Today, as we were sitting on the lift gate of the truck, waiting for production to finish the two-hour long meeting they just had to have in the set we needed to rig, we started talking about our pets.
One of the guys was waxing poetic about the greatest dog that he'd ever had - which happened to have been a pit bull. As he continued the story, it took me a few moments to realize that he was saying "pet bull" and not "pit bull". It was on the tip of my tongue to ask "You meant pit bull, right?", but I stopped and thought about it for a moment.
"Pet Bull" is, in fact, a very descriptive term. It brings to my mind a big, joyous drool factory of a dog who's always jumping on you to kiss you, trying to crawl into your lap while you're watching TV, wagging it's entire back end when you get home from work, and dropping slobber laden chew toys at your feet in an attempt to get you to play 'fetch'.
Turns out, this is a spot-on description of the dog.
The dog also loved everyone - the mailman, the cops, the guy reading the gas meter, muggers - with equal enthusiasm.
Since most people who get pet bulls - er, pit bulls - want them as guard dogs, the coining of a new phrase for a happy friendly pit bull seems perfectly logical.
Pit Bull + Pet = Pet Bull.
Makes perfect sense to me.
Tragically, the pet bull disappeared one night - stolen by robbers who broke into the house, took the TV, the stereo, the dog, and all the dog's food and toys.
Good pet bulls make bad guard dogs, I guess.
2 comments:
I have a dog who's part Golden retriever, part chow and part who the hell knows. She has the husky bark of a chow and sounds like she would just as soon tear your limbs off as to look at ya. In reality... all that lungeing she's doing? It's just so she can get close enough for you to rub her belly. She might knock you down, but that's only so she can kiss ya.
Shhhh... don't tell the burglars.
They stole the guy's dog? Now, that's just messed up.
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