How Some Things End

On September 16, 2009, JoJo, a three-year-old fawn American Pit Bull Terrier was euthanized, thus ending a dog’s life. He lived long enough to touch the hearts of several people in the Shelter, entering the system on January 30, 2009 as a stray. JoJo’s dog-on-dog aggressiveness was his undoing. His Pit Bull bloodlines were a liability. His unknown background and experiences were a hindrance. But the spirit in his dog heart remains, burning pure and bright, flickering as a reminder that as human we pay for our hubris in the deaths of dogs deemed unsafe.

I drew the portrait on myWacom tablet. I’m still a beginner with this tool, so don’t know how to blend the colors yet. JoJo’s spirit rests easier now, even if mine doesn’t.

The Pit Bull Blues

I've got the Pit Bull Blues, oh yeah.

For those of you who have been following this blog, you may recall previous posts about a Shelter dog named JoJo, an American Pit Bull Terrier (pictured as he looked on Saturday). JoJo is a fawn-colored 3-year-old male dog who I placed in an APBT-savvy foster home in mid-April. Late last week, Ms. A., the foster, called me to regretfully report that JoJo has become increasingly dog-on-dog aggressive.

Ms. A. explained that JoJo had instigated four separate attacks, including one that injured her own female pit bull (puncture bites on the dog’s neck, and half an ear tip torn off). In the first attack, JoJo charged an (alleged) Gotti line pit bull belonging to a neighbor, pinning the dog to the ground. Ms. A. did not witness this attack as it occurred while her high school age son had JoJo in the front yard. No one was hurt. The third attack came when JoJo harassed a mastiff by biting down on the dog’s snout. Both dogs suffered minor face punctures.

The forth attack came while Ms. A. was walking JoJo on leash on a path. Another dog of a similar size (but not a pit bull) approached (on leash with its owner), so Ms. A. pulled JoJo onto the grass median, and worked to keep his attention off of the approaching dog. Ms. A. isn’t sure if she tripped or if JoJo tripped her, but she lost hold of the leash and charged the a mix-breed dog on the walking path, pinning and clamping down on this dog by one hind leg. Ms. A. was able to pull JoJo off and neither animal was injured, but the other dog’s owner was badly frightened by the swiftness of the attack.

As JoJo has regained weight and strength (he was in bad shape when he left the Shelter in April), Ms. A. said he became increasingly dog-focused—straining toward and staring down dogs his size or bigger. When he launches an attack, JoJo does not growl, bark, or raise his hackles. He just fixes a hard stare, whines deeply in his throat, lowers his head and prepares to launch. Another dog need not even act in an agressive way to prompt this.

I witnessed this personally on Saturday morning, when I met JoJo and Ms. A. at the Shelter. We were waiting for the staff person to locate JoJo’s records, and were seated in two chairs, with JoJo sitting calmly beside us. Ms. A. had JoJo’s leash tight and I had one hand on JoJo’s collar. Someone walked another dog by, and I felt JoJo’s body tighten. His head dropped, neck extended and I felt the intensity building in his body. I’ve seen this intensituy before in a dog--in my 17-pound Miniature Pinscher, when he’s got a freshly killed rat. It’s a whole different thing to see it in a 70-pound, muscular, young dog. Ms. A. shook JoJo out of and got his attention to focus on her. I suddenly realized that JoJo is what the dog-fighters call “game.”

We went with the Shelter Director, Dr. Ryan, into one of the offices and Ms. A. outlined the nature of the attacks. Ms. A. did not feel that JoJo could be safely adopted. We were both in front of Dr. Ryan because we knew that the reality is that JoJo needed to be euthanized.

The Shelter does not have the time or resources to retrain one dog, especially a Pit Bull. I’m not knocking the breed, but it is challenging enough to find homes for the Pit Bulls and Pit mixes already in the Adoption Room. And JoJo had a bad track record.

Dr. Ryan explained that every dog deserves a fair evaluation and she wanted JoJo to be seen by Mr. G., our Shelter’s dog trainer. However, Mr. G. and I had already spoken about JoJo, and Mr. G. was already familiar with the dog from his time in the Shelter. Mr. G. has rehabbed several Pit Bulls in his private business, but the rehabilitation (regardless of what Cesar Milan might say) often means life at Spindletop, one the few APBT/Bully breed Sanctuaries in our part of Texas. And Spindletop is expensive and has a waiting list.

“If I had six or eight months to devote just to him, maybe I could change the behavior,” Mr. G. said, “but no matter what we could never fully trust him.”

Ms. A. and I had already taken JoJo on a good long walk. I had hugged him and let him kiss me—he seemed to remember me—and took a dozen photos. We turned the leash over to the Quarantine Room staff person, a man who also remembers when JoJo was in the Shelter. He led the dog away. I hate losing a dog this way.

I stopped by the Shelter today, but JoJo’s fate remains up in the air. He is being held in a Quarantine Kennel, awaiting an evaluation from Mr. G. But Mr. G. feels that the Shelter Director is trying to forestall the inevitable. He had a good life, as his foster said, for several months.

We don’t have the resources for a dog like JoJo. And now, he’s in limbo. I realize the Shelter Director has a veterinarian’s viewpoint—save the dog if it’s at all humanly possible. But I can’t hardly bear to think of JoJo in the Quarantine room. It is also the E.U. (Euthanization) Room, and it must reek of Death.

I will post an update on JoJo as soon as possible.

This Dog Deserves Better

This is another shot of Blacky, whose story follows below. I don't have his Kennel number, unfortunately.

Bully Breeds in the Blue Room

Every day at the Shelter, we get pit bulls, American bull dogs, American Staffordshire Terriers and all the possible combinations of bully breed mixes. It is an endless parade of bully dogs.

Some arrive with thick collars strapped to their muscular necks or with sun-bleached nylon harnesses encircling their barrels. Others come bearing full teats and protruding ribs from a recent litter. Many show up with mange—-bright, strawberry-red raw patches cover their faces and ears or splatter across their hind quarters. Many dogs come in with cropped ears—-some just tip-cropped, others sporting badly done home-jobs where the ear tips have been clipped so close to the head that the inner ear is horribly exposed to the elements.

Then there are fighting dogs—with old or fresh scars. The ones that are seized in connection with drug busts or other criminal activities are hustled straight into the “Red Room”—the quarantine room for bite cases and dogs held as evidence. Volunteers and the general public never get to see these dogs. However, many come in as strays or owner surrenders. Most end up in the Kill Room, but a fair number make their way toward the Adoption room, especially if they are young enough and not too blemished. Badly scarred dogs, however, don’t have as a good a chance.

My latest Advocacy Dog is “Blacky,” pictured above. I found him in the Blue Stray-Hold Room on Sunday night, well after the Shelter had been closed to the Public. I was there late putting dogs away after taking them an Off-site event. I have taken to doing a full walk-through of all the rooms each time I go to the Shelter. It is emotionally wrenching, and not all the volunteers will do walk-throughs. But I do.

Blacky (he does have a kennel card with a name, which is a good sign) was in a kennel with three other dogs. A huge black lab with a milk-white splotch on his chin was vigorously humping Blacky when I first saw the dog. Blacky, a bully breed mix of some sort, was trying to sit, and was hunched over so far that his head was between his forelegs. He could not curl up any tighter and remain upright.

I banged on the kennel to get the lab’s attention, but the dog was so caught up in his dominance that he just glared at me and lifted his lip, growling as he continued to hump Blacky. I went and retrieved a kennel worker, George, who got the big lab to back off and moved Blacky to another kennel as his last task before heading home.

I checked on Blacky again, and he was cowering as his new kennel mates pushed and growled at him. As a Volunteer, I’m not really authorized to move dogs, but it was late—just the Volunteers remained. I decided to move him again.

I grabbed his paperwork and hauled Blacky out again and put him into the next kennel to the right. Immediately, a fight broke out. I kicked on the door and hollered at the dogs. They broke up, and I dragged the now shivering, hunkered Blacky out. I didn’t have my leash, so I scrounged a broken slip-leash for Blacky, but he’s a big dog and he wouldn’t move. We keep male dogs on the A side (left) and females on the B side (right), so I cajoled Blacky around to the B side. He relaxed a little bit, pushing hard against my leg, head down and tail tucked. He looked just like the beleaguered little kid in the 1st Grade with a “Kick Me” sign taped on his back.

He was injured—something was wrong with his right front paw—and he could barely walk. I got him back around to the A side, and the dismay on his face was clear. He was terrified. Frantically I scanned the kennels. There was no way I could take an unevaluated, large Stray-Hold bully dog home with me at 6:30 p.m. Sunday night.

I had to find him a safe kennel. There was only one available, Kennel #3 with—a single dog, an adolescent lab mix about 6 months old in Kennel 3. He was lethargic and had bloody stools. Someone had scrawled a note about the stools on his kennel card. Sharing a kennel with a sick dog (worms, most likely) was better than being bullied by the other dogs, so I shoved Blacky in. Blacky looked at me as if I had betrayed him. I knew I had, but I could do nothing else. I turned off the lights and left the Blue Room.

I couldn’t get Blacky out of my mind. I went to the Shelter on Tuesday, and he was still in the Blue Room, and still with the young black lab. To my relief, they both looked much better.

One good thing the Shelter Director has done is to hire a dog behaviorist. Mr. G. is one of our dedicated Volunteers, but now he has some authority as an employee to evaluate the dogs. He was working, so I got him and asked if he would come see “my dog.” We all have our “projects,” so Mr. G. agreed.

We got Blacky out and after an informal evaluation, Mr. G. said that Blacky most likely was very young (brilliant white teeth) and had probably been used as a bait dog, based on his extreme submissive behavior and the scarring patterns. Like most bully breeds, Blacky is extremely people-oriented. Mr. G. speculated that Blacky has been kicked by his handlers, but appears very sociable in spite of this. He let us both look at his teeth and handle his injured paws (both front paws and one rear leg) appear to have either old or new bone-joint injuries. We had to put him back in the Blue Room, but now Mr. G. has Blacky on his project list, too, and we spoke to the Blue Room Kennel Manager, and she’s going to try to move Blacky into surgery ASAP so he can get neutered.

This isn’t a happy ending, though. Even if Blacky makes it into the Adoption Room, we’ll have the challenge of finding the right home for a traumatized bully dog. This is all-too common situation at our Shelter, but it’s the only option we have. There is an awesome Bully Breed rescue in our region called Spindletop, but they are always full-up, plus it’s expensive to move a dog into their system.

If you have any rescue contacts in Texas, or if you can offer us a guess as to what sort of bully dog Blacky might be (we’re not thinking pit bull because of his large ears and mouth shape), leave a comment.

Grass. Is. Good.

Update on JoJo the Pit Bull
My favorite pit bull now has a foster home! JoJo, a fawn-colored, male pit bull with a lover-boy heart met his new foster mom last night at a local PetCo. I have been searching for a foster or rescue for JoJo for some time—pit bulls languish in Shelter’s Adoption Room for months because of the challenges of finding them the right home. And for a sensitive dog like JoJo, the Shelter is a horrible place, no matter how many times he got to go to off-site events.

Yesterday, I picked him up at the Shelter, let the staff bid him farewell, and collected his paperwork. I brought him to my house for a couple hours—I fed him, then we sat outside in the backyard. He seemed to be simply awestruck by the idea of fresh, green grass that hadn’t been marked by hundreds of dogs. He flopped down on his side, heaved a sigh and dozed in woozy joy.

JoJo knows my van, so he hopped right in when it was time to go meet the foster. Amy and her 9th grade son came to pick JoJo up. He got a new black collar and went home to meet their pit bull female.

I spoke with Amy today, who reported that JoJo’s first evening went well—he spent the night sleeping in an armchair in her bedroom! Oh he must have felt like he was in heaven after all the months on the concrete kennel floor. Amy will crate him during the day. Her goal for now is to assess his behavior and put some weight back on him—he’s about 20 pounds underweight. I’m so glad that JoJo has a chance to be in a foster home. I’ll be adding updates about his progress as time goes on.

Yet One More Pit Bull Story

I live in Texas, and at my county's Animal Shelter, pit bulls (and other bully breeds) often make it into the Adoption Room. This is a good thing, I think.

Right now, I am an advocate for JoJo, a fawn male pit bull. Jojo has been in the A.R. since January 30, 2009. This is a long time for a dog to endure the chaos of a county-run facility.

JoJo eats his kibble one bit at a time (a bad trait in the chaos of the Shelter). He is a climber, so he has to be in a kennel with chain link fencing over the top so he can’t escape. He is quick and determined. I didn’t realize he did this until tonight. Twice I found him calmly standing, at the door to the Adoption Room with the same expectant, hopeful look on his face that I see with my dogs: “We can go now?”

I take JoJo to off-sites adoption events. JoJo’s an eye-catching dog, but people either tell me pit bull horror stories about pit bulls or say, "What a beautiful dog," and move on to get all lovey-dovey with the lab-mix puppies. Soft, floppy puppies always win out over an adult dog with heart and brains.

So I keep JoJo on leash next to me, while I talk to potential adopters. I feed him canned food and treats, and clean him with moist wipes until he shudders with pleasure. I let him do what I never let the big dogs do—I let him put his forequarters in my lap so he can push his head under my chin and lick my neck. I want him to know that he deserves better.

The Shelter staff workers are rooting for JoJo, too—the kennel cleaner told me this morning, “Find this dog a home!” and the vet tech said, “We’ve got to get him out of here before he wears himself to death climbing out of the kennel.” I’m doing my best.

I've taken JoJo out so many times that he knows me. He whines as he lashes his long, lean tail and shakes his whole butt when he sees me. He mopes, head pinned against my knees and stalls, planting his paws when I have to put him back in the kennel in the evening.

At this time, I can’t foster JoJo, so I’m scrambling to find someone who can—I’ve gotten names, and handed out his kennel number, but so far, I’ve not made the right connection. He deserves a home, but I’m not sure he deserves the three months he’s spent in the Shelter.

This is just another pit bull story, but JoJo deserves better.

Pit Bulls and Miniature Pinschers

We get all kinds of dogs in the Shelter’s Adoption Room—from handsome pit bulls like “JoJo,” a fawn male with a loving heart, to non-typey miniature pinschers like “Dancer”, a foster I had for over a month at my house.

JoJo has been at the Shelter since January 30th, and has been passed up time and again because of his breed. He is sweet-natured, and good around the other off-site dogs, and wants nothing more than to lean hard against me and lick my face. I’m working to find a foster or rescue group for him because I can’t take him to my house. My own miniature pinscher male dog, Taco, is dominant-aggressive toward other males (see “Meet My Mutts” below) and he would harass JoJo until the bigger dog had no other choice but to bite Taco’s head off, which Taco would fully deserve. I hope to have JoJo in a foster home soon.

Dancer was passed up time after time because she didn’t “show well” at off-site events—cowering in her cage because the ruckus frightened her, or shrinking back (but not snapping) when people tried to pet her. At my house, she was skittish in new situations (a rather typical min-pin behavior) but otherwise was quite the snuggle-bug. All she wanted to do was follow me around. Her dream: to sleep in my bed. Of course, I fell head over heels in love with her, but my job is to bring one dog at a time home as a foster. Dancer went to a new home yesterday, and I hope it works. I don’t trust most of my adopters until some time passes—and Dancer will need a little time to adjust. She’s very needy and she tends to piddle when she’s excited. I miss her a lot and am praying this placement works out like it should.

So there you go—two great dogs, both with quirks, some of which can’t be helped, passed up by adopters who would rather lug home a big mixed-lab puppy.