THE BEAR'S BLOG: THE RAMIFICATIONS OF BSL (BREED SPECIFIC LEGISLATI...

THE BEAR'S BLOG: THE RAMIFICATIONS OF BSL (BREED SPECIFIC LEGISLATI...:        It is only now that experts can prove that Breed Specific Legislation doesn't make communities safer for people or pets. It is co...

THE RAMIFICATIONS OF BSL (BREED SPECIFIC LEGISLATION)

       It is only now that experts can prove that Breed Specific Legislation doesn't make communities safer for people or pets. It is costly, ineffective which undermines the human-dog bond. It is also a waste of hard-earned taxpayer dollars.There are way more important concerns to a community than enforcing BSL which takes away from other precious resources.
        I mean every citizen deserves to be protected from ALL reckless dog owners and everyone needs to be held accountable too. For those families involved, BSL discriminates against certain members of the dog community based on the type of breed of pet they own. Not only that BSL forces families to relocate to other areas of the country in order to keep their beloved pets safe making it difficult to stay connected with other family members. In addition to that BSL discriminates against families on fixed incomes,children, senior citizens, and people with disabilities. Relocation may not be an option for these families, thus a complete healthy loved pet is euthanized, simply because of its breed!
        As for most respectable animal shelters, BSL is a huge financial burden for them. There are increases in owner surrenders, which creates even more work for a shelter.There is more euthanasia which means more care for euthanized surrendered dogs. It hinders adoptions which increases the length of stay by restricting dogs which could have been placed in loving, caring homes. This in turn, limits the pool of adopters and generates fear in all shelter animals. Even if your dog is not currently targeted, BSL is a very terrible alternative, as your dog could be the next target.
        BSL lowers the value of dogs and dog ownership by generating hysteria based on false and misleading claims about dog behavior. It alienates dog owners from each other in the community in which they live. Neighbors turn on each other, simply because of the breed of dog they own.
        As far as the politics of BSL are concerned it has never been effective in reducing dog bites and enhancing public safety. It will definitely not have the results that are promised to constituents. It wastes tax payer dollars that could have been used to fund better projects such as education and road repair. All reckless dog owners need to be held accountable for their actions and their dogs, regardless of breed.
        When it comes to Animal Control Officers, BSL is expensive, time-consuming and nearly impossible to enforce. This takes real resources away from protecting a community from truly dangerous animals, including dangerous dogs not belonging to the targeted breeds. BSL makes animal control officers hated as the enemies of the community by forcing them to seize and destroy well-behaved family pets.
        Why is there not any scientific study or data that supports BSL, reducing dog bites?
         A perfect example was in June 2008, the Netherlands repealed its 15-year-old ban on "pitbull type dogs" because it had not resulted in a decrease in dog bites. The flip side of that was Denver Colorado enacted a breed ban in 1989. The citizens of Denver continued to suffer even a higher rate of hospitalization from dog-related injuries after the BSL ban was put in place. Ironically, the people that lived in breed-neutral areas of Denver had less dog bites. Again, what does that say to these uneducated politicians who want BSL, not very much right?
         The conclusion is laws that deem dogs dangerous based on breed or appearances, rather than behavior, fail to protect people from truly dangerous dogs. BSL fails to reach reckless dog owners as they disregard public safety laws anyway. All dog owners should be held to the same standards of human care, custody, and control of their dogs, regardless of breed or appearance.
         So why do these adol-minded politicians such as Mayor Dennis Coderre of Montreal, Quebec try and enforce such ludicrous legislation, when I am sure they are dense enough to realize it doesn't work. One word, here it comes, you guessed it, money and a great deal of it, in their pockets and into the community as a whole, on the deaths of innocent victims, such as the "Bully Breeds!"
         Don't kid yourself, Coderre and his corrupt style of goverment will make hundreds of thousands of dollars, putting this BS ban in place. About $700.00 per family will be squeezed out of each one, just in proper licensing, spay/neuter, micro-chipping, registrations, and even those "Silence of the Lambs" muzzles. Not to mention the killing shelter, Berger Blanc will make even more money murdering innocent well-behaved large breed dogs. I won't get into this, as you'll have to wait for my next blog on this inhumane, business of killing healthy animals for profit. YOu sure don't want to miss that, but to end this, I will once again, include an excerpt from my second upcoming book "Sidewinder" Have a great week, I know I will!
      That following winter, we acquired a new addition to our family in the form of another dog. Actually, it was the kid's father Hank who managed to get Skyler this cute little puppy. One, she could tell everyone would be her very own; in addition to that, she even picked the little girl out. Thus a Black Lab and Pit Bull mix, named Shadow arrived at our little home in the woods. It was also on December 30^th of that same year that Victoria got hit with unbelievable borage of snow. Now for those of you who don’t know, Victoria is well known for their temperate winters, with virtually none of the white stuff, whatsoever. Carol, the kids and I had just returned from Nanaimo, where we had spent that Christmas with Hank, his girlfriend and her whiny kid Stefan. We had been tracking the snow storm that was coming in from the state of Oregon when we were watching it on TV up at Hank’s house.

      Carol suggested that we leave that morning so we packed up the kids and got an early start. It wasn’t too bad for driving conditions until we arrived in Victoria when it started to snow. However, that was nothing compared to the snow covered roads, on our way through Metchosin, out towards Sooke, where our new little home was situated. When we arrived at the cabin, you could barely see the driveway, let alone our small bungalow. Carol and I quickly got the kids into our snow covered chalet, pulled out all the winter clothing and had everyone put them on. She turned on the TV, where we could see that there were power outages as well as collapsed roofs from the heavy snow all over parts of Victoria and surrounding areas. In fact, there must have been a good five feet of snow on that delicate roof of ours, therefore I knew someone had to go up there the next day and take care of it.

      In the meantime, we had introduced Skyler’s puppy Shadow to my dog Taro, but he really didn`t seem too enthused with the newest arrival to our family. That evening we were all dressed in toques, our long johns and sweaters as we went to bed with a cold howling wind whipping the cabin from all sides. The next day I knew we had to get an enormous amount of snow off the roof, for fear it could cave in on us. I was quickly voted unanimously to do it by the other three members of my family.

     While the kids were getting warm inside, and Carol was fixing up one of her infamous coffees, I ventured where no man had gone before. Well, I was definitely some good entertainment for the kids that afternoon as I decided to do a header right off that snow blanket of a roof. You couldn't have pictured it better, as out your kitchen window, you see your guy fall off the crown of the cabin into the snow head first.

     I guess it must have looked pretty comical, as Jack and Skyler reminded me how funny it was. One thing’s for certain, there was never a dull moment with me in the house. It took a good week for all that amount of snow to melt, but eventually life returned to normal.

    It was now the spring of 1997 and tragedy had befallen my stepson’s much-loved pet cockatiel, Maverick. Unfortunately Jack’s little friend had caught a cold from the damp winter we had, and it ended his life. It tore me apart, to see that little guy, so distraught over the passing of his beloved friend. He ended up burying Maverick under a tree, near the house, and for a time thereafter, Jack would sit under that tree quite regularly after school.

     There wasn’t much I could do to comfort his grief, so on the weekends, I would play in the river with Jack, we had out in the backyard. That seemed to console him, some but it was obvious that he truly missed his little buddy Maverick.

     Skyler was completely wrapped up with her new buddy Shadow; plus they would even fish together in the stream quite a bit in those days. Taro had moved out into the garage, as Shadow seemed to be crowding his space. That’s where he spent most of his time in the day, but we still brought him in at nights when we went to bed. Carol had let her good friend Dody know of Maverick’s passing, so she came up with a new pet Cockatiel for Jack. She had told Jack this one’s name was Apache, and at first, he seemed overjoyed with his new found friend. Still, after about a month of trying to teach the bird all the tricks that Maverick had known, he had given up on Apache. Dody ended up taking him back, and Jack didn’t seem so stressed out anymore.

        In the month of May, I was keeping very busy with the usual Spring Tradeshows, at various arenas throughout Victoria. It was there you would find me with the “Cookware Gang“ of would be sales associates. Usually,the group was led by our fearless leader JD, along with his gal Raelene, Shane and his girlfriend, Saul, my recruit Freda and some other of our new hired cooks. We had a booth and table showcasing our shiny Cookware, plus of course that Food Processer. All of us would be wearing white colorful aprons with the Pacific Health Systems Logo on them and whatnot. JD would be reeling in the “would be customers” with free coleslaw salads he had just made with the Food Processor. Mostly everyone that sampled the salad would put their name in the draw for a free food processor or whatever JD wanted to give away at the time. After the trade show had finished, we would call up the qualified leads that had the most pertinent information on the draw slips. I mean if they divulged their occupation, the number in their family they were cooking for as well plus their household income, then of course, we called them first. We would tell them they hadn’t won the food processor but had one a free dinner-show instead. It was a slam dunk, which mostly everyone said yes to that, and we would ask them to invite two other couples as well. Afterall, JD knew that one out of every three couples were purchasing our cookware after the dinner show was over. We stayed busy for a good three to four months of putting on dinner shows, well after a trade show had ended too.

          It was around the following month of April tragedy again visited our household, this time, it was our dog Shadow! Skyler had been walking her little buddy with Carol to go out to get the latest mail. They were walking together by the side of the road when some guy had intentionally gone out of his lane to hit the dog with his van. He didn’t even stop and kept on going, as it was quite obvious that he had some sort of deranged mind to do such a mindless act.

         Nonetheless, the damage had been done, and little Shadow’s right back leg, hip as well as most of her back end had been shattered in many places. Shadow was still a six-month-old pup when she got hit by some uncaring individual driving that vehicle and her injuries were going to be very expensive. When it happened, Carol and I certainly did not have the financial means to pay for Shadow’s operation to have her hip reconstructed. I knew we would have been forced to put Shadow down, but my Skyler pleaded with me with tears in her eyes to save Shadow that evening. What could I do, but try and find a way to financially pay for her dog’s operation? So I went to a source of income I knew would be able to help me and that was my boss and good friend JD Cantry.

           I told him my dilemma; furthermore, I told him I would work it off , selling sets of cookware in the coming months. JD was no dummy! It was a simple plain fact this young man knew that he could keep his number one cookware salesman working for him, for quite some time. All he had to was to lend me the money for Shadow’s operation because he knew he was getting paid back in more than just money.

           So to save and prolong Skyler’s dog’s life, I put myself in the hole for about $2,000.00 and you’re probably saying to yourself “I would never do that” right?

           I would agree with you somewhat, but until a member of your family has to go through such an ordeal; I still say you would have done what I did. Just think about it, what would you do if your son or daughter came to you with tears in their eyes asking you to save their beloved pet?

          You bet your ass, you would save that pet, no questions asked, so that’s why I did it. Now, I was doing more dinner shows that even thought possible to whittle down some of the $2000.00 debt I owed to JD. I kind of went into a bit of a depression due to the new huge debt that had been forced upon me somewhat. Instead of talking this over with Carol whom I should have done instead, I got back to my computer. You guessed it, I continued playing my NHL 2000 Video game and again till about 5am the next morning. I was becoming more and more moody in the coming weeks, as I wasn’t getting the proper amount of sleep due to playing that dam game! Despite this alarming fact though I was now performing breakfast, dinner and supper shows on some days even, just for the opportunity to sell even more cookware.

          At one point Carol had joked that I was feeding most of Victoria on occasion. It may sound crazy but she wasn’t too far off in her assumption, as I was spending an enormous amount of money to feed the “well to do” of Victoria’s society.

          Shadow had arrived home the next week with the back part of her right and left hip all shaven, where her operation had taken place. Her right back leg was completely bandaged in a red covering, as well as she had medication for some of her pain and discomfort.

          Skyler was never more grateful to see her Shadow come home and even relished the idea of playing nurse maid to her pet. 

       














     
     

THE BEAR'S BLOG: ...

THE BEAR'S BLOG:                                                   ...:                                                     A PITBULL RESCUERS STORY       Well, I thought it was time to focus on all my Pitbull R...

                                                    A PITBULL RESCUERS STORY
      Well, I thought it was time to focus on all my Pitbull Rescuers out there and how they obtained their pitties. We could call them Staffordshire Terriers, Bully Mixes, Pibbles, Bull Terriers, whatever you want to call them, I like to sum them up as that dreaded word that strikes fear into uneducated pet owners out there, the Pitbull. So why am I doing this, perhaps to let my reader know of the plight of these wonderful animals and even their fight to truly survive!
       I was chatting on messenger to Patricia Legris of Montreal the other day and was fascinated with her story of her two rescue pittys.
       Her oldest Luna who is now around 15 and a half years old was the product of backyard breeding in Florida. I guess, the way she tells it, Patricia had very little knowledge of these bully bred dogs at the time. Her ex-husband was the one originally, who adopted Luna but after only a month passed, it seemed he wanted to get rid of her because of her disability. Tragically, she was deaf but Patricia, being a caring human being as she is, decided to work around that and give her a forever home. As I chatted with her, she told me that it had become quite a learning curve,to say the least.
      "So glad I kept her, she has lived the life of a queen," she adds.
        Patricia's other rescue pit bull is China who was found abandoned with deformed pups out in a parking lot one day. Her educated guess is she puts China at around five years old now. Unfortunately, she has severe anxiety issues, but she has been working on it. All the pups were eventually okay and adopted into really great caring families as well. Both dogs get along wonderfully and are best of friends.
        A great many of you probably do not know, that I too rescued a whippet/pitbull mix about 4 years ago in the early winter of February of 2012.
        I will never forget that day, as long as I live either. I was parked in Ardmore, Oklahoma at a Love's Truckstop. That morning, I decided to go for one of my many long walks. I had done previously as I liked to stay in shape. I never wanted to be one of those out of shape long haul truck drivers you see with half their belly hanging over the steering wheel. Nevertheless, as I was out and about walking around the truck stop, I came up upon a peculiar sight, as I noticed a broken down horse trailer out in the back of a field, just  behind a large hotel. Not only did that peak my curiosity but as I ventured further to investigate the situation further, I then noticed a broken down, pet carrier sitting on the floor of it. There were wet nasty colored rags that had been thrown all over the top of it, as it appeared there was no roof to the carrier. Then I noticed two empty steel bowls, but what really caught my eye was a weird looking red long leash-like chain that was leading into what was in the pet carrier. As I peered through the rags draped over the front of the pet carrier, there inside was a small, very shy, very scared medium sized dog. I tried to get her out, but she wouldn't come out, so I lightly started tugging the chained leash out. As she slowly entered the daylight, I could see she was dehydrated and a bit thin to begin with. So I undid her, from the red coated chain and began to walk her towards the hotel. When I made my way to the building, I chained the dog, back up to a nearby light post and went in.
        I told the front desk clerk what I found there, and they then called the Hotel Manager who then called a local animal shelter. I was proud of myself and figured I had a least made it available where this pitbull type dog would at least get a good home. Little did I realize, that at the time, the state of Oklahoma, put stray pitbull mix dogs immediately to death! This was because of the fear of over a dozen fatal dog attacks in the state alone going back to 1907.\
        When an older woman told me this, as I had gone outside to check on the dog, I realized I had just sealed her fate, so I decided what to do. I merely walked back in the hotel, as they had called a local animal bylaw officer to come and pick her up. So I told them I was taking the dog for a walk around the hotel to do its business. Needless to say, I never came back to that hotel, proceeded to pick up the dog and place her in the sleeper cab of my truck.
         Her first meal ironically,was all I had in my truck at the time, microwave popcorn, which she absolutely loved, and still does to this very day. Well, I managed to get Okee (Oklahoma) to Colby Kansas,where it was apparent she wasn't doing that good. The local vet there had given her all the necessary shots, given her vitamin shots, deworming, anything that was necessary to save her life. As it was the next 48 hours were critical, as Okee would either deteriorate or bounce back in her plight to live. I also discovered she had been pregnant most of her life, and was pretty much used as a puppy mill dog. In fact, when I got her, the lady vet had presumed she had recently given birth to a what she believed to be her fourth litter. She was spotting blood quite a bit, so I had to go the local Walmart to get some puppy diapers for her. That was a real experience, having to put them on her and take her out for her nightly walks too. After two days had passed it was apparent Okee had bounced back in a big way, as well she was enjoying riding up the front with me. Once I got back to Alberta, I took her in to get fixed permanently, so she wouldn't ever have any issues like that again.
         It's been four years now, and I don't regret one second of taking her away from that horrible existence back in Ardmore, Oklahoma. Not only has she become one of my most cared for pets, but she has interacted with our previous dog,her late big brother Sampson. In fact, they even trucked together for a month or so. She had a big sister Brodie, my stepdaughter's brindle pitbull who moved to BC and was lonely for a good year after Sam passed away, but now she has her younger sister Julip (Jewel) to play and cuddle with.
         Once again, have a great week, and in our case in Alberta, try to stay out of the snow, enjoy another great excerpt from my fourth book Road History,enjoy
As I made my way into Spokane, I stopped at a rest stop near Sprague that was about an hour out of Spokane. As Carol and I got out of the truck, we both noticed this sad looking black pit bull, female dog that was sitting just outside a woman’s washroom.

       “It was as if, she was waiting for somebody to come out from there to rejoin their walk they were having,” I thought to myself.

         When I got back to the truck, I told Carol about the dog, which she said she noticed as well. We both waited, sitting in the front seats of the truck for another 15 minutes or so and came to a decision. There was nobody coming for this dog, so we both got out of the truck and walked up to her.Unfortunately, this was the same stop area, where a good number of young women had suddenly vanished and later been found murdered! We both knew of this, as we had previously heard of what had been happening here, by listening to Washington newscasts on CNN.This dog had been wearing a feminine looking rhinestone collar, so we assumed the owner of the pooch had been a woman at one time. As I tried to pet the mongrel, she stood up and started walking towards the back area of the rest stop. I followed her but the dog went out further into the back of a field into the dark. It was quite a desolate looking field too, as I stood by this long line of fencing, motioning her to come back to where I was standing. Next thing, Carol was walking behind me, and started to follow the dog to where it was standing but she didn’t find anything at all. When the dog came back walking beside both of us, it appeared to be hungry, so I told Carol to go grab some wieners we had bought that were sitting in the cooler in the sleeper of the truck. About three minutes later, out she walked up to the dog, where I had been sitting on the cement petting it, and reassuring it that everything would be fine. That dog wolfed down those wieners like they were her last meal, plus Carol had brought her some water which she slurped up as well. We both came to the conclusion that maybe the dogs female owner had something very bad happen to her and could have been buried somewhere out back behind the rest stop there. Now our problem was what to do with this dog. We both agreed that we couldn’t just leave her there as the temperature was dipping below freezing on this particular evening. At that point, I didn’t feel the dog was going to bite me, so I picked it up, and placed her in our truck, ever so gently. Carol motioned it to jump up on the bed, and she soon followed her doing just that. Next thing as soon as we left that dreaded area; I was on the CB telling all the truckers out there, what we had just experienced. Nobody in “CB Radio Land” knew anything about the dog, but it was suggested to me, for us to drive to the nearest truck stop. The idea was to see if we could find the dog a good new home with some other trucker on the road, who maybe wanted a road companion. Next thing I did was travel to a Petro Truckstop, which was just minutes from Spokane and tried to find a good home for this fury fella. The real problem here was that I was driving a “Dial Truck” and they had a very strict zero tolerance policy on having any animals in their trucks, so I had to do something fast, before another “Dial Driver” saw me with this dog. I started driving down row upon row of parked trucks along with trailers there that night; meanwhile Carol was telling every trucker on the CB listening if they wanted this dog. Finally after being given cans of dog food, even money along with some snacks from various truckers we came across the ideal guy for this dog. I saw this “Vandecamp Trucking Company Truck” so I walked up to it and knocked on the door. A truck driver by the name of Robert Argo from Iowa opened his door, and I told him the story of the dog, alas he was interested in meeting her, plus taking the dog home with him, if he liked the pooch. After a brief meeting in the sleeper of our truck, it seemed that Robert had bonded with his new found friend. Both Carol and I were absolutely elated that this dog would now be going somewhere else and having a new found life. It was a very touching moment because if it were not for this guy, I don’t know where the dog would have ended up that night. When we walked into the truckstop, I guess quite a lot of truckers had heard of our plight to save the dog on the CB. In fact the lady at the fuel counter had thanked me, for what I had done. It really left me with that warm fuzzy feeling to know that something good had come out of what appeared at first to be a very tragic situation.

         As I left in the morning, heading for the Idaho/BC border I run right smack dab into a massive snowstorm in Sandpoint Idaho. The amount of snow that they had experienced here in the last week was unbelievable. I mean there was white crap everywhere. In one place I drove by the snow was piled as high to about half the height of the “Safeway Grocery Store Building” there. There was an insane amount of the white stuff here, about 20 feet of it, and it had piled so high, that there was literally nowhere else to put it. It was obvious, that during our week down in California, that winter had come early in the northern parts of Idaho as well as British Columbia.

         Sure enough, as soon as I hit the Kingsgate BC border, the snow hadn’t let up, plus the roads were even more treacherous in the pass on the way to Cranbrook. It is like night and day, to the way that the highway crews keep the roads clean and maintained from snow, sleet and ice in both states. Sadly, I have to say that Eastport Idaho wins hands down, in at least keeping their roads “drive-snow” free. On the other hand, when I was driving through to Cranbrook, well that was another idea totally different. We both could see, vehicles spinning their tires in front of us, along with wildlife such as deer and Rocky Mountain Goats were seen on opposite sides of the road. That was kind of special, but as soon as I drove up by them, they scurried away back up the sides of the mountains. It had taken me almost another hour to drive into the town of Cranbrook, due to the atrocious road conditions. By the time I hit Calgary, it had taken me another seven hours to arrive there, which normally it would have taken about four and a half. I dropped the load of waffles at “Western Grocers” and later headed back to the “Dial” yard to get my pickup and head back to Lacombe.

         As the next  few months went by, I found myself driving past the “Bonneville Salt Flats” in Utah, down to Dinuba California to pick up a load of oranges, going past Sacramento, stopping in Vegas, and back into parts of Idaho and Montana. I drove through many a snowstorm, rain, sleet, hail and blistering hot sunshine. Only a “Long Haul Truck Driver” can experience such extreme weather patterns in such a short time.

This is Okee, on the day I first saw her, and she is also seen having fun in the truck

This is Patricia Legris, pitbull Luna, along with her other rescue pitty China

 This is the dog my wife Teryl and I rescued, referring to the story of the dog we found at that rest stop in Washington, when I was long hauling. The gentleman in the picture was the one that rescued the dog and gave her a forever home

THE BEAR'S BLOG: AN EMAIL LETTER TO MAYOR DENNIS CODERRE

THE BEAR'S BLOG: AN EMAIL LETTER TO MAYOR DENNIS CODERRE:          This week I decided to restart my Pitbull related blogs. This was after last weeks uneducated, ill-advised decision in Montreal&#39...

AN EMAIL LETTER TO MAYOR DENNIS CODERRE

         This week I decided to restart my Pitbull related blogs. This was after last weeks uneducated, ill-advised decision in Montreal's decision to ban all large dog breeds specifically centering on "Pitbulls." So if I was standing in front of Mayor Dennis Codere this is what I would ask him.
        So Mr.Coderre you were elected in 2013 as Mayor of Montreal right? Why then did you not look at the first dire situation of your dog bylaw. It was extremely apparent at that time only 14 per cent of Montreal's population had dogs registered.Why did you not immediately, change that situation by getting your animal control officers to enforce the bylaw better. Why did you not hire extra bylaw officers to get a hold of this dire situation?
        When that boxer/lab that attacked and killed Christine Vadnais, you knew that the owner had a criminal record, plus that specific dog had bit 2 other people as well. Why was that owner not fined and why on the second dog bite did that dog not be quarantined and put down for aggressive behavior.  This should have been on Montreal Animal Control's radar. Surely there should have been some intervention before this escalated into such a terrible tragedy.You failed the people of Montreal Mr. Coderre because nothing was done!
        If you actually visited the joke of any resemblance of a fence, that was in place to secure such an aggressive, unsociable dog, again you would have had your bylaw officers do something about it.
        Why Dennis Coderre, did you not thoroughly research other places in the world that had instituted BSL, when study after study, specifically proved it doesn't work!
         Areas of the UK, Belgium, Netherlands, Italy,Germany and Spain have all come to the conclusion that they were wrong in BSL. It does not make communities safer because other dogs are still biting people there too.
         So instead you followed a failed BSL system in Ontario. What a complete idiot you are to have done that. Do you not know that over a decade later Toronto's dog bites are actually higher than before BSL was in place.
          In 2013, 1,400 registered Pitbull owners licensed their dogs there, and only about 300 are now registered in  a city of millions of people. Moreover, in 2004, there were 576 dog bites reported, but in 2014 a whopping 767 bites. What does that tell you Mayor Coderre, when BSL was in place, maybe Pitbulls were not the ones originally to blame right? I repeat to you Dennis Coderre, BSL bans do not work and never will!
          In point of truth, in the USA over 164 towns and cities have repealed breed based laws. Over 20 states have state-wide exemptions on these type of archaic laws now too.
          So why Mayor Coderre did you not follow a successful model like Calgary, Alberta, Canada has in place. They instilled a responsible ownership bylaw because in 2014 they realized they had a real Pitbull problem. They figured out it was those problematic, uneducated owners that made an increase in dog bites, and if you focused your attention on them, then the problem simply decreased.
          Why did you not consult our Mayor Nenshi on how he fixed that specific issue, instead of steamrolling your BSL immediately after the death of a woman not attacked by a Pitbull. In fact, no DNA was ever found to be in that hound of hell, that did the fatal damage.
           The only conclusion I can come to is that thing called money! Your city stands to make hundreds of thousands of dollars by bleeding about $700.00 out of each family or person that owns a large breed dog, including the Pitbull. I mean they have to have the dog spayed or neutered, a special license, a "Silence of the Lambs" type muzzle that does not allow them to drink water, very easily. Another huge factor is putting up a fence that's over 7 feet tall. Not to mention the money a certain kill shelter, we will not mention any names, stands to make thousands of dollars on the deaths of unadoptable or surrendered Pitbulls. Also let's not forget, the ones that own the large breed dog, ie Pitbull have to also have a criminal background check done now too. If they do have a criminal record,no matter what it is, their large breed dog will have to be surrended to an animal shelter to be put down. Hmm, I recall Adolf Hitler did something about that in the genocide of thousands of Jews.
           You, Mayor Coderre, are an absolute disgrace to your office, and have you no conscience, your responsibility is to the Montreal Citizens? What a joke, maybe a responsibility to your pocket book, your pension and oh yes, your grand stand of getting the title "World Mayor".Well, I give you this, you will go down as World Mayor allright, World Mayor of the death of innocent loving dogs, including my beloved breed a Pitbull. Think about that Dennis Coderre as you sleep on your silk pillows tonite?
          Wow, to lighten up the mood, as I spit the venom from my mouth eluding from that idiot, I leave you with an excerpt from my third book, "Road History" from a happier time with our deceased Pitbull Sampson. Enjoy your week.
On that following weekend before my next big long hauling adventure, with the new company, I made a call to a local vet in Lacombe and set up an appointment for Sampson. If we were going to be traveling with him, Carol told me, we needed to get all his shots up to date. We accomplished that, plus Sampson now had his very own passport made there, with a photo of him on it, along with all his vital statistics. So now the three of us were ready to go trucking on some new adventures.

        As it turned out, our load wasn’t going to be ready until later that Monday afternoon, so we headed up early to put our stuff in the new truck. Actually, I had my satellite radio to install with the antenna and whatnot, plus we had our microwave oven, TV, DVD, and cooler with us as well. Apparently, it was going to be a larger double-bunk Volvo that was coming from Toronto, but when we got to their yard, it was nowhere to be found. My new boss Abe, had given me some bullshit story that the truck wasn’t there because it was held up in Toronto for some reason; that should have been our first clue to bail out!

        Next, I met the yard person Leroy, who went around looking for the keys to a temporary unit for us. Now before I met this guy, Abe had told me he was in his trailer in the yard, so I went to go look for him. Well, I knocked on the door of this beat up old “Winnebago” Motor Home parked in the back of the yard, sandwiched between two broken down 53-foot trailers. When this older fellow, invited me in, to meet him, well there parked in the front of the cab, was half of a diesel engine, strewn all over in dirty, greasy truck parts! I think most of you reading this probably would have turned tail and got out of there as fast as possible and looking back on it now, I probably should have, but I didn’t.

         If truth be told I really didn’t have any other job, I could fall back on and besides, this was all for Sampson.  Now if that wasn’t bad enough, despite the atrocious housekeeping, this fat, greasy looking guy , gets up from some nasty torn mattress in his underwear! Needless to say, they weren’t clean or even in one piece either. Well, this guy apologizes to me for the way he looks, as he tells me it's his only day off, nor was he aware I was going to be here today, to pick up a load. So he tells me his name is Leroy, and reluctantly, I shake his dirty greasy stained right hand. He starts to boast to me that nothing leaves “his” yard unless he says so. First, he says that we need to find me a truck to use for this load going to Missouri, so out the trailerI go, following this “God of the Right Speed Yard!”

         Well, he finally locates this old relic of a blue Kenworth tractor parked at an area of the yard that you can only guess why it was sitting there in the first place. It was a 2005 model, and talk about a small sleeper berth, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Seriously I think it was called a super-sized single, which is just a more fancy term for a 7-foot long bed that only fits in college campus dorm rooms and of course tractors used in  shitty trucking companies such as this one. Luckily it did have a top bunk, so we used the top portion of the bed to put all our boxes that contained our clothes, office supplies, food, weather related items, and whatnot that were essential when we went trucking.

         Next thing Leroy does is he has me pop the hood, because he needs to show me something very important.

        “This old girl has a problem starting sometimes” he adds.

        “Oh okay “I reply back to him, thinking that maybe this wasn’t such a hot shit idea to begin with.

        “If she won’t turn over in the mornings, take a quarter with a flat head screwdriver and just insert it here “he shows me.

          Whatever the hell, he was explaining to me appeared to be a faulty solenoid that was connected to the starter system that was acting up and needed to be replaced. However, because I was about to embark on this load, they did not have the time to get this truck repaired, nor did they have any other available truck for me to use. Maybe that should have been another warning sign that I should just walk away from this company, but stupidly, I did not. In fact, I think if you had to decipher Leroy’s message it would be something like this.

         “We really don’t give a shit about what you’re driving, take the fricken truck with the meat load, get it to Missouri, so we can make enough money to fix the damn thing when you get back!”

        “We need you to do this so we can get some other East Indian Schmuck to drive this, that way when you get the white truck coming back from Toronto you’ll be a happy camper!”

        “That about sums it up, right?”

          Things got progressively worse when this truck wouldn’t start so good ole Leroy had to go grab the yard truck to give a boost. Previous to what I had just witnessed, a normal person probably would have changed his mind. Keep in mind we are talking about a really different trucking company here, and I kept reminding myself, that I was doing this for Sam! Nonetheless, I can remember that Carol said that we had to film our first trip in this truck with the “Jazz Camcorder” as this was going to be a memorable one, we would never forget. You know what; she couldn’t have been more accurate to what was going to transpire with just one trip. Now to my surprise we managed to cross the Coutts/Sweetgrass Mt border all right, and meat inspection seemed to be a breeze.

          Sampson’s first trip into the USA was pretty much easy with the one border inspector even giving him a “Milk Bone” dog biscuit treat at the guard shack. That good boy was now sitting on the bed of the sleeper while Carol and I were in the front of the cab doing our thing. Carol pulled out the Camcorder and started filming our little adventure. So she starts filming the front of where I am driving, the usual introductions of where we are, and where we are going and whatnot.

        “We are actually waiting to get a truck” she speaks into the tiny camcorder microphone.

        “This one sucks! Look at the size of this sleeper? I mean really” as she now aims the camcorder at the back of the sleeper with Sam just sitting there looking into the camcorder.

         “She’s pretty tiny, and she’s quite the pig!”

         “And how many miles does it say Bri?”Carol now questions me.

         “Let’s see” I pause.

         “Just over a million miles!” is my reply to Carol’s question now.

           Carol then lets everyone now in camcorder-land that she has had only about three and one-half hours of sleep but that she’s got her big cup of coffee to help her cope for the day.

          “It would be nice to get a truck” she reiterates.

           “This is not a truck, it is a lumber wagon” she adds.

  So that brief explanation, pretty much sums it up, how this trip is going to go, but it was more horrible that both of us could ever have imagined. I managed to make it all the way to Hardin, Montana, and fuel up there as well. Next thing I did was to park for the night at a really small “Flying J” truck stop.

  Carol went over to the local McDonald’s there to get us some food, as we couldn’t possibly cook in this truck as there were no electrical outlets in it. Meanwhile, I went to take Sampson out for his nightly business, as he was enjoying sniffing all the unusual smells in the area. After we ate our Big Macs and all, we both tried to get some sleep on a stupid undersized single bed for two. Needless to say, it was not an easy task, so Carol pretty much sat up most of the night, sitting in the passenger seat. She knew it was vital for me to get my sleep to drive safely in the morning, so she had placed Sampson down at the foot of the bed as well. That’s my Carol, always thinking of the other person; even it meant further depriving her of sleep.

   In the morning around 7am, I knew we needed to get an early start on the day, but that never materialized either. When I went to start that pig, the damn thing wouldn’t turn over as previously mentioned by Leroy, so I followed his procedure he had taught me. Needless to say, that didn’t work, so now I had to make a call to “Right Speed” dispatch and see what they could do about getting somebody out here to fix this situation. Now even more bad luck was to follow when I couldn’t even get hold of their dispatch as they shut the phone off till nine-am, according to a prerecorded voicemail message. This time, I quickly got an epiphany of the true fact I had made a huge mistake working for this company.

   Finally at nine-am that morning, I got a hold of dispatch, but after another hour of a complete runaround, I got in touch with the Operations Manager, Abe that could make such a vital decision. That decision being, whether he could authorize a mechanic to drive out from Billings Montana to fix the dam thing! This guy even had the audacity that he wanted me to pay for this, as he couldn’t get it authorized by the “President of Right Speed Trucking.” He said that he would pay me time while waiting for the guy to get here, and maybe some hourly wage he would discuss with me when I got back. I relayed Carol this information and she told me to tell him a flat out No!  He needed to get somebody from his end to arrange to fix this. Well, he said, to call him back in an hour and that he would try to get hold of a mechanic to come out from Billings to help me out.

“This is quickly becoming an adventure in futility!”, I thought to myself. 













          The blame should be put on the owner and not the dog. It comes down to breed practices and proper education.
     
  

THE BEAR'S BLOG: ...

THE BEAR'S BLOG:                                                   ...:                                                          THE BREED OR THE DEED      Last Saturday, we talked about how the general public a...