Apparently a pit bull scuffled with another dog at the dog park we frequent and now at least one person who goes there has a hissy fit everytime she sees ANY pit bull there.

While my dogs are not aggressive to people or other animals, they are receiving the brunt of this woman's lack of knowledge about the "breed" (there are several breeds of dogs that are commonly referred to as pit bulls).

The woman -- whose dogs were NOT involved in the attack -- starts screaming and carrying on when she sees what she thinks is a pit bull.

For the record, screaming and running from a dog will often cause it to chase you. They don't know that you aren't playing when you run -- especially in the dog park, where we all run and play with our dogs.

The woman had words with my husband (I wasn't there) the other morning and told him that our dogs don't belong in the park!?! We have never had an incident involving our dogs in any location or situation where they were the aggressors. Recently, a chihuahua growled, jumped on and bit one of my "mean ol' pit bulls" and she didn't even do anything back -- and the owner apologized because she knew her dog was in the wrong.

A non-educated person who saw the two dogs and recognized one as a pit bull, would automatically assume the bigger dog was the problem. I understand being afraid of a dangerous dog -- but just because he is what he is doesn't mean he's dangerous.

Oh, and I'd be very afraid of that shiv.

My 54-pound German shepherd/husky/greyhound mix is quite afraid of those tiny little yappy dogs! She usually turns around after awhile and gives them a little warning bark, like "Shut up, already!"
They try to make up for their lack of size with the volume and ferocity of their barking, I guess!

Here's one of the reasons that pit bulls get a bad rap:

My husband and I went to Grand Old Day in St. Paul on Sunday and we took our two dogs along. Lots of people bring their dogs to this annual event and I have never seen any dog fights or dog-related issues -- though I heard that one dog bit another this year at some point in the day.

Obviously, the animals cannot go into the beer garden areas where the bands are playing due to the crush of people. So, we found a shady spot on the grass outside the area where G.B. Leighton was playing so that we could enjoy the music and our dogs at this great street festival.

Lots of people approached us, asked us what kind of dogs they were, ASKED if they could pet them and commented about the unique markings on the younger dog, Roxxi, and the gentle demeanor of the older dog, Quincy.

Then there was this guy who lauched himself at us (me and the dogs; my husband had gone to get a beer) and grabbed Roxxi by the head, exclaiming, "Oh, my God, this is the cutest pit bull I have ever seen!"

The dog was understandably frightened and tried to pull away. I actually had to tell the guy to let go of her because she was struggling -- but not aggressive -- and I felt the urge to bite him to make him stop, so who knows what was going through the dog's mind?

This was her first street fair and we wanted to see how she would do in the environment because she can be skittish in some situations and we do spend a good deal of time outdoors around people and their pets. Up until that point, she was doing fine -- she easily moved through the crowds when we were walking, wasn't frightened by the wheels on strollers or wagons, behaved well when other dogs went by or stopped to say, "Hello," and even got a good-mannered sniff of a kitten (the calmest cat I have ever met, I must say) that was with another festival-goer.

Well, the guy -- did I mention he appeared inebriated? -- then grabbed Quincy into a headlock and, while nose to snout with him, proclaimed, "I'm not afraid of pit bulls at all."

Great. Well, I'm afraid of you, dude.

I wasn't too worried about the guy handling Quincy because he'll pretty much let anybody do anything to him and not react adversely -- he didn't even yelp when my husband accidentally closed his tail in the hatch of the station wagon! He just stood there looking out and I was waiting for the little cartoon balloon to appear above his head reading, "Ouch."

Bottom line: I would not have been shocked had Roxxi bitten the guy and I'm sure it would have made headlines and been the dog's fault. I'm glad she didn't bite him, but the animal safety issue is a two-way street. I was doing my part.

Kudos to the kids we encountered on Navy Pier in Chicago on Wednesday!

My husband and I were returning home after going to Indiana for my nephew's high school graduation and U.S. Navy sendoff when we decided to grab a bite to eat. We stopped at the pier because there are many of our Chicago favorites there and outdoor tables that we could sit at with our dogs.

Shortly after crossing the entrance gate, a little girl lit up when she saw us -- OK, it was the dogs that got her attention. She approached us and asked if she could pet them -- yay! a kid who knows how to introduce herself to a dog!

Anyway, we ended up surrounded by about six or eight kids and, even though, the girl had asked and been granted permission to pet them, each and every one of the kids followed suit before putting a hand out! We praised the kids and the mother belonging to at least one of them and thanked them all for asking. When the mom asked what kind of dogs they were, we gave her the "American Staffordshire Terrier" reply that we often use in public.

"They look like pit bulls to me," she said (but not in a bad way). When we told her AmStaffs are among the breeds considered to be a pit bull, she was satisfied -- and went on to tell us that they were beautiful and well-mannered.

Take that Sheltie Lady!

My pitbulls are parrotheads! (sorry, no photos)

Over the weekend, my husband and I took in a Jimmy Buffett show at Alpine Valley in Wisconsin. As is custom for most road trips, the dogs tagged along. Since we were pressed for time and the temps were cooled down enough that I needed a jacket, we went straight to the show before checking into a dog-friendly hotel.

We had a bite to eat from our picnic supper, watered the dogs and made sure the car was locked (had to do each door manually and key lock the hatch of our station wagon because the lights wouldn't shut off so we unhooked the battery).

But, we didn't worry about the reasons for our seeming car trouble because, well, we were at a Buffett show. So, with windows down (partially) and fins up, we headed into the show.

Once inside, we snaked through the lawn crowd and found a good viewing spot and my husband went to fetch us each a beer. That was the last I saw of him until after the show when I made my way back to the locked car, where I had conveniently left my cell phone.

The dogs were happy to see me, but I also didn't have the car keys so I couldn't let them out. I was able squeeze my arm through one of the partially opened windows and flip the lock so I could retrieve my phone. And, wouldn't you know, I had 11 missed events – one missed call, one voicemail and nine text messages, all from my frantic husband. Oopsie.

Again, I wasn't worried -- I was at a Buffett show and I knew where the car was and I made a new best friend in the bald-headed, bearded and leather Harley-vest wearing gentleman standing next to me.

At one point, he leaned over and asked, "Where's the hubby?" I told him I had no clue. He said he only lived 15 minutes away and even invited me to sleep in the hammock in his backyard if I didn't find him -- said his wife wouldn't mind (she was home with the four kids; the oldest is 11) and bonus points for me if I took their beagle with me when I left. I politely declined, confident that we'd be reunited after the concert.

And, we were.

We also helped with another reunion, as well as a relocation before we got back home.

After the show ended, we hung out in the parking lot until nearly all the other vehicles left. We made friends with three people who pulled into the parking space beside us and thought it made more sense to sit still without wasting gas rather than getting into the long, long line of cars, trucks, buses and limos trying to get out all at once.

Then, it started to rain and I sure was glad I brought along my great big umbrella. I bet Tony wished he had it because he was off walking Roxxi and, what do you know, he was lost again! Luckily, he was able to call me this time since I had my phone handy. I talked him over and there were seven or eight of us huddling under two large and once half-broken umbrella (I let Tony use my old one; we left the useless thing there) when the guy in the truck next to us pulled out a big portable awning and we ditched the umbrellas.

Suddenly, a big white car pulled alongside the awning and the driver asked if we'd seen a guy in a black T-shirt carrying a white cooler. We hadn't, so he drove away. About an hour later, I spied a guy matching that description trekking through the lot from a good distance away. We were all yelling at him: "Hey, Cooler Dude, come here," and honking the horn. He probably thought we were making fun of him wandering about in the downpour, but he finally came in out of the rain. We told him his friend was looking for him and asked us if we'd seen him, to which he replied, "Nuh uh."

We told him the guy was driving a white Crown Victoria. Oddly enough, he still didn't want to believe us even though that's the kind of car he drove?! Apparently his cell phone was rain soaked and wouldn't work so he borrowed one of ours and called his buddy to come fetch him. Another happy ending!

Finally, we hooked up my car battery, left the concert grounds and headed for a hotel -- in Beloit, Wis. (opposite way from home) Turns out we were going home by way of Indianapolis. Out of the way, you say? Well, sort of.

Since this blog is about pitty-ful dogs, though, you had to know there was a pitbull segment -- and more than just the parrothead reference. And, just so you know, my husband claims there's a woman to blame (me) for sending him an e-mail about the plight of Phoenix.

Her Indy-living owner moved to Denver, where pitbulls and other bully breeds are banned, so he couldn't take her along. Also, Indianapolis is located in Marion County, which, along with neighboring Hamilton County, does not adopt out bully breeds. If he surrendered the dog there, it would be euthanized.

So, he had posted a plea for someone to help him on some Web site that I happened across. My husband and the dog's owner had been e-mailing back and forth arranging for us to come fetch Phoenix (nickname Fifi), a 4-year-old, unaltered female that is dog aggressive (and, it turns out, a bit stinky).

The initial introductions went OK -- Quincy ignored her growling and inspected the yard and Roxxi rolled over and submitted to the dominant girl. After a bit of a scuffle in the back of the station wagon, though, we decided to let Fifi ride shotgun while I got the backseat amid luggage and cooler and lawn chairs and stuff, and our dogs were in their usual spot in the way back.

Gas/potty stops consisted of Tony pulling over before the gas stations and me bailing out while he held Fifi's leash. I'd grab Quincy and Roxxi and walk them while he gassed up and let Fifi take care of business. Then he'd signal me when the coast was clear and I'd return our dogs to the car, run in and go potty and then hang out with Phoenix while Tony did his business. As the driver, he required a little more caffeine than I did so there was a Red Bull or soda at every stop.

In Davenport, Iowa, we were locked and loaded when Fifi exploded over the front seat onto my lap to bark like a fiend at our dogs. Of course, the requisite 64-ounce soda came in a Styrofoam cup that did not withstand the wrath of Fifi’s feet.

I screamed an expletive at her and bailed out of the car holding her leash so I could drag her out behind me as my husband calmly pulled the leaking soda out of the cup holder and started cleaning up with the towels that we had on the leather seat to protect it from her claws. I suffered an inch-long scratch that didn't even break the skin in the melee (oh, the horror!) but she knew I meant business when I yelled. Oh yeah.

When we got back on the road, I started laughing and mentioned to my husband that I wondered what the people there thought about the display they had just witnessed (there were quite a few people in the lot).

His reply: "Um, did you look around? I don't think the rednecks even noticed us."

Point taken. But I promised Fifi -- who is either coming into heat or just went out of heat and in desperate need of a bath, that I'd try not to yell at her again if she'd try not to be such a freak.

That lasted until the rain started and she nearly went through my already-broken windshield (courtesy of someone at the flea bag motel we'd stayed in the night before and the alarm didn’t sound since the battery was unhooked) while she tried to attack the windshield wipers.

OK, so, she's dog aggressive AND windshield wiper aggressive (oddly enough, she showed interest but no aggression toward the cat?!).

I fell asleep for a while and so did all the dogs so the final leg of the trip went smoothly.

Now that we’re home, so long as we keep the dogs on separate floors and walk Phoenix at hours when other dogs are least likely to be outside, things are going well.

She’s a really sweet dog – very people friendly to men, women and children. She loves to play and she loves to cuddle. She’s not so great on a leash but she’s got the brains to work it out (a halter wouldn’t hurt either). But, she still needs a bath and she still needs a forever home – and I’m sure the de-stinking will help with the latter.

Oh, and that whole lights-won’t-shut-off problem? Turns out I have a separate parking light switch on the steering column that I never knew existed. Tony had turned it on at some point on the way to Alpine Valley when he pulled over to look at the map that I couldn’t read. He thought it was the hazard lights (that button is actually on the dashboard). The good news is that he figured it out before I showed up at a shop with the car for a complete humiliation.

Sadly, we are not miracle workers and the good life we hoped to find for Phoenix ended Monday when we had her euthanized after yet another unprovoked attack on another animal.

This time it was a dog my neighbor was dog-sitting and Phoenix broke the metal clip off the plastic-coated cable tie-out she was on while my husband was sitting outside with her.

The other dog was bitten in the face and required a couple of staples at the corner of his mouth. Another $250+ later (on top of the $330 already spent for the cat) it was obvious that we couldn't continue to try to retrain her brain.

This is another example of the need for owner education -- blaming the right end of the leash. This dog was never socialized with other animals so she didn't know that she wasn't supposed to be an idiot around them. It was difficult to watch her behavior knowing that she was so good around people -- she was so sweet and playful -- but when an animal entered the picture, it was like Jekyl and Hyde and something inside of her just snapped.

We gave it our best effort, working with her daily, but no matter how badly we wanted it, not every dog can be saved. It was tough enough for me to put down my paralyzed 10-year-old German shepherd; it's tougher to put down a dog that isn't physically sick. It's tougher yet to admit failure.

Rest in peace, Phoenix, and know that you were loved despite your shortcomings and know that it wasn't your fault.