Vicious Creatures and BSL

Maybe you've heard and maybe you haven't, Montreal has just announced their newest law. They've passed a BSL law-Breed Specific Legislation. Their target as it has been for many years in many other places, Pit-Bull type dogs. Under this new law any dog of this type that is currently in a shelter cannot be adopted, it is to be euthanized immediately. If such a dog is owned you must meet a set of stringent requirements that are bizarre and unethical. A $150 registration fee (essentially a dog tax) that must be paid yearly, every dog is to be sterilized, when outside the home they must be muzzled and on a leash no longer than four feet. This law falls on dogs that are American Pit Bull Terrier, American Staffordshire Terrier, Staffordshire Terrier or any mix of the three or just look as if they could share the DNA of one of these breeds. Does your dog have a nice blocky, square head? That's a characteristic of all three of these breeds, under this new law it could be euthanized if you don't follow the above rules. BSL is in nice terms garbage.

  This law was prompted by a dog attack in March wherein a lady was killed. Here's the thing, they don't even know that the dog was any of the bully breeds. There was no DNA testing done but because of this dog's appearance it has been decided that any dog that is such a breed or remotely resembling them needs to be muzzled or killed to 'protect' the city. You want to know why these dogs are considered killers, their size. Their bites can inflict damage that can kill. There is a very large problem with that. That problem, it is based solely on the fact that compared to a small dog they can do more damage. It doesn't take into account the temperament of the dogs in general. Ready for a surprise? The only dog who has a better temperament than the Pit Bull is a Labrador. You read that right. Only America's favorite dog has a better temperament than the proclaimed killer beast who will happily rip your throat out. When tested 84% of those tested passed with flying colors. For comparison only 61% of Chihuahua's passed. Which means you are far more likely to be bitten by one of the small dogs than you are a Pit Bull. In case you were wondering according to the American Temperament Test Society both the American Staffordshire Terrier and Staffordshire Terrier also passed with a higher percentage than the Chihuahua. Chihuahua bites aren't newsworthy. Dog attacks that involve your larger breeds are way more likely to get hits on a news website. They fan flames of fear and the result is the death of dogs that are branded as something they are not.

I'm not a fan of small dogs. I never have been. The number of them that have growled or snapped at me when I've approached is high. Actually I've only met one Chihuahua that didn't growl at me when I got near him and he could fit in my hand and belonged to my sister. In all the times I've seen them in public and dealt with them there has never been a single account of a Pit Bull or any of the Bully breeds growling or snapping because I got near them. Beyond that you want to know the reason that I find BSL complete and total garbage:

Meet Delilah. This lovely lady was my first real dealing with a Pit Bull. She happens to be owned by the sister of two of my best friends. Clearly the picture shows why you should hide your children from these vicious creatures. The problem with BSL is I can't imagine not having met this girl. Any and all fear of the killer dogs was dispelled by her. This picture was taken a few weeks ago, I met Delilah many years ago when she was around three or four I think. She's much older now but still acts like a puppy. That tongue went right up my face about .2 seconds after I snapped that picture. I'll be honest the night I met her and she came charging up the driveway barking with the other dogs I freaked out a little. When she jumped up and started licking me I was hooked. She's about as dangerous as a wet paper sack.

This new law is not only going to bring a large number of deaths to Montreal as these beautiful dogs are killed, it's going to bring pointless heartache to people who own them and might lose them simply because some people deem them too dangerous to exist. Our first dog died when I was eleven, she was a Lab mix, she was twelve, age was her killer and it hurt. I can't imagine being that age again or younger and having my dog taken from me because some idiots with power wielded it the wrong way and made it so my dog was suddenly dangerous. For that matter I can't imagine such a law being passed here and losing my dogs now.

One of these days I will have a Pit Bull of my own and I'm hoping that it will be a therapy dog. I've seen what those dogs can do. Those dogs can be given the worst lives and still rise above it and become something no one thought possible because of their upbringing and breed. They just need to be given the chance to show that beneath the muscle they are basically comprised of there is a need to show and be given affection.

The problem isn't the dogs. The vicious creatures do not walk on four legs, they walk on two. Breed Specific Legislation hasn't been shown to do anything good for the places it is made into law but it will continue to spread so long as fear is allowed to win over reality.Montreal has made a mistake and many lives will unnecessarily pay for it.

Life with Dogs

It's National Dog Day. If you know me you know my love of dogs. If it involves dogs I'm more than likely going to be interested. I can rumble off more facts about dogs than you would want to hear or know. There is nothing like watching a dog work, especially if that work is what they were bred to do. People created the dog to be exactly what it is. Dogs were bred to perform a function and even the smallest Chihuahua will be happier when it can do its job of being a companion. Man's best friend packs a punch to the economy with people spending roughly 60.20 billion dollars on their pets (not all of that was spent on dogs but that is a lot of money). It isn't hard to see that as people we invest in our dogs and want them to be happy. Over-indulgence and treating dogs like people aside our pets are important to us and this national dog day I'm going to give you a glimpse of mine.

  There has never been a time in my life that I can remember where my house did not have at least one dog in it. Our breeds have run the gamut and they've all left a distinct impression on me.The thing you will notice about my dogs is that their is a distinct lack of small canines. We've had two my entire life;a Cocker Spaniel, and a Mountain Feist. Both lasted a minuscule amount of time. There are few small dogs I am willing to entertain the idea of owning and thus far in my life they've not impacted me except to give me a dislike of yippy dogs.

The first dog I can remember was our lab-mix Shadow, she died when I was eleven, she was twelve. There are no pictures of her that I know of but I wish we had some. One of my favorite memories of her involved a bunch of Rottweilers chasing two of my brothers and myself out of the woods behind our house. By then Shadow was at least eleven and didn't venture off much but when she heard those dogs she came tearing off the front porch to chase them away, and they scampered off with her on their heels. She was smart, sweet, and constantly covered in a layer of dirt that would puff into the air when you petted her. I assume that she is where my love of dogs stems from. I do not remember the time but when I was little I was apparently terrified of dogs, or so I've been told. I cannot imagine that, not knowing how much I love them now. Which means that I owe her much, she taught me to love dogs and without that I would certainly be missing a large chunk of my personality.

Betsy

Mason and Betsy were not mine, they were my father and Kyle's respectively. They were my first foray into seeing a dog work as it should, performing the duty it was bred for, hunting. They were Treeing Curs, squirrel and coon dogs. Betsy was the dog we'd gone to bring home and came home with Mason as well. Mason was my first protector who stayed inside. He slept in my room, often curled at the end of my bed while Betsy slept against me as Kyle got older and eventually moved out. Those dogs were fun to watch hunt, and I can still hear them treeing in my head or  see Mason attempting to climb the tree after a coon. Those dogs brought lots of memories. Betsy had an intense love of affection and once you started petting her you didn't stop or she would paw you until you resumed. Mason quickly learned that the microwave thawed out squirrel and would go sit and wait at it, any time it was turned on. The two were also responsible for introducing me to newborn puppies and watching them grow as they produced several fantastic litters of dogs who hunted hard.

Though he wasn't ours I have to mention Flash. Flash was a Dalmatian puppy that wandered into our yard one day. He was deaf and his owners had simply let him loose with a note tied to his collar. He stayed with us for about a week while a rescue worked a way out to get to him. Flash was interesting in that he had a disability. I'd never seen a dog like him before. Dogs that were missing legs were rare at that point but dogs that were young and couldn't hear was something I'd not come in contact with. I had a great time trying to see just what he could sense, performing the steps the rescue asked us to.  also enjoyed filling him full of treats that were smuggled through the door of his crate at any point I could get to them when he was inside of it. He taught me that all dogs needed a home, it takes a special person to deal with a dog with behavior issues or disabilities.

Now we get into the big dogs. This is Flint. He was a merlequin Great Dane. He was the biggest dog we ever owned and also one of the biggest chickens I'd ever met unless you messed with us. It was always entertaining to have someone knock or ring the doorbell. Flint would go to the hallway and bark, occasionally peeking around the hall. I know of only one person Flint didn't like and that was a family friend who also had a Dane. Jon came over one day to meet Flint and he was outside with mom behind our backyard fence. Jon rattled the fence and Flint started barking and growling. I'm not sure how familiar you are with Great Dane's but they are large and look as if they could eat you in one bite if they wanted to when angered. Until the day he died Flint didn't really warm up to Jon. He would tolerate Jon if he was around him at hunting camp but otherwise wanted nothing to do with him.

Flint was an absolute blast because as big as he was he thought he was a lapdog. He'd sit on the couch like a person with his butt on the cushions and his feet on the floor. He loved to drink out of the kitchen sink. The only downside to his massive size was his ever wagging tail. It was at the perfect height to drop you to your knees or clear a table, or knock over a child. Flint was protective but he loved to be leaning against you. Him sleeping in the bed was always fun, he wanted to lay against your back and stretched out fully he was longer than the bed. Big dogs are really just big babies and even though they are much larger than the average dog they want nothing more than to lay on you and get attention.

If Flint was a big Dane, Lily was a dwarf one. She was small, a Mother's Day gift for mom after Flint started getting a little older. Her split face earned her the nickname Sybill, her mood changes didn't help. She was rowdy with the other dogs, even as a puppy she would instigate trouble with Takoda. She was the Alpha dog in the house even as small as she was compared to Flint, in truth she wasn't much taller than Takoda. Like Flint she liked to sleep with you, but she didn't normally lay on your back, she curled up into a big ball. She loved to play and run and was usually playing if she wasn't laying with you.

Now we have Takoda. Takoda taught me patience. I waited nine years to get him. I read every book I could get my hands on about Siberian's. They were headstrong,independent, didn't mind well... The books were right. He's stubborn, will obey for food, and hates baths. The day I brought him home he screamed like crazy because his feet had only been on grass and never on concrete. Then he slept for the two days after getting his puppy booster. I thought at first I was getting a mellow dog, boy was I wrong. He was high energy, though he's slowed down at eight years old. He's also unusually protective of me. Even as a puppy you didn't mess with me or you'd get bared teeth and a growl. The first time I saw that he put himself in between me and a stranger who was walking down the road.

Let it snow and you'd think he was a puppy. When the weather cools he essentially becomes an outside dog he refuses to come inside and happily sleeps on the back deck. But as stubborn and as high energy as he was he is also one of the most people patient dogs we've ever owned. My cousins learned to stand and walk pulling up on him or holding his ears. Never once did he snap or growl, he just stood there.  He also helped me in my first foray for nose work. Like I said working dogs fascinate me and Search work in particular is a particular interest of mine. So, I taught Takoda. He is certainly not certified but he will happily find my nieces or cousins hidden around the house or in the yard. The one thing he isn't a fan of is most other dogs. He tolerates Max and Reese but is not a fan of Tonks. While he still remains steadfastly patient with people and children his tolerance of dogs isn't so high. Now he'd just as happily sleep by himself away from the other dogs as opposed to being with them and he certainly no longer plays with them. He still loves to run, though. He can run for a long time if it isn't  hot and in that respect we don't have a dog who can match him for that love.

Max is an interesting fellow. Maximus is a Border Collie, he's my dad's. He's incredibly smart and never once has he used the bathroom in the house. He used to herd the kids Mom watched at the house, and likes to herd the chickens. He is also basically human. He's got his own seat in the car, loves to get ice cream, and expects biscuits if you are eating one from anywhere. Loud noises bother him greatly and thunderstorms normally find him in my bedroom or in the bathtub if he can't get there. He's the only dog we own who can be off leash outside a fence. Though he knows how to walk on a leash it isn't needed unless it is required to take him to the vet or he is somewhere that a leash is the rule. He loves to play fetch more than any dog I've met and it doesn't matter what you throw. I'm using that brain and his desire to fetch to teach him to bring items that I don't want to reach to get, like a trowel or little rake. He wants to please more than any dog we've ever owned. When I say he is my dad's dog I mean it. When dad is out of town he pines and doesn't eat much until dad gets home. He knows the sound of dad's truck and anytime he goes anywhere we know he's coming back by watching Max's ears prick up and he starts whining. Max showed me what it meant to be obedient. You can look at his eyes and see devotion.

 This chocolate dog is Reese. She's mom's but that is a formality because Reese has decided that she is mine or perhaps I am hers. When we first went and looked at Reese's litter I told Mom we needed to get her in particular because she was calmer than the others. She liked to be petted and while she was curious she wasn't pushy or uninterested in people in favor of exploring. My intentions were to eventually train that chocolate puppy into a therapy dog. That calm puppy was a facade. Reese is part dog and part kangaroo and all energy. I've never seen a dog with as much energy as she has. She jumps straight up and down when she wants your attention or one of the other dogs is let out without her. It's one of the funniest things you will ever see. Her nighttime ritual consists of running into my bedroom, jumping up and down twice on my bed, and then lying down and going to sleep. Takoda loves food but Reese puts him to shame, she's a typical lab when it comes to her stomach.

Like Takoda, I've introduced Reese to nosework and she is the complete opposite of the old man. Takoda works slower. Reese is like a laser, she just goes for it. We've had a lot of dogs, Reese is the first I've ever seen that wouldn't lie down. She would sit without problem but dropping to her belly when she was told was like trying to teach her Spanish. Eventually she learned it but she certainly taught me that dogs learn differently and at their own pace.

This big fuzz is Tonnks. She is a Great Pyrenees and a breed I've wanted to own for years. She was purchased to guard our chickens from hawks. We've not lost a chicken to a predator since we got her and she's only 8 months old. We did a lot of searching before we found her because her litter was raised with goats and chickens so she already had exposure to a poultry flock before she came to us. I was used to Dane's being big, Tonk's was like watching a bear grow up. She was a ball of fluff for a few weeks. Then she became all awkward long legs with a huge head and feet. Now she's a giant that is even bigger when she's barking and growling at what she feels is threatening the yard or house. I see why the Pyrenees first defense is that bark and size. I would certainly not mess with a yard that had one guarding it. But, she's basically harmless once you get to know her. She loves to be petted, especially her head and ears. She also likes food, especially cheese.

I've seen flock guards before but she was my first foray into actually owning one. I understood the concept of having a dog outside with their flock for protection but wasn't sure how I could deal with having a dog that didn't really see inside my house all that much. Tonks was a lesson in a breed that was intended to guard and that instinct to actually be outside guarding her flock. When we moved to our new house she saw our neighbors chickens in the back pasture and tried her best to get to them because they were carrying on. She hadn't figured out that those weren't her flock but she was used to investigating when the chickens acted up.

My fluffy bear dog likes to lay on you and spent many of her nights laying across me in bed because the chickens are penned at night. She's not grown yet but already she takes up basically my entire bed. Her newest spot is the hallway right outside my door. From there she can watch the whole house and shake the windows when something outside sends her into guard mode.

Arwen

This girl is Arwen. She's also a Border Collie. Max is dad and she is mine. I said for years that when i got a farm I wanted one of my own to work sheep and other stock. After a long search I found this girl. There's only one dog I've met with the ball drive she has and that is Kyle's dog Xena who is a Dutch shepherd. Arwen and I bonded quickly, probably quicker than any of the other dogs we own. She is as attached to me as Max is to Dad. Brilliant doesn't begin to scratch the surface of just how smart this dog is and she continually amazes me at how quickly she picks up new things I decide to teach her.

I bought her to herd sheep and though we are getting out of the sheep business she has plenty to herd in the chickens,ducks,guineas, goats, and pigs when they are smaller. I'm hoping in the years to come this girl will replicate herself and Max in puppy form so that much like with Mason and Betsy hunting for good dogs won't be so hard. I'll have a well bred, talented herding dog line of Border Collie's of my own. The versatility of her and Max go well beyond moving animals and finding out new ways to channel her intelligence and drive has been a blast. Creating a family dog that can go from working companion or sport dog to lying around with you is something I look forward to doing (her current task is nose work and she's picking it up quickly like she has everything else).

She wants to be with you, loves to give hugs, and if you throw her ball or rubber duck she will be your friend for life. As smart as she is, and as strong as her instincts are her temperament is what I love about her most. Nikki calls Max the favorite son because we've never had a dog like him, Arwen  has proven to match his love of people, and his temperament although she isn't quite as human-like as the old man. But, if this girl was the last dog I ever owned (she won't be) she was the best I've ever had.
                                                     
Most people buy their children pets so that they will learn responsibility. My parent's unknowingly bought me life lessons covered in fur. Lessons that were not always easily learned, often covered in dirt and slobber but ultimately worth it. I'm a profound believer that children need pets but dogs are the best. The above should show you that.

"A dog teaches a boy fidelity, perseverance, and to turn around three times before lying down."-Robert Benchley

(A/n: This was started on National Dog Day several weeks ago but lack of internet and time has pushed it back to just now being finished.)

15 years later.

This is a picture of part of the South Tower. I took it several years ago while in D.C. Still one of the most sobering things I've ever seen.

Generally on a day like today I simply link to the blog post I wrote several years ago. This year I needed to do something different. It's been fifteen years since the United States changed forever. That span of time is a little hard to comprehend. It feels in one way like it has been so much longer than that, yet at the same time it seems like there can't have been that much time between then and now. My morning was spent with a group of 8th grade boys who weren't even alive at that point and that in itself could be an entirely different blog post. This year's freshmen are learning about a piece of history that happened before they were born. These college freshmen who just graduated were only toddlers when the towers fell and Al-Qaeda became a household name. This morning I looked at 6th graders the same age I was when it happened.

I have to say nothing has quite made me feel like an 'adult' like realizing that as small group leaders we were vastly outnumbered by people who wouldn't be alive for several years after September 11. Speaking on the passing of time, the last search dog, Bretagne, who was deployed at Ground Zero, was laid to rest only four months ago. There isn't another living marker of the canines who worked tirelessly with their handlers to return those who were still alive to their families and bring peace to those who needed closure. One of the most powerful images of Ground Zero involved Riley, who is a golden retriever, riding in a basket across the chasm and the pile as he's going to a new area to search. There is video of this happening and you can hear firefighters praising him as he's being pulled across. As humans we ask dogs to do some crazy things and in the darkest times they seem to be there to offer assistance and  comfort in the only way they know how.

I've read several tweets and facebook posts memorializing this day. Today is a day we should never forget. I think in part because it would be dishonoring to forget those who lost their lives to the madness and terrorism, both the civilians and the first responder's. But, as John Green so eloquently wrote 'That's the thing about pain, it demands to be felt.' we can't shut ourselves off from the grief this day brings. There isn't progression when we just box up the pain we feel, you can't heal that way. You've got to wrestle with it no matter how much it hurts. Grief isn't easy, missing people isn't easy, but it does no good to shove things in a box and try and compartmentalize what makes us grieve in the first place. That is why such a day like today is hard, it makes us feel. We hurt, and we get angry,sad, and everything in between. You can't really hide from all that.

 Sometimes I wonder why God made our brains the way He did. We've got a remarkable ability to remember tragedy, occasionally far better than we do the celebrations of life. Most everyone who was a certain age on September 11,2001 can likely tell you what they were doing when they heard what had happened. I can. I think the point of these memories we have is so that we don't forget that hope was always there. Whether you realize it or not there was hope in abundance that day. We saw the way people should treat each other as first responder's rushed into the buildings to save those inside the Twin Towers or the Pentagon. There are little known stories like the mass evacuation and rescue of those on Manhattan Island. Covered in dust and grime, weary, and grieving themselves, we saw men and women come to the rescue, hope was present.

Those who risked their lives and those that lost them trying to do their jobs are called heroes. We honor them rightly in bestowing on them such a title. It's interesting though, especially in today's culture, they wouldn't be considered heroes because of the way they lived, but because of the way they died. That is a skewed logic. While it was certainly no ordinary day it was still their job to do this. They were heroes everyday they went to work, their lives, not their deaths, made them such. We so often overlook them in the daily grind. They come to mind when we need them but otherwise they are on the peripheral just doing their jobs. I can assure you as a man who comes from a family of such people they are heroes regardless of the magnitude of the emergency. They won't seek the recognition but give it anyway, they deserve it.

September 11,2001 showed the world grief personified. We saw the depths of depravity. We saw hate in its physical form. We also saw hope. We saw people bearing the burdens of one another. We watched strangers come together. We proved that united we can withstand whatever is thrown at us.

In ending I'll leave you with images that I remember without problem of that day. Many of them are SAR teams or dogs. Those are the things I latched onto as they flicked across the screen at eleven years old. Dogs were normal,, they weren't doing normal to me things, but I understood dogs. Hate isn't so easily processed.

Bretagne taking a break from being on the pile.

Riley

What's He Worth?

Is Jesus worth it? That seems like a silly question. You're probably thinking well of course He is. But is He really? Think about that honestly, seriously. We've been trained to have a gut reaction when such questions are asked to say yes. When push comes to shove is He really worth it? Is what He asks you to do worth losing jobs, friends, family members, maybe your life?

  Come follow me doesn't come with the word unless attached. It is not unless things are hard, you're afraid, or I ask a little too much. That is all encompassing. I feel like we tend to say 'Yes Lord' but then we draw invisible lines we won't cross. Like maybe I will do whatever as long as I don't have to worry about money or I won't be in danger or my family is safe. Fill in that blank, where is your line?

Tonight I watched the documentary The Insanity of God, a movie based on the book of the same name by Nik Ripken. It centers on followers of Christ in persecution and their willingness to be beaten, ostracized, lose their families, imprisoned, or even killed all because of Jesus. There is a point where Nik is recounting an interview with such a person. Nik is talking about feeling guilty because of the freedom we have here. The man he is speaking to responds that they are as free to worship as we are in America. That sounds preposterous. How can someone who lives where Christians are imprisoned or killed for their faith be as free as we are?

Essentially he says it is a personal choice. They are free to witness just like we are it just comes with risks. Their faith can be lived out in the same way ours can. It is just a matter of if we will choose to live that way. I've grown up hearing how there are believers that don't have the freedom I do, I've taught on it. Tonight I heard such a believer say that was wrong. Even though it sounds crazy he is right. Laws might not hinder me from witnessing but it is still a personal choice. I have to choose to share my faith, to speak. You have to choice to live the faith you have so it can be seen.  In doing so we do what they do without the risks. Our lives look different because it isn't just talk and people notice.

  Our culture says we are intolerant. My beliefs are offensive and I shouldn't express them. These are the things that our society says because we do not go along with the crowd. My faith means I can't be alright with many things because they are sin, so my refusal to support them paints me as an intolerant bigot. This begs the question, is Jesus worth exclusion? Am I o.k. with people not liking me because I won't just go along with the world standard whatever it is at the time. This is a big one for me. I have an idol of people pleasing that I'm working to kill. That being said people not liking me is worth them hearing the gospel.

I can handle being called a bigot if it is because my love of Jesus is stronger than my need for acceptance. I've got family who strongly disagree with my beliefs, especially when it comes to abortion and homosexuality. I love these people but I can't back down from speaking about these things because not speaking is as good as supporting the two. I do not yell or argue. I will not let hate color my words because if I can't speak with grace my speaking is useless.Thus far they haven't disowned me but they know where I stand. If in the end they can't accept me because of my refusal to support certain things I have lost family but I haven't compromised my beliefs.

  Perhaps you are like I was a year ago, your line for Jesus is your dreams. That was me, I had good, God-honoring dreams of spending time in Africa doing short term missions. I was sure that was how things were going to play out. I'd get to Africa and teach some and share the gospel with a people I love. Along the way those dreams became an idol. I was willing to follow Jesus but I wanted Africa to be in the plan. If it wasn't I wasn't sure what it was God was doing. Letting go of our plans isn't easy. We are taught from a young age to dream big dreams for our future. The problem is those don't always line up with what God has for us. I can tell you that His plans are better. They might be unexpected but they will be better for you. Is He worth it even if it means you lose your dream future?

What about family? I am a family man. This is where my line would have to be. Where my struggle is. I don't want to put them in danger. Following Jesus at the risk of my own life is one thing and putting them in danger is another. This, I think, is one of the more difficult facets of a follower living in a heavily persecuted area-death of family. We are to comparatively hate our families when put up against our love of Christ, but that is easeir said than done. When you add in the threat of death it gets harder.

  Let's switch gears though, what if He called you to be right where you are? What if the everyday, nine to five grind was your place? Forget danger, imagine the mundane. So often we think our lives have to be exciting or adventurous to be useful but we are wrong. God never said if you aren't living in a third world country teaching a foreign people about me I can't use you. In fact, where you are right now might be exactly where he wants you to stay. Maybe that isn't east to swallow. Maybe you want excitement, you're tired of sitting in a desk chair. Is He worth faithfully serving in the ordinary day to day life stuff?

So, is He worth it? Is Christ worth beatings, ridicule, exclusion, loss, death, or the mundane? Sometimes I think it is easy to read about a martyr and say yes, clearly Jesus is worth it. But, it is a personal question. You see He was worth it to those people. The question remains if He is worth it to you, no matter what He calls you to in the end.