Finally, I found a topic related to the whole pitbull thing that I am very passionate about. I wrestled with this thing for quite a few weeks, but then I decided it needs to be said. In fact, if this was never found out, I truly believe the whole negative stereotyping of the "Bully Breed" would not have contributed to all the additionally horrifying propaganda out there of the Pitbull.
We can thank that retired "has been", former NFL Football Player, Michael Vick for bringing dog fighting to the forefront of the international news. Back then, the Atlanta Falcons were involved in a huge scandal involving their highly touted quarterback, Michael Vick. Eventually, Vick admitted to his involvement in an illegal dogfighting ring.
These Pitbulls and a substantial amount of evidence of a large-scale dogfighting ring were discovered in a wooden barn behind Vick's home. Atlanta Police had rescued these dogs from the "Bad Newz Kennels on Vick's property. These dogs were never born fighters but were instead manipulated into this.Vick's handlers used treadmills, whips, and even chains to get these poor dogs to fight! Not only did the Investigators find real evidence of dogfighting equipment but also the remains of eight executed dogs. These were dogs that had lost in the fighting pit and were either shot, hanged, drowned or electrocuted.
For weeks, Vick denied knowing anything about it, but on April 25, 2007, Animal Control Officers seized 54 Pitbulls from Vick's 15 acres, Virginia property. The evidence in question was alarming. Shed and walls of these barns had been painted black to keep the compound hidden from view during nighttime dog fights. When the public found out about the atrocity done to these animals, the only question that remained was could these damaged dogs be rehabilitated. Unfortunately, most of the general public saw the Vick's surviving dogs as a dangerous threat to safety. Even prominent members of Animal Rights Groups believed they were too damaged to be saved. They advocated that these dogs needed to be put down so they could not harm anyone.
Best Friends Society decided that the canines in question could be rehabilitated, even if they had to be taught to be trained to kill. Campaigns were started in the United States to save these dogs from euthanasia.After hearing both sides, the courts decided to save the controversial dogs. As for Michael Vick, he eventually did admit his part into the dog fighting ring and was convicted on all counts of the dogfighting charges. He was sentenced to 23 months in a Kansas prison for running a cruel and inhumane dogfighting ring and lying about it. In the end, it was discovered this piece of human excrement not only financed the diabolical venture but took part in the gambling of these defenseless animals.It absolutely astounds me though that Vick only ended up doing 18 months and actually got to play football again in the NFL. Not only that, but he recently was allowed to purchase a dog for his kids.
It's a horrific thought to take a dog that is so loyal and willing to please to put them in a situation where they have to fight for their life! If you ask me, it's not only sickening, demented but it angers me to know what these dogs were put through.
On an episode of "Houston Animal Cops", they rescued about 15 Pitbulls from another one of the many dogfighting rings in that city. The unnamed animal shelter there murdered each and every one of them for the reasons that they were extreme fighting dogs, that posed a real threat to society. Despite conversations with Animal Control Officers stating the dogs were real sweet and loveable. The behavior
of the A.S.P.C.A. was at the very least, unconscionable, that they would euthanize these dogs without even a thought of rehabilitation. Even PITA, the so-called most extreme animal lovers campaigned to have every Pitbull from that fighting ring put down. Funny, how after the terrible deed was done the A.S.P.C.A. called it "Humanely Euthanised." This was a nice way to disguise senseless murder of these animals. At no time, after the dogs were seized, did they show any signs of human aggression towards their so-called saviors. Despite the fact, there were various foster organizations willing to step in to save and rehabilitate these dogs.
On a lighter note, here is an excerpt taken from my fourth book "The Final Mile" Here we relive some of the best moments with our dearly departed red-nosed merle Pitbull, Sampson. Enjoy and have a great week!
The next day I left for what would become a very long trip to “The Big Easy.” It started out okay and despite Sam’s missing Carol, he too seemed to enjoy the journey. Most of the time he would sit in Carol’s seat just gazing out the passenger window as the miles went by. I would stop by and park at rest-stops as well as truck stops and let Sam out for short walks. We met many dog-lovers who also owned Pitbulls, and there was not a single dog that Sam could not interact with socially. Every dog that our “laid-back Sam” met seemed to like him, and he just gave the impression to everybody that nothing ever bothered him. However, Sampson would carry himself like a dog on a mission when you walked him, he was forever sniffing everything in sight and very calm around other people near him as well.
The next day I had made good time in getting to my first drop in Denver Colorado, but this time I didn’t have to break down the different flavors of the gluten-free cookies. Our next drop was going to be in Cleburne Texas which was a few days away. However, when I had made it just about an hour past Childress on US 287 South, all hell broke loose. I was shifting down to get on another different route according to my GPS in the truck. Shockingly, when I went to shift down, I couldn’t, the shifter had interlocked itself and here I was doing a good 100 miles or so. From my time long hauling I didn’t panic, but just applied direct brake pressure to slow Barney down. I cautiously pulled over to the side of the road and put on the four-ways cursing at this truck I was driving. I immediately called D & P Truck lines but the dam answering machine recording came on. I left a message and waited for somebody to call me back. About an hour went by and my cell phone began to ring, furthermore it was Stan Deman calling me. He asked me a bunch of useless questions and said he would call the nearest tow truck company in the area where I was stranded. It took another couple of hours until I finally saw the amber and blue flashing lights of a rather large tow-truck. The tow-truck driver told me Sampson would have to stay in the truck that was being towed as his boss didn’t allow Pitbull-type dogs in their truck. I put it quite bluntly to him, that if Sam wasn’t riding in the front of this truck, I wouldn’t ride with him either. Well, the tow-truck driver said that wasn’t allowed as it was company policy and my rebuttal to him was screw the company policy! So, in the end, he let Sampson ride up in the front with me, as we headed for their yard at Wichita Falls which was about 45 minutes away. He dropped “Barney” there, as well as the trailer and took us to the nearest place to stay for the night. I ended up checking Sam and me into a Best Western Hotel, where I used Stan’s credit card number he had given me. The next day it was a sweltering 106 degrees Fahrenheit in Wichita Falls Texas, even too hot for Sam to even go outside and do his business. Mostly for the day, I kept him inside the motel room I was staying in. I did let him out in the afternoon, but within a matter of minutes he was panting, and much overheated. Even though dogs were not allowed in the swimming pool there, I defied the sign and placed him in the cool inviting water. I’m sure the various tourists vacationing there were not amused, but I truly didn’t give a flying crap! My dog was too hot for his health so I did something about it. Approximately 15 minutes later, I was told by some motel worker that I had to get the dog out of the pool immediately. There was Sampson dog-paddling around an empty pool as everybody was afraid to go into it with him just because he was a Pitbull, go figure? Now to say getting Sam out of the water was easy would be grossly underestimated. I had to go back into the pool after him, and literally drag him out of the water. when I would finally get him out of the water, he would shake himself off, run around the opposite end as I was running after him, just as I thought Sam was going to stop and wait for me to take him out of the pool, he would run down into the watery steps and walk right back for the third time. I had to repeat the same process once more when I went to go get him out of the water, again he would shake himself off. Then he would run around the opposite side now when I would be chasing him to come back to me. However, Sam would run back down the steps, flipside into the water at least until I finally grabbed him by the back of his neck and dragged him out of the water and out of the fenced area. I grabbed a towel and dried him off as best as I could. I led him back to our hotel room, where he proceeded to mess the bed, rolling around in the blankets like he always did after his baths at home. That evening I would walk over to the “What-A-Burger” drive-in restaurant next door and ordered Sampson up a small cheeseburger and fries. I did the same, only my burger was much larger with a large Strawberry Milkshake. It didn’t matter much because when I got back to my motel room, not only had Sampson wolfed down his food but he still wanted some more of mine. You know, of course, I didn’t deny him some of the burger and in the end of the evening; he chewed up another quarter of my meal.
