I have to admit that the agenda driven media duped me once again.
I read all the articles about Pit Bulls and how they should be outlawed. I read that when they bite, their jaws lock and you can’t get them to let go even by killing them. I heard that once they taste blood, that’sit, they’ll go after it at every chance. I believed it. It must be true. I read it over and over in the papers and saw it on the TV news.
Then came Scrappy.
Just about a year ago, we closed escrow on our house. The house is twenty years old and the previous tenants had ben foreclosed on. It sits on the end of a culdesac. There are only three houses on the street and one was just built and has never been occupied.
According to the neighbors, about two years ago this young black male American Pit Bull appeared in the neighborhood. Speculation is that he had been abandoned by someone who had been foreclosed on and couldn’t bear to take him to the shelter. Another theory is that he was a run away from an abusive owner. Either way, this dog was wild and nobody could get close to him. No one had ever petted this dog. Neighbors felt sorry for him and put out water and dry food as well as table scraps. The pit would watch from a distance and when he felt safe would go after the scraps. He didn’t feel safe eating them there and would cart the scraps off to a safer place in the brush or in the hills before gobbling them down. He soon was dubbed “Scrappy.”
Scrappy would hunker down where he felt safe and would usually bark throughout the night whenever a car, person, or animal would come into the neighborhood. County Animal Control had been called but Scrappy would run and hide in the hills upon their arrival.
Along comes a home builder named Karl. Karl builds houses in custom neighborhoods for a living. He bought the half acre parcel and proceeded to build just about the time this vicious pit bull, Scrappy had been dropped off in the neighborhood. As Karl framed and enclosed the house, he installed a chain link fence. The Pit discovered that it was good shelter at night. He could stay on the porch of this house and could see enemies coming towards him as well as having exits for a getaway.
As Karl worked on the house, he would try to on breaks to coax Scrappy with bits of his lunch and snacks. It took a long while but he and Scrappy became friends. Karl had tamed the savage beast. Scrappy now became the protector of Karl’s property and barked angrily whenever someone besides Karl would come close to the construction. Only Karl could get close enough to this animal to pet him.
Karl was finishing his construction just about the time my wife and I closed on our house. We decided that our new home which had been built twenty years prior needed lots of remodel before we could move in. Every morning I would come to work on the house. Scrappy would bark at me then watch as I entered the house. He was a menacing figure. As he barked he would bounce around and show what I perceived as aggressive dissatisfaction that I had entered his domain. He scared the daylights out of me.
My wife bought some dog biscuits and attempted to coax the dog. He wouldn’t come close. She would set the biscuit on the curb and walk away but still the dog wouldn’t approach. Funny thing, though, every morning when we’d arrive, we found the biscuits had disappeared.
Karl eventually finished the home and assigned it to a realtor to sell. Karl quit coming, yet the dog guarded that house as if it were his own. A neighbor, Jacque would drive up every morning in her golf cart and put out the dry food and bring leftovers for Scrappy. Scrappy would hear the golf cart and come running but would stay his distance until Jacque left the meal and departed.
Another neighbor, Pete, would come down every day before he left for work and fill a bucket with water. Pete has a Yellow Lab named Ben. Ben would come with Pete for some of the deliveries. Pete told me that Scrappy would come to his house and play with Ben and once while they were playing, Pete was able to get close enough to pet Scrappy.
My wife continued to coax Scrappy with the biscuits and added sliced bologna to the routine. Scrappy became more and more comfortable but would keep his distance. I joined in on the daily ritual. We would sit on the curb and attempt to get Scrappy to come to us without success. We would then put the treats on the curb and move away. Scrappy would watch us then once we were at a safe distance away, he would approach and take his reward.
One day we were running late on our routine and Scarppy came into our yard to look for us. That day my wife left the treats in the back yard for Scrappy. We continued and eventually Scrap as I called him, accepted that our back yard was a safe place. He would come early and wait in the very back of the yard for his daily. We would slowly move closer and closer to the retrieval area Finally, one day scrap got close enough to take the bologna from my hand and allowed me to pet him for just a short few seconds. It was two weeks before I could pet him again. But my wife finally got him to come to her and she was able to hand feed and pet the dog. He would hang around our place quite often and would then let us both pet him. We looked forward to it.
When the weather got cold, we coaxed him into the garage where we placed a blanket covered dog bed. He took to it. One night we decided to see what would happen if we closed the door. To our surprise, this wild dog let out a heavy breath of relaxation and went to sleep. He was still sleeping when I went to the garage the next morning. The dog who had to hunker down at night and be ever so vigilant for predators could finally relax and sleep comfortably.
He has since adopted us and sleeps in our garage every night. I built him a dog house which he has never been in. Every morning when I come out, he rolls on his back and awaits his daily full body massage and hot breakfast. I then open the door and he goes out to make his rounds. First stop is the empty house still waiting for a buyer. Next he goes to visit Ben and Pete. Pete can now pet him at will. No one else can get close enough to pet him. Bert, another neighbor who had once called animal control is greeted daily when he comes out to get his paper. Bert is heard to say “Good Morning Doggie, ready for your cookie?”
Scrappy is one of the sweetest lovingest dogs I have ever encountered. He loves the leash but thinks it’s for playing tug of war. Once during a tug of war, the collar came off his neck. He stopped walk up to me and put his head through the collar, then dutifully resumed the game. He gladly will hop in the truck to go for a ride. He’s just a sweetheart and we are so lucky that he has allowed us into his life.
Read this article for the truth about the pit bull myth.
http://www.austinlostpets.com/kidskorner/2October/pitbull.htm
5-5-2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
The Good Indians
My grandmother was full blooded American Indian. That puts me at a quarter. I recently had a DNA test that verified it at 28%. So there must have been a little on my mother's side, too. Our originating tribe was the Wicocomico in Maryland. The tribe was dissolved and our lands taken in 1719. Many of our ancestors made there way south to Kentucky where they assimilated with the Chippewa, Chickasaw, or Cherokee. I grew up thinking we were Chippewa.
As a boy, I looked Indian. My brother looked Indian. One of my sisters looked Indian. My dad looked Indian. As a child, we were raised to be proud of our Indian heritage and my oldest sister (the one that looked the least like an Indian) even wrote a little jingle to the tune of “Harrigan” where one line was “proud of all the Indian blood that’s in me...”
My father, who had been called “Chief” all his life, looks like a full blooded Indian. My great grandmother wanted my father to go to the Indian college and was disappointed when he chose the University of Missouri for their football program instead. To go to Haskell Indian School, you must be a quarter blood and a requirement that was not there when my father was that age, you have to be registered with a tribe recognized by the United States Bureau of Indian Affairs.
When the Indians were defeated and moved to the reservation , every effort was made from that point forward to get the Indians to assimilate into society. There were many who did just that. They got educated and worked hard to move into the white society. It wasn’t easy but they did it. My family saw first hand how there was still discrimination into the late 60's. On one family vacation in particular, we stopped at a resort to see about buying some ice for our camping coolers. My father was told to “go around back.” We all got a big kick out of it. He was the Fire Chief of our small Missouri town at the time.
My family is not registered with any tribe and by all accounts were good Indians and assimilated into society just fine. Although, as a teenager I was called “Little Chief” and while stationed in the Marine Corps in Jacksonville, Florida, was nicknamed “Savage.”
The bad Indians stayed on the reservation and either made no attempt whatsoever to move into the white society or failed and gave up. Either way, they stayed and lived in poverty on the reservations. No one kept records of what happened to the good Indians.
Throughout the sixties to the present we are taught not to discriminate and “tolerance” is the buzz word of the modern era. We associate this not only with the Indian but with blacks, hispanics, jewish people, and orientals. Recently the state of California has officially apologized to the Chinese for the discrimination they suffered when brought to the US as cheap labor to build railroads.
In the 70's Russell Bryan and his wife Helen, a Chippewa couple in Minnesota living in a trailer on the reservation received a property tax bill from Itasca County. They had never received one before and certainly didn’t wish to pay it. Seeking legal relief, they lost in local court, lost in appeals to district and the Minnesota Supreme Court, but won unanimlously on appeal to the US Supreme Court who not only ruled that states lack authority to tax Indians but lack authority to regulate activities on Indian land. This opened the doors for Indian Gaming.
Today, 225 of the 562 recognized tribes have gaming operations and 73 are seeing per capita payments, some as high as top executive level paydays. There are 425 Indian gaming operations in 28 states. (Some tribes have more than one casino.)
The tribes and the US government are very tight lipped about per cap payments. Government and Indian gaming websites talk in percentages of growth increases rather than amounts. Overall, American Indians still live in poverty with an average income per capita less than half of the average american according to the 2000 census. However, http://www.medillnewsdc.com/gambling/gambling_indian.shtml reports that in 2000, the Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community in Minnesota (estimated enrollment is fewer than 300), provides each member with about $75,000 monthly.
The same website shows that the good Indian, now an average American made approximately $21,587 for that same entire year.
July 29, 2009
As a boy, I looked Indian. My brother looked Indian. One of my sisters looked Indian. My dad looked Indian. As a child, we were raised to be proud of our Indian heritage and my oldest sister (the one that looked the least like an Indian) even wrote a little jingle to the tune of “Harrigan” where one line was “proud of all the Indian blood that’s in me...”
My father, who had been called “Chief” all his life, looks like a full blooded Indian. My great grandmother wanted my father to go to the Indian college and was disappointed when he chose the University of Missouri for their football program instead. To go to Haskell Indian School, you must be a quarter blood and a requirement that was not there when my father was that age, you have to be registered with a tribe recognized by the United States Bureau of Indian Affairs.
When the Indians were defeated and moved to the reservation , every effort was made from that point forward to get the Indians to assimilate into society. There were many who did just that. They got educated and worked hard to move into the white society. It wasn’t easy but they did it. My family saw first hand how there was still discrimination into the late 60's. On one family vacation in particular, we stopped at a resort to see about buying some ice for our camping coolers. My father was told to “go around back.” We all got a big kick out of it. He was the Fire Chief of our small Missouri town at the time.
My family is not registered with any tribe and by all accounts were good Indians and assimilated into society just fine. Although, as a teenager I was called “Little Chief” and while stationed in the Marine Corps in Jacksonville, Florida, was nicknamed “Savage.”
The bad Indians stayed on the reservation and either made no attempt whatsoever to move into the white society or failed and gave up. Either way, they stayed and lived in poverty on the reservations. No one kept records of what happened to the good Indians.
Throughout the sixties to the present we are taught not to discriminate and “tolerance” is the buzz word of the modern era. We associate this not only with the Indian but with blacks, hispanics, jewish people, and orientals. Recently the state of California has officially apologized to the Chinese for the discrimination they suffered when brought to the US as cheap labor to build railroads.
In the 70's Russell Bryan and his wife Helen, a Chippewa couple in Minnesota living in a trailer on the reservation received a property tax bill from Itasca County. They had never received one before and certainly didn’t wish to pay it. Seeking legal relief, they lost in local court, lost in appeals to district and the Minnesota Supreme Court, but won unanimlously on appeal to the US Supreme Court who not only ruled that states lack authority to tax Indians but lack authority to regulate activities on Indian land. This opened the doors for Indian Gaming.
Today, 225 of the 562 recognized tribes have gaming operations and 73 are seeing per capita payments, some as high as top executive level paydays. There are 425 Indian gaming operations in 28 states. (Some tribes have more than one casino.)
The tribes and the US government are very tight lipped about per cap payments. Government and Indian gaming websites talk in percentages of growth increases rather than amounts. Overall, American Indians still live in poverty with an average income per capita less than half of the average american according to the 2000 census. However, http://www.medillnewsdc.com/gambling/gambling_indian.shtml reports that in 2000, the Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community in Minnesota (estimated enrollment is fewer than 300), provides each member with about $75,000 monthly.
The same website shows that the good Indian, now an average American made approximately $21,587 for that same entire year.
July 29, 2009
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