Perilous Pitbull: The Myth Behind the Monster

I am not an expert in animal behavior. I don't have a degree in veterinary medicine, and I can't say that I've owned every breed of dog there is. Yet I know a dangerous animal when I see one. After being attacked by my own rottweiler, Harley, almost ten years ago, I can say- with much regret- that I've seen the look of death in an old friend's eyes.

Animals have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Growing up in Hawaii, my love of wildlife began in the sea. The ocean's bounty always provided much fun and excitement, yet the learning experiences always outweighed my sandcastles. My interest in sea life sparked a need to know about all creatures in general. At the age of seven, when most girls shed tears for poor Red Riding Hood, I sang praises for the gray wolf. My favorite animal was a skilled killer. It saddened me that, living on a landmass devoid of such lovely creatures, I would never meet a wolf on the way to Granny's house. Looking back now, I find it ironic how bad I wanted to meet the eyes of a predator.

My parents compensated for the lack of wolves with numerous other pets. You could say we've had a small zoo over the years. My mother bred Persian cats and broke Arabian horses. My father raised sheep and brought home random animals, from cattle to ducks. We've had Jackson chameleons, rabbits, and goats. There is even a pair of Canadian geese that visits our property during their migration. As for dogs, we've had boxers and border collies, Brittany spaniels and Chihuahuas. However, the rottweiler breed became a staple in my household the year I turned eleven.

After a reign of over a decade, Harley brought the rottweiler dynasty to an abrupt end. He died because of what he did to me and the memory of our friendship is stained with sorrow. Harley's story of blood requires a hub of it's own, however, reliving his existence through metaphors and clipart is not the focus of this article. The heart of the matter requires no gory details. I know why the caged dog bites.

By now, you're probably wondering- how can you prove that a pit bull isn't dangerous by citing evidence of violence in another breed altogether? Truth is, I can't. I won't promise that my pit bull, The Cisco Kid, will refrain from sinking his teeth into your face when put in a threatening situation. I don't believe he would ever cause harm to someone, but that doesn't mean I'm blind to the possibility. Big dogs are capable of big damage. I have the scar to prove it. But does that mean that certain breeds of dog should be chastised for displays of aggression? I think not.

The monster capable of murder exists in every creature. It lives in the hearts of fluffy kittens and fearsome tigers alike. I'd even go so far as to argue that this monster is most often displayed in humans. The documented cases of horrible, unforgivable acts of torture and death caused by humans weaves a shameful history into the fiber of our future. Yet we blame an animal for carrying the burdens of a violent master? Death comes in many forms and is delivered by many messengers. Only a fool thinks he can eliminate them all.

I've had many dogs over the years, yet the bond I've made with Cisco is unique. He is, honestly, one of the sweetest creatures I've ever met. You may not believe it by looking at him when he's barking at potential intruders, but Cisco is a gentle, loving and obedient dog. From the moment we brought home our Yorkshire puppy, Ziggy, Cisco has let him rule the roost. I truly believe our pitbull is a respectful dog because we have shown him the love and respect he deserves as a living creature. So, when people ask if he bites, I always laugh.

"Not yet"

The world would be a much better place if everyone chose to slay the monster within instead of blaming the monster in others.