Comments in the ’Hood

We live near the Projects where Brenda comes from. Sometimes the line differentiating the haves from the have-nots is stark. Limos lined up outside a new five-star restaurant spill over into the territory inhabited by families scraping by. They step outside their 25-story brick boxes and rub shoulders with those whose houses they clean.

We do not have, nor do we have not. Our 400-square-foot digs are rent stabilized, though.

While I’ve learned to ignore the faces of passersby and tune out comments, my neighborhood remains a minefield. Once, when I was walking Porter alone (before Sadie even came along), an African American teenage girl yelled out in a panic, “control your dog,” when she saw us approaching. Porter wasn’t even pulling on his leash, but she afraid because of the way he looked. Coming from a small town in Oregon, where the population is largely made up of white people with stereotypical notions of all minorities, her comment is possibly the most ironic thing I’ve witnessed.

It’s sad to me when I hear people who I know live in the projects saying fearful things about my dogs. When wealthier people cross the street I figure they are victims to a sensationalistic media, but when tenants in buildings that I know harbor pit-bull fighting rings are scared, I figure it’s because they know mean dogs. And I know that dogs get that mean because of the abuse they endure from people.

When we have Porter and Sadie and Brenda together, sometimes people think they’re blood relatives. Brenda is Porter and Sadie’s baby because she is so small and Porter is the girl while Sadie is the boy because of their relative sizes. People are quick to jump to conclusions.

Not always, though. I know that the people who ask if they can pet Porter and Sadie wouldn’t ask if they weren’t with me, a white girl. They’ve told me that.

When Brenda wears her muzzle, people ask if she bites. When Porter and Sadie are wearing head halters people ask if they bite. They’re not even muzzles. Porter wears one because when Sadie pulls he likes to, too, and Sadie wears one because she likes to pull. It took six months before Sadie would walk with only one person and one dog outside. As her confidence has increased so has her propensity to pull, however, it’s hard to train Sadie with Porter on the walk, too. Or, rather, it’s tedious. Porter knows how to heel and depending on the time I have per day, I feel like training them together cheats Porter out of his exercise. When I take Sadie out alone, she is still too fearful to pull. It’s a predicament I’m committed to carving two hours a week to address. I wish I could carve more.

I’ve had countless teenagers ask me if we breed the dogs, and many others who’ve wondered why not. They other day a construction worker asked Belisa, while she was walking Brenda, if she wanted another one. His buddy just created a breed—a mix between a pit and something else. And he had the papers to prove it. Belisa asked him if the papers were from ibreeddogs.com and proceeded to make up a number of how many of those exact types of dogs were euthanized in NYC shelters the day before. It was made up but probably not too far off the mark.