Did you ever have a dream that you dream every once in a while? I mean.. the SAME dream.. exact same. The kind of dream that plays out like a movie even though the infamous “they” say that you don’t dream in color?

I have one of them… and it popped into my subconscience last night.. and since I’ve been sleeping for the past 11 hours .. YOU, my dear friends, are going to hear ALL about it!! LOL!!

NOTE: I am actually feeling better today except for this big ball of rubber cement that’s lodged right above the back of my throat and won’t move no matter how many disgusting grunting sounds I make.

The start of the dream always begins at different points.. in this case, I was in my grandmother’s old three story house.. walking up the stairs to the second floor. It was dark and I was cautious … afraid even.. and out of the corner of my eye I see a blanket coming towards me. Not just a blanket.. but someone holding the blanket that wants to wrap me up in it.

You know how in the dream you can’t move your legs to run or arms to punch? Insert that here. I tried moving my arms up to hit whomever was going to kidnap me but the effort was fruitless.

Cut to next scene and I’m stuffed in .. ok, this is going to sound weird .. one of the engines of a small airplane. There’s a person stuffed in there next to me which turns out to be my brother in law. A brother in law that I don’t have in real life. I see somebody walking across the parking lot? or whatever it’s called where small airplanes park.. and push my “brother in law” out of the engine hoping that this person will find him.

He goes unnoticed as the person walking through the parking lot gets into the plane. Oh. The pilot. Well.. guess I better get MY simple ass out of the airplane engine, huh?

But instead of getting OUT, me in my infamous wisdom go UP and I am not sitting in the airplane next to the pilot who looks suspiciously like John Lithgow.

We’re in Florida :: no clue, so please don’t ask :: and as we are taking off the pilot is all distraught because he is avenging his son Patrick for what happened at Three Mile Island. It hits me that this idiot has no plans of ever landing the plane himself.. that he’s just going to let it fly until it runs out of gas.

We’re only a few feet off the ground.. flying over this small river and I can see these hot latino boys hunting moose. :: Again, no clue so please don’t ask :: and figure.. yknow.. HELP! .. so I tap the pilot in the head with a police badge which knocks him out and the plane goes down.. but goes down really, really softly so that I’m able to hop out and run towards the hot latino boys hunting moose.

This is like.. The Lord of the Flies.. kinda? If you get my drift? So me being there did not warrant a luau or even a mango breaking ceremony. I literally throw myself at the hottest latino boy :: because.. yknow.. why wouldn’t I? :: and the next thing I know we’re walking through this space of many rooms where I’m being introduced to everyone in the tribe.

NOTE: Don’t want to give anyone the wrong impression so when I say “boy”.. I don’t mean “boy”.. I mean “way over the age of concent” .. Come on.. I’m 44.. any guy under the age of 30 is a “boy” to me!! LOL

And we kind of get close in a romantic sort of way. Well.. okay.. it was just a full out lust-krieg, who am I kidding! And then him and his crew of hot latino boys make sure that I am safely returned home.

And there it is.

I probably have this dream at least once a year.. no particular time or event that I’ve been able to tag triggers it. Just pops up and gets me all warm and fuzzy for hot latino boys that raise pit bulls and hunt moose in Florida.

Oddly.. after I woke up from this dream, I got up.. drank a glass of water and then went back to sleep and had ANOTHER dream but this time featuring one of my old boyfriends. The hot Hawaiian Air Force Sargent boyfriend.. who I SWEAR I didn’t know had a wife and two kids back in wherever his base was then.  ‘Cause Leese don’t roll that way. Anyway.. I haven’t even thought about him in DECADES so I’m blaming that one on the fever!!

Yep, definitely the fever!

I am part of a contest on flickr. I am so lucky to be in the top 25 picked. Please come check it out and vote. My picture is called Snuggle Bunny.

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I’m sorry in advance about three dog posts in a row. Actually, I’m not.  I mostly skip over posts about children and pregnancies.  There are a few exceptions: this one (because I really like her), this one (because she is my sister and friend), this one (because she is hysterical), and this one (also hysterical). I mean no offense if you are a pregnancy or mommy blogger, but I have to keep a positive outlook over here and reading about the one thing that I can’t have seems kind of creepy and doesn’t really help my efforts to not become one of those obsessive/sad/bitter women who’s blogs definitely scare me and make me thankful that my life doesn’t revolve around getting pregnant. Don’t know what I’m talking about?  Look up infertility blogs if you dare.

So I won’t be sad if you don’t want to read about my pets.  Just don’t leave forever, okay? I’m probably WAY over thinking this.

Anyway, since losing his manhood, Hogan has pretty much been confined to his crate for six days now, per the vet.  He also hasn’t been allowed outside without a leash, also per the vet.

This means that he has to do his “business” on a leash.  This is Jason’s job. By default, all gross things in our house fall on Jason.  Mystery leftovers in the fridge? Jason disposes of them and cleans the container. Dog throw up?  Jason.  Bugs?  Jason. Clogged drains, toilets, or pipes?  All Jason.

Last night while we were lying in bed, he informed me that Hogan actually grunts while he goes number two.  This caused me to go into a fit of laughter that lasted way longer than it should have.

Think what you will about pit bulls, but Hogan is the best. He’s got personality.

It was a morning dog walk much like every other morning dog walk, though Leeloo, Otto and I stepped out onto the porch to find conditions on the damp side.  Light rain and overcast skies set a rather melancholy tone for our 6:15 a.m. journey around Sonoma Plaza, a change from the previous morning’s clear and frosty weather.  As a rule, the dogs prefer the feel of crunchy frozen grass under paw, but are not impartial to piles of soggy leaves, provided they’re gathered sufficiently high to facilitate vigorous redistribution via aggressive hind leg action.

Going against common wisdom, I tend to actively pursue cognitive dissonance in my life, above and beyond the ample supply heaped upon us by everyday existence.  And so it was last night when, following the conclusion of Sherlock Holmes’ “The Last Vampyre” (1993, Jeremy Brett, Edward Hardwicke), I retired to bed to catch up on some reading.  To supplement the online course materials for my MBA class on Research Methods, I find myself slogging through Marketing Research (McDaniel and Gates, 2007) and Multivariate Data Analysis:  With Readings (Hair, et al., 1995), neither of which are quite the page-turners that I find Alan Furst’s novels of Eastern European espionage and political intrigue in WWII to be.

After a dozen or so pages on programmatic, selective, and evaluative research, it was time for a stiff shot of cogdiff so I reached for my copy of Revolution at the Gates:  Žižek on Lenin – The 1917 Writings and thumbed through the remainder of Lenin’s second “Letter from Afar” (March 22, 1917), written from Zurich to his revolutionary colleagues back in Russia on the topic of the provisional revolutionary government and the proletariat.

Now, of course, there’s more than enough cognitive dissonance to go around here.  The transition from learning how to sell more stuff to consumers to understanding why the provisional revolutionary government’s efforts to reach compromise with the Tsarist supporters of Nicholas II, in order to protect the interest of Russian land owners, the bourgeoisie, Western European investors, and war profiteers, could only be accomplished at the expense of workers’ and peasants’ freedom and economic well-being, is not exactly an effortless one to make.

Yet it is precisely by juxtaposing contemporary marketing practices against Bolshevik political discourse that we are forced to look at the two things in a different light than we would ordinarily do.  And this is setting aside what is probably the more dissonant experience of even reading Lenin’s writings at all, in this post-Communist / post-revolutionary age.  For isn’t it commonly received wisdom that Lenin is one of the arch-villains of history, the father of the original “Evil Empire” that was ultimately vanquished by the triumphant forces of capitalism and democracy, but only after the suffering and death of millions of innocents?  What could possibly be learned from reading anything Lenin ever wrote?  Indeed…

In fact, what is striking about Lenin’s letters – as Slavoj Žižek points out in his forward to the collection – is his intuitive grasp of the revolutionary conditions of possibility which emerged as a result of the incipient failure of the initial revolt against tsarist rule in 1917 (itself a continuation of the failure of the 1905 uprising).   As Lenin observed, most commentators surveying the events of early 1917 interpreted the situation as portending either the gradual transition from autocratic monarchy to constitutional liberal democracy (should the revolution succeed) or the restoration of monarchical power, albeit with some provisions for limited democratic expression (should the revolution fail).  Lenin, on the other hand, understood that conditions were unfolding under which the power of a unified coalition of workers and peasants – a coalition which did not yet exist but would have to be forged by the Bolshevik Party and it’s allies – could sweep away both the tsarists and the parties of established wealth and privilege, and the lay the foundation for a truly transformational society.

Well, we all know how that turned out.  And yet, at 6:30 a.m. on a damp and foggy morning, it’s hard (for me) not to reflect on current conditions, here at the “end of history”.  We’re being told by our leaders that threatened economic collapse has been avoided and that we are slowly on the road to recovery, despite ample evidence all around us that the situation remains dire and the underlying systemic causes of the melt-down remain unaddressed.

Meanwhile, as the dogs stopped to inspect what to my untrained nose was yet another indistinguishable patch of grass, I noticed someone, warmly bundled against the chill, standing in the shadows by the duck pond, distributing bread crumbs to several large ducks.  Once upon a time, chickens and ducks roamed Sonoma Plaza freely, and a pond had been constructed to provide suitable “natural” habitat for the migratory ducks and geese who dropped in for seasonal visits.  Like many good deeds, this one had unintended consequences, as the feathered visitors flocked to enjoy the new amenities, and warm-hearted residents were more than happy to provide snacks.  Eventually the chickens were banished from the Plaza, in 1999, allegedly out of concern for their own safety.  The ducks, who were reconsidering their migratory status and contemplating a more settled lifestyle, were periodically “culled” – an interesting euphemism – in order to keep their numbers under control.

My overactive imagination wondered whether this scene wasn’t ripe for some kind of critical analogy about homelessness, illegal immigration, bleeding heart liberalism, welfare, or any number of political hot button issues bombarding us these days.  I confess to actually looking around to see if there might be someone of a different ideological persuasion lurking in a car, hammering away furiously on a laptop his or her latest inflammatory outburst of righteous indignation.  I didn’t see anyone though, so the dogs and I proceeded around to the other side of the Plaza.

My take away from the metaphorically-overdetermined bird feeding scene is that there’s nothing easier than building simple analogies from complex assortments of facts.  Feeding migratory birds apparently reduces their inclination to migrate and renders them dependent on the kindness of strangers to subsist through the months of inclement weather.  Better to let them fly away south for the winter, to warmer environs.  Thanks for the visit, see you next spring.  And so too migrant farm workers and homeless people, n’est-ce pas?  When I lived in Santa Barbara, free bus tickets to Long Beach were used to promote the orderly process of seasonal migration.

The morning walk was almost done, as we prepared to cross the street to where the Subaru was parked in front of the Ledson Hotel.  I noticed how the view down First Street East of the old First Baptist Church, built in the late 19th century, was partly obscured by the telephone poles arrayed like fence posts from one corner to the next.  It occurred to me that when electricity and telephones were first introduced, the presence of these poles and wires must have been experienced as signs of modernity and progress – of the spread of civilisation and all its conveniences.  Of course, there were no doubt Luddites who bemoaned the passing of an earlier age, but the benefits of these new technologies far outweighed romantic nostalgia or aesthetic considerations.   But in 2009, I’m struck by how unsightly these things are, and how they’ve lost whatever earlier sense of the new and modern they might have conveyed.  The fact that the more affluent parts of town have removed all external traces of these things – save for the occasional gray fiberglass “rock” signifying the location of an access point to underground utility cabling – speaks volumes to where we are today.

With the dogs snug in the back of the car, we concluded our walk and drove home, to reflect on the things we’d seen this morning and to eat some kibble.

New Democrat Cheri DiNovo said the government’s ban on the dogs has had “no real impact” on public safety and should be repealed.

“It’s the deed not the breed,” Ms. DiNovo said Wednesday at Queen’s Park where several dozen pit bull owners gathered for a rally. “It’s not the breed of the dog that causes a dangerous dog.”

The intent of the legislation was to protect Ontarians from a perceived threat from dangerous dogs. There are a lot of people lined up against that legislation, and NDP MPP Cheri DiNovo has introduced a private members bill to trash it. Those who want to keep the ban in place will argue that pit bulls are dogs bred for fighting, and have the tools to do a lot of nasty damage. On the other side, many people argue that these dogs can make fine pets, are good with children and so on.

One thing that is sure in my little brain is that outside of any argument about the inherent qualities of the breed, the larger problem is a population of morons who want these dogs for fighting, or to help them act tough, or to be extensions of their oh so small and limp members. I guess it’s easier to ban a breed of dogs than it is to ban a moron though.

Some people argue in the gray area that says, well a pit bull isn’t a breed at all so how can you ban it, and if you ban a pit bull why not ban the various other similar dogs bred to be all strength and jaw? The same folks naturally know exactly the dog they want though, when they buy a pit bull.

I’ve had a dog since spring. Most of you have seen pictures of Memphis, my adorable landseer newf. Newfs have notoriously “soft mouths”, but let me tell you, in the unlikely event that she decided to bite someone, she could easily do a lot of damage. Even though “Newfs are great with kids” and “Newfs love everybody”, and even though Memphis fits those stereotypes, she’s still a dog and I supervise her around kids every time. I figure it’s my responsibility to ensure that my dog doesn’t cause any problems. The fact that she is fairly submissive and super-friendly doesn’t mean I should stop paying attention to her interaction with others – especially kids.

The best behaved and best trained dog I’ve seen in a long time is a German Shepherd that lives in our area. He’s an alpha dog, a tough boy, but he’s always under the control of his human companion. If he wasn’t trained so well, he would be way more of a wildcard than a big suck like Memphis, but the fact is that he is trained incredibly well. He obeys commands without question, and his owner watches him like a hawk, and stops him from getting into trouble well before he thinks about getting into it. I don’t worry about this dog because his owner is so totally responsible.

Ultimately, a pit bull ban doesn’t do anything to stop aggressive morons from owning tough dogs. There are plenty of other tough breeds of dog out there, and even dogs that are known to be gentle breeds can be nasty in the hands of a nasty owner.

When we started thinking about a dog, we did carefully consider breed characteristics. We wanted to find the most non-aggressive, friendly to everyone goofy dog we could come up with. To me, getting any kind of head start in that direction by choosing a breed with a gentle rep seemed to be the way to go. I don’t think banning tough dogs is ever going to accomplish much. I just don’t get why anybody would want one.

On Monday evening, I went to Abuelos to to support my friend who is training to be a Mary Kay consultant.  They have classes in a private room every Monday, and this particular Monday, the trainees were asked to invite friends to practice the skin care product sales pitch on.  Friends who would not judge.

I have to admit that my skin felt tres fabulous afterwards.  I wanted me some Mary Kay.  For a moment.

During the color portion of the evening we were given a card with a palette of eye shadows, blush and lipstick.  We were instructed to put it on in order to help us win a prize.  My pallet was “red”.

Now I’m not one to wear red on my lips, but there was a prize at stake, and I wanted it.  As I applied the very bright reddish lip color, I started to panic. “This is not my color,” I heard myself say out loud.

One of the The Directors of Mary Kay, totally disagreed (along with all of the trainees, of course) that the red contrasted beautifully with my hair color and complexion. She insisted that I just wasn’t used to it.  So I accepted this as truth and went home, where my husband commented that I looked like the Joker as soon as I entered the door.  He may have also (jokingly, I promise) mentioned that I could pass for a cheap hooker.

Not to be deterred by his comments, this morning I was feeling a little sassy and decided to give red lips another shot.

And then I felt very self conscious. Especially in my pencil skirt and heels in the parking lot of the Staples, with a 69-pound pit bull on the end of my leash, as I struggled not to turn my ankle because he forgot all of his manners at home. You see Hogan lost his manhood today.  Poor guy.  He had no clue the fate that awaited him when he happily scampered up the steps of the SPCA mobile chopping unit this morning.

Anyway, I was wishing that my red lips weren’t so bold as that little pot bellied pig tried with all of his (very substantial) might to release himself from the confines of his harness to go and play.  Doesn’t he realize that I bragged and defended his good manners on my blog last week?  In any case, he left his mom feeling like a fool and hoping that my red lips weren’t serving to make the whole thing appear even more ridiculous.

I think I’ll wait awhile before I try to bring out my inner Shakira again.

Tiffany Gallo

On June 18, 2009 New Yorkers were outraged and saddened to hear that a one-year old pit bull mix was beaten and thrown off the roof of a six floor building in Brooklyn.  Oreo suffered two broken legs and a fractured ribcage, but miraculously survived the fall. After months of rehabilitation, the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals was able to repair Oreo’s injuries.

Despite Oreo’s physical recovery, the ASPCA made the decision to euthanize the pit bull on November 13, 2009. Following months of both physical and obedience rehabilitation, the ASPCA determined that Oreo’s erratic aggression made her a danger to both humans and other animals.

Oreo’s euthanization elicited sadness and anger from animal lovers throughout the state. Protestors rallied outside the ASPCA building early Friday morning. Many animal activists felt that Oreo should have been given the opportunity to be adopted by one of the hundreds of families that wanted her. Pets Alive, a non-profit animal sanctuary located in Middletown, N.Y., sent many unanswered correspondences to the ASPCA in hopes of taking over responsibility and rehabilitation of Oreo.

In response to their decision, ASPCA spokesman Andy Izquierdo stated, “We’re saddened by the outcome, but we truly feel it’s the most humane decision for Oreo.” Mr. Izquierdo further stated in response to the protests, “We understand the outcry. This poor animal was thrown off a roof, but this is a decision made by several behaviorists. This is a dog that is not only highly aggressive but unpredictable.”

Fabian Henderson, Oreo’s abuser, was charged with Felony Aggravated Cruelty to Animals for throwing Oreo off of the six-floor building.  Henderson plead guilty to this charge and will be sentenced on December 1st.

Recently I have been working with a Pit Bull female, Ruby (left), that is in a rescue kennel until a new home is found for her. I have absolutely fallen in love with her but she is not cat friendly and I feel that it would be too distressing for my aging, three legged cat to have a lively young dog chasing after her so she will not have her forever home with me – as much as it breaks my heart.

Even if I didn’t already have a soft spot for bull-breed dogs, (I have worked with and handled Bull Mastiffs and Bull Terriers in the show ring over many years) Ruby would have sold me. She is super sweet, lively, responsive, highly trainable, very smart, soft, great with people…the list of good things about her goes on and on. She needs some work on dog to dog friendliness, basic manners and obviously the cat issue would need to be managed but no dog is perfect.

What is even more upsetting to me about Ruby’s case and that of many other ‘bullies’ and so called “vicious” dogs in Ireland is that despite rock solid, bomb proof temperaments they suffer abuse, ignorance and a pitiful existence because of an absolute lack of understanding of these breeds, dog aggression and dogs in general.

I see this with my own fur-baby who, because of his size, soft nature and unusual appearance gets a lot of attention from strangers (he has literally stopped traffic several times!).

This is a running joke among my friends – they count how many people stop me to ask about the dog, and suggest that he should wear a sandwich board with details about him for passers-by! On average half of the people, once told that he is half Rottweiler, shy away, back up and/or make remarks along the lines of “having to be careful with him” or “lucky that he has Airedale Terrier (the other part of the mix) personality!” This is after they have just hugged or kissed him, or allowed their small children to do so without asking my permission.

I had an experience recently in a park where we were walking one evening. Rufus was on leash and we met another walker with three Labradors of varying ages, one on leash and two off leash. In fact I heard one of them before I saw them! On approach two of the dogs off leash ran up to mine, barking in his face, signalling with very assertive body language; the other on leash pulled and strained and growled at my dog. I asked Rufus to walk close and watch me – when I first got him he had a dog-dog aggression issue so it is one that we have worked very hard on. The Lab owner asked about him, I said “Airedale cross Rottie” and the reply was along the lines of “oh we better not mess with HIM so”.

I walked off very quickly so as to cool myself, wanting to remark that it was their dogs that were doing the barking and pushy dog act, not mine!

This level of ignorance is rampant even among so called dog-lovers. It is perpetuated by an overall poor attitude toward dogs in this country and poorly designed and enforced doggie law, particularly our BSL (breed specific legislation).

What is BSL?

Breed Specific Legislation is law that specifically details certain breeds of domestic dog.

In Ireland our BSL is covered in the Control of Dogs Act, amend. 1998.

Breeds listed are the American Pit Bull Terrier*, Bull Mastiff, Dobermann Pinscher, Bull Terrier, German Shepherd, Japanese Akita**, Japanese Tosa, Rhodesian Ridgeback, Rottweiler, Staffordshire Bull Terrier or any dog referred to as BanDog or of cross or strain of any of these breeds.

These dogs must be muzzled and on a leash of less than 1m while in public. They must be under the care of someone over the age of 16 and capable of controlling the dog.

*The term ‘American Pit Bull Terrier’ is often used interchangeably to describe a number of different types and breeds; particularly the American Staffordshire Terrier and the Pit Bull Terrier and in many cases any number of different mixes and other breeds and types – usually mistaken.

** The Japanese Akita, no longer exists under the Irish Kennel Club. Two breeds have been recognised in its place: the Akita (Inu) and the American Akita.

Dublin City Council has implemented a ban on these breeds being kept by their tenants.  Other county councils around the country have followed suit and now implement their own breed bans that involve breeds listed in legislation as well as some districts including other breeds as well.

What’s the problem with BSL?

Where do I start?!

Pet Central is strongly opposed to BSL in Ireland or anywhere.

Studies have shown that BSL in various countries is not effective because pointing the finger at specific breeds is not the answer when dealing with dog aggression.

Does the Dangerous Dogs Act protect against animal attacks: a prospective study of mammalian bites in the Accident and Emergency department - a UK study, if you would like the complete work let me know.

Dutch government to lift Pit Bull ban

Italy revokes breed ban

‘Pit Bulls’ bite less than ‘family dogs’ - the only Irish dog bite study ever carried out

Please read Janis Bradley’s book “Dogs Bite but balloons and slippers are more dangerous” for down to earth, realistic information on dog bites and statistics. Dog bite incidents are well recorded in US due to the rabies issue.

BSL suggests that the only dogs to worry about are those listed – this is not true. ALL dogs bite and ALL dogs are capable of ritualised aggression (which is the issue in practically all dog aggression situations).

BSL lifts the responsibility off irresponsible breeders and owners and puts it squarely at the paws of dogs of certain breeds.

BSL relies on witnesses to identify breeds involved in incidents – this is a major flaw as the majority of people find it difficult to identify breed accurately.
Try this quiz: Find the Pit Bull Not as easy as you thought, right?

BSL leads to a large number of dogs of these breeds or mistaken for these breeds being surrendered, strayed, euthanised or worse. This puts pressure on rescue groups, pounds and rescue staff – this is an area that cannot take any more pressure.

Like other dog control legislation, BSL is poorly enforced which makes it even less effective and more frustrating for responsible owners.

What’s the alternative to BSL?

Well there are probably lots of alternatives and indeed the following is by no means a definitive list of things that could and should be done to reduce aggression and improve dog welfare but some suggestions.

• revision of all dog related legislation and enforcement of newly revised legislation
• legislation should be developed in consultation with a knowledgeable working group
• microchipping of ALL dogs regardless of breed and maintenance of a data base of owners and their dogs
• regulation of breeding establishments (legislation in relation to this has been in development for some time but we are yet to see it)
• education, education, education
• animal welfare education for primary school children
• safe dog education for children and adults of all ages
• national education campaigns on dog behaviour, dog care and dog safety
• county council supported socialisation and/or training classes delivered by approved trainers
• education of breeders and pressure put on kennel clubs to look at breed standards

Dog Aggression:

Aggression is probably the most misinterpreted and most misunderstood of all dog behaviour. Despite what popular TV trainers tell you, aggression in most situations is a way of the dog asking you to give him some distance.

Dog behaviour is full of ritualised aggressive displays. This means that they use a large number of signals asking others to give them space. Dog signalling is very subtle and humans often miss these early signals or misinterpret them as “dominance” or some other rubbish.

This is one of the main reasons that humans get bitten – we don’t respond to signals that are to the dog the equivalent to us shouting at one another.

Understand that:

• all dogs show ritualised aggression and all dogs bite
• ritualised aggression in dogs is normal, doggie behaviour

Here we are talking about ritualised aggressive displays which are an important part of doggie communication. We usually refer to aggressive behaviour as the really obvious, conspicuous signalling such as growling, snarling, snapping, biting, lunging etc. However, the ‘give me space’ message began minutes earlier – we just miss it. It really is a wonder that we don’t get bitten more often.

When someone asks “does your dog bite?” I always say yes. Then I ask them to remember the last time they went through a day without losing their temper, swearing under their breath or getting annoyed or irritated with someone. But, we don’t ask eachother this when we first meet – that’s because we understand this is normal, everyday behaviour for people. Well it’s normal behaviour for dogs too.

Just as it is important for people to learn to control their temper and remain polite with other people it is important for dogs to learn this too.

The vital point here is that we must socialise and train dogs to cope with human life so that they learn to avoid expressing aggression toward humans. This is a serious and difficult challenge.

What can be done to prevent aggression?

Socialise, socialise, socialise, socialise and then socialise some more.

Train your dog to cope with human society using positive methods only

Learn to read doggie signalling - and then respond appropriately. Calming signals, such as those shown at this link are used to ask the other participant to slow it down, take it easy – that is the polite doggie way of asking for distance and to get out of this pressurised or intimidating situation.

Supervise children and dogs ALL the time

Educate yourself about child/dog safety

Educate children how to behave around dogs or in situations that may involve dangerous, boisterous or strange dogs

Breed safer dogs

Revise breed standards so as to select for ‘pet suitable’ traits.

Think long and hard before getting a dog – do research, talk to breeders, see both parents, enroll in a training class (yes, before you get the dog!), avoid puppy farms or back yard breeders, only select well socialised puppies, educate yourself and hire a professional

Dangerous Dogs?

Are dogs really dangerous? Are there certain breeds more dangerous than others?

If you were to read a newspaper you would probably believe the answers to be yes. However, the real life story is very different.

For the amount of contact we have with dogs in our daily lives, dog bites or serious dog bites rarely occur. That doesn’t mean something can’t be done. When someone is bitten or indeed seriously injured this is an awful and usually preventable situation.

Any dog, regardless of breed, age or sex, if socialised and trained appropriately for its breed, condition and living situation is safe providing that precautions are still taken (particularly the supervision of kids and dogs) and their boundaries respected.

Breeds such as Pit Bulls or Pit Bull types are in my mind great pets – providing they are responsibly bred and cared for, but that is the same for any breed or individual dog.

Pit Bulls have been bred for a long time for dog fighting – that means they need extra special socialisation with other dogs and other animals, it also means that they need special management around other dogs – but this is the same for many dogs with ‘blood-sport’ history.
The same way that care with terriers and small animals is important, the same way retrieving breeds will pick up all sorts of potentially dangerous things in their mouths so this requires mangaement, the same way herding breeds have a tendency to chase things even cars or children in an attempt to ’round’ them up.
Of course each individual dog is slightly different and any individual dog will have his little ‘quirks’ – this is why training and socialisation is sooooo important.

Pit Bulls are one of the only breeds where special emphasis has been placed on friendliness (towards people) throughout their development.

In early dog fights, owners were in the ring with their fighting dogs, they would have to separate their dogs and then a stranger would usually stitch them back up. Any dog that was aggressive towards humans even in those high stress situations was culled. Aggression towards people was not an option for founding stock of pit bull types.
Being aggressive toward other dogs is very different from showing aggression toward humans.

If I were to describe Ruby’s temperament and personality to someone without telling them her breed I could have organised several homes for her. If I misled people further and told them she was a Cocker Spaniel, they would be drooling in anticipation of taking her home.

But, unfortunatley, for Ruby she is a pit bull and that makes her difficult to home despite her wonderful, loveable disposition. To me Ruby is a dog, and a great dog at that – if only we could call her something else…

The point of all of this is to raise awareness so that aggression can be prevented and to eradicate ignorance so that we can put aside our misinterpretation and begin to actually do something about dog aggression.

The breeds that I see most often for aggression related beahviours are Labradors, Cockers, Border Collies and Jack Russels. I am also beginning to see a lot more Yorkies than before too. This report regards a Pomeranian that killed a young baby.
I do not want to label these breeds as ‘vicious’ or ‘dangerous’ but I do want people to be aware that Pit Bulls or Rottweilers or any of the others are no more dangerous or vicious than any dog.
Nor do I want to suggest that aggression towards humans is acceptable – it is not and it is an awful tradgedy when someone is injured by a dog. (It is also vital that people begin to understand and respect doggie communication.)

Socialisation and training, education and awareness – these are the keys to improving dog welfare and human welfare. 

If you have any questions or concerns about dog aggression, choosing the right breed for you, complying with dog legislation, help with training or socialisation please contact Pet Central. These are urgent matters and the sooner they are dealt with the better.

Interested in possibly giving Ruby a home? – contact us, we would love to discuss her details with you.

Check out these BSL resources to learn more about this faulty thinking:
ANVIL - Animals Need a Voice in Legislation, an Irish voluntary organisation
BSL Information Pack from a-rotta-love
All dogs are capable of biting from Understand-a-Bull
American Temperament Testing Society breed statistics
Deed not Breed - fighting BSL, UK
Why breed bans are not the answer…
Pit Bull Rescue Central on BSL
Pit Bull Guru
Bad-Rap blog
Pet PitBull
Myths V Facts about Pit Bulls
Peace for Dogs PSA - a short, tear jerker of a YouTube clip

Comments from the original blog post:

LuLu and LoLLy said…We are 2 Maltese dogs from Texas, and LoLLy is a rescue. We wanted to say this is a very good post and also that Ruby seems wonderful and we are keeping our paws crossed for an eggsellent home for her. Also Rufus and Mac are very cute. Thanks for all you do to care for dogs. Love, Your PaLs, LuLu and LoLLy. http://www.luluandlolly.comDecember 2, 2008 7:23 PM 

 

Anne @ Pet Central said…Thanks so much LuLu and Lolly – love your site. You guys are ceeeeuuuuteeee!

December 2, 2008 7:58 PM 

Ruby Update:
Ruby is still looking for a perfect forever home.  She is in foster right now and has really come on in her dog-dog friendliness – as you can see from the recent pics of her playing with some pals.
We would rather Ruby to go to a home as the only dog as she really does prefer her people, but it is good for her to understand how to socialise with her own kind too (plus its great fun!).

Ruby & friends June (pit bull) and Angel (rottie)

Ruby and Angel playing chase!

You probably remember the sad tale of poor Phoenix, the pit bull that suffered 3rd degree burns at the hands of two Baltimore teens.  What you may not know is that the two boys, twin brothers Tremayne and Travers Johnson, housed their pit bulls in a vacant West Baltimore rowhome:  1616 N. Gilmor Street (Baltimore City Council District 7).  The house is owned by Olivia Anderson of the same address.

The incident with Phoenix further illustrates the need for the city to clean up its act with regard to vacant property.  According to ASA Jennifer Rallo, the police found signs of dogs and gang activity at the Gilmor Street house –  another result of Broken Window Syndrome.  Hopefully this case will not only serve as a warning to those who abuse animals, it will serve as a warning to the city.  Allowing homes to remain vacant and unsecured is simply another link in the chain of criminal behavior that keeps Baltimore City in its third-class city status.  If we are to ever become a first-rate city, we have to tackle the problem of housing, with sustainable and well thought-out methods.

I just wanted to share this short little clip of Lucy getting scratched on the head. A lot of dogs don’t like it when you pet them over the head, but Lucy LOVES it. Can you tell?

I’m off to a weekend conference with Pat Miller and Sarah Kalnajs and I’m going to miss my little girl!

PB & P has quickly and easily become my new favorite show, showing Friday nights on Animal Planet at 10pm. It shows the nearly impossible work, the passion, the dedication, the triumphs and tragedies of running a pit bull rescue.

Information courtesy of animal.discovery.com.

Last weeks episode showed the rescue of an abandoned and left for dead white pit bull nicknamed “Gringa.” After Gringa was assessed by a veterinarian they concluded she had cancer and was too sick to treat. Tia made sure the camera crew was there to observe and film the truly heartbreaking and all too often unavoidable decision to end Gringa’s suffering. The camera focused on her eyes as she lay on the cold vet floor and took her last breath. If it weren’t for the heartless negligence of Gringa’s previous owner her cancer, suffering and untimely death could have all been avoided.

I hope PB & P will show people the monstrous acts committed against these dogs and just how forgiving and loving they can still be.

These were the days out in Roxbury, when I’d spend long, hot hours in the hall closet–my office, “the writing room,” which I decorated with photographs of my life and multi-colored twinkle lights.  Some of those lights were shaped like butterflies.  In certain places the wire was thin and dangerous.

This was a time when I didn’t go anywhere without a backpack—a thirty-pounder stuffed with books and diaries and a maroon apron that smelled like old pepperoni and sweat, no matter how many times I washed it. 

Back then I smoked cigarettes, because I was young and careless and invincible and stupid and horribly addicted.  I smoked and smoked in that little closet on Cedar Street.  The closet had no door but rather a heavy tie dyed sheet carelessly hung with thumb tacks.  The smoke in my little creativity cave was so thick that I’d choke on it and pull aside the sheet and stick my head out for fresh air.  The air was never all that fresh.  We were not very good at taking out the trash, or cleaning at all for that matter.  And of the many roommates that came and went, not one of them was a nonsmoker. 

These were the days at Emerson, undergrad version.  I transferred there from BU and found my stride as a writer.  I was inspired and confident and above all, prolific.  When I wasn’t writing pages upon pages of short fiction, I was writing in my journal.  When I wasn’t writing at all, I was waiting tables.  Often after waiting tables, I went to the bar with the other waiters and waitresses.   You were one of them.  And when I wasn’t doing any of those things, I was playing Pipe Dreams and Jezzball, mindless games on an ancient Apple—the 2GS, I believe. 

I drank one hundred ounces of Diet Coke a day and often forgot to eat.  I called in to Julie Kramer’s flashback lunch radio show at least once a week, begging for songs off the Pretty in Pink soundtrack and “Make a Circuit With Me” by the Polecats.  When Julie wasn’t on, I listened to my old favorites.  Upbeat new wave classics or the Spice Girls while getting ready to go out, Grateful Dead while trying to fall asleep, They Might Be Giants while writing, and the Pixies while playing Pipe Dreams and feeling restless.  Sometimes I was restless.  I was restless in the fat, wet heat of a New England scorcher, restless in my loud little life. 

The heat that summer was unbelievable.  Every ten minutes or so I’d take a break from the smoke box writing room and stand under a cold shower with my clothes on.  Between showers I’d be sweating and wondering about you.  I’d often think of calling, but I never did.  You’d find me eventually.   That summer, you just had a way of finding me.  Your turned up everywhere.

It was a time of disconnect on Cedar Street–roommates in fights and roommates ending their roommate romances.  At the end of it all we got the worst roommate in roommate history, the one who built the blue tarp sweat lodge and the totally not-to-code fire pit.  He used his boxer shorts as a coffee filter and spent most of his time with some sort of art therapist.  If I ever for a second looked bored, he’d try to get me to sleep with him, and he brought home a pit bull and tried to turn him mean.  When said dog pissed on his bed, he slept on it anyway and then stank of urine for days.  And by winter he jumped in front of a train—the mighty red line—and lived. 

That summer, you and I skated around something totally terrifying.  What was it there, that wasn’t there at the same time?  We were horrible and wonderful to each other.  I remember going on walks in the woods with other boys and forgetting that you existed.  I kissed strangers in front of you and cut my hair defiantly when you begged me not to.  I told you not to bring me orange juice when I was sick.  I didn’t want that kind of attention.  But I did confess that certain things were beautiful—your bright blue eyes, your full lips, the sunny morning when we walked the length of Boston, talking, talking, talking after kissing all night long, lips blissfully tired from all of it. 

You were unabashedly free, with words and thoughts and time and sexuality.  Although you hinted at settling down, I never bought it.  You sang crude songs at art shows and made fun of ugly girls.  You joked about our romance publicly and only pretended to kiss me at work, at the frickin’ rat infested corporate pizza joint.  I remember it.  Don’t think that I don’t.  In the cold, dry walk-in cooler you leaned in with your head tilted just right.  And then you laughed and walked away.

There were two walls to scale that summer, you see.  I have to believe that when walls exist, you can peek over and enjoy the view very, very much.  But you cannot climb.  You cannot climb walls made of fear and differences that can’t be bent.  I know this because I have lived and loved without walls for many years now.  When there are no walls and the man smells like your mate, you just fall in love.  I don’t mean to imply that it’s easy, but it’s clear.    

I’ve seen friends fall in love with the walls themselves, longing for what might be on the other side.  They can smell what’s on the other side.  They can feel it tug at the heart.  I’ll admit, there may be some pretty good stuff over there, but what good is it if you can’t get to it? 

I’ve seen people try.  They bang their head against thick brick for years.  They bleed on rusty barbed wire.  And this is what love feels like to them.

Ha ha!  Do you remember that our first kiss was against a wall?  A dark spring night, a chain link fence.  I was stunned still by the eagerness with which you pressed me there, your hands in my hair.  And I should have known better. 

But we don’t need to get in to how it all started, or the funny things that people do.  I’m trying to remember that summer; oh, I’ll say it—1998.  I’m trying to remember our two walls, which both could have easily been of my own design.  I was fairly frightened of falling.  If there was a night, however, that the walls shivered and thinned, it was the night of the party at Em’s.  I wasn’t expecting to see you there, but I was never expecting to see you.  You’d turn up, in one of three favorite shirts—the black one, the Army one, or the one expressing your love for a certain east coast city.  You’d turn up and you’d plant yourself next to me and then we wouldn’t part for twenty hours or so.  And this night you turned up all messed up on something, I never asked you what.  I didn’t want to know.  You were sweaty and intense.  You chain smoked and you rambled on about wanting to get into my head, not just my pants.  And you rambled on about wanting to see my heart.  There were moments, that summer, and this is one of them, that I very nearly believed you.  I did believe you on some level.  A part of me wanted to rush at you, knock over your scrawny little body and see if it would break—that thing, that invisible thing that made me feel lonely and unsafe even though I was smiling.   

I know, it’s all so dramatic.  Don’t worry.  The window of time paints you sweetly.  That’s the funny thing about summer flings—because the sunshine is fleeting, because the days are long, because each year brings a packed, golden capsule of a certain kind of memory, the memory highlights the good.

We took a walk that night, the night of the party.   It had rained while we were inside, momentarily cutting the oppressive humidity.  The beat up Boston neighborhood seemed lush and inviting and you could even see a few stars.  I hid from you behind a tree because you looked alarmingly cute, and electric.  The moonlight/streetlight mix coated your dusty curls in copper and silver streaks and I could feel a deep heat rise to my face.  I knew that I was blushing or flushing; I knew that my body was overreacting to your presence.  Then we kissed, of course, in the tamed summer air, under the street lamps, under the stars.  You asked me to dance, but we didn’t have any music.  So you sang.  Oh oh oh, it’s magic, you know, never believe it’s not so.  I let you dance me over the cracks in the sidewalk, and the ancient trees with the roots that did the cracking winked and swayed to your gravelly voice.  And I let myself rest my weary cheek to your sharp shoulder.  And I let myself lift one shaky foot to the first brick.  You have to learn somehow.

[Estados Unidos] [Prohíben a perros que hayan demostrado conductas agresivas en bases militares]. Lo leímos para traducir en Los Angeles Times:

El Cuerpo de Marines Prohíbe Pit Bulls, Rottweilers y Otras Razas Caninas en Camp Pendleton y otras bases.
El Cuerpo de Marines prohibirá a los perros con temperamentos agresivos en Camp Pendleton y otras bases de acuerdo a una nueva política desarrollada después de que un niño de tres años fue mordido fatalmente en Camp Lejeune, Carolina del Norte.Las razas prohibidas son pit bulls, rottweilers e híbridos de lobo.
Las familias que llegan a las viviendas de la base ya no podrán introducir a perros de esas razas. Las familias que ya viven en la base podrán conservar sus perros hasta el 30 de septiembre de 2012, pero sólo si reciben un certificado de “perro bueno”.
En las unidades residenciales de Camp Pendleton hay 190 pit bulls y treinta rottweilers, de acuerdo a funcionarios. La base tiene más de 7.300 unidades residenciales para familias.
No se permiten perros en las barracas ni en los cuarteles de solteros o reclutas. Todos los perros -y gatos- en residencias familiares deben ser inscritos. Ninguna familia puede tener más de dos mascotas.
Camp Pendleton todavía debe determinar cómo se evaluará a los perros para obtener el certificado de exención.
En tres bases marines de Carolina del Sur, 83 de los 85 perros de las razas mencionadas recibieron certificados después de aprobar un test de la Sociedad Americana para la Prevención de la Crueldad hacia los Animales.
[Tom Perry]
[8 de noviembre de 2009]
[9 de octubre de 2009]
[©los angeles times]

Lets start with a few pics of my favourite dog ever!

And move onto some useful and funny websites!

Dear Labby the blog for Pet Sitters

Ask Dear Labby! Funny!

Now some dog related items…  I am so getting this!!!!

Some quotes that were never more true!

Here are top ten animated (cartoon) dogs

How to draw a dog

top names for dogs

top 10 famous dogs of the 20th century

Pic of the day!  Check out the history of this loyal little dog at Greyfriar\’s Bobby

We have a dog. She’s a rescue. We didn’t know what we were getting with her, but had reports from the organization who had her. We knew she would have some form of baggage & we were correct, she does. We’ve learned she’s afraid of strangers & will bark like she’s going to attack if someone comes to the door. She’s not a breed just any Tom, Dick or Harry should own. She’s a full blood, German line, German shepherd. If she were to bite someone, she could do a lot of damage.  She has never bitten anyone, because we take precautions with her. (As I type, she’s in “her” recliner, asleep. She isn’t a morning person.) She’s safe with us because we know what she is & what she’s capable of. If I take her to PetsMart by myself, she’s muzzled. She hates it, but she gets to go. If Joe & I go together with her, she isn’t muzzled but he has her on a tight leash. Their favorite game is “Find your mom” from the other side of the store. She does it too. We can’t allow people to pet her & have to refuse if a child asks because she’s never been around kids. Loki even has separation issues because of what was done to her as a puppy. She’s afraid of being alone. She was beaten, tortured, neglected & abandoned by the couple that had her. When the adoption agency owner checked on her, she told us that if she had to leave us, she would probably break, mentally. She was in that precarious of a condition when Chris took her. We’ve taken her for her lifetime. 

Any dog that’s been treated like Loki was is capable of biting. A friend of mine is an adjuster for an insurance company & she related this: The most dog bite claims she’s handled have been from Golden Retrievers. They have become so popular that puppy-mill breeders aren’t being “as careful” with the genetic lineup of the dogs they are breeding to make money.

So when I see comments like some of the ones left on this article, http://www.newsweek.com/id/220497/page/1, I get irritated.

Pit bulls can be a dangerous breed of dog, given the right circumstances. So could, for that matter, our dog. They shouldn’t be wiped off the planet as a breed, because if they are raised right & trained, along with precautions taken, they are a good dog. No, I wouldn’t adopt one, or rescue one. Not because of the dog itself, but because I don’t know how that dog had been treated or raised. If I were going to have one, I would have to know the parents as well as the puppy. When Joe was a toddler, we had some friends who had a female pit. She knew Joe shouldn’t go to the back part of the yard he was in, so she brought him back. By the seat of the pants. He was laughing the whole way. That dog had been raised around kids & wasn’t afraid of them. She was the best at taking care of the kids. And she protected. They can be very good dogs. Until people get them.

If the commentors on the article want to wipe something off the planet, how about they go after the people who torture & abuse animals? There’s the problem. Not the animals themselves.

If you’re going to have a dog, you have to be prepared for what you’re getting. To go to a store & buy a puppy, not knowing anything about the breed you get, is the height of stupidity. Before you get a dog, do some research on the various breeds. Make sure the dog you get is compatible with your knowledge level & commitment level. If you want someone to run with you, don’t get a Great Dane or a Mastiff. Get a Terrier. If you want a companion couch potato, get the Dane. They do that real well. Or even a German shepherd. They make good couch potatoes. Maybe that’s why Loki’s vet says she needs to lose 5 pounds.

If you aren’t ready to give that animal a home for the rest of its life, do it & yourself a favor. Don’t get one. For no commitment, get a rock.

I just received the good news and I am thrilled.  Another dog that recently completed one of my advanced classes is now therapy dog certified.

Did I mention that she’s a Pit Bull?Completing a therapy dog certification is no easy task; it can take several classes and/or tests to accomplish this. Whenever a pet-parent comes to me with this news, I am, of course, very excited. But the dog I’m writing about here is particularly special to me.

We’ll call her “Sadie” for the purposes of this column (even dogs can have privacy concerns when it comes to the Internet). She was rescued from a shelter. She was so mistreated by her previous owners that everyone and everything frightened her.

Just mentioning by name the “Pit Bull” breed can make too many people nervous. The media has all sorts of bad things to say about them. My experience with them is extensive and hands-on, to the point where I’ve lost count as to how many it’s been my privilege to train or care for over the years.

What I see in them is consistently one of the sweetest and most loyal dogs anyone could ask for.

So I beam with pride in reporting that Sadie will be visiting hospitals and facilities that need the comfort and kisses that only a four-legged friend can give.

I have watched her blossom from a non-trusting, scared puppy that no one wanted, into a confident ambassador on behalf of all Pit Bulls, able now to unconditionally share herself with others. 

Happy training!

Our little pit bull puppy is not typically a chewer.

He’s a sock bandit.  He’ll steal a sock, hold his head up high, and proudly parade around the house–daring me to come and get it. I will command him to come and then drag him by the sock into the kitchen, where I’ll entice him with a treat while telling him to “drop it.”  He’ll look up at me with his pretty green eyes, and as soon as he sees the treat, voila, the sock is released from his crocodile grip. Easy peasy.

However, last week he made a big statement about how he is liking, or rather disliking, my husband’s new schedule.  My husband just started a new role (on top of his day job) as an assistant coach for a local college basketball team, and the practice schedule requires him to leave the house before I get home from work, causing our dogs to have to stay crated for an extra hour each day.

So instead of taking it out on The One Who’s Fault It Actually Is, our pup chose to take it out on me.  And by me, I mean my shoes:

Yep, three pair. Totally ruined.  I held on to them until Sunday because I was in denial about the fact that I can never wear them again. I won’t lie. I actually still have the gray pair. I will throw them away tonight.  They deserve to be parted with separately.

I’m kind of smiling inside though, because at least now I have a totally valid excuse to request some replacement shoe dollars from the Keeper of Budgets.  He felt pretty badly that our puppy severely cramped my style (times three), so I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to oblige.  Though I have a feeling this will not advance Operation Stay at Home Wife…more about that in another post.

Surprisingly, I wasn’t even upset with the dog. I guess he’s just pretty lucky he’s cute. Or maybe I’m having a hard time adjusting to our new schedule too, and in some twisted/empathetic way wished that I could on chew some shoes.

See?  Isn’t he precious? Who could get angry with that sweet face?

Happy Thursday!

Back in August, Fabian Hernandez, 19, was charged with animal cruelty for throwing his pit bull, Oreo, off the roof of his Brooklyn building. The dog survived the 18-floor fall, but suffered several traumatic injuries.

And on Nov. 18, Oreo was put to sleep because he was deemed too aggressive — even though he had recovered from his death-defying drop. But in the days before Oreo was supposed to be put to sleep at the ASPCA, an animal rescue group, Pets Alive, in Middleton, N.Y., sent pleas to the New York City shelter to hand the pit bull over to them.

Now, a bill is being introduced to the State Legislature that would allow animal advocacy groups to take over custody of an animal who is set to be euthanized by a shelter. State Senator Thomas Duane and Assemblyman Michal Kellner are sponsoring the bill. The bill would not apply to animals who are rabid or near death.