Skip to main content

They're Not Pets, They're Weapons

  I watched as the Rottweiler crossed the road in front of our house.

And I can still remember the cold fear that shot through my body.

The neighbours across the road had let their dog out again.

Or perhaps it escaped.

I can't say I had ever seen them walk it.

So perhaps it took it upon itself to go for a walk, to do its business.

Luckily I was in my car.

And when I pulled in the driveway, I couldn't get inside the house fast enough.

I was scared.

There's no evidence that the dog was vicious, or would have attacked or bitten me.

But I had this perception, this pre-conceived stereotype notion, that it would cause some harm.

The same chill courses through me when I see people walking certain types of dogs.

Dobermans.

German Shepherds.

Pit Bulls, or American Staffordshire Terriers.

Boxers.

Cane Corsos.

I find myself asking, why?

Why have a dog, that is essentially a weapon?

To show that one can be the boss over such an aggressive creature?

To strike fear in others?

Why?

What is the point?

A friend of ours just had their beautiful, lovely dog severely attacked by a German Shepherd that was off leash.

It had to undergo expensive surgery, but will hopefully be alright.

There have been countless stories of children and adults who have been mauled and attacked and even killed by these types of dogs.

There was a recent story out of Virginia where an owner was killed and then eaten by her two pit bulls.

In some communities, the pit bull type dog is, thankfully, outright banned.

People always say, oh, it's the owner's fault.

It's the people, not the dog.

Yeah, right.

These certain types of breeds are bred to be vicious.

To attack and defend.

To protect and maim.

And yes, they are not the only types of dogs that can attack, of course.

I understand poodles are considered one of the most biting-est breeds out there.

I know that the small-ish Jack Russell Terrier has a big-dog attitude and can attack and bite as well.

I have seen two Jack Russells attempt to have their way with a horse while it was having a roll in the sand.

And I have seen a tiny Chihuahua hold its owners hostage, and even the mighty Cesar Millan, a.k.a. The Dog Whisperer, had a tough time making him mind his manners.

But the large dogs, those that are bred to kill and to fight, are another story.

I think it says alot about the people who choose to own them.

Don Cherry and Rachel Ray notwithstanding.

I think of Michael Vick, the former footballer who was charged with a fighting pit bull ring, in which many dogs fought to their death.

I was in a pet food store the other day, when a man walked in with a Cane Corso type dog, on a choke collar.

There were many other small dogs in the store, and I feared for their safety, should that dog decide to go berserk.

The man was socializing it, perhaps, but at what expense, should it decide that another dog or person was looking at it the wrong way, to provoke an attack.

I know home insurance companies will often consider these types of creatures a risk, a liability, and charge more for coverage if there is such a dog in the home.

Awareness is the best defence, I'd say.

I will continue to marvel in awe as to why these dogs are owned by people, in subdivisions, in neighbourhoods.

When I see them being walked, I will continue to cringe.

There is a famous saying, "They know not what they do."

The dogs, maybe.

The people, though, are another story.


Popular posts from this blog

The Bird

 He fell out of the sky one day last summer, landing at the horse barn. A tiny, bright coloured green, yellow and blue budgie. He was caught and put in a pretty cage in the tack room. And there he stayed. For days. Weeks. Months. A tiny room with a closed door so the barn cat couldn't get in. A cage with only two perches, a water dish and a seed dish. The thought was that his owner would want him back. But despite repeated and numerous attempts to find an owner, none ever showed up to claim him. Perhaps he had escaped through an open window somewhere. Perhaps he was set free intentionally. They can be noisy. I brought him a few seed sticks, where he would get some enrichment having to chew away to get to those tasty treats. I brought him a couple of hanging toys, so he would have something to do and wouldn't be lonely. And then, November came. It turned cold. The heater in the tack room was on high, but it would sometimes get overheated and t...

The Mother Mode

  "Did you bring your gloves?" I found myself involuntarily asking my senior client the other day. "It's really windy out today - don't get blown away!" I then blurted out without thinking that they are a grown-assed adult and don't need to be reminded about that! Least of all from me! I have never had children and am not a birth mother. In my 20's I yearned for children, as one does when one's hormones are in peak form. However, by the time I hit 30, I came to my senses. I had a lovely little career in broadcasting going by that time and didn't want to put that on the shelf to have children. A choice I have never regretted to this day. My maternal instincts have been satisfied doting on numerous pets, however. And more recently, some long repressed motherly instincts are rearing their lovely heads, and I find myself turning into my mother. Something they say all women do, eventually. In a good way. And now, I find I...

From Terminator To Motivator

 Arnold Schwarzenegger is having a moment. I wouldn't call it a comeback. He never really went away. He has always been there - always pumping out movies, advice, his opinions, books, and now a tv show, a comedy action genre shot right here in Ontario. And today, as he celebrates his birthday, I have to admit, I am fan-gurling over the 78-year-old bodybuilder/actor/politician/author/activist/fitness advocate and now motivator.  I somehow stumbled across his latest book, Be Useful: Seven Tools For Life, and I had to read it. His grizzled face on the front cover, almost in a Terminator scowl, not hiding anything, his wrinkles and grey hair there for everyone to see. It is part memoir - part instruction manual to live one's best life. To contribute to society, to make good choices, to work hard and have a servant's heart. One could argue that he took his own advice, having a servant's heart, a bit too literally, after he fathered a child with the househol...