Pit Bull Story

Pit Bull


I am a Pit Bull.


Now, set that aside for a moment.


What if, instead of that name, you seen this description: "Happy, playful sweet dog. Female. Short haired. Great family dog." Now, you wouldn't know me from a Lab. 


What if someone told you my name was Lilac and I was part of a family? That I was a loved member? You'd never suspect that I was a Pit Bull.


But, if you heard what breed I was, you'd be scared. Because of what the media has told you. What they have portrayed me as.


What if one day, you seen me on the outskirts of town, sick and wounded? And you saved me. And took me home. And loved me, all the time thinking I was a Lab. And, one day, you were told the truth. That I am a Pit Bull. What would you do? Would you send me away to die? Or go on loving me?


And, if you did send me away to die, would it nag at your conscience? That you sent me, the loving dog you had and saved, that you had a special connection with, to my demise?
If you kept me, would you live in constant fear that I would turn on you? That I would harm you? Or your child that I so lovingly played with? So gently?


What would happen if one day, people came and said that I had to be taken to the pound, that you were harboring a vicious dog? 


What would you say? Would you let them take me? Would you put up a fight? And, if you did fight but they still took me, would you let my death go unnoticed? Like the millions of my brothers, my sisters, that were murdered? That are murdered every day?


What about my cousins? The German Shepherd. The Rottweiler. The Doberman Pincher. The Boxer. They beat your sterotypes. Would you let me? Would you take part in saving me if you only took the time to get to know me? 


What about when you talk about all those other dogs, the Chihuahua's, the Dalmatian's, all those dogs that will one day be euthanized? All those dogs, that you love, and hate seeing them be killed? All those dogs that you want to be saved? But... You want me... You want me dead... Dead like all those others before me...


I am a living, breathing being. I bleed red, just like you. Just like cats. Just like other breeds. Just like rats, hamsters, bunnies. I bleed red. I breathe the air you breath. I drink the water you drink. I am just like you. Just. Like. You! 


My owners, they love me, but I was torn from them. I was placed in the pound. I think the boy next to me, the Pit Bull, was just taken to be killed. Murdered. I am next. No. Not next. I am now. I am being lead to my death.


And you, you just stood by and let it happen. You let me, ultimately, be murdered. And, it is you. You are murdering me. As a breed, you are murdering me. And you feel no guilt. No remorse. Because, what's one less "vicious" dog? One less "killer", "murderer"? And, when I see you join me, I'll think the same thing about you.


Because, I was a Pit Bull...

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This story is not directed at anyone or meant to cause a debate. I wrote it and posted it because I actually really like this story and have also posted it on Furry-Paws and thought it would be nice to post it here to