The Pit Bull Who Came Bearing Love

An Often Misunderstood Breed

By Ralph Mroz
Courtesy of the Police Officers Safety Association
POSA / Officer.com

Hurricane Katrina in 2005 brought devastation to millions of people and to even more animals. Well-known police trainer Jeff Chudwin was down there in the aftermath and reported that, despite the death and destruction all around him, the thing he found saddest was the situation of the animals. But even that tragedy resulted in some wonderful things, and one of them is a pit bull named Roy. He's ours now, and we love him dearly.

Pit bulls have a controversial reputation of course, particularly with cops who've probably seen their fair share of ones beyond redemption. But talk to any bullie owner who's rescued one and they will tell you a different story; one that echoes the fond sentiments of previous generations of owners of this once all-American family dog. In fact pits were called the nanny dog back then because they were so tolerant of and trusted with children.

There is even controversy within the circle of pit bull breeders as to what a pit bull actually is or it's a breed at all rather than simply a type of dog. The term "pit bull" can refer to Staffordshire Bull Terriers, American Staffordshire Terriers, American Pit Bull Terriers (just what the differences between these breeds is is often hotly debated), mixes of these breeds or simply pit bull type dogs. To us, Roy seems like more of the old pit bull-type dog: taller, leaner and less stylized than the various breed standards call for today. Most people, though, just know one when they see one, and any dog that resembles their idea of what a pit bull looks like is a "pit bull" as far as they are concerned, arcane debates between breeders not withstanding. It is their reputation as vicious animals, naturally, that gives people pause.

Roy was found on a fourth floor porch on a reconnaissance run by rescue volunteers working with the well-organized efforts of the Humane Society of the United States (HSUS). He was thin and hungry, and the initial spotters left him with a bag of food and a tub of clean water. He was picked up later and transported to one of the screening areas that the Humane Society had set up. Here he was examined, treated, fed, watered, temperament tested, and given as much love and attention as the harried volunteers could manage. The temperament testing was impressive. As part of his adoption papers we received a copy of the intake and testing forms done in Louisiana during those chaotic, sad days after the hurricane. Twenty-three separate tests were given to the dogs to determine their suitability for adoption. How does the dog react when you approach his kennel? When you pick up each paw? When you throw a ball? When you hold his muzzle? When he's approached with food? When he's around other dogs? And so on. Roy got consistent zeros for aggression, and consistent threes (the highest possible score) for friendliness.

Roy was known as Bullet then. We know this because his owner's cell phone number was written on his collar. The owner was contacted right after his rescue and he indicated that he wasn't capable of taking him, either then or in the future. Six month old Bullet was pretty lucky. In addition to surviving the disaster with his spirit and health intact, his owner had kept his shots up to date. Cynthia Armstrong, the HSUS state coordinator for Okalahoma who found Roy told us that he was everyone's favorite. That didn't surprise us. He has an exuberant personality that's all fun and play, 100% sweetness and zero dog (or people) aggression. He bounds like a deer with excitement whenever he sees a person or a dog that he can go meet. When he's not playing with someone, he insists on body-contact cuddling. He's a favorite of anyone who meets him even now.

To be sure, some lines of pit bulls, whatever their official breed status with whatever classification scheme you prefer, were bred for fighting other dogs. But because they were bred to be dog aggressive, they were also bred to be docile with people. That's because their owners had to be able to break up dog fights and handle injured animals. Even the gentlest dog of any breed will usually snap at and bite their owner if they try to handle him when they're injured, but pit bulls were bred for contrary behavior. For this reason, most veterinarians don't mind pit bulls as patients at all - they usually give them far less trouble than most other breeds. The stories you hear of pit bulls attacking people or children are almost always because they were mistreated or trained to be vicious, which is essentially the same thing. Any dog can be mistreated into viciousness.

Dog aggression is another thing, though. Because it can be a characteristic of the breed, it, like all breed characteristics and all naturally occurring phenomena, varies in strength along a Bell curve. On the left side of the curve are those 15 percent or so of pit bulls that are completely dog social. On the far right of the curve are those dogs that are always aggressive with other dogs. The majority of pit bulls are somewhere in between. For that reason, responsible pit bull owners are always vigilant when their dog is interacting with other dogs. They should know how to break up a fight, and they should never leave their pit bull alone with other dogs unsupervised. With that caution - and that responsibility - pit bulls make superb pets for the right person. They are uniformly sweet and loving with their owners and their families, and they are very good with children. Roy, it turns out, is from the left side of the curve. He is completely dog-social and has never shown aggression to anything - including the chipmunk he caught and brought to us unharmed.

After their treatment and processing in Louisiana, the adoptable dogs were eventually shipped out to various humane societies and pet shelters across the country. The New Balance shoe company provided an air conditioned tractor-trailer to transport forty of the orphaned dogs to Massachusetts (the only athletic shoes I buy now are New Balance), and nine of them wound up at the Pioneer Valley Humane Society in Greenfield, Massachusetts. We volunteered to foster one until a home could be found for it. Having recently lost our German Shepherd with which I did protective training and bite work, we volunteered to take in a "protective breed", knowing that many people were uncomfortable with dogs like German Shepherds, Rotweillers, and Dobermans. The reply came back, "So you are oaky with a pit bull?" Actually, that wasn't what we had in mind. We still had Nala, our border collie mix with us, and a dog-aggressive dog, even for a few weeks, wasn't what weÂ’d bargained for. Also, a dog-aggressive pit had nearly killed my first dog many years ago. On the other hand, we realized that pit bulls suffered from an undeserved bad rap, and so we agreed to foster one providing that it got along well with Nala.

When we drove into the Humane Society lot, we could see a gangly white dog, with a joyful face and the biggest smile across it that you can imagine, frolicking with a beagle. When Nala was introduced into the fenced area with Bullet, they got along immediately and played together for an hour as we and the shelter manager watched for any signs of aggression. When we got Bullet home, we figured that his current name wouldn't help get him adopted, so I suggested the good southern name of Roy. We agreed that it suited him; Roy he was.

We started taking the newly-christened Roy for our daily two-mile walk with Nala. The several hundred-acre wooded area where we walk is essentially the town dog park where dogs can run free and play together. I carried a break stick with me for the first couple weeks as we watched Roy fastidiously for any signs of aggression with the multitude of dogs he met. A break stick is a short stick shaped to open a pit bulls mouth when it has hold of another dog. But there was no need - Roy was friendly with and submissive to every dog he met, and played with them all enthusiastically. He loved people and children, too.

As our weeks of fostering were coming to an end, the Humane Society started to direct the serious calls about adopting Roy to us. I found myself talking prospective owners out of him, always finding a reason that he wouldn't be a suitable dog for them. Mostly these reasons were sound, and grounded in the fact that Roy had megatons of energy and needed lots of exercise every day. But when I started wanting to run background checks and criminal histories on these nice people who were calling, we realized that we'd made our decision. Roy was ours. He would stay.

Energy he had in spades, and strength, too. He couldn't be let off lead for the first few months, since after so much confinement he'd explode in a sprint and run for miles - and maybe hours - in the woods. He pulled hard - very hard - on his lead, and wasn't about to be trained not to in any short amount of time. After a couple months of fighting the pulling, it finally hit me. We had friends who had recently adopted a husky mix, and Scout pulled Steve all over town on his bicycle. The activity is called bikejoring, and it's actually quite popular. Steve explained to me that you needed a proper sled harness to do this, not the sort of harnesses you buy in pet shops which direct the stress of pulling over the dog's joints and can injure them. He introduced me to Nooksack Racing Supply in Maine where I ordered a custom-made harness for Roy for only twenty dollars. I also ordered a partially elasticized pulling line and a bicycle mount. Roy, my bicycle and I were in business!

Roy took right to it. We'd go to an old dirt road in the woods or a town dirt road that was little used, and with Roy pulling me and Scout pulling Steve, we'd have a ball. Neither dog was particularly good at it - after all, neither were pure husky or malamute. They'd pull like pants on fire for the first mile or so, then slack off to a relaxed pace. They were easily distracted by squirrels and smells. And they loved to swim. Our most-used dirt road runs right beside the Connecticut River, and both dogs always wanted to stop for an extended dip. But they had fun and got exercise; sometimes they even got tired.

Steve and his wife later adopted a pure husky, and Lucy has the right pulling stuff. Now, if both Scout and Lucy are pulling Steve, it's not fair. Roy's stride is shorter than theirs and he doesn't have the highly efficient pulling mechanics that huskies have. But we still have fun. Usually we'll hook Roy and one of the huskies to my bike, and the other husky to Steve's, and it's a more balanced situation. Nala comes too, but most times not in a harness. She runs free and both amuses herself and asserts her border collie need to be in charge by harassing the pulling dogs. She'll body slam them, cut them off, and sometimes give me a heart attack by running between the pulling dogs and my bike... as we're tearing along. You never take your hands off the brake levers as you bikejor, as I learned by impacting the ground once or twice.

Roy is now five, and over the last several years, Steve and I have become sort of characters around town: we're the guys with the dogs pulling us on bicycles. Roy has grown to be 60 pounds of pure buffed muscle, controlled until recently by a puppy brain. The pit bull abandoned in New Orleans has become a real Yankee. Roy has passed his basic obedience course and has a Canine Good Citizen certificate. He's completely at home in the New England woods, loves the cold weather and snow, and participates - more or less - in an activity (bikejoring) that's much more popular in the northern states than the southern ones.

He's also brought his huge capacity for love into our household, and we can't imagine not having him. He's a simple dog: he plays, he cuddles, and he sleeps. He's as completely happy pulling me on a bicycle as he is playing rough and hard with his dog buddies, or as he is with his head on my legs as we both sleep at night.

He's the pit bull who came bearing love.

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