Of dogs and little boys

I like dogs. Quite a lot. We have cats, but I don't consider myself a "cat person", more of an animal person.

I personally don't believe that certain breeds of dogs that are inherently evil. There are certainly some breeds that have been bred so poorly that they now have issues, but that is a breeder problem, not the breed itself. There are also owners that, through training, mistreatment or attitude have taken an otherwise reasonable dog and turned it into something unpleasant.

That said there are certain breeds that you have to understand their purpose and be aware of it. I'm thinking of breeds like Doberman, Rotweillers and Pit Bulls. I'm not saying you cross the street, but you should probably be aware of what they are up to. It's like being in a bar and keeping an eye on the huge ass scary guy that is wandering around. It isn't that you automatically assume that he is going to cause trouble, but knowing where the biggest source of potential damage is, scores high on the "smart idea" scale.

All of this to say that I never ever run away from a dog simply because of it's breed, but I treat all dogs with the respect that they deserve, IE: they are beings that may not like my touching them, or the smell of me or what have you and may well want to express themselves by biting me.

So the other day Lucas and I were out for a walk on St-Laurent (ALL FUCKING HAIL SPRING!!!) and he was in his usual place on the sidewalk, close to the buildings so that if he manages to get out of my grip he has to cross me to get to the street.

So we're walking along and a woman and her Pit Bull come out of one of the apartments that open onto St-Laurent and I immediately jerk Lucas away from the dog.

This leaves me with a huge level of conflicted feelings: have I just implanted the idea that you should be scared of dogs into his head? am I being reasonable? overprotective? (the dog probably had 50 pounds on Lucas and THOSE TEETH) I felt oddly guilty, like I had just called someone of a different race or ethnicity a name. I gave the (what do you call the human on the other end of the leech) a sort of half assed "oh sorry I've just branded your dog a killing machine" smile.

I've thought about this since and I guess, if I had to explain it to her (and I guess the dog as well) that I would say "I know all Pit Bulls are not violent sociopaths of the canine world, I've petted several and found them to be quite nice, but I really can't take the chance of my son getting disfigured or killed to find out if yours is, indeed, a nice doggie."

Just another weird thing that never occurred to me before we had a kid.