save the pit bull, save the world.

I struggle very much with whether or not to ask Luce to train and trial. She’s had surgery on both knees, and has some trouble with the right one. I struggle too with whether I should let her run freely in the yard, since the girl is not one to do things halfway, and unleashing her to run means she’s butt-tucked zooming, leaping onto Mushroom’s head, jumping up onto and climbing the woodpile, being a dog. (Previous activities also included tunneling under the shed but a wrench has been thrown into those works, until she figures out how to move concrete blocks at least.) Sometimes she’s lame afterward because she overdoes it.

She takes glucosamine daily. I give her anti-inflammatories on days when I know she’s likely to be running particularly hard or swimming and also on class days. My goal is to keep her pain free and comfortable, while still allow her to be a dog.

She enjoys training. I know she does. She lights up. She struts. It’s fun. I have fun, she has fun, we have fun together. I love taking her to class because she’s such a good little worker and she’s advanced enough that I’m learning new things, instead of repeating the same old stuff over and over again. I had so much fun in her Novice class. I haven’t looked forward to dog classes like that in a long time.

Finishing her RN was huge for me. I know she was feeling good- she was kicking her front legs out, strutting her stuff, sitting straight and without hesitation, big bully smile on her face. I’m sure her tail was wagging because her eyes were dancing. It felt good. I am told it looked good as well, not just that she did the exercises correctly, but that she had that extra… kick.

But I struggle with how much, how far. AKC Advanced rally adds a 12″ jump for her, which doesn’t worry me. Jumping doesn’t seem to bother her, and she’ll still levitate over a babygate, given the need. We don’t meet with a long sit-stay until the Honor exercise in Excellent, and that’s supposing we ever make it to Excellent. I’m astounded that I’m even considering Advanced.

I also sent in her registration for APDT Rally, so that we can start doing those trials. Some of those exercises are more challenging, and actually use some of the stuff we learned in Novice (Stand for Exam, for example). APDT also allows for medical modifications of exercises.

But I continue to worry. I can’t help it. I talked to both of the trainers whom we worked with in our Novice class about her knees, and we talked about what’s important and when to call it quits. The bottom line from both of them was to make things easier for her when I can, ask and don’t demand, and listen to what she’s saying. And I know I’ll see it first in her sits. If she’s hesitant, she’s hurting, and that’s enough. But at the same time, I don’t want to take away from her the enjoyment she gets from classes. I can’t continue to learn more on my own to teach her at home because I don’t know how to train any more.

Trials I could take or leave, in most ways. I don’t enjoy them. At all. I want and hope to learn to enjoy them, or at least loathe them less. I don’t do a very good job with managing my nerves, and while I did pretty ok at the trial this time around (sitting on the floor with my dog doing massage with her before our turn really seemed to be the right choice for both of us), I was a mess the night before and the morning of. But this is something I want to do, that I’ll need to work through. I imagine that experience goes a long way toward building comfort. I want this to become a fun thing to do with my dog. I want the letters after her name as a testament to our relationship. We have worked for so long together, and there is so much good there.

I said recently to someone that I wish I could ask her what she wants. But the real answer is that I can.

Some dogs will work themselves into the ground despite pain, despite anything. Luce is not one of those dogs. She’ll run after critters until she can’t walk, mind you, but she won’t work. If it hurts her to sit, she’ll look at me like I’m stupid. If I ask her for too much, she’ll give me the finger and tell me to go pound sand.

That’s what I love so much about her. She’s as honest as could possibly be. And she’s not afraid to share her opinion.

So I guess we keep going. We start classes again at the end of July. I’ve got no trials on the calendar, but I’m shooting for November, I guess. Plenty of time to watch, listen, worry obsessively that I’m doing right by her.

She’s my best friend. The last thing I want to do is hurt her, but I don’t want to limit her either. I don’t want to relegate her to couch dog out of fear. There’s got to be some sort of sweet spot in there in the middle. Somewhere. The area that keeps her healthy and comfortable and challenged and stimulated. Now we just have to find it.

Someone asked me this week what drew me to pit bulls. Not “why would you want to own one of those dogs”, which is what I’ve gotten in the past, but honestly, genuinely, what drew me to the breed.

I love this question. It lets me talk about my dogs, and it lets me be just another dog owner, because my reasons for choosing to adopt my first pit bull was entirely mundane.

When I was in college, I worked in a large boarding kennel. We didn’t see many pit bulls, but the ones we did see were what made me fall in love with the breed. The endless joy and over the top enthusiasm for everything was what did it. The confidence, the athleticism, and the just a little bit of a chip on the shoulder. That terrier never-say-die attitude and the spark all bundled up with the laughing pit bull smile. I wanted a smart dog who would work, but I didn’t want a push-button dog. I wanted a medium-sized dog, and I wanted a dog easily available through shelter/rescue (that part was utter self-centeredness more than anything - adopting through a rescue is hard enough, but adopting a less common breed like a Standard Poodle is even harder).

I had a lot of time to think about what kind of dog I wanted, because it was years before I was in a position to get one, and then I ended up with that tiny and decrepit Miniature Poodle because she needed a home and I’m a sucker. That poodle was my gateway drug. Six months after bringing her home, I adopted Luce. And then shortly after she died, I got Mushroom. And it all kind of snowballed from there.

(Kind of a funny thing that a ten pound poodle could be a gateway dog to pit bulls.)

It wasn’t until after I got Luce that I truly became involved in the culture that has built up around responsible pit bull ownership. Even though I’d read about the breed, was a member of an online pit bull board, I had no idea how much passion one could have about a dog breed. I had no idea how much heartbreak, how much anger, how much joy, how much pride could be involved with owning a dog with a particular body type, with a particular head shape.

I love my dogs more than I can put into words. I’m proud of them, and I’m proud that they are pit bulls, and I’m proud that I am a good owner to them and that I chose them for the right reasons.

No matter what breed anybody chooses to own, at the very core of it should be picking a dog whose attributes mesh well with what you want in a dog, with what you want to live with and with what you’re willing to put up with. Pit bulls match me as well as any breed can, and I’m so glad when people are receptive to hearing about my joy.

Because I’m still feeling delicate and not brave enough to write anything of worth, I give you my new favorite picture of Steve from our trip to the lake yesterday.

Silly monkey fell off the dock and tried to drown himself. I’d never taken him to the dock before, but I wanted to see if he’d jump in after a tennis ball (he’ll jump in off the side of the dog pool but that’s the only place I’ve ever tried him). I walked him out to the end of the dock, on leash mind you, and he apparently didn’t notice that the dock stopped and the water began, because he walked right off the end. He went completely under and came up sputtering. I grabbed him by his harness and hoisted him out, but it freaked him completely and he wouldn’t go back in the water at all after that, not even from the shore.

Today I took him back and he hesitated briefly when he got to the water but then barreled right in and he swam for a good half an hour. It was such a gorgeous day, and there was another Border Collie there (a beautiful split faced black and white girl) that we said hi to, but she was with some people who were fishing, so we gave them plenty of space so as not to interrupt their fun.

Thank you all, every one of you for your words of support. I appreciate them all from the depths of my heart. Now and always.

When I first started writing this blog, I intended to write about The Issues. Mostly I was intending this to be a space to vent about all the stupidity that happens surrounding pit bulls, this breed of my heart, to mourn the sorrows, to write about whatever issues cross my path and scuttle through my brain. I intended my dogs to be instruments in the making of points. I didn’t expect for them to largely be the point.

But somehow along the line, I stopped seeking out The Issues to write about, though they’re scattered here and there through my posts. For the most part, my dogs have taken center stage, my wonderful, silly, frustrating, inspiring dogs. And the journey I am taking with them.

It wasn’t what I ever intended, but it’s good. I enjoy writing about them. It seems that people enjoy reading about them. I hope that I can inspire sanity and understanding in a small handful of people with no experience with pit bulls, and help them see the breed as it really is, not as the media likes to cast it.

The flipside of this blog becoming so personal, of course, is that it also makes me vulnerable. When I write about The Issues, my brain is involved more than my heart. Yes, it’s personal, but still at a small distance. But writing about my own dogs? That puts my heart on the line in a big way. It puts all the hopes and dreams, the love and the worry, the time and the effort up for the judging.

And apparently I’ve been judged.

I’m no stranger to online journaling. I’ve had an online journal since before “blog” became a word in the public’s language. Since before blogger, since before blogspot, since before OpenDiary and Livejournal. Since back in the day when I had to hand code every entry and couldn’t just log in and ask Wordpress to do it for me. (Love to Wordpress.)

But I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone with so much venom directed toward me. Someone so determined to get through my spam filters that she posts repeated and escalatingly ugly comments until one finally manages to squeak through. Someone who has no cause that I can tell to loathe me so tremendously; someone who came here all on her own.

It is upsetting. I put so much work, so much heart, so much love into teaching Luce the self-control and focus to be able to go into the ring at a rally trial and keep her eyes on me. I never ever legitimately thought that we could bring home a blue ribbon- that we could be the best team on that day. Did I dream it? Certainly. But I never allowed myself to seriously hope.

And yet that day happened, and somebody feels the need to poison it. I do not understand. I cannot wrap my mind around it, much less my heart. I cannot comprehend why somebody would want to ruin something that I’ve worked so hard for, why someone would want to demean my relationship with and my respect for my dog by saying such ugly things.

I admit, I give this person far more power than she deserves. I recognize it, but that venom, it touched me and it still burns.

Which is why my comments are now on moderation, even though it’s a huge pain in the neck to have to approve every one. I will not allow anyone to pollute this place. It is mine. I have struggled with the idea of deleting comments, of censoring, and have never done so before now. But I am not willing to allow one person to make this a place of bad feeling for me.

I love my dogs. I respect my dogs. I would be quite lost without my dogs. They are a huge part of my life, and I am glad that I can share them with people who are of like minds. I just don’t understand why anybody would want to ruin that.

Since the rain stopped, it’s been absolutely gorgeous.

Last night I took Steve for a playdate, and I sat with friends under a cherry tree dripping with delicious yellow cherries while three dogs zoomed and rolled and frolicked. And ate not-quite-ripe fruit off the ground. And rolled in stinky things. It was fantastic.

We went out and tramped through the goat pasture, through the weeds and long grass with the dogs bounding and smiling and chasing, and the goats snorting and rubbing their heads against us and trying to eat our clothes. Steve still doesn’t want anything to do with the adult goats, but he’s finding the kids intriguing. He finds goat poop the most intriguing of all.

Tonight was just my own dogs, running in the yard. I threw Steve’s frisbee and Luce had to chase him down and try to snatch it away from him (he’s faster than she is and just as determined), because she thinks that’s the best game ever. Mushroom grazed and tested the crop of raspberries (not ripe yet, but soon!) and then played a vigorous game of tug with Luce. There were zoomies. There was a floppy puppy under a tree. It was warm, but not hot, with a beautiful sky and a gentle breeze. Absolutely perfect.

And I cannot imagine a better way to spend it than outside with my wonderful dogs, playing and grazing and stomping through the flowerbeds and all the other wonderful things that dogs do. Never do I feel more at peace than I do on nights like this one.

We did it! Days of belly-clenching anxiety behind us, an angry dog in a cone last night because she would not stop licking her booboo, but we did it! Luce not only finished her Rally Novice title in three trials, she took first place today with a 97. I couldn’t believe it. I almost threw up I was so amazed and astounded and thrilled!

There were only three dogs in our class, mind. Gotta love the small trials. But a 97 is a very respectable score no matter what the size of the group, thank you very much! Everybody in our class qualified, which was lovely and happy and exciting. The judge was super nice and super friendly. I would absolutely show under her again.

We lost our three little points on silly things- she kicked a cone in the spiral, and popped up out of her down in the halt/down/walkaround when I paused but before I cued her to heel. But we didn’t get nicked for tight leash tight leash tight leash because there wasn’t one. This is something of a miracle for us. Tight leash is our style.

Luce was so on. She was lovely. She had her front legs kicking out in grand style. I kept my pace up, especially through the serpentine and the spiral. She sat promptly. I didn’t do anything stupid. And she gave me her attention the entire time, even though there was stuff going on, even though there were smells to smell.

So she finished her RN title in three trials with two placements, which is smoking and more than I ever dreamed. I was so happy that I waited and finished at our home club, in front of people I know and respect, because that made it tons better.

Luce, my eeevil red dog, the dog of my heart, is now officially Siren’s Eleusinian Mystery RN CGC and I could not be more proud.