The story you just read is true, and just like thousands of Pitbull Owners/ Bully Breed lovers out there, we all mourn for our lost family members. There is not a day that goes by that my wife Teryl and I do not think of our Sampson, one of the most humanistic dogs I have ever known. In fact, we still have his ashes on top of the fridge in a silver colored box with his name on it. But I cannot help but think about our original Pitbull and Black Lab cross mix, Shadow, who really was the grandfather of Pitbull Trucking, our site as it has come to be.It is simply amazing and extremely real how a canine can touch you very soul and heart. I wanted to post that, because as we were picking the music for our upcoming musical tribute memorial of the pitbulls my followers have lost, this struck a chord with me.
When I see these pictures everyday that come across my desk, I wish people like Mayor Dennis Codere of Montreal, could read and see these photographs of true bully breed people. I wish the Mayor of Dallas Texas, could see the pain on all those people on Dowdy Ferry Road that find dead animals mutilated and killed for no apparent reason, to actually tell the truth for one bloody single moment in their pathetic materialistic lives. I wish that every good Torontonian in Ontario, could own these wonderful dogs without persecution because of the way they look. I wish the media would stop glamourizing another dog attack and label it a pitbull attack. I wish all those ridiculous BSL areas in the whole dam world, would stop and change their archaic anal laws towards this breed. I wish all those people out there torturing animals, would suffer a slow painful, agonizing death, and end up in Hell, where they truly belong. My hope is the `Michael Vicks`of the world that promote dog fighting are brought to justice and incarcerated forever. We need to change all laws involving the cruelty and inhumane ways animals are treated, with larger fines and longer jail terms.
People often ask me, why we are called Pitbull Trucking, and let me tell you folks, it has really nothing at all to do with trucking. Ironically we started this thing, over 5 years ago, when I trucked with our dog Sampson. We used to come across many of our fellow truckdrivers that owned the pitbull breed dog. At first, we would post various pictures on our site for Sampson`s friends, brothers and sisters. We would post pictures of the latest big rig, or show truck parked in a truckstop we went by. Many truckers, we would friend on facebook and they in turn would go to our site, and post their pictures of pitty comrades on the road. But then something unforseen happened, Sampson`s Pyodermas flared up, and he would break out. We tried to combat the disease with special mediacted shampoo and shots of Covenia which were very hard on his heart and liver. On Jan 23, 2014, we said goodbye to our dear Sampson as his liver finally gave out. Unfortunately, I was up north of Fort McMurray running a crew bus, for the oilpatch when I got the phone call from my wife that we all dread.
By the end of the day, I had driven through a stop sign, with passengers in my bus because I was devastated of losing such a beloved family member. I wept uncontrollably for that week, and finally by the end of the month, I was off to another job closer to home. As for my wife Teryl, she grieved for two years, until she could finally open her heart to another pitbull that so needed our help, love and attention.Yes we have lived it, and understand all the pain and loss a bully breed owner is going through. That is why we honor Sampson, by calling our site Pitbull Trucking. The only thing I can say is never ever say you`ll never get a pitbull again after he or she passes away.Honor your pitty dog by getting another one that can love you as you love it.
I am going to include another excerpt from one of my upcoming books `The Final Mile`` I wrote and yes a great many of those chapters involved our Sampson, have a great week!
When we had made it to the Florida state line, I stopped into a nearby rest-stop that was just off the I-95 Interstate.The first thing we both saw was a long chain of larger fresh-looking palm trees surrounding the whole area.I saw this oversized “Welcome to Florida, The Sunshine State” sign near the entrance of the rest-stop as Carol handed me Sam’s leash along with him. He jumped down off the steps of the truck along with my help and shook his head like he always did when he began to walk. It didn’t take Sam long to find out where he wanted to be either, as his yellow mural eyes set their sights on a smaller lake nearby. Sam quickly started prancing towards the waterline just off the grassy shore. That dog immediately made a bee-line into the smaller lake oblivious of to what was beneath it.Sam started ruffling around with his front paws at the rocks he could see through the clear blue water. As for me, I just continued to hold his leash from the shore because he was so wrapped up in moving the small rocks and pebbles around with his front paws. That was Sam’s thing; he loved walking around in the water digging out the rocks as he would find the ones he was specifically enthralled with. After about 45 minutes had passed, I pulled him back in, removed his collar and the leashAfterall, I knew Sam just wanted to explore further, so I let him have his freedom. Even though the lake was situated very close to the interstate, I wasn’t worried about Sam swimming off anywhere either. He was too immersed with his rocks, mud and pebbles to care about anything else. That dog was now in his seventh heaven as he was the happiest I had ever seen him that day. I filmed some of his best moments, doing what he loved best, playing in the water. When Carol had got back from the washroom, she too watched Sampson with awe and wonderment. Finally we had to get going, so I rinsed him off and towelled him dry at the truck. As usual after every type of bath, when he got back into “Barney” he jumped back on our bed in the sleeper. Then he did what he always had done, and that’s rip, snort rolling around madly in our blankets. After we were on the road, it didn’t take Sampson long before he had fallen fast asleep sprawled out on the sleeper bed. That dog could snooze for hours as long as he could hear our voices while he slept.
You could sure tell we were getting closer to “the magic city” too as I would drive by the large walls full of overgrown lush dark green foliage. Not to mention, Carol taking snapshots of the sights of Miami on what had become a very dark, dreary and overcast morning. Just after one o’clock in the forenoon, the sun began to shine, and I couldn’t help but stop by one of the roadside stands. I think the giant stuffed man-sized alligator in the cage on a wagon first caught my eye. There was this huge Orange and Blue sign underneath the enclosure that said “We Ship Fruit” Now Taking Orders” Well the first thing I did was take a picture of what was packed to the gunwales in the confine. You better believe we took additional photos there too, but inside was even better. A ways in the back, there was this 13 foot, 6 inch alligator perched way up on an enormous platform. At one time this gator was alive weighing in at a startling 800 lbs. His age when he had been killed was somewhere between 40 to 50 years old. This gator had been caught near Orange County Florida on the outskirts of the city of Orlando. Also with this display was all these smaller tiny alligator heads, key chains of gator claws, as well as a collage of touristy t-shirts on the back walls. It was definitely worth taking pictures of for future memories. Now you may think that all those dead gator heads, as well as the stuffed gator was inhumane, but as a matter of fact the Florida Game Commission supports it.
The gator population is so out of control that every September annually; they allow people to hunt these reptiles for sport and food due to the overabundance of them breeding in this large sparse area. Not only had the American Alligator become a threat to itself, but also an extreme risk to people living in Florida, as well as Louisiana too.
Later I stopped by to fuel up at a local truck stop for the night as well as rest and food until the next morning. I took Sampson on a walk in his new orange and black booties, due to the pavement being still quite hot for his pads on his paws. It was a bit comical to see him try and walk with these things, but after about five or ten minutes, he was starting to get the hang of it. I think in another life Sampson must have been a bloodhound because that dog would just about sniff everything in sight. After about an hour or so, I picked him up and placed our dog in the truck for a nice long nap.
In the morning we headed for the Port of Miami to deliver these gluten-free cookies to “Disney Cruise Ship Lines” there. Both Carol and I were absolutely shocked to find the extremely tight and dirty looking docks at one of the buildings I was to parked at. Next, I had Carol go inside the warehouse with me to stack various flavors on separate pallets. It seemed like we were forever plagued doing this with this new company I was working for, so it became a real pain in the ass! Surprisingly, you could not imagine more deplorable conditions to house these special gluten-free cookies. Surprisingly, we actually saw these rather large rat traps that were situated in the corner floors of the warehouse. Carol just looked at me and I shook my head in complete disgust. After a good hour came by and went, I was off to my next drop off in Tampa Bay which was about a four hour drive Northwest of Miami.
If there was a city that I would ever live in Florida, Tampa Bay was definitely it. Not only was it clean, but the architecture was modern but also Spanish flavored as well. I ended up driving over to the main “Port in Tampa Bay” there and parking “Barney” into a dock. While we waited to get unloaded, again I took Sampson out for a walk along the pavement of the port. Once again I had to put on his booties due to the scorching heated pavement
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