Fred and Angel joined me for our normal around-the-block walk this morning. I noticed a few people out and about, and passed a woman on the sidewalk. Now that I’m finally showing, I wondered if I was imagining her funny look or if it was really there.
I wondered if she was confused as to how I was walking these big, mean, vicious dogs, while pregnant, all by myself. I wondered if she was thinking the same thing people have flat-out said to me, “I hope you don’t have any children around those dogs!” I wondered if I was imagining her thoughts because I instantly take a defensive stance when I encounter other people while with my dogs. If someone smiles or (shock!) wants to pet them, I literally feel myself unclench and let that guard down.
It made me think of Lennox, a pit-bull-looking-dog in Northern Ireland. He was seized from his family two years ago. I imagine you are thinking, “Did he attack someone?” He didn’t. He didn’t lunge, growl, bite or pounce on anyone. He was seized because he looks like a pit bull.
He has been living, for two years, in a less-than-adequate shelter, surrounded by his own feces, while his family launched appeal after appeal. Their little girl wrote a letter to Santa, saying the only thing she wanted was for her best friend to come home.
But every judge ordered the same thing: that Lennox be put to death. For looking like a pit bull.
The best part? Lennox is not a pit bull. He is part American bulldog, part Lab. Do you know who else is part American bulldog?
That’s right, our own handsome Fred. I shudder when I think of what I would be capable of if someone took him from me because of the way he looks. And I pray every day that no one has to find out.
If I could leave this world with one thing, it would be the image of me, pregnant, walking my two big, mean, vicious dogs. I want people to wonder how I can even do it, and then hopefully that small voice of logic will creep into their brains, telling them, “Because they are just dogs.”
The best dogs in the world.