No More Bullies

No More Bullies

Seemed like a good idea at the time. Certainly no harm in it. We were only dating and looking for something different to do. Carter's friend had told him about a dog show coming into the city. Dog show? Who would be interested in watching prissy dogs sashaying around showing off their who-knows-what-there-was-to-show-off?

There are only so many restaurants to eat out in and so many movies to go see before every date seems like the one before. We had been dating for a while so we needed something to shake-up our routine. So the dog show won out for a Saturday afternoon rendezvous. This was unlike any 'dog show' I could have ever imagined.

There were no Poodles, Labradoodles, Goldendoodles, Cairnoodles or any other doodles. No Lhasa Apso, Maltese, Bichon Fise, Shih Tzu, Yorkie, Chorkie, Maltipoo or Yorkipoo. Not a Puggle, Puli or Pug showed its mug. No Great Dane, Great Pyrenees or Greater Swiss Mountain dog. No Spaniels, Cavalier Kings or others. No Collies not even a Border one.

These dogs were all Bullies: American Bulldog, American Bully, English Bulldog, French Bulldog, Shorty Bulls, Exotic Bulls, American Staffordshire Terrier, American Pit Bull Terrier and others. Who would guess there were so many kinds of bullies across the world? They not only were judged on their extremely good looks (she said, sarcastically) and muscular builds but there were other competitions, too. Like pulling sleds weighed down with thousands of pounds. I have to admit I was fascinated. But Carter?—Carter fell in love!

He had to have one of his own. Couldn't be talked out of it. Didn't matter the bad press this kind of breed often received and had to overcome. Didn't matter that some rental properties absolutely forbid them on the premises. Didn't matter they had a bad reputation for being aggressive and hard to control. He had to own one.

According to ads by people wishing to sell them the pit bulls were a proud, loyal, loving breed of dog. You should be proud to own this amazing breed. They were totally misunderstood and made great pets for children.

Of course, I assumed it was to assuage his masculinity. But he was in love. And I loved him. So Carter got what Carter wanted. Including me. We were wed not too long after he got his first Pit Bull Terrier, Roco.

Carter trained Roco very well and he really seemed like a member of our family. I liked him a lot, too. Before long we had added to our little family. First one little girl, then a second one.

My husband became such an expert on this chosen breed that he began collecting, training and selling more of them. He entered them in competitions and had numerous trophies. It was his favorite hobby and since he worked so hard providing for us I saw no harm in it.

We had a beautiful mid-sized family with a mid-sized income living in a mid-sized house in a mid-sized city driving a mid-sized car in the mid-west. Can't get much more middle of the road than that. But our happiness level was way above mid-line. We thought we had it made... until we didn't...

Let me tell you that today I am a single mom. No not because of what you may expect. You see, five years ago I lost Carter at the very young age of thirty-eight to a rare form of cancer. Something we knew nothing about that crept up on him and ended his life very rapidly. With the Good Lord's help and my family's loving support I have gotten through some rough times. Rough times that started way before Carter's passing...

*** Five years prior to Carter's passing:

“Hey, Hon. You won't believe the deal I got on the champion of last year's 'Best of the Best' show, Baby Bull. His owner needed to move to a new state and couldn't keep him anymore. I won the bidding war and got him for a song. We can breed him with our sweet little champion, Bella the Bullette, and make $1500 per pup, if we are lucky. We only have Bella and Roco right now so we won't be overcrowded.”

“Fine, Dear, but remember now that I am working again and Mom is watching the girls for us she has to be comfortable handling the three of them along with a two-year old and soon to be four-year old.”

“Don't worry so much. I'll keep them crated until I get home everyday and they are all well trained anyway. How are the plans for the birthday party going. You realize this is Lizzy's 'Golden Birthday'. She turns four on the fourth.”

“Since we want to do it on the actual day and it is a week day we will only have family coming for cake and ice cream and presents to keep it an early evening.”

“Sounds great! Baby Bull will have plenty of time to get settled before then.”

So the big day came. Everyone was extra excited. I wasn't home yet but my Mom had put the girls down for a late nap so they would be refreshed for the party later. I am not a big person and Mom is even more slight of build. She was in her late fifties by this time. Not so frail but not as strong as she once was.

Carter had called to say he was running just a little later than usual but he would be there in plenty of time. Mom decided she had better give the dogs their supper a little early so they would not disturb the party. She had successfully given Roco and Bella their dishes inside their crates located in the kitchen. Baby Bull had realized his was on its way and got a little too excited. As soon as the crate was unlatched he bolted through it at the exact same moment Lizzy came charging into the kitchen awake from her nap and anticipating the big event.

Baby Bull did the natural thing and lunged at what he perceived as running prey. He clasped unto Lizzy's arm with his locking jaws and shook... shook hard! Lizzy's screams woke little sister in an instant and she added to the mayhem with her wails while still stuck in the crib in the bedroom. Poor Mom was thunderstruck. She tried with all her might to get the dog off her granddaughter. Even the bite stick kept close by the cages did no good loosening the bargain-champion's grip on the four-year-old's fragile arm.

Fortunately, Carter arrived home at that moment and was able to get the dog off little Lizzy. He immediately bundled her and rushed her to the hospital. Unfortunately, she had lost so much blood the doctors were unable to save our precious young daughter.

So today it is just her little sister, now twelve years old, and me. A great deal for a song turned into the funeral dirge of a great tragedy. Please, no more Bullies.

The End