My girlfriend Sarah and I took our dog for a walk last week through Odell Park. We’d just gotten him recently and took him everywhere we could, partly to socialize him with other people and dogs, partly to show him off. What can I say? We’re proud pet owners.
Cooper’s more of a pup than a dog, and was eager to meet everyone we crossed paths with. People stopped to pet him and he loved the attention.
On the way back to the car, a woman stopped us and asked if she could pet our dog. She bent down and gave him some good scratching behind the ears; Cooper was over the moon. She asked us where we got him, and we chatted for a couple of minutes. Finally, she asked us what breed he was.
“Oh,” she gasped, and backed away a few steps. “He’s a pit bull.”
. . .
When Sarah and I heard about the pit bull ban being enacted in Montreal, we knew there was a dog in our future. We’ve both always loved animals, and thinking about hundreds of dogs being put down simply for existing made us sick to our stomachs. We had an extensive conversation about whether fostering was right for us, and in the end we made the call.
Within a week we knew which dog was going to be coming home with us – Cooper.
Cooper is roughly two-years-old and is part boxer, part pit bull. Turns out he isn’t from Montreal at all – he’s a stray from Texas. From what we’ve been told, the ASPCA took him off the streets and into their care in late September. They neutered him, as per policy, but he got really sick after the procedure. He was in rough shape and the shelter ordered to euthanize him within 24 hours rather than pursue treatment. Hearts of the North, a fostering and adoption organization, swooped in and brought Cooper up to Canada with only hours to spare.
Despite everything that’s happened to him, Cooper is one of the most loving and trusting dogs I’ve ever encountered. He sat in my lap the entire drive home the day we got him. A stray, without any family, let perfect strangers take him away from everything he’s ever known. I think that’s just the kind of dog he is – trusting. He’ll give any person a fair chance. He’s playful, loves to cuddle and gives anyone within reach a big, slobbery kiss.
But most times, people don’t give him a chance. This past Thanksgiving, Cooper was trying to get into the lap of a family member to give them a kiss. That’s when he hit him.
Cooper is so willing to trust others, but I’ve seen people look at him with fear. I’ve seen a father shoo his children away after they asked to “pet the doggy.” I’ve seen people in parks purposely veer off the path to stay away from us. I’ve heard all the lines: “Pit bulls are violent.” “They’re bred to fight, you know.” “Be careful, they’re unpredictable.”
Cooper is a dog – he’s no different than a lab, a retriever or a terrier. He likes to play, he likes being pet, he likes to show affection. Yeah, sometimes he gets too eager and can accidentally nip while giving kisses – something that can be trained out of him. The difference is if a golden retriever gave someone a nip, they’d say, “Oh, he’s just excited.” But when a pit bull does it, it’s a sign of aggression.
I’m worried that one day Cooper might get scared or feel threatened and lash out. He’d be put down without hesitation. I don’t want him to be another story on the news of a “dog gone mad.”
Cooper is more than his genetics. He’s more than the past incidents of other pit bulls. He’s more than the stigma that surrounds him – a stigma that he can’t even understand.
He has a light in his eyes that never seems to dim. He radiates hope. He’s a dog that went from having nothing and no one, to being a part of the family.
There’s a lot of fear in owning a pit bull. I’ve never been scared of Cooper – I’m only scared of losing him.
