The Pit-Bull Problem

A 10-acre stretch of land just outside Los Angeles is pit-bull Nirvana. It's called Villalobos Rescue Center and it's run by Tia Maria Torres, an unabashed pit-bull lover. Torres has found homes for thousands of pits since the rescue opened its doors 15 years ago. Some of these animals were abandoned. Some were shelter dogs slated for euthanasia. Others were confiscated in drug busts or fighting rings. And some—like Mouse, a small white pit bull—are victims of nature, the so-called Hurricane Katrina dogs of New Orleans. (Article continued below...)

It's a 24/7 job, but Torres gets help from a posse of volunteers, her four children, and six ex-cons, who she calls her "pit bulls on legs." Her work is chronicled in a new six-part documentary, Pit Bulls and Parolees, airing on Animal Planet, the first of which premiered on Friday night. You'd have to carry a cold heart to not feel something for what these dogs have endured.

But I have a problem with pit bulls. And it has more to do with the two-legged creatures holding their leashes (if there is a leash).

Because of their sheer numbers—estimates show that there are anywhere from 5 million to 10 million pit-bull-type dogs in the U.S. today, out of about 61 million total dogs—pits have become the dog du jour for a lot of people, not just gangbangers and wannabe thugs who use a pit as proxy for toughness. About 20 percent of dogs in ASPCA shelters are pit mixes.

I've seen those who adopt these dogs for all the wrong reasons. The fearful might get a pit because they want a great guard dog. (Pits make lousy guard dogs. A well-bred pit is just too human-friendly to protect your property.) Some get a pit because Rachael Ray has one and they want to rescue a dog. (Why didn't you take up cooking instead of getting a dog that you know nothing about?) And the trendiest pet owners spend thousands of dollars for a "blue" pit because the dogs are rare. (No, they aren't, and you just got swindled by an unethical breeder who contributed to the overpopulation problem.) But pets aren't purses, and people who jump into pit-bull ownership without the requisite training and education can often do more harm than good. That's why when I see a pit off-leash and I'm walking Turk, my 20-pound schnoodle, I'm scared.

Let's face it: pit bulls are public enemy No. 1. That's quite a comedown for a pup once considered "America's dog." They were owned by the likes of Helen Keller and Teddy Roosevelt, and when I was a kid, a wiry American pit-bull terrier named Sam endured the indignity of being called a "horsy" as he pulled me around in a wagon on an upstate New York farm. But in talking with pit-bull experts, it's clear that some current owners are too easy to spook, are too ill-informed, and have unrealistic expectations of what pit bulls can do.

Torres knows all about the pit bull's people problem. "Oh, my God, I see it all the time," she says. "Some of these people are completely clueless. They get a pit and then they want to get rid of it if it grabs and shakes a toy and barks. They don't understand why it loves everybody, but scraps with dogs. It's insane. And it's hurting the pit bull."

Some of the so-called pit problems are directly linked to the dog's history. Today's pit bull can trace its roots back to bulldogs, which were used for bull baiting, a gruesome spectacle in which the dogs would try to pin a tied bull by latching on to its nose. When bull baiting was outlawed, these bulldogs were then bred with small terriers, feisty dogs known for their drive. The end result was the original pit bull, a "canine gladiator" bred specifically for dog-on-dog combat.