Some dogs have dog houses but our dog has a tent.  I bet your dog is jealous!  Say hello to Izzy.

In April of 1999, my daughter accepted an invitation to accompany friends on a three week working vacation to the tropical island of Phuket.  In a misguided effort to include us in the adventure, we were offered the opportunity to dog sit her pit bull for the three weeks she would be gone.  I know, I know, who wouldn't be positively gaga at the prospect?

My dog experience is plentiful.  I was raised on a ranch replete with guard dogs and hunting dogs.  On the rare occasion when a dog couldn't pass muster for either of those classifications, it became a pet dog who was allowed nightly indoor access as opposed to twenty-four outdoor doghouse access.  So I understand the gradations of dogs; or I thought I did.

All the guard dogs growled threateningly at everybody but my father and the hired hands who provided their daily bread.  My memory of them is mostly a generic one.  Big teeth, snapping and snarling, ruff hair electrified, straining mightily at the end of their chains hoping to just get one good meaty bite from a reckless passerby.  We children were strongly advised to cut them a wide berth and even at a tender age could see the benefit of willingly complying with that request.  By the way, not one of those dogs was a pit bull, a Doberman or any other of the dreaded breeds.  They were just damn mean dogs of indeterminate breeding. 

Hunting dogs were well-mannered and we could pet them, hug them, kiss them, ride them, whatever the dogs would tolerate.   One old hunting dog went blind and in his perpetual darkness got confused and lifted his leg on my leg.  That is the kind of memory that stays with you.

I sensibly selected family friendly Black Labradors and Golden Retrievers when it was my turn to raise children with dogs and was therefore not just taken aback but horrified when my daughter announced her impending adoption of a pit bull puppy (from a very reputable breeder.  Izzy is not a puppy mill dog).  I fired off as many deprecating facts about the breed as I'd ever heard.  And there were plenty.  Never mind that I had no independent knowledge and was basing all my venom on reports from the well-balanced gospel-speaking media.

Enter Isadore.

Izzy, the pit bull, my worst nightmare came to visit and subsequently stayed on so that I could learn something.  I learned that he is the smartest, most adoring dog I have ever known.  He also embodies love of life.  Shortly after his arrival, he made himself a track around the perimeter of the backyard.  We did enjoy the manicured lawn that had been there so Izzy didn't receive a lot of 'atta boys for his finely designed track until the first time we saw him run it for the pure pleasure of it.  Watching him made me joyous.  He runs on opposite legs like a race horse and he runs full out.  Interspersed in those breakneck runs are breathlessly elegant and effortless leaps high into the air like a ballet dancer.  He lands gracefully and then races off to repeat the moves over and over until he can't do anything but fall over, too pooped to pop.

Izzy isn't perfect.  Besides his own particular quirks, (he can't play ball.  If you throw a ball for him, he eats it.  He plays stick instead.  Big sticks.  Think firewood.  The game is the same as ball though.  You throw the fireplace log and he retrieves it and you repeat that ad nauseum.) he still has the characteristics of the breed .  He doesn't like any other dogs other than the ones he has known since he was a puppy.  He also has yellow eyes.  Yellow eyes don't make your heart melt like brown or blue or green eyes do.  He seems to be very sensitive about his yellow eyes so we've assured him that over the years his eyes have become a nice chocolate brown.  Yellow eyes and pit bull to boot, he is an absolutely wonderful companion.   

When I look at Izzy I wonder if he came to visit and stay now 9 years just to teach me that preconceived notions need to be taken out and examined in a very strong light.  Because of  Izzy I now have one less bias and for that I am extremely thankful.