The Truth About Chaining

Ok, I've been seeing a lot of anti-tethering laws popping up in places here lately.  And all I have to say is ARE THESE PEOPLE NUTS?  Please let me explain my position on it.

Take me, for instance.  I am a sweet, obedient dog that loves to spend time outdoors in our back yard.  However, I am also an escape artist that likes to chase cats and squirrels.  My mum has a hard time keeping me in the fence when I see something that I want bad enough.  First, she tried electric cattle wire on the fence to keep me from climbing over or digging under.  Didn't work.  So next she tried a remote-controlled electronic collar device on me.  It worked for a while, but then I decided that it no longer phased me either.  Those squirrels are just waay too tempting.  

So the only other option to keeping me SAFE and SECURE in our back yard was to put me on a chain.  I am too strong for cable ties or small wimpy chains, so Mum had to get a tad heavier chain to put me on to keep me out of trouble.  I don't mind it at all.  It's not too heavy, I can move around easily on it, I can even jump 4 feet in the air from a stand-still while wearing it.  And it's 21-feet long which is more than enough area for me.  Mum doesn't leave me on it when she's not at home, only when she is there to keep an eye on me so I can enjoy my time outside.  I love it.  Before, I could never just be left to hang out in the backyard, but now I get to enjoy tons of outdoor time. 

So, you say, why not just construct a pen for me or get a taller fence?  Well, just a taller fence won't keep me in for long.  I can climb, you know.  And even if you bury the fence down a ways into the ground, I can dig under it eventually.  I am crafty about hiding my holes behind bushes. 

And to keep me in a pen would mean a concrete floor to keep me from escaping.  Who wants to lay on hard concrete?  It's not good for my joints.  Plus, I would have a more limited view, not as much square footage of enjoyable space, and I can't just come up to Mum or Dad for a petting session.  Plus, pens aren't totally escape-proof either.  There are some dogs who have been known to chew through chain-link.  

Chaining, when done correctly, is a much more humane and safe way to keep your beloved dog secure in your yard.  He is much more comfortable, feels more free, and has much more room than he would in a kennel/pen.

Still don't believe me?  Well guess what?  Numbers don't lie.  Here are some numbers of living space square footage of a kennel versus a chain:

Kennel

6' X 10' pen = 60 square feet of living space

10' X 10' pen = 100 square feet of living space

10' X 12' pen = 120 square feet of living space

Chain (on a central axis)

6' of chain = 113 square feet of living space

10' of chain = 314 square feet of living space

15' of chain = 706 square feet of living space

Not to mention, a pen makes a dog feel more closed in and separated from his family.  A dog on a chain has free access to the things in his environment, such as his family and friends.  A dog in a pen, if he is an escape artist, has to lie on concrete.  A dog on a chain has nice soft earth and grass to lie in and dig around in. 

And the argument that a 1/4" to 3/8" inch chain is too heavy for a dog like me, well that's plain silly.  Yes, the whole 21 feet of my chain may weigh about half my body weight, but I'm not toting the whole damn thing on top of me either, am I?  The only part of the chain that I have to "pick up" is the 2 - 3 feet closest to my collar.  And that's only a couple pounds if that.  The ground supports the rest of the chain's weight.  And I obviously have no problem jumping around and running on it.  I do it every day.  

So as you can see, anti-tethering laws are for un-knowledgeable animal rights crazies that have never put any time and thought into what they are lobbying against.  Would they rather a dog like me, a "pit bull" be able to continuously escape endangering both my self and other neighborhood animals and possibly leading to a news headline that would feed BSL?  Or would they rather me be happy and healthy in my own back yard enjoying myself comfortably with my family?  The answer seems simple to me.

Now, all that said, I do believe there should be restrictions imposed on tethering.  Obviously, you will have morons that think it's cool to put a huge-ass yatching chain on their poor "pit bull".  Or people who think it's ok to keep their dog on a 3-foot chain living in his own feces.  Those people are idiots.  Just like anything else, there is a correct way and a whole bunch of incorrect ways to do it properly.  I will cover this some other time.

But for law-makers to completely abolish the right to keep your animal safe on an appropriate tie-out/chain is insane and unhealthy for both the dogs and the community they live in.

Happy Fun Flirt Pole Time!

I just wanted to talk about how awesome it is to play with the flirt pole. It's my favorite thing to do ever! By the way, if you do not know what a flirt pole is, or would like to know how to make one, I will be happy to tell you so that you can make your dog happy by playing this fun game with him/her.

Basically, a flirt pole is a long stick/pole with a rope attached to one end. Then a toy or other favorite object (such as a cowhide, in my case) is attached to the end of the rope. Then the human swings the stick around letting us dogs chase the toy at the other end. Seems simply silly, but man o man what a fun game!

Anyway, here is a couple of pictures so you can see how Mum made our flirt pole:

She used a lunge line horse whip for the pole since it's all one piece with the rope so it is strong, long lasting, and lightweight.  Super easy to use.  This pic is taken next to her flip flop for size comparison.

Then she put a very small c-clamp through the end of the whip in order to attach the nylon rope easily that ties to the cowhide.  Very clever if I do say so myself.  Mum is always so crafty...  :)

Then she ties the nylon rope to the cowhide by drilling a hole in the cowhide when it's stiff, then passing the rope through the hole and tying several knots to keep it in place.  

Then it's playtime for me!

 That's a pic of me playing flirt with Dad so Mum could get pictures.  Fun times!  

Flirt pole is a fun game for any dog, any breed, any age (although make sure not to do too much jumping with young pups so as not to damage their growing joints).  It's like 3 different workouts in one:  sprinting, jumping, tugging.  So much fun!  I love it so much that Mum has to pry the cowhide away from me when she's ready for us to stop playing, haha.

Anyway, I hope we get to play some more today.  I will post a few more pics of Eisha and I playing with it together the other day....

That's my "sister" Eisha, by the way.  She is a South African boerboel.  We are good friends.

Game Dog Poetry...

Here are some poems I found related to the game-bred American Pit Bull Terrier. I post them for historical purposes ONLY, and to demonstrate the heart and pride of our great breed. I am in no way affiliated with the sport of dog fighting. It is illegal, you know. Bad stuff. But anyway, I enjoyed these and found them interesting.




“The Blood Of A Champion”

He may be a large dog - may be small,
He will fight one dog or fight them all.
He will give you all he has to give,
It's the only way he wants to live.

He has earned the respect of poor men en kings,
He has fought in the open, in pits and in rings.
He has fought the wolverine, the bull and the bear,
For his own life he has not a care.

He will not cower, he will not cry,
For to be called "Cur" he would rather die.
A cur and a fighter are not the same,
A cur is a quitter, but a fighter is game.

We don't force him to fight, he can quit any time,
But it's not a bulldog that stands the line.
When men speak of bulldogs, the words that fit,
Are those like courage, stamina and grit.

In the pit he is powerful, fierce en wild,
But at home, he will sleep with the smallest child.
He knows not the meaning of a word called quit,
He likes on a chain, but longs for the pit.

The blood of the champion flows in his veins,
He can stand the heat, he can stand the pain.
If it comes to the scratch, he'll make the run,
When he hears his master cry "Aww, son!"





“Dead Game Creed”

Give me victory or give me death
I will make history and gain your respect
Take my lesson or take my life
Triumph is blemished in the absence of strife
I have great pride, For I am unequaled
Win, lose or tie, There won't be a sequel
It's unexplainable and seldom viable
But I am dead game, And that's undeniable






"The Bully"

There once lived an overgrown kid near our lot,
Who owned a large mongrel, whose name I´ve forgot.
The boy was a bully, his dog was the same,
And they both used their size to play a mean game.

All the kids in the neighbourhood feared this tough nut,
As the house-dogs for blocks, feared his oversized mutt.
Toy poodles or collies or terrier small,
Made no difference, the big cur could handle them all.

The pair soon were famous, their game they played well,
For they had every dog near the tracks cut to hell.
One day a new family took the house down the street,
They owned a trim brindle dog, with white blaze and white feet.

His eyes were quite small, his muzzle looked strong,
His low carried tail was fine, pointed, not long.
He carried him self with a confident air,
On the street he´d pas dogs as if they weren´t there.

A few telltale scars on his shoulders and head,
Told a mute story, better than if it was read.
Fifty pounds of spring steel, he was quick as a cat,
And he´d fight if he had to, at a drop of a hat.

Then one day in Spring Down, by the kids hut,
The big bully came, and behind him his mutt.
The two dogs stood rigid, and to my surprise,
The yellow dog was twice the brindle dogs size.

The big dog moved in, but his jaws snapped on air,
The thing he had lunged at, well it just wasn´t there.
A clever sidestep had avoided his jump,
Something clamped on his throat, he went down with a thump.

He tried to break loose, he was fighting in fear,
His head it was pounding, couldn´t see, couldn´t hear,
His wind was cut off, he was beaten through and through,
And the big kid, astounded, felt he´d had enough too.

They got "Brindle" off, "Yellow" got to his feet,
And with tail between legs, weakly went down the street.
Now I wonder if anyone reading this screed,
Could tell me just what was the brindle dogs breed?






“Dead Game”
By Andrew Vachss

I'm no good until I get hit the first time.
Tony says I'm a slow starter.
But once I get going, nothing can stop me.
I never quit. Never.
I looked across the ring. I'm fighting a black guy tonight. Bosco, I think his name is.
It doesn't matter what his name is.
This is the first time I saw him. They don't let me face the other guy at the weigh-ins anymore. Sometimes, I go after them right there. I have to save it for the fight.
He's a little bigger than me, but he's still inside the weight limit.
He's younger than me, too.
But I've been around a lot longer. You can see it on my face. And all over my body. Experience counts for a lot in these fights. You can't tell if a fighter's any good until he gets nailed the first time, that's what Tony says. Then you find out about his heart.
They say it's in my blood, fighting.
But I really only do it for Tony.
I love him.
He's been with me since I was real little. He gives me everything.
I train the old way. Special food. No sex before a fight.
They say that's why we started fighting. For sex. To have our pick of the bitches.
But I could have sex even if I didn't fight. I fight for Tony.
I work out all the time. Tony even built a special treadmill for me, to build up my endurance.
If you get tired in these fights, you lose.
I never get tired.
I watched the black guy across from me, waiting for the signal to start. I watched his eyes. He wasn't afraid.
They never are.
Down here, the purse is nothing . . . all the money comes from betting.
Tony always bets on me.
I'd never let him down.
I'd die first.
I'm not afraid of dying. It's just sleep. And you don't wake up.
I faced the black guy. Tony rubbed the back of my neck, getting it loose.
The crowd screamed.
We bumped once and the black guy came at me.
He was quicker than me. I took his first shot right in the chest. The fire exploded in me and I tried to tear his head off.
He went down, but he got right back up.
The referee separated us a couple of times when we locked together, but they never stop these fights.
It was a long time before I took him out.
Tony carried me out of the ring.
I couldn't see Tony, my eyes were torn.
The other guy hurt me real deep.
I was going to sleep.
I heard Tony crying.
I felt his hand on my head.
Patting my bloody fur for the last time.






"Betrayal"

Today in the pit i did meet my match,
but my legs are broken and i can't make the scratch.
Please pick me up now so i can fight another day,
but money and pride has got in the way.

You know I can't win as I let out a battle cry,
looks like this pit is where I will die.
Look into my eyes did I not give my best?
But you knew that allready when you did the game test.
This is for all the game pitbulls that never gave up,
your masters betrayed you for fear of losing a buck.







Farewell to the Game
From Old Smuggler

I have grown old
In the game of life
I will retire to the kennel
For I have fought my last fight.
But I have fought from Canada
To the Mexico line
And no dog has ever
Heard me whine.
When the fight was against me
It can never be said
That Smuggler backed off
And hung his head.
Yes, I am proud of my record,
I am proud of my name
And those who have known me
Will say I was game.
But now I am old
I am feeble and grey
My fighting days are over
I have changed my way.
I will take a long rest
That I so badly need,
And in the comforts of the kennel
I will sow my seed.
So my son's may carry on
The name which I bear
For no dog can say
But what I fought fair.
But I've fought my last fight
I have hard my last gong.
I've done some good,
I've done some wrong.
So now I bid you
A kind goodnight
From you old friend Smuggler,
The Bull that would fight.

F.L.Y.
Caldwell, Kansas

Pictures of me....

So I figured I would post a few pictures of myself to give you a little better idea of who I am.


Here's me lying on our patio in the back yard....













Me after winning my ribbon in the treadmill competition at a dog show....














Me pulling Mum out of the show ring....














Me on a treadmill...














A close-up of my cuteness, lol...













Mum and I with my weight pull harness on...














Me playing flirt pole with dad and showing off my muscles...


















Me chasing the cowhide on the flirt pole











I caught it! Now give it here!













Showing off my shoulders...













Airborne!















Me putting on my "cute face" so Mum will throw the tennis ball...













Come on... throw it!













Yep, it's mine now!













Me taking a rest in the sunny spot...













So yeah, there's me in all my recent glory. Now you kinda have a better idea about who I am. I have tons of other pics, but I won't bore you with any more.

Sad Story....

Why dogs don't live as long as people
by Robin Downing, DVM

Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owner, his wife, and their little boy were all very attached to Belker and they were hoping for a miracle. I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family there were no miracles left for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.

As we made arrangements, the owners told me they thought it would be good for the four-year-old boy to observe the procedure. They felt he could learn something from the experience.

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's family surrounded him. The little boy seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on.

Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away. The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or confusion.

We sat together for a while after Belker's death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives.

The little boy, who had been listening quietly, piped up, "I know why."

Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation. He said, "Everybody is born so that they can learn how to live a good life - like loving everybody and being nice, right?" The four-year- old continued, "Well, animals already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long."

A Game

Click and play. Time yourself....

Find Me!

No wonder the idiot media gets such a kick out of us!

Loose Dogs

As a tangent to the subject of my previous post, I'm just going to take a moment to rant about people who feel it's okay to let their dog run loose. And by run loose, I mean: not in a secure fence/pen, not on a secure tie-out/chain, not on a leash at your side.

IT'S NOT WISE, PEOPLE!

For a good number of reasons. Let me elaborate...

First of all, not everyone likes your dog as much as you do. Not everyone (in this instance I mean people) likes to be jumped on or be brushed against leaving tufts of hair all over their dress pants when they are just trying to walk from the car to the their door. Yes, your dog is super-friendly and would never bite anyone. But not everyone appreciates unwanted licks on the hand. And contrary to your belief, Mr. Green down the street actually HATES your dog, because it pisses on his hedges and takes off with the throw pillow from his front porch furniture. Mr. Green, unbeknownst to you, actually has an air rifle specially for your dog so that he can pump its rear end full of tiny pellets next time it comes on his property. It also greatly upsets Miss Red to see your dog walking across her front yard, because it antagonizes her aging mastiff as it stumbles to run to the window for a better look and barks loudly interrupting the entire household. And it makes Mrs. Yellow VERY uncomfortable on her daily walk routine to see your dog running free. She was mauled by a dog as a child and has a deathly fear of them.

Secondly, it can be very unhealthy for your beloved Rover himself to run free about the neighborhood. You have no control over what may be in your neighbor's yard or garbage. Rover thinks that Mrs. White's rat poison she set out in her open garage is very tasty. He may also enjoy swallowing that cooked pork bone in Mr. Purple's trash pile, which will later splinter and puncture his intestines or cause a blockage and kill him. Rover may also not realize how far Mr. Blue's "pit bull" can reach on his chain. And lastly, little teenage Molly isn't paying attention while she texts and drives and mows right over your beloved Rover leaving him as a greasy, chunky mess on the road.

Keep your dog at home and secure folks! And no, don't use that crappy excuse that "Fluffy is fine! She doesn't need a leash! She never leaves the yard or my side! She always comes when I call her!" That's bullcrap, people. Fluffy will do whatever she damn well pleases under the right circumstances. I don't care how obedience-trained she is. If for whatever reason Fluffy actually decides to chase that jogger, you're in for it, ESPECIALLY if she's listed as a "dangerous breed". Don't fool yourself into thinking that "My dog would never do such a thing!" We are DOGS, not robots. Even when well-trained, we have our own thinking minds. And if we want the neighbor's cat bad enough, there is nothing you can say to stop us. If we think that political candidate who's campaigning door-to-door is a threat, we WILL take care of it, regardless of whether or not we are a rottweiler or a dachshund. If me and my boerboel sister are walking down the street with mum on our leashes like we are supposed to, and your dog decides to come say "hi" to us, we don't always say "hi" back. Sometimes we try to kill your dog (no matter how friendly he is), especially if we perceive a threat from him. And if we do get in a fight and damage or kill your dog, it's not our nor my mum's fault. It's yours. YOU are responsible for your own dog's demise.

The list of possible scenarios is endless. Please don't set us dogs up for failure. It's not our fault that we act on instinct. It's not our fault that we can't rationalize the consequences to our actions. We don't know that animal control will come pick us up, take us away, and either quarantine us or put us down. We don't understand that Molly was texting when she should have been watching the road.... It's not our fault. We depend on our masters to keep us safe and out of trouble. Please be responsible for us, or just simply don't own a dog.

For "Pit Bull" Owners....

This is a poem I have come across that I think is VERY important for all owners of dogs that fall under the "pit bull" catagory to read. Please read it and take heed to its words in effort to help fight BSL from the source: ourselves.

A Day At The Park

He is just like other dogs I would always say; He loves to go to
the dog park to play every day

Everyone loves him there, so it's ok; My dog won't fight--he
wasn't raised that way

But then one day, right before dark, A troubled young man
came into the park

He had by his side the biggest dog I'd ever seen, And
unfortunately for us, both were quite mean

We asked very nicely if they would just go; The dog answered
with a snarl and the man with a harsh "NO!"

Well his dog was a terror, threatening to all; Then he started a
fight with a Lab over a ball

They fought pretty hard and the man would not intervene;
Then here comes my dog and pushes right in between

He grabbed that big dog and thrashed him around; And with
one quick jerk threw him down on the ground

The Lab was able to escape; I heard everyone cheer; But my
dog was now in a frenzy and would not let me near

When he finally let go, what I saw stopped my heart; That big
mean dog had been torn apart

The authorities were called, the big dog was now dead; But
they didn't take the big dog; they took my dog instead

We all tried to explain that my dog saved the day; But because
of his breed he was taken away

You see my dog was a Pitbull and they don't get any breaks;
One small incident is all that it takes

A dog had died; And though he hadn't started the fight, My dog
was held responsible for what happened that night

He was deemed a danger to all and sentenced to death; And I
hold him now as he takes his last breath

It's my fault that my dog is being killed today; Please listen for
a moment to what I am going to say

Everyone warned me about his potential to fight; I said it won't
happen, I am raising him right

And now my dog is paying the ultimate price; Because I was
stubborn and wouldn't take the advice

He only did what he was bred to do; Learn from our story;
don't let it happen to you.

Introduction

My name is Disco. I am an American Pit Bull Terrier. This is a place for me to put my thoughts and concerns facing myself and my beloved breed today. It is also a place to discuss the history behind my breed, the present state my breed is in, and what the future may hold for us APBTs. And it's a place for me to discuss dog-related things in general.

This blog is intended to be informational and/or entertaining based on stories, literature, facts, and my opinions. Your interpretation of what I say is just that: your interpretation. I hope you enjoy my dog blog!