The other morning as I was driving to work at Storage Station, I saw a bumper sticker on the back of a car with the words “My Pit Bull is Smarter than Your Middle School Student” and I got a good laugh. I happen to be the owner of a Pit Bull named Roxy, not at first by choice but out of pure fate, I’ve been blessed with what I call my “grandchild”. When one of my children decided to buy a Pit Bull, I like most people thought about the breeds bad reputation and violent temperament and said “are you crazy”. But my son already made up his mind and he was determined it had to be a Pit Bull. It brought back memories of my children’s childhood pets, that they just had to have but I ended up taking care of which included but are not limited to; a golden retriever, a silky terrier, two iguanas, two smelly ferrets, numerous hamsters, cockatiels, oh and let’s not forget the nocturnal flying squirrel, a Sugar Glider. The memories of mayhem that revolved around these animals are endless. Like the time that one of the iguanas jumped three stories out of the window and we didn’t find him till days later in my neighbor’s tree. The time the hamsters ate their babies and we had to tell the kids that they just must have escaped from the cage. Or when one of the cockatiels made a run for it on Father’s Day and flew right out the door. And oh boy were my kids fooled by that seemingly adorable sugar glider. The thing didn’t like to be touched and the second you opened the cage this little creature would jump out like a skydiver and just glide psychotically throughout the room looking for a way out. Safe to say that pet only lasted a few weeks.
But I have to say, I was wrong about this particular Pit Bull. Roxy couldn’t be farther from the breed’s bad reputation. Although I am convinced that she has a false sense of identity, we’ve always told her that she’s a poodle. I guess that’s why she thinks that she can sit on your lap or get under the covers at night and sleep just about on top of you with her head sticking out from under the covers. Sometimes she gets lucky enough to score a pillow to rest her head on, just like the rest of her family. We sleep this way, why shouldn’t she? We call her a little gazelle because she doesn’t run, she glides and flamboyantly prances. My daughter does not discourage Roxy when she takes a seat at the kitchen table; I however do draw the line when it’s meal time. Although I do wish I could get Cesar Millan, the dog whisperer, over here to train her to stop pulling on walks and to put an end to her relentless barking at the squirrels, chipmunks and rabbits outside. Isn’t it funny how one little thing, like a bumper sticker can just jump start a whole world wind of memories.