back when I got my first pit,1978,I was young, they told me it was A fighting dog.I used to go to sewer beach in miami,behind the speedboat arena. it was the ******* 4x4 beach.
their were several pit owners there as it was also the unofficial dog beach.
this was where I learned the reality of small packaged dynamite in the animal kingdom.
we had A small dog in our crew, and what Sarge described, that "what you lookin at" this dog suffered from severely.
their was a guy with A rhodesian,big strapping dog, it got wilbur by the scruff and went to shakin,the Rhodie owner was gettin a kick out of it.I'd not really seen dog on dog, seen gator on dog,pig/dog,not a hulk twice another dog size.
I was mortified, and the pit owner tells me to settle up,and take an ex-lax.it was probably 10 min. then the small dog gets his back to the ground,another 5 and it's in hold and the rhodie is wailin banshee style.
of A sudden the rhodie owner is furious, all kindsa expletives. the ******* tells him, his dog started it and he needed to get his dog,that it weren't his problem.mind you years ago that how folks in the red south was. you bite the bull you eat at the horns.feller didn't know what to do.
the red pulls A rifle off'n the gun rack, chambers a round and lets 'er ride over the ocean, then he hollers "pigs dead"that pit eased off that 'ar rhodie.
he was gashed up prit fair, the rhodie, he looked like he was got holt to by a vampire with bad aim.a pin cushion, dimpled worse'n A golf ball.
the wolf deal, we was there with A pup 'roun 8 mos. old it was playin in the surf, we was talkin trucks and drag bikes with some dope boys and what not, and we hear the puppy scream. their was a guy, he'd had A wolf and always brought it and flounced around like he was some grizzly adams.he's chucklin and it's real funny. my friend, he goes over, and the guy says whats the problem, and that he wasn't pullin his wolf off. my friend pulls a buck outta his pocket and keeps walkin,that got grizzlys attention. he grabbed his wolf, as they are partin he comes sideways outta his neck, about pits ain't s...
my friend then tells him to com e back next week. bring A shovel. owner burys his dog.
he knew a guy, I'd heard of this big pit. my first eye settin on a Colby dog. never seen one afore.this dog, they called him King. he was a bear dog. they went each winter to the carolina and tennessee mountains huntin bear, back when they ran dogs on 'em. they didn't believe in baitin animals.back then it was scent and sight huntin.
this dog was a bear dog, pig dog, A pack calmer and tamer.alotsa guys ran pits,plotts, curs and such as what not on hogs. many times they had dogs that would fight interracial,amongst themselves.king being so dang big, they'd get him to run and when a dog bucked, he would naturally pick up the fight. he was very word conditioned.hold, out, down, stay, don't move,grab it, shake i'm again,truck, box, boat,buggie,hungry,fetch me A beer,and kill it as I recall.anyone could run him. he didn't respond to A specific voice.smart as A whip.
well we get to the beach, we see the old beat up el cam, so the griz is there.we back my truck down close to the water, with king layin in the back.I got no tailgate,it's somewhere in the middle of the everglades.and the guys on the beach, he sees us and ask where this cur was.we knew he was gonna be taken aback.my bud says King,and he kinda looks around the corner of the bed. the guy says that dog ain't no bigger'n the last one.my bud says his name again and pats his leg. then king stands up,his shoulder a fair mark above the rail of the bed, and he plops to the ground like it aren't no big deal.the thing about the drop,I got A truck, that in s.fl. before they made 44" mudders for A road vehicle,we ran tractor type tires.they were 42" and the truck had A home built 14" lift. back before they became A fad.which put my truck bed 5' off'n the ground.
this guy could just tell lookin at the King, it was going to be a gladiators clash.ya see, King,he'd been raked by A bear,had his whole side laid open.and when they sewed him up, the'd done it in a huntin cabin up in the mountains.it wasn't pretty, looked alot like a drunk doin quiltin and patchwork.we didn't run vest and chest protectors back then. dogs died A reglar in the swamp.we called it the day of the gator, cause we left them to feed.King had been gashed, slashed gnashed and bashed by everything he was put to scent on.he knew what it was like to have his face tore up by a 30# he ****, and to be hide stripped by A angry boar bear.
my bud pointed to the wolf, and told king to 'kill it".yeah, folks have A notion that theirs A unabridged superiority to what A top predator can do.dollar for dollar, pound for pound, hook and tooth.
theirs an irony.it gets talked about around the fire barrel, of a many corn moon.from the planters moon to the harvest moon. when the hunter talks of dog and hog, bear and battle, deer and doe under the sheets.
it's A time worn tale.it's no fable, the wolf is the reigning terror of the high slopes.he is the master of A realm where nary few make it and few survive.
yet it's also to be a time honored tradition, that man knows his adversary. he grooms another formidable warrior. this warrior wears the same hide, after all he is of the cannus Lupus, yet he has been domesticated.
with irony though,when you do domesticate it, then see A need for it to become an extension of you, you groom it. you pit it, you test it. you send it in against all odds. sometimes you lose, and sometimes you are the handler of the king.
that day, the story was different.King with his gated walk, from his oddly repaired shoulder,he lookede almost as if he had the wolf stride, the wolf, hackles up, drawin air on the growl, he seemed so ominous.up til then I'd known only the stories of the king.and in that moment, as I were about to pee my britches, King let out A coo'ing, the wolf ears, they went flat, his legs, they went as rigid as a board, and his back arched, and I swear he grew a foot taller.I was some kinda scared. king started to lope,the wolf he circled, and started to bite the air, his head contorted in several different angles, he seemed to then grow wider, he was circling then,I realized to transfix his opponent onto the idea that he was some mystical being, that he was A mystery best left unraveled.
yet king, he had been domesticated. he'd been fed, and mended, favored and coddled by women and babies.he sensed that he was going into battle for honor of his leader.
he hit that wolf, and bailed him over.I don't think it'd ever been set on his back, because he came out with A begging squeal.he gashed Kings front end, and immidiately there was the red badge of courage.it was over fast, King did not kill the wolf. he settled into A hold,high to the bottom jawbone, what we call pinning the head to the ground.his front legs cradling the wolf almost completely submitting it to imobility.
the old grizzled man,his age immidiately became apparent. he was to tears. the wind from his sac was gone.
he said to my friend,"please mister, don't let him kill my dog"I thought to myself, in one instant, this man had A wolf. he rode the wave of superiority in his world of infatuation, and now, it was just his dog, that he loved and slept with as we all do. in our own world, we must recognize, they are also our companions, our com patriots in life and we should honor that by being completely in control of them when they are to side us through our walkabout.
we helped the old man with his dog.we had A kit for patchin up dogs in the truck. we threw it in, cause, as my bud always said, with the hunt rides the ghost,always be ready to pull 'em back, and let them go when the witches call.
we pulled them both back. suprisingly though, King old warrior he is woulda died in hold had he been pushed to the mark.he had the wolf down and would have aired him out before he bled out, my how proving something always has it's price.what this told me is that given credence, A domesticated animal can be groomed, and often, with the right spirit, return to the wild.for after all, are we not of the same capabilities?
and who's really gonna care the next day?