Here’s a short piece by James Frey about his dogs.

Two words.
American Pitbull.
Two simple words.
American Pitbull.
How do they make you feel?
American Pitbull.
Do you smile or do you cringe?
Do you respect or do you fear?
Do you love or do you hate?
American Pitbull
There is no middle ground.
You either smile or cringe, respect or fear, love or hate.
American Pitbull.
You feel something.
American Pitbull.
You feel something.
There is no middle ground.

From Merriam Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary:
Main Entry: pit bull
Function: noun
Date: 1930
: a dog (as an American Pitbull terrier or American Staffordshire terrier) of any of several breeds or a real or apparent hybrid with one or more of these breeds that was developed and is now often trained for fighting and is noted for strength and stamina

The history of the American Pit Bulldog, a breed type of several specific breeds including the American Pitbull Terrier, the American Staffordshire Terrier and the Staffordshire Bull Terrier, is roughly correspondent to the history of the United States as a nation. The first mentions of dogs resembling Pit Bulldogs came in the latter parts of the 18th century. The United States, having successfully rebelled against the reign of King George, began rapidly expanding westward into the vast forests of the American continent. The forests were packed with game and the Colonists needed the game to survive. Sometimes, as with bears, they needed to defend themselves against the game. The weapons used at the time were muskets, single shot rifles that fired balls of lead. The muskets were strong enough to bring down men, but not the bears or other large animals, and often, after being wounded, the animals would fight back and sometimes kill Colonists. The Colonist’s solution to the problem was to use dogs to go after wounded animals and bring them down. They tried using Mastiffs, Shepherds and English Bulldogs, which at the time were still used to bait bulls. None of the dogs were able to accomplish what was needed. Mastiffs were too slow, the Shepherds did not have the courage, and the English Bulldogs were not obedient enough. The Colonist’s solution was to start breeding their own type of dog. They sought the characteristics of strength, courage, speed, stamina and obedience. The goal was to create a dog that was the strongest, fastest, most agile, most aggressive, most intelligent and well-mannered dog on earth. They cross-bred Mastiffs for strength, English Bulldogs for courage, smaller terriers for aggressiveness, traditional hunting dogs such as spaniels and retrievers for intelligence and obedience. Over time a breed began to emerge. A truly and uniquely American breed. A breed capable of bringing down a full-grown bear.

As this new and, at the time, nameless breed of dog began living and working throughout the colonies, the United States continued to grow. Immigrants by the thousands, the tens of thousands, the hundreds of thousands began arriving on American shores. Throughout most of the 19th century, the bulk of those immigrants came from England, from Wales, from Scotland, from Ireland. Crossing the Atlantic was a perilous journey, and was often made on over-crowded cargo ships. There was little or no room on the ships. The immigrants brought a minimum of belongings with them: a bag of clothes, a bag of tools, if they could, a prized possession. For many families, the prized possession was a dog. Many of those dogs were fighting dogs.

For as long as there has been a recorded history of the British Isles, fighting dogs have been part of that history. When the Romans conquered Briton, as it was then called, in year 50 AD, they reported encountering broad-mouthed fighting dogs called pugnaces, which were used for hunting and contests in amphitheaters. When Norman Kings conquered the Saxons in 1066, they returned home with Saxon fighting dogs described as having large, thick heads and short muzzles. Sometime around 1406, Edmond De Langley, the Duke of York, wrote a treatise called The Master of the Game, in which he described hunting with dogs that had remarkable courage and attached themselves to other animals and refused to let go of them. There are numerous accounts of dogs fighting for sport during the reigns of Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth, and King James and King Charles. In 1700, there is an account of dog fighting written by a man named Burnette in which he describes fighting dogs as small, fierce, indomitable animals who may well be the most courageous creatures on Earth.

These were the dogs that came with the Immigrants. Small, fierce, indomitable, the most courageous creatures on earth. They had wide heads, strong jaws and heavily muscled bodies. They weighed between twenty and thirty pounds. They had thick skin, which resisted tearing, and they were bred to have a high threshold to pain and superior blood-clotting ability. Because the arenas that they fought in were small, the dogs were agile and quick. They had a heightened sense of aggression towards other dogs. Once engaged, they would fight until their bodies no longer let them fight. Because their handlers needed to be able to control them, they were bred to be extremely obedient to humans. If a dog ever turned-on, attacked or showed aggression towards a human it was killed. This led to the fighting dogs becoming extremely affectionate.

As the dogs came, the culture of fighting them came as well. Despite its brutality, dog fighting became popular in immigrant communities throughout the country. Practitioners of it began breeding fighting dogs on American soil, and they quickly discovered the hunting breed earlier colonists had developed using the war dog, fighting dog, hunting dog and terrier stock. They began breeding those dogs with the smaller British fighting dogs. The goal was to create a breed of gladiator dogs. Dogs that would be, pound-for-pound, the strongest, fastest, most agile, most dog-aggressive, most intelligent, most obedient dogs on the face of the earth. The trait most specifically sought after was gameness. Gameness, simply defined, is a willingness to see a job through to its end, regardless of what the job might be, regardless of the conditions. If they job were pulling a sled, a game dog would pull the sled until its heart burst. If the job were chasing down an animal, a game dog would run until it dropped.  If the job were fighting another a dog, a game dog would fight to the death. Over time, the new breed was refined. Bred on American soil, its primary activity fighting in a pit, its blood most heavily infused with that of the bulldog and the terrier, the breed became known as the American Pit Bulldog Terrier. Pound-for-pound, they are the strongest, fastest, most agile, most dog-aggressive, most intelligent, most obedient dogs on the face of the earth. The ultimate canine gladiators.

As the post-Civil War population of the United States exploded, the new breed flourished, and its population exploded as well. Because of the diversity of its origin, thousands of gene-lines were developed. In 1898, Mr. C.B. Bennett, a well-known pit bulldog breeder and fancier, founded the United Kennel Club with the intent of establishing rules governing the pitting of dogs against each other, setting an official breed standard which is still used today, and organizing a studbook and dog registration service, which is now the second largest canine registration service in the United States. He also gave the breed its first official name: the American Pitbull Terrier.

 In the early 1900’s the Pit Bulldog was one of the most popular breeds in America. Tige, Buster Brown’s companion in the comic strip, was a Pit Bulldog, as was the dog we still see today on R.C.A. products, which was Thomas A. Edison’s beloved Pitbull. Thoedore Roosevelt kept two Pitbulls in the White House as his family’s pets, Hellen Keller traveled with her Pitbull,  and the United States Navy named the Pit Bulldog America’s watchdog, producing posters with a Pitbull wearing a Navy cap which read – We’re not looking for trouble, but we’re ready for it.

In 1909, believing that the Pit Bulldog’s role as a fighting dog was in danger, and believing that gameness was a trait being selectively breed out as Pitbulls became more popular, the American Dog Breeder’s Association was founded. Its purpose, then and continuing today, is to register and preserve the heritage of the American Pitbull Terrier. In 1936, bowing to public pressure brought on by the popularity of the Pitbull Petey, known as the companion to the children of the Our Gang series, the American Kennel Club began registering Pit Bulldogs as American Staffordshire terriers.

The population of the Pitbull continued to grow as the population of the United States grew. As more blood mixed, and as the gene-pool was broadened, both populations became more diverse. America became white, black, red, yellow, brown, accepted immigrants from every country on the globe and assimilated them. Pit Bulldogs began appearing in white, black, red, yellow, brown, tan, blue, brindle, in every combination thereof. Certain lines were bred to be large, certain lines to be small, some with big heads, some with small heads, some to be more game, some less. Four distinct cultures within the Pit Bulldog community began to emerge: the game-dog culture, the show-dog culture, the weight-pull culture, which is where Pit Bulldogs pull sleds of weight down a track, and the pet culture.

Today there are over a million American Pitbull Terriers in the United States. Despite bad, and often unwarranted publicity, the breed type continues to thrive. As with the United States itself, this breed of dog, born out of violence, born out of multiple cultures and mixed blood, has established itself within the greater World and has asserted its power and displayed its grace, and will continue to live as peacefully as it is allowed to live. Pitbulls are the ultimate canine gladiators. Pound-for-pound, they are the strongest, fastest, most agile, most dog-aggressive, most intelligent, most obedient dogs on the face of the earth. They are also devoted friends, loyal companions, courageous defenders, and intelligent, gentle, courteous and even-tempered pets.
Breed Standard for the American Pitbull Terrier
General Impression
The American Pitbull Terrier should give the impression of great strength for his size, a well put-together dog, muscular, but agile and graceful, keenly alive to his surroundings. He should be stocky, not long-legged or racy in outline. His courage is proverbial.
Head
Medium length, deep through, broad skull, very pronounced cheek muscles, distinct stop; and ears are set high. Ears - Cropped or uncropped, the latter preferred. Uncropped ears should be short and held rose or half prick. Full drop to be penalized. Eyes - Dark and round, low down in skull and set far apart. No pink eyelids. Muzzle - Medium length, rounded on upper side to fall away abruptly below eyes. Jaws well defined. Underjaw to be strong and have biting power. Lips close and even, no looseness. Upper teeth to meet tightly outside lower teeth in front. Nose definitely black.
Neck
Heavy, slightly arched, tapering from shoulders to back of skull. No looseness of skin. Medium length.
Shoulders
Strong and muscular with blades wide and sloping.
Back
Fairly short. Slight sloping from withers to rump with gentle short slope at rump to base of tail. Loins slightly tucked.
Body
Well-sprung ribs, deep in rear. All ribs close together. Forelegs set rather wide apart to permit chest development. Chest deep and broad.
Tail
Short in comparison to size, low set, tapering to a fine point; not curled or held over back. Not docked.
Legs
The front legs should be straight, large or round bones, pastern upright. No resemblance of bend in front. Hindquarters well-muscled, let down at hocks, turning neither in nor out. Feet of moderate size, well-arched and compact. Gait must be springy but without roll or pace.
Coat
Short, close, stiff to the touch, and glossy.
Color
Any color, solid, parti, or patched is permissible, but all white, more than 80 per cent white, black and tan, and liver not to be encouraged.
Size
Height and weight should be in proportion. A height of about 18 to 19 inches at shoulders for the male and 17 to 18 inches for the female is to be considered preferable.
Faults
Faults to be penalized are: Dudley nose, light or pink eyes, tail too long or badly carried, undershot or overshot mouths.

Weight Pull:
The weight pull is a contest of strength. Weights are placed on a sled. The sled runs along a track. American Pitbull Terriers are placed in a harness. They are given sixty seconds to pull the sled fifteen feet. The pull must be uninterrupted. Before a pull begins, the dogs are weighed and placed into weight divisions. The results for a recent American Dog Breeder’s Association Weight Pull are listed next to the division.
35 lbs and under ….. 2300 lbs
35 to 45 lbs …………… 3500 lbs
45 to 55 lbs …………… 3900 lbs
55 to 65 lbs …………… 4400 lbs
65 to 75 lbs …………… 5300 lbs
75 to 90 lbs …………… 5800 lbs
90 lbs. and over ……. 7100 lbs

Famous Game Dogs:
Tudor’s Dibo, Tudor’s Champion Spike, Tudor’s Champion Jeff, Kinnard’s Champion Buck, Black Widow, Boudreaux’s Blind Billy, Ironhead, Pistol, Colby’s Dime, Lighthouse Vick, Eli, Hall’s Bullyson, Cotten’s Bullet, Tramp, Red Boy, Hanson’s Red Man, Stompanato

Famous Dog Men:
Earl Tudor
Leo Kinnard,
Maurice Carver
Norman Kemmer
Floyd Boudreaux
Louis Colby

Pitbull Myths:
1. Pitbulls are naturally aggressive towards human beings.
2. Pitbulls bite more than other dog breeds.
3. Pitbulls have the strongest jaws in the animal world.
4. Pitbulls have locking jaws.

Pitbull Facts:
1. Properly bred American Pitbull Terriers are naturally passive towards human beings. German Shepherds and Rottweilers are the only breeds that are naturally aggressive towards human beings.
2. According to statistics kept by the United States Center for Disease Control, American Pitbull Teriers and mixed breeds who are predominantly Pitbull account for .89% of all recorded dog bites in the United States. The American Pitbull Terrier does not rank among the top 15 breeds of dog who bite with the greatest frequency.
3. American Pitbulls have very strong jaws. They are bred to have very strong jaws. There is no way, however,  to actually test an animals jaw strength, so there are no accurate statistics. It is generally believed that most large predators have stronger jaws than American Pitbulls.
4. American Pitbull Terriers do not have locking jaws. They do not have a special mechanism that allows them to lock their jaws. They have the same basic jaw structure as every other breed of dog.

I live with an American Pitbull Terrier. I have lived with at least one American Pitbull Terrier for the last decade. I don’t say I own my Pitbull because I respect her too much to say that I own her. I live with her. She is a great friend. A wonderful pet. A joyous presence in my home. I am lucky to have her in my life. I don’t own her, just live with her. I am a lucky man.

Ten years ago, I was living in Los Angeles and I wanted a dog. I was trying to decide what kind of dog when I met a Pitbull named Grace 2000. Grace 2000 lived with a friend of mine. She was short and heavily-muscled, white with brown patches, deep brown sparkling eyes. She was very excitable, ran in circles around my friend’s house and loved to play catch. Sometimes she hung from a spring attached the branch of a tree and bounced bounced bounced. Sometimes she chased her tail. She never barked and she loved to give kisses and if given a chance, she would climb into my lap. She was a fifty pound ball of energy and love.

After meeting Grace, I decided that I wanted a Pitbull. I bought a paper, looked in the classifieds, saw ad after ad after ad, Pitbull Pitbull Pitbull. One of the ads said Sons of Cholo. I didn’t know what Cholo meant or who Cholo was, but I liked the sound of it. I called the number and got an address. I got in my car and I started driving.

The address was in East Los Angeles. A working-class Hispanic neighborhood. I parked, walked towards the house. There were two men sitting on the front porch. They were drinking beer and smoking cigarettes, their arms were covered with tattoos. I stopped in front of them, they stared at me. I said hello, they nodded. I asked if they were selling the dogs, they said no habla ingles. I don’t speak Spanish. I held up the paper, said Sons of Cholo. They smiled, nodded, one of them stood up and motioned for me to follow him.

We walked around the house. In the backyard there was a small fenced area. Inside the fence was a small doghouse. The man whistled and a giant Pitbull stormed out of the doghouse and started barking.

I had never seen a dog like him in my life. He was short and gigantic. He had layers and layers of rippling muscle. His coat was the color of milk chocolate and he had bright green eyes. His head was a huge and thick, as if it was carved from stone, and it was covered with scars. He stood at the fence and snarled at me. His teeth were huge and a perfect white. I stared at him. He barked and snarled. He looked like he wanted to eat me. I was scared to death.

The man tapped me on the shoulder and pointed at the dog. He smiled and he said Cholo, undefeated a campeon. He motioned for me to follow him. 

We walked to a garage. He lifted the door and puppies began streaming out. They were adorable little chocolate puppies. Small versions of Cholo, minus the scars, minus the snarling. They were yipping and tumbling over each other, jumping on my feet, biting at the bottom of my pants. The man pointed to the puppies and said Sons of Cholo.

I smiled. I sat down on the concrete. The puppies all ran into my lap, started jumping on my chest, licking my face. A hierarchy had been established among them, and the larger puppies started muscling the smaller puppies away. The smallest of them fell off my lap and immediately started climbing back. He was pushed off again, and started climbing again. All he wanted was to get close to enough to lick my face. He’d fall off, climb on, fall off, climb on. He was the smallest of them. He had a big heart. All he wanted was to lick my face.

I stood up, the puppies started nipping at my feet again. I looked at the man and pointed to the smallest puppy, the man nodded and held up three fingers. The price had been listed in the advertisement. I had brought cash with me. I took it out of my pocket and handed it to him. He picked up the puppy and handed him to me. We shook hands, he said gracias, I said gracias.

I walked towards my car. The puppy started whining. The further we got from the garage, the louder the whining. When I opened the driver’s door, the puppy started crying, looking towards the garage, where the other Sons of Cholo were still running around, and crying. I sat down in the driver’s seat. I had brought some puppy toys and puppy treats with me. I held the puppy in my lap and tried to get him interested in them. He just looked towards the garage and cried. I gave up trying to make him stop and I started the car. I drove away.

He sat in my lap on the ride back to my house. He cried and he started shaking. He peed on my lap. So much for the myth of the big bad Pitbull. When we got home he stopped crying, but he wouldn’t let me out of his sight. Everywhere I went, he went with me, even the bathroom. When I went to sleep, he crawled under my covers and snuggled against my legs. If I moved, he would move so that he was always touching me.

Despite his cries and his need, there was something regal about him, something noble. I decided to name him Cassius, after the Roman Emperor. It took him two or three days to recognize his name, it took a week to house-train him, within a month a he could sit, stay, heel, shake, roll-over. As he learned he grew. The day I had brought him home, he was twelve weeks old and weighed fourteen pounds. Eight weeks later he weighed thirty-four pounds. At eight months he weighed fifty-five pounds. At ten months, seventy pounds.  When he turned one, he weighed ninety pounds.

We went everywhere together.  I took him to stores, to work, I took him running, took him to the park. When he came with me to visit friends, he would play with their dogs and their children. When I went out to eat, I tried to go to restaurants with outdoor seating and he would lie under the table and sleep. People always reacted to him. He was too big and too handsome and too imposing not to react in some way. People either stared at him in fear and scampered away, or came up and asked to pet him and were quickly overwhelmed by his willingness to give kisses. He loved giving kisses. Cassius, Son of Cholo, was a softie.

I saw his genetics come out. I saw his game-face emerge, I saw him protect himself and protect me. We were hiking on a trail in the hills above Los Angeles. We came around a corner, and we were met by two adult male Chows and an adult male Labrador. None of the dogs were on leashes. They saw Cassuis and snarled and immediately charged us. I let go of his leash so that he could defend himself. Thirty seconds later all three of the other dogs were running away, tails between their legs, with Cassius chasing them. Two of them were bleeding. I chased after Cassius and caught him 200 yards up the trail. The dog’s owner had appeared and started screaming. I got Cassius off of one of the Chows and waited for her to calm down. I told her to keep her dogs on leashes, told her that aggressive male dogs had no place on the trail. She apologized, said it wouldn’t happen again. Cassius and I walked away. Three full-grown male dogs had charged him. I let him defend himself. All three full-grown male dogs ran away.   

Two months later we were at the Vet. Cassius was having a check-up. I had been thinking about getting another dog, and I asked the Vet if she had any advice for me. She said she thought having two dogs was better for the animals, that she thought it would be good for Cassius. She asked if I wanted another American Pitbull. I told her yes, and she excused herself, said she would be back in a minute. When she came back, she came back with a dog. A 20 pound, five month old female Pitbull. Cassius started wagging his tail, ran up to her. They sniffed each other, circled each other, started kissing each other. I started asking questions.

The little girl’s name was Bella. Someone had left her in a box on the front-stoop of the Vet’s office two months earlier.  She was in good health, she was good with people, children and other dogs. I could take her home immediately. I glanced down, Bella and Cassius were still kissing. They looked like they had been friends for years. When I left the Office, they both came with me.    

Cassius and Bella became inseparable. If I tried to separate them, they would cry until they were reunited. They ate together, played together, went walking together, had to sleep touching each other. Occasionally, they would sneak out of my house late at night. We lived in the Hollywood Hills, which are filled with small animals. Cassius and Bella would hunt the animals, and once or twice a month, I would wake-up to find a dead raccoon, a dead possum or a dead fox lying at the foot of my bed. The first time it happened, I called my Vet and asked her if I should be worried. She said no, the dogs were bringing me gifts, were trying to please me. She said don’t worry, they’re just hunting together.

We had three wonderful years together. We had three years in which we were rarely apart. Cassius and Bella moved with me, traveled across the country with me, watched me laugh and cry, stayed with me through good times and bad times. They were my best friends. My closest confidantes. They filled my life with joy and happiness. They were my children. My kids. I took care of them and, in their own way, they took care of me. Shortly before his fourth birthday, Cassius got sick. My Vet told me that there was no way he was going to get better. She recommended that I put him down. I cried like a baby. Cried and cried and cried. He didn’t know that there was anything wrong with him. He didn’t know why I was crying. He sat with me and tried to make me feel better. He snuggled against me and gave me kisses. He followed me around and tried to make me play with him. He was my little boy. My best buddy. My Mister Big Man. He wasn’t going to get better. I took him to the Vet. I cried and cried and cried. When I came home without him, Bella cried and cried and cried. We cried together. Our best friend was gone. We still miss him.

Bella is still with me. Bella my little Pitbull. Bella who loves everyone she meets. Bella who thinks she’s a lap-dog. Bella who likes to sit with little children and give them kisses. Bella who has never started a fight in her life. My Little Bella. The American Pitbull Terrier. There is no middle ground with her. She makes people smile. They respect her. She shows them love and she receives love from them. There is no middle ground. American Pitbull.