EDITOR’S NOTE: Due to the nature of this subject, this story may be difficult for some readers.
—————————————————————–
If trees could talk, the woods behind 1915 Moonlight Road would have some stories to tell. In the shadows of the white Virginia mini-mansion, the basketball court and the above-ground swimming pool, these trees saw everything that no one was supposed to see. They saw the sheds painted pitch black, windows and all. They watched on those nights in the offseason when, at around 2 a.m., two pit bulls would follow two men up a path to the biggest of the four sheds. Then the all-black door would slam shut. Leaving everyone, even the trees, in the dark.
A “hero” shut that door. A man named Michael Vick slammed it in the face of the world. At the time, Vick was the starting quarterback for the Atlanta Falcons and nothing short of an icon. He was arguably football’s most exciting player and when he hit the field, fans across America watched his every move. Vick knew this, but he also knew that in the woods behind his house in Surry County, Va., no one was looking. It was just him, his friends and his dogs.
What went on inside that shed was kept quiet. Nobody knew, nobody cared. It concerned only a few men and their stake in the money. But four years ago, USDA officers and Virginia State Police kicked that door down and the world saw everything. Investigators found a blood-stained rug dumped in the woods and blood stains on the floor and on the walls of the largest shed. By the window they found a single white dog tooth.
There it was, in the clear, for the entire world to see. Michael Vick had fought dogs. He did it for money, for respect, but most of all, he did it for fun.
This scene opened the world’s eyes to one of the largest illegal sports in the world. It also opened the world’s eyes to a breed surrounded by misunderstanding, myth and fear.
Dog fighting is a blood sport, which is a competition that involves violence against animals. Bull fighting, cockfighting and fox hunting are all included in this category. Dog fighting thrives on the human desire to observe violence, but be safe from its effects. It’s a competition with champions and trophies. There are magazines about the winners and the latest fights. Winners walk away with bragging rights and pride, but it is not like other sports.
Imagine a sport that no one wants to play. When a player wins, he is rewarded, and there is a certain level of pride. Pride in survival, pride in superiority. But when a player loses, there is death. No next time, no redemption, just overwhelming shame and no future.
The back kennels of the Peninsula Humane Society in San Mateo, Calif., are full of pit bulls. Some are big, some are small. Some bark and some just sit and watch, their heads on a swivel. Barks of all pitches combine and bounce off the walls, funneling down the aisle.
I started working with pit bulls when I learned about the Michael Vick case as a freshman. I learned about the dogs and their stories and I started to wonder what the breed was really like. Since then, I have worked with more than 100 pit bulls of all temperaments and backgrounds, and if I have learned anything, it is that each dog is an individual. Each one has its own story. Some of them I know. Some are a mystery. So, when I enter the kennel with a new dog, I need a clean slate. There is no room for stereotypes or foregone conclusions. Each dog must be handled differently.
At home, I have three pit bulls and they too come from different backgrounds. Owning pit bulls gets you two things: loyalty from your dogs and skepticism from some other people. I have to do a lot of convincing, but the bottom line is this: I work with these dogs every day and I like to think I have seen the evidence that could reverse anyone with the pit bull stereotype in their head.
As I walk through the kennels, one dog stands out from all the rest. He is a compact, muscular red pit bull. He is just like the other dogs except his face is covered with dried blood. New cuts criss-cross old scars all the way from the top of his head to the tips of his paws. His face is swollen, but he makes eye contact with me and licks my hand through the fence. A volunteer remarks that the dog was picked up a few days ago as a stray. Odds are that he lost his fight and his owners let him go. This is rare for a losing dog because most aren’t so lucky.
A pit bull is the perfect athlete: powerful, compact, explosive and determined to the point where it will stop at nothing to achieve a task.
Few people know pit bulls better than the Peninsula Humane Society’s vice president of animal care, Katie Dineen. Dineen knows their temperament, their history and everything that makes them tick. This pit bull knowledge is a given when you own six.
“The ears are very vascular and if a dog is bitten in the ear it bleeds a lot, a lot more than you would think,” Hanley said. “That’s also something that during a fight a dog can grab on to. So if you cut those ears off when they’re little there’s nothing for those dogs to grab on to.”
While it may seem extreme, cropping is minor compared to the methods of other dog fighters.
“They’ll sharpen their teeth so that the dogs can cut in and dig deeper and cause a lot more injury with their bites,” Hanley said. “They will give them methamphetamines, cocaine. They will give them painkillers so they will keep fighting through the pain.”
By this point the dog is no longer a pit bull terrier. By this point, the dog is ready to fight.
An organized dog fight is a process. According to the Humane Society of the United States’ (HSUS) law enforcement dog fighting investigation primer, there are guidelines that most fights follow.
Two dogs, usually American Pit Bull Terriers, are brought to a secret location chosen by the person organizing the fight. Each dog is weighed, then the handlers wash their dog’s opponent to make sure drugs have not been placed in the dog’s fur to stop an opponent from biting.
The dogs are then placed in opposite corners of a 20 square foot “pit” surrounded by 3-foot high wooden walls. Handlers hold their dogs while onlookers make bets. Depending on the dogs and the people involved, bets can start as high as $10,000. Once wagers are placed, each owner lets go of his dog and the fight begins. Both dogs sprint from their corner to meet their opponent in the middle. According to the primer they rise up on their back legs, lock arms and snap at each other’s heads.
The men have the power to stop their dogs at any time.
In an organized fight, a winner is proclaimed when the opposing dog either refuses to engage or is physically incapable. The owners reclaim their dogs and the fight is over, at least for the people.
Street fighting is the simple version. A man will take his dog and match it up against a dog from down the block and have them fight in a backyard or in an abandoned building. It could be fueled by a gang rivalry, money or simply entertainment.
One of Hanley’s responsibilities is dealing with dog fighting cases in San Mateo County. In her experience, Hanley has noticed a pattern in the dog fighters in the area.
“In our area typically what we’ll see is a gang member,” said Hanley “Male 15-35, [who] wants to appear very, very tough. [He] doesn’t know a lot about his dog, probably doesn’t take very good care of his dog. It’s more of a status symbol. ‘I’m really tough. I have guns I have drugs and I have this pit bull.’”
This human desire to appear intimidating is a major contributor to society’s perception of pit bulls.
Dog fighting in the Bay Area, however, is extremely rare.
“The more common thing we see around here is street fighting,” Hanley said. “You have a gangster who has a dog who wants to look tough and walks down the street with it and says ‘you wanna fight?’ and they’ll fight those dogs. Street fighting is much more common because all you have to do is get your hands on a dog.”
Unlike the world of high level organized dog fighting, street fighting often occurs in residential neighborhoods. In neighborhoods where street fighting is more visible, it can be accepted as simply another part of the culture that is passed down to the youth.
“Kids see older guys around them doing this and they want to do it,” Hanley said “It’s not illegal to have a vicious pit bull. You can’t walk around with a gun showing, but you can have your vicious pit bull.”
This is how dog fighting stays alive. People who are removed from the culture shun it, but people who grow up around it often accept it and think nothing of it. There are exceptions, however. Some choose a different path.
I know Donte Powell because of Smoka, his pit bull. Smoka plays with my dogs off-leash at the Jordan Middle School field on a regular basis. Powell is a straightforward guy. He talks with his arms crossed and looks you directly in the eye to emphasize a point.
Growing up in Kansas City, Mo., Powell always hung out with the older kids. They were his friends and his connections. Hanging out with the older kids always worked well for Powell, until one day it took him too far.
When he was 14, one of his friends brought him to an abandoned warehouse to see a dog fight. Powell’s friend had seen fights before and for him it was nothing out of the ordinary. Powell, however, had a different reaction.
“I broke down and started crying when I saw it,” Powell said. “It’s bad. Watching a dog’s throat get ripped out. Some dogs lose their legs. [They] can’t bark. It’s crazy.”
After seeing the fight, Powell decided that he would take a different route than his friends. He decided to take care of his dogs and have a positive influence on them. Powell realized that he had an opportunity to raise his dogs to be good pets. Knowing the pit bull breed, he knew that he had to be a strong leader. If he could do that, his dogs would follow his lead.
“You can get any dog [to be] mean, but if you train a dog well, feed a dog well, the dog will be yours,” Powell said. “If you turn, your dog is gonna turn, because your dog feeds off your energy.”
At one point in his life, Powell estimates that he had 27 pit bulls. He was a pit bull breeder, but his business was shut down when neighbors complained and animal control seized most of his dogs. Today, living in Palo Alto, Powell is down to one: Smoka.
At the Jordan field, Powell watches as Smoka lumbers from dog to dog looking for a match up. This not in the pit, it is at a middle school field and it is for fun. Smoka sizes up an opponent, throws a playful jab with her paw, then flops on her back and kicks at the other dog half-heartedly.
This scene is far from what Powell grew up watching, but in his opinion, this is how it should be. Powell believes that the pit bull stereotype is hyped up and that it only applies to a select few dogs. He laughs when he compares Smoka to society’s view of pit bulls.
“I couldn’t see it,” Powell said. “I see her barking at somebody because they won’t pet her, but other than that, she doesn’t bark for anything.”
Powell laughs while watching Smoka, but his tone shifts when talking about the motivation behind dog fighting.
“If you have a dog that’s gonna tear up everybody’s dog, then you’re on top,” Powell said. “Everybody is gonna want a [puppy] from that dog.”
Powell sees this mentality and he tries to understand it, but no matter the motivation, the reasoning behind fighting dogs is backwards. Powell believes that dogs have a special place beside humans, and to rob a dog of that place and put it in a fighting pit is a serious problem.
Michael Vick saw his first dog fight when he was eight. In the Ridley Circle Homes Housing Project in Newport News, Va., where Vick grew up, older kids used to fight dogs in the courtyards in between the buildings. In Vick’s area, dog fighting was more common. When he had the means to support a dog fighting operation, he did it.
For some people, Vick is only a product of his environment. For Sports Illustrated senior editor Jim Gorant, this is not an excuse.
“Bad Newz Kennels (the reference to Newport News used by Vick to disguise his dog fighting ring as a boarding and breeding operation) was built on a rural 15-acre plot of land and these dogs were chained up deep in the woods and there were four sheds that were painted black,” Gorant said in an interview with The Viking. “Fights were held at two o’clock in the morning and there were a lot of rules about secrecy and how to get there. You’re not doing all of those things if you don’t know you’re doing something wrong.”
Gorant knows the Vick dogs’ history. His article, “The Good News out of Bad Newz Kennels,” was the cover story for the Dec. 29, 2008 edition of Sports Illustrated. In that story and in his book, The Lost Dogs, Gorant told the survival story of the confiscated Vick dogs.
Originally doomed to euthanasia after being labeled as some of the most vicious dogs in America by the HSUS and PETA, a team of pit bull advocates submitted a proposal for evaluating the dogs as individuals. To the surprise of the world, the evaluations showed that the Vick dogs were just dogs. Not killing machines, just a bunch of dogs with bad backgrounds.
Forty-seven of the 51 dogs taken from 1915 Moonlight Road made it to either to a home or to a rehabilitation sanctuary. One dog, Johnny Justice, participated in a program at a nearby Burlingame library serving as a one-dog audience for kids who struggle with reading aloud. To Gorant, the story of these dogs is a testament to the pit bull breed and the ultimate proof that pit bulls are not made to fight.
“Here you have pit bulls bred and raised by people with the sole intention of getting into a fight, and the success rate of making that happen is not terribly high,” Gorant said. “This case undermines what they call breed ideology, which is the equivalent of racism in human terms. You can’t judge a dog based off a breed.”
When Michael Vick’s dogs lost, they faced a different fate than the pit bull at the shelter in San Mateo. Before entering his dogs in an organized fight, Vick would test them to see if they had what it takes. He wanted to see if they were “game,” or willing to fight. This is rolling, and in some cases it determines whether or not a dog will see another day.
According to Gorant’s The Lost Dogs, two dogs of about the same size would be unchained from the car axles that lay buried deeper in the woods. Vick or one of his friends would lead the dog up a path and into the clearing where the black sheds stood. On the second floor of the largest shed the men would place the two dogs on opposite ends of the pit. The men in attendance would then clap and yell at the dogs in an attempt to spark aggression. If the dogs did not react, the men would grab them by the muzzle and push them back to the edge of the mat repeatedly. If the dogs still refused to react, they would be held just out of reach of one another forcing a stare down. Naturally, the dogs would become frustrated and the men would release them. The fight would last only a few minutes then the men would intervene.
For Vick and his friends, getting these dogs to fight took effort.
Vick and his friends quickly judged the dogs who did not fight well or refused to fight at all and killed them on the spot. Some were shot and some were hanged from the trees on the edge of the clearing, some were held by their hind legs while one of the men forced the dog’s head into a bucket of water until the dog drowned. Some dogs were slammed into the ground until they died.
Dogs who fought aggressively were given food and water. Dogs aren’t stupid, they know what they have to do to survive.
Nobody knows for certain how many dogs Vick killed. He ran his operation for six years, so one can imagine how many dogs didn’t fight well enough over that time span. Vick had the money to run his operation, but he was clueless when it came to being a dog man.
“He took a street fighting mentality and tried to apply it to a large-scale dog fighting operation,” Hanley said. “None of his dogs ever won because he was still thinking like a street fighter, breeding a ton of dogs. None of them would fight so he killed them all. A lot of more high dollar dog fighting operations thought he was a complete joke and an amateur.”
While the Vick case was surrounded by negativity, a few good things did come out of it. One was that 47 dogs from a fight bust were placed in sanctuaries or adopted. Another was a new perspective. The Vick dogs were seen as victims and not as evidence. In previous fight busts the dogs were destroyed with rest of the evidence once the case was closed. In this case, each dog was evaluated on an individual basis.
In Gorant’s opinion, this case may work in pit bulls’ favor.
“Michael Vick may be the best thing that ever happened to pit bulls, because he certainly isn’t the only one out there that’s doing this,” Gorant said. “He is just the tip of the iceberg. But at the same time, what he did just shined this huge light on it, and we’re much more aware of it. Law enforcement has changed their perspective [and] now they prosecute much more of these cases.”
On a greater level, the public watched as pit bulls that were supposed to be vicious became family pets and even therapy dogs. Slowly, the public opened up to the idea that maybe pit bulls are misunderstood. Maybe they are good dogs.
Sixteen of the Vick dogs came to the Bay Area through a pit bull advocacy organization called BAD RAP (Bay Area Doglovers Responsible About Pitbulls). BAD RAP declined to be included in this story.