JOCEE'S STORY
In 1986 I had two loose pit bulls from the neighborhood break into my parent’s back pasture and kill 2 of my goats, leaving the third one barely hanging onto life. When my neighbor called me, I ran next door to chase the dogs off and help my goats. Being 8 months pregnant at the time, I was at a great disadvantage. When I went in the back pasture to chase the dogs off, they charged at me and chased me all the way into my parent’s kitchen jumping and biting at the window in the kitchen door once it was closed. I was horrified! Never had I ever experienced such vicious, angry dogs. Having never seen a pit bull before, I wondered just what breed they were. Surely they were good for nothing but death and destruction.
After inquiring at the Humane Society, I was told that just as recent as 3 hours before my call the same two dogs were responsible for threatening customers at the nearby water company, and killing a poodle on their way to my parents. Upon further questioning, I was informed that they also were responsible for attacking a child on a tricycle a few blocks up from us, and had bitten their neighbor. I also found out that their owner was suspected of fighting them illegally, and the neighbors informed me that the dogs were treated most inhumanely and that the Humane Society had done nothing more than post a threat of a fine on their owner’s mailbox.
I filed suit in the small claims court against the owner to recoup some of my damages, for these were show animals and quite expensive. I also inquired at the Humane Society as to why these dogs were allowed to roam freely without punishment, and why such a breed would be allowed at all. I was convinced that this breed, the pit bull, was nothing more than a violent, vicious, and malicious killer. They needed to be removed from our streets and society. You see unbeknownst to me, I was suffering from what I now call, “Pit Bull Paranoia.” Having had one bad experience with this breed and then hearing and believing all the “stories “ told about them was all the proof I needed.
On December 24th of 1989, my German Shepherd (whom I acquired after the neighbors moved and left him behind) was trying to follow us to our family Christmas gathering about 4 miles up the street from our home when he was struck and killed by a vehicle. It was snowing that Christmas and the ground was so frozen solid it made it absolutely impossible to bury him in our backyard where he belonged. Having no other alternative than to take him to the Humane Society, my brother agreed to ride along to help.
My parents were in the process of looking for a medium to small housedog, and my mom wanted a “Benji” type dog. She had called an ad in the paper that listed the dog as a medium terrier mix, wonderful and loving housedog. Since we were going by that very same direction my mom asked that we stop to see this dog on the way back. Needing to take my mind off my grief, I agreed. Phone calls and arrangements were made, and we told the man what type car we would be driving. Something came up and I was left to make this awful trip with only my three kids as company.
Upon finding the proper house address, much to my horror was a man holding a god-awful pit bull type dog on a leash. Having already told him what I would be driving, I felt I had no choice but to pull over and politely refuse such a dog. My mouth went dry, my stomach flip-flopped at the prospect of even having to get near another pit bull. Hearing nothing but “ooh’s” and “aah’s” from the backseat told me this was going to be no easy task with my kids along.
Before I knew what was happening, my kids were barreling out of the back seat of our blue station wagon, headed straight for this vicious dog. I wanted to scream, cry, do something – pure panic ran through my veins.
Jocee's first picture in our home! |
Upon seeing the children running at her, this little dog jumped up from her sitting position and was wagging her tail so hard, and I swear she was grinning. My god, I didn’t know what to think. I’d never seen a dog with a wide-open grin. Was she mad?
The man must have read the terrified look on my face, because he began to reassure me that she loved kids. I thought to myself, “Yeah, I bet. For lunch maybe.” When my kids reached her before I could stop them, much to my amazement, this little dog that I expected would rip them to pieces, ran to each child and bumped them with her nose as if to count them making sure they were all there and accounted for. Never had I seen such a thing. When she was finished, she ran straight up to me and sat on my feet, looking up at me as if to say, “Well? Can we go now?” I was speechless and shocked. Could this really be a Pit Bull? This little dog that had never seen us before and treated us like her long lost family?
Cautiously I took the kids into the gentleman’s home, as I sat there listening to this little dog’s story as she lay peacefully on her blanket in the corner, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was inside her that allowed her to trust us – perfect strangers. The story this man told about this Pit Bull named Jocee, made my skin crawl and my blood boil. I could not believe that people could actually do such horrific things to another living being. I also felt very foolish for being so terrified of her and figured that it should have been the other way around.
Jocee was found by this gentleman and his wife 4 months prior, wandering the streets tore up, bleeding, and starving to death. Weighing only 21 pounds, she was covered in fleas, bumps, lumps, and dog-bite wounds all over her body, with most of the bites on her legs and undersides. They immediately took her to a vet. His friend who worked at the shelter, informed him that if she were to have landed there, she would never have been released to anyone but her owner. Judging by her condition, it was safe to say that her owner would never come for her. Basically meaning she would have been handed an immediate death sentence based strictly and solely on her breed.
I sat at this man’s kitchen table with a heavy heart as he told me that she was part of an illegal dog-fighting ring that the police had been trying to break up in their neighborhood. Neighbors had seen Jocee being used as bait to teach the other more aggressive pups to fight. Because she was small and non-aggressive, they would fasten her to a spring pole by her collar and lower her into a pit to teach the others to bite and attack; hence, all the bite marks on her underside. Neighbors also testified that all dogs there were abused and beaten, but Jocee seemed to get the worse of it because of their hopes of making her aggressive. One neighbor lady recalled seeing through the crack in the fence, Jocee pinned in the corner while one of them kicked her repeatedly. Nobody knew for sure how Jocee escaped, but I am sure it was strictly by the grace of God.
Jocee in 1990 - note all the scars from the abuse she endured |
After hearing all these horrendous things, I looked at that dog who was peacefully sleeping in the corner and found myself saying that we would baby-sit her for the weekend since the people’s landlord said she had to go and they had a family reunion. They were to call when they got back on Sunday and come pick her up from my house. As we headed to the car, Jocee’s head was held high as she pranced her way there. She hopped right in the car like she’d done it before and rode shotgun all the way home. Needless to say when Sunday came and they called for her, I told them never mind because she had found a permanent home with us.
Due to the horrible things that had been done to her, she suffered from deep emotional scars. We battled a serious case of separation anxiety for many, many years that still returns under stress some nine years later. It took over 2 years to be able to put any serious pressure on her collar without her flipping out like she was fighting for her very life. In her mind, I am sure she was. If she sensed at all that we were unhappy, she would run and hide, cowering until she felt is was safe. She never came when called, but only when I would crouch down, sweet-talking her, and wait for her to come to me. Going through a doorway was pure torture for her, and couldn’t be done unless she was at a dead run to bolt through it. We lost many things, including a couch, recliner, $100s worth of groceries from the cupboards, due to her anxiety attacks. She once shredded our Vari-Kennel in 20 or less minutes, rendering it useless, due to her claustrophobia. Life with her was far from normal, but still we loved her with all our hearts.
Even 9 loving years later, she still couldn’t go through a door without bolting through it, still ran and hid when she thought we are really angry, and still suffered with anxiety attacks under serious stress. On the other hand we had accomplished so much; she was obedience trained, housed trained, and totally trustworthy with children and other animals. No longer did she panic from serious pressure on her collar, no longer did I need to wait for her to come to me, and no longer did she cower from any fast movements. But most importantly, she trusted us with her life and love.
This little dog, who endured so much pain and torture at the hands of humans, has found it in her heart to love unconditionally more humans. From her, we could all learn a lesson or two. She has taught me so much about trust, love, and vicious rumors. Most importantly she has proven that the Pit Bull breed as a whole is not bad, but instead the greedy, horrible people who mistreat them and teach them to fight are what’s wrong with the Pit Bull breed. But the blame doesn’t fully rest on their shoulders. The blame also falls on the shoulders of the media who is more than happy to portray every member of this breed as vicious, blood-thirsty killers; never to show the true side of these loving Terriers. Neither is the public without blame, after all, they are the ones to eagerly believe the garbage force fed by the media without taking the time to check the facts. These attitudes amount to nothing less than mass “Pit Bull Paranoia.”
Having been cured of mine, I can’t help but wonder if there will come a day that I may walk my dog down the street and not be the victim of dirty looks, pointing fingers, and terrible whispers. If only they knew that the dog they fear has a reason to fear them more but doesn’t, I wonder, would it change how any of them feel or think?
Jocee & Riptide, her buddy, snoozin on the couch!
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Jocee with the kids!
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