but THREE males approached me asking for my opinion about tie selection, after over-hearing my "lecture" to my son about the importance of selecting a tie, and how it established Image and Style. All three of them left with gorgeous ties (that my son rejected!)

In the end, I allowed my son to make the final tie selection because I didn't want to be one of "those" mothers who is overbearing and smothering. (Yes, sadly, he picked a boring diagonal stripe in muted tones.) I did, however, insist on appropriate dress socks and since he didn't care about the socks, I managed to pick up a pair of classy, preppy argyle dress socks for him!

Now, about that girl...my son was very unclear on how she fit into the picture. Back in my day, Homecoming Dances were always Date dances, but nowadays, girls are far more liberated and since they universally love to get dressed up and hang out with their friends, they are not about to leave events like Homecoming up to Clueless 14-year-old boys. They buy their own tickets, and if no boy asks them to go, then they will just show up with their friends and have a good time without them. And, I think, this is EXACTLY the approach "the girl" my son is smitten with took. (He actually confided in me that he went with her to stand in line to purchase her ticket and didn't mention a word about going to the dance himself until days later--because he is a CLUELESS 14-year-old boy that can't get a HINT.)

At first, when I tried to ask "probing questions" my son was reticent about giving me ANY information--telling me he didn't trust me to not "freak out" and embarrass him. But, he really does LIKE this girl, and he couldn't hold it in and eventually agreed to provide me with her first name only. I promised him I wouldn't "make a big deal out of it," but that I hoped she was a nice girl that got good grades. And the whole exchange was kind of sweet--me prodding him for information, him objecting, me begging, him torturing me, me making promises not to "embarrass him," and then, him finally telling me her first name (and then, immediately after I returned after dropping him off for the dance, I went through his Middle School Yearbook and FOUND her! My son is such a dope! She is the ONLY girl in the entire 8th grade class last year named Sharon! LOL!)

So, here comes Saturday night, and I realized that my son is seriously in need of a shave (he has peach fuzz on his upper lip and weird curls growing along his jawline.) His Dad is nowhere to be found. So, here I am, trying to show my son how to shave with a REAL razor for the first time. He tells me he has no confidence in my directions, since I have only shaved my legs, not my FACE. I tell him, "well, I watched your Dad shave for 14 years. Make a face--like this...." and proceeded to make crazy faces in the mirror and walked him through the process. I had purchased cologne for him in small sizes for his Christmas Stocking last year, and he chose my favorite, the cologne my Mom bought for my Dad, Canoe--and it made my heart happy! (Secret Confession: I LOVE any man that smells good, so I think my son should smell good.)

And, then, I had to tie his tie! YIKES! I have only tied a tie about four times in my life, so I am no expert, but I was the ONLY expert present that night for my son, so I stepped up to the plate and shared that moment with him--his first "Date." Yes, it occurred to me that his father SHOULD HAVE been performing these "firsts," but we had left messages on his voice mail about the whole Homecoming thing and had heard NOTHING in response, so it was clearly going to be my responsibility to teach our son how to shave and tie a tie. And, so I did.

It took a lot of pleading, but I finally got my son to agree to let me take his picture before the dance. We started out with serious poses, but it didn't take long for my son, the Ham, to start mimicking fashion mags and striking all kinds of ridiculous poses that made me laugh so hard, I couldn't take the pictures! He is a truly, funny kid!

As it turns out, two of his Guy Friends were supposed to show up at the Homecoming Dance, but both of them chickened out at the last minute. JCH was the only one of their "group" to actually show up. The Girl was also supposed to show up with a "group" but all but one of her friends "backed out" at the last minute, too. So, my son, the Nice Guy, showed up and Saved the Day for her and her friend. He did not call me to pick him up until after midnight and tried to tell me the dance was "boring," but I knew better. Those two freshmen girls, attending their first High School dance, probably felt very intimidated by all of those "paired-off older" kids, and my son provided a much-needed buffer. And, to his credit, even though he found the whole experience to be "awkward and boring," he stayed because he understood that the event was NOT boring to those two girls, and he stayed to make it easier for them.

I am so proud and pleased to know that my son is a Nice Guy!