NOTE: i wrote this a few days ago and planned to post it later in the week. but yesterday a 5-year-old boy was attacked by a pit bull in Roselle, IL. i’ve included the article from NBC5.com underneath the extended post link at the bottom of this entry. though i don’t deny that pit bulls are capable of killing humans, we don’t often see the other side of the story. this story is for all pit bulls who unwittingly carry a notorious reputation, as a result of cruel owners who exploit them for fun and profit.
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March 2003. around 3am one Monday morning, Brian and i woke up to loud, persistent barking. in the year-and-a-half that we had lived in the bloggo-partment, we never heard dogs barking at night; or if we did, it didn’t bother us, and there are lots of dogs in the neighborhood.
i didn’t have to work on Monday, and decided to spend the time reading by the bedroom window. it offers plenty of light without being directly in the sun. then i saw it.
in the backyard of The Drug Dealer’s House was a pet carrier large enough for a full-grown pit bull. and that’s exactly what it contained–the source of the barking.
two thoughts came to mind: 1) the dog was so vicious that it needed to be caged. the wrought iron gate to the backyard was always open and The Drug Dealer didn’t want the dog to escape. additionally, he had a toddler who often played unsupervised in the enclosed yard; 2) abuse, neglect.
as i listened, it was clear that the barks weren’t out of defiance: they were cries. the dog cried for attention.
for the rest of the day i alternately read and watched the dog, whose face was clearly visible even from my 2nd story window. its face was tan, and a white blaze ran from the tip of its nose up past the top of its head. absolutely gorgeous.
the dog turned in circles inside the carrier, barked, cried, whined. based on its motions, it was obvious that it didn’t have food or water. there wasn’t any of the clattering that normally accompanies bowls being kicked by their 4-legged owners.
it was early evening before the dog was allowed out of the pen. it hadn’t pooped or peed all day, unless it let loose in the carrier, no longer able to hold it in. one of The Drug Dealer’s younger brothers, a boy of about 14, opened the cage door just wide enough to slip his hand inside. he smacked the dog’s head, but waited several minutes before finally letting it out.
with a vigorously wagging tail , the dog happily ran circles around the yard, as if being allowed outside of the cage was the greatest thing in the world. and at that moment, i hope it was. the dog just wanted to play.
however, its freedom was short-lived. the dog was forced back into the carrier where it remained for the rest of the night and most of the next day.
i’m normally reluctant to get involved in others’ business, especially strangers’, and most definitely that of a known drug dealer. however, i couldn’t stand by and let this maltreatment continue.
i called the police department’s non-emergency number and was instructed to call 311. still, i was hesitant to get involved.
as i left for work that afternoon, i saw a policeman at the gas station and parked next to him. i told him what i saw, what i knew about the neighbor, and about the rooster from 2 years before. maybe i watch too many crime dramas, but it was obvious there was illegal activity being conducted 2 doors down.
he asked for the address and then got in his car to check things out. he, too, advised me to call 311 to report the incident, which i did as i drove away. the operator asked if i wanted to leave my name. no thanks.
i returned home around 10pm and went straight to the bedroom window. the carrier was still there, illuminated by the street lamp in the alley, the door wide open, the night still.
(more…)
