As of Monday 3 October 2016, any dog that is believed to be a pit bull living in an animal shelter will face euthanasia in Montreal. A bylaw that passed on 27 September banned pit bulls from the Canadian city in response to the fatal mauling of a woman by a pit bull back in June. The law will also prevent people from adopting or rescuing any new dogs that resemble “pit bulls”. Current pit bull owners are required to undergo a criminal background check, immediately microchip and spay/neuter their dog, keep them muzzled and on a leash no more than four feet long while out in public, and pay $150 fine.
Montreal is not the first city to talk about banning pit bulls. There are facebook groups dedicated to banning them. Yes, it is tragic to hear of pitbull related deaths. But you can’t blame an animal for its actions when it’s been raised by a human who uses it for dogfights or are abused. Yes, perhaps pit bulls are “predisposed” to attacking what they view as potential threats even when there may be no threat, but aren’t people? Just look at all the instances of police shootings of unarmed men in the last two years due to a “perceived threat.”
As a pit bull owner, this ban disgusts me. My dog is the sweetest thing in my world. I prefer his company to the company of most human beings to be quite honest. I probably miss him more than I miss my parents when I’m away at college. Dogs, pit bulls included, are the most loving and forgiving creatures on this planet. They are far better than we as human beings deserve, but I will never complain about having the unconditional love of my dog.
Ohana is a three year old boxer-pit bull that my brother rescued in December 2014. He is the love of my life. From the moment I met him, he and I were the best of friends. Whenever I’m home, he and I are cuddled on the sofa or in my bed, we go on long walks, and he, fruitlessly, begs for my food while I eat. He lets me dress him in Christmas sweaters and reindeer antlers and sombreros even though he hates them because he loves me.
Yes, I have been attacked by a pit bull. I have been attacked by a multitude of big, wet, slobbery kisses as have the rest of my family and my friends. Literally, everything Lilo says about Stitch applies to Ohana and I repeat them ad nauseum to my mom who is dealing with his antics whilst I am away at college. He’s the nicest angel they had. In the event of him tearing something up because, let’s face it, my dog thinks he’s a three year old human and throws tantrums, “he’s our baby and I’m raising him to be good.”
When I look at his face, yes, I see the face of a boxer-pit bull. The face of a dog that many people are afraid of and surprised to see such a small person as myself able to handle on walks. But when I look into his face, I also see the giant cuddly monster who curled up with his head on my chest when I came back from the dentist missing four wisdom teeth and feeling all sorts of messed up. The protector who barked at my mom when I got rejected from certain colleges and when my grandmother passed away because he thought she hurt me and hates to see me cry. I see the excited Tigger-esque creature who jumps on me when I come home from school, with his tail wagging so frantically, his entire butt is wiggling, and the silly thing that unpacks my suitcase when it’s time for me to leave again.
Honestly, my dog is kind of dumb. If you say some things, he’ll tilt his head so far to the side you’re sure his head is going to pop off. He hates the words “rabble rouser” and “riff raff” for some reason. If you say things like “walking” and “treat” he loses his mind in the cutest of ways. He’s run into our sliding glass door at least five times because he didn’t realize it was closed and comes walking back to me looking all sheepish. He has battled my sister’s cat, lost, and keeps going back like he wants to take her again. Frankly, he deserved it. We all knew she could kick his butt. And he went back and aggravated her.
He thinks he’s a person. He will scuff up his bed before plopping down when it’s just right. He’ll scuff up my bed and make forts out of the pillows when I leave him in there while I take a shower. When my mom comes home from work, Ohana will follow her around like nobody’s business. It’s to the extent that we joke that when she dies, he’ll follow her into her grave.
I cannot imagine life without Ohana. I cannot imagine living in a place that would ban the best thing to come into my life in years. When I’m sad or home alone, I have him. Ohana has been neutered and microchipped, his leash is four feet long, but I never muzzle him. Nor do I want to. If I lived in Montreal, I would do everything in my power to keep my dog and overturn the ban. You can’t just murder hundreds and thousands of dogs because of potential danger. Don’t punish the innocent for the work of a few guilty. This genocide of dogs is no different than Hitler’s persecution of “undesirables” during the Holocaust, the United States’ Trail of Tears, or Philippines’ President Duterte’s desire to slaughter three million drug addicts.
The solution to this problem shouldn’t be to ban the breed and murder however many are living in shelters. It should be doing something that addresses why the dogs are lashing out in the first place. The only time I have seen a pit bull, and not just mine, get aggravated was when it felt provoked, so maybe that’s something to take into consideration when thinking of this ban. I don’t know what humans did to deserve dogs or what I did to deserve Ohana, but I will forever be grateful for whatever it was, because dogs and Ohana are the best things to happen to us.
