The problem, not the answer

Wondering if it's the dog or the way it's raised? Just look at Michael Vick. Deserved or not, BET starts a 10-part series Feb. 2 on Vick, the NFL Pro Bowl quarterback who spent more than a year in prison for running a dogfighting operation.

The series will supposedly show us how he's turned his life around after throwing away what could have been a spectacular career and being directly and indirectly responsible for the deaths of countless pit bulls and other dogs.

"This is hard to imagine myself doing this years ago," Vick says in one of the episodes while walking through the former Bad Newz Kennels.

Memo to Michael Vick: It wasn't all that long ago when you were putting two dogs in a pit until one of them killed the other. It wasn't that all long ago when you hanged and drowned and beat dogs dead -- dogs like mine in this picture -- because they didn't perform.

Michael Vick is part of the reason pit bulls have the reputation of brutal killers. He, and too many others like him have fed the belief that the dogs were bred to fight, and have raised them solely for that purpose, perpetuating the problem. The misconception means that more good dogs -- good pit bulls -- die every day.

I don't mean just the ones who are raised to get thrown in the pits and fight to the death, but the ones sitting in shelters who can't get adopted because of the public perception. Dogs that have never fought a day in their lives or been taught to do so. If people won't adopt them, they are euthanized. It's not a gruesome as a dogfight, or electrocution, but the result is the same.

When Michael Vick was first arrested and sent to prison, a lot of people started taking a second look at pit bulls. Slowly, people started to learn about the breed, learn that they are bred and prized for their "gameness," and that "gameness" is very different from aggression.

Michael Vick did his time, lost an awful lot and is trying to rebuild his life. A 10-part special of him saying I'm sorry and realizing it was "pointless" doesn't absolve him in my eyes. However, how he conducts himself from here on out will. Hopefully he will advocate for the dogs and educate against the lifestyle.

I do believe we all deserve a shot at forgiveness; at some point in our lives, we all deserve a second chance. Vick got his with the Philadelphia Eagles this season, and yet another with this TV special.

I just hope some of these dogs sitting in shelters get another chance as well. My guess is they are much more deserving than the quarterback.

Reality Bites

Saturday, the real world sneaked into my doggy day in two very different ways.

It was warm for coastal Massachusetts in the middle of January, a little over 40 degrees and no wind. The kind of day that gets everybody outside for awhile. Most of them went to the dog park apparently. The parking lot at Stodders Neck in Hingham was full -- meaning 50 cars or more, meaning a lot of people and dogs who aren't usually there. Reg flag anyone?

Hathaway is rarely on his leash at the park. I have it with me always, and he wears his harness, but he minds his business, chases his ball and runs with his buddies. He also sticks close to me and obeys commands most of the time. Most of the regulars know him because he's a good dog and also because this pit bull with rippling muscles trots around the path wagging his tail with a bright orange ball in his mouth and a goofy happy look on his face.

We were walking like that when I got the first dose of reality from a dad with a Bichon on a leash. Hath trotted up and sniffed: the dog and its boy, who was about 8. He asked what kind of dog, and I said a pit.

And then watched the father push his son behind him, putting himself between the boy and my dog.

I said "Hath, walk!" and as we continued on our way, the guy called after us, "Sorry, it's not the dog, it's the reputation." I resisted temptation to point out that his dog would probably bite someone before mine would. We just walked away.

The second dose of reality came a little while later. Hath was fetching his ball, and chasing and greeting the way he always does. He was chasing his ball and another dog was chasing its ball while I was talking to its owner. They'd run after each other, then get distracted by some odor or another dog or a new person, then get their balls again and bring them back to us.

I turned away for a minute, but was quickly brought back to the moment by growls and barks. The other dog was after Hathaway and my boy wasn't backing down. The guy pulled his dog off and I grabbed Hath's harness and told him to walk, which he did. He didn't need his leash. We just headed for the car, listening from across the field to the other owner disciplining his dog.

It wasn't until later that I noticed a small gash on Hathaway's head and a couple of tooth marks on the side of his face. When I rinsed them, I found more teeth marks. Today I found a small scab on his neck. All told, it was the gash and five teeth marks in a crescent shape on the side of my pit bull's face.

Put there by a golden retriever. I hope those who support breed-specific legislation take note.

The Remains of the Day

Pretty good, eh? This is actually the second time he has eaten a banana right out of a peel that is still attached to the bunch. The first time, the bananas remained on the counter. I don't even want to think about how he managed that. I also will not mention how long it took me to notice.

Yes, it is rather annoying and I wish he would stop chewing things. However, I marvel at his food of choice and his determination. The latter outweighs the former.

The Remains of the Day

Hathaway often greets us at the door with something: his squeaky dog, his Nylabone, a tomato. The kids call it the "celebration (item he's carrying)"

Here, amidst the trash he got because I failed to put it out, he greets me with the "celebration dog." Looks like he's smiling for his close-up.

Santa's Little Helper

Not only would he probably go down a chimney, he'd probably find a way to climb back up it as well. Especially if he was after food or his ball. We have yet to find anything he can't climb from ladders to furniture to stone walls.

I like the jaunty angle to his hat. Merry Christmas '09 from Hathaway and co. He's the best gift we got this year.

The Remains of the Day

Hathaway has separation anxiety. That's one of the reasons we fostered him for a few weeks before adopting him outright. I'm home a lot -- or I was at the time -- but I had to be able to leave when I wanted without worrying that the house would be destroyed when I got back.

Or as Kim at the shelter put it, "That he's not going to jump out a window trying to find you." Um, yeah, that too.

The good news is that Hathaway is working his way through it. The neighbors say he no longer barks the entire time I'm gone. I can tell he still goes room to room looking for me. I can also tell he sometimes settles in and curls up in a warm spot to wait.

Often, though, he chews something. From the counter or my nightstand. He prefers things that will nourish him, which I must say, is effective multitasking that I can appreciate. If he can't find anything to eat or chew, he will pull papers or oven mitts off the counter.

In a way, it's a battle of wits. Can I put away everything that he will potentially chew/eat while I am gone?

He is winning. The Remains of the Day is the photographic evidence of that.

It's the first thing I look for when I come in the door -- The Remains of the Day -- and I anticipate it will be a regular feature.

This picture makes me happy

Oh, please, may I have just one.