Hi, my name is Tard because the people who let my mother get pregnant multiple times thought it would be funny to use offensive terms to refer to me.
I would really appreciate if people would stop giving these irresponsible, backyard breeding assholes attention for intentionally breeding cats with obvious genetic issues.
This poor cat and everyone with half a brain.
THANK YOU FOR ACTUALLY ADDING SOME INTELLIGENT COMMENTARY TO THIS POOR CAT
He’s been like this all night.
Yes, this dog killed another dog today…but I’m not sure if that’s what upsets me most.
This is Juno.
I love Juno with all my heart.
Juno is a pit.
Juno has scars.
Juno was either a fighting dog or a bait dog.
This morning, somebody went to go remove him from a yard today, when they lost control as he bolted to the other yard across from him, pushing open the half locked gate and attacked a Beagle mix named Hector. By the time my coworker grabbed the other small dog and tossed him inside, Juno had fucked up this dog to the point of no return.
Other things happened like my boss not picking up her phone and a really messed up decision to not take the injured dog to the vet nearly 4 hours later (My coworkers pleaded to take the dog to the next town for emergency care but the second boss in question said no.)
But this leads me to the fucking realization that people do this for fun and Juno was once apart of this. Now this dog is a beautiful and kind soul; He’s so nervous and shy…and I don’t know what set him of this morning. He’s never shown this type of aggression before and I’ve taken him out to the farmer’s market multiple times. He played with our other Pit named Parker, and I am just…shocked. I knew he was used as a bait dog because of his scars and he escaped that himself somehow; he was found with broken legs running away from a bad neighborhood, and I just….it sickens me.
To know that this dog was once beaten and given to other dogs to do what he did to Hector greatly upset me. I didn’t get in until the afternoon but he had been shaking all day and I think just as much in shock as we were. When I got there and talked to him, he finally laid down and only got back up to eat.
He wouldn’t go out.
He wouldn’t come to see me.
He just shook and lay there.
He reverted back to these memories and had to relive a fucking nightmare, and to any fucking idiot that says dogs don’t have souls…dogs don’t remember…I witnessed a soul broken once again tonight. After working with him to heal him, I saw it shatter in only a second and it remained shattered…and more than likely always will. I don’t know if he can be put in a home, though my boss said she doesn’t want to put him down. She’s going to try and find a rescue, but I’m just not sure.
I’m usually for rescuing the pits, but is it really worth keeping this poor dog who’s tormented to this point…alive? Can he be helped? Fixed? Reworked?
I love Juno.
He has scars.
They aren’t his fault, and now he has new ones to add to the old.
And I’m so torn between what’s really going to save him.
During the event the bear will be tethered to a rope 2-5 metres long in the centre of an arena to prevent escape. Bears’ canine teeth are often removed and their claws may be filed down giving them less advantage over the dogs. Each fight lasts around three minutes. If the dogs pull the bear to the ground they are said to win the fight. Bears usually have to undergo several fights during each day’s event.
Dog-Baiting ( Between 2 dogs)
Undercover investigators who had infiltrated the dog-fighting ring found blood-soaked dogs with life-threatening injuries that were left to die as soon as they were no longer able to compete. Dogs were found with ripped ears, torn lips, genitals and intestines dangling from their bodies, eyes swollen shut, and faces riddled with punctures so severe that they were barely able to breathe. The dogs who survived a fight were usually brutally killed afterwords or left in pens to be forgotten and starve to death. The methods of execution included:
Shooting the dogs with a pistol.
Wetting them down and electrocuting them with jumper cables.
Picking them up and slamming them into the ground until they were finally dead.
Cutting a dog’s throat.
Drowning it in a bath tub.
The other method was simply hanging the dogs.
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With Love, Jotter-Journal
For all of you that say pitbulls are born dangerous and stay that way forever. Here, educate yourselves.
These dogs were saved from illegal dog fighting. So you’d think they would stay dangerous. Wrong.
If you teach a dog to fight, it will fight. If you teach a dog to be kind and train it well, it will be a great dog. Understand that its never the dog’s fault, it’s the owner’s.
It’s 6pm on Friday,and I’m writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet.
I am writing to ask them to change our plans and meet a little while later.
Here’s the thing.
I have a dog Janet, and she’s been ill for almost two years now, as a tumor has been idling in her chest, growing ever so slowly. She’s almost 14 years old now.I got her when she was 4 months old. I was 21 then ,an adult officially - and she was my child.
She is a pitbull, and was found in Echo Park, with a rope around her neck, and bites all over her ears and face.
She was the one the dogfighters use to puff up the confidence of the contenders.
She’s almost 14 and I’ve never seen her start a fight ,or bite, or even growl, so I can understand why they chose her for that awful role. She’s a pacifist.
Janet has been the most consistent relationship of my adult life, and that is just a fact.
We’ve lived in numerous houses, and jumped a few make shift families, but it’s always really been the two of us.
She slept in bed with me, her head on the pillow, and she accepted my hysterical, tearful face into her chest, with her paws around me, every time I was heartbroken, or spirit-broken, or just lost, and as years went by, she let me take the role of her child, as I fell asleep, with her chin resting above my head.
She was under the piano when I wrote songs, barked any time I tried to record anything, and she was in the studio with me all the time we recorded the last album.
The last time I came back from tour, she was spry as ever, and she’s used to me being gone for a few weeks every 6 or 7 years.
She has Addison’s Disease, which makes it dangerous for her to travel since she needs regular injections of Cortisol, because she reacts to stress and to excitement without the physiological tools which keep most of us from literally panicking to death.
Despite all of this, she’s effortlessly joyful and playful, and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago.
She’s my best friend and my mother and my daughter, my benefactor, and she’s the one who taught me what love is.
I can’t come to South America. Not now.
When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference.
She doesn’t even want to go for walks anymore.
I know that she’s not sad about aging or dying. Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That’s why they are so much more present than people.
But I know that she is coming close to point where she will stop being a dog, and instead, be part of everything. She’ll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.
I just can’t leave her now, please understand.
If I go away again, I’m afraid she’ll die and I won’t have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.
Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes to pick which socks to wear to bed.
But this decision is instant.
These are the choices we make, which define us.
I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love and friendship.
I am the woman who stays home and bakes Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend.
And helps her be comfortable, and comforted, and safe, and important.
Many of us these days, we dread the death of a loved one. It is the ugly truth of Life, that keeps us feeling terrified and alone.
I wish we could also appreciate the time that lies right beside the end of time.
I know that I will feel the most overwhelming knowledge of her, and of her life and of my love for her, in the last moments.
I need to do my damnedest to be there for that.
Because it will be the most beautiful, the most intense, the most enriching experience of life I’ve ever known.
When she dies.
So I am staying home, and I am listening to her snore and wheeze, and reveling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel.
And I am asking for your blessing.
I’ll be seeing you.
Love, Fionawow I love Fiona Apple so much more now that I know that she feels for her dog how I know I’ll feel about mine.
Another video. Sorry guys. Though the quality is bad and the person spelt *deserve* wrong in the description, I think it gets the point across. Really got to me because I definitely love my dogs to death. Perhaps someone could take the video and make a better idea a some point?
My name is Andrew Magown, a third year Multidisciplinary major who is currently taking a Journalism course in Newswriting II.
Each of us are assigned to choose our own topic to investigate and write about for the class. So I chose Illegal Animal Fighting.
Above is a photo of the most…