JACKSONVILLE — Nestle's a great dog. He's smart, affectionate, and fun. He loves playing and hanging out with people, and he's a great kisser (if you like dog kisses).
But in the many months since Nestle came to the Windham County Humane Society's shelter in Brattleboro, he's had no takers. Nobody in Windham County wants to give Nestle a home.
Clearly, it's a case of breed discrimination. Because, you see, Nestle is a pit-bull mix. And we all know what pit bulls are like, right? They're snarly, vicious, and mean.
Except Nestle isn't any of these things.
Let's be honest here. Most pit-bull-mix animals are strong, smart dogs. They're more willing to fight than other breeds, and they can be very effectively trained to attack.
But let's also acknowledge that millions of people have had wonderful experiences as the owners of lovable, loyal pit bulls.
Over the last hundred or so years, pit bulls have been bred to have alert, protective personalities, breeding that has made them smart and loyal dogs.
But those traits have also tempted too many people to abuse, goad, and train pit bulls for aggression and fighting.
As a result, those pit bulls who are not trained fighters are in a kind of limbo. Not guilty as individual dogs, they nevertheless bear the stigma of their breed.
And again, let's be completely honest. Pit bulls and rottweilers are definitely the leading culprits in dog attacks. But the fact is that that even labs and collies have been indicted in serious attacks on humans.
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All the evidence shows that owner abuse is the underlying factor in most (though not all) dog attacks. And God knows, there's a subculture in America that thrives on abusing dogs to make them vicious killers. We all remember the cruel treatment that Michael Vick meted out to his pit bulls.
Malcolm Gladwell, in an excellent 2006 article on profiling in The New Yorker, makes the point that “pit bulls were not bred to fight humans,” and he notes that in tests of aggression toward humans, pit-bull breeds actually score lower than beagles, collies, and even most dachshunds.
In other words, it can take some work to make a truly vicious pit bull. It takes teasing and abuse, goading and beating.
But back to Nestle. The truth about Nestle is that he's affectionate and smart.
“A good boy,” says Annie Guion, executive director of the shelter.
But Nestle also retains the traits of his breeding, which means he is probably a risk to smaller animals who might cross his path. Any person who wants to adopt Nestle will have to supervise him, contain him, and control him on walks. And he definitely needs to be an only pet.
Of course, all this makes it even harder to find someone to adopt Nestle. Who's up for that kind of responsibility?
And yet, what's the alternative? Should we kill Nestle? He hasn't done anything wrong. And he would be a great friend to the right person: someone who understands that he needs affection, supervision, and boundaries and is willing to put in the time and effort to make that happen.
But so far, that person has not shown up. And so Nestle waits at the WCHS shelter, his big tail wagging when volunteers show up to feed him a treat or play with him.
He has no idea why all the nice people who come to the shelter and play with him have never come back. He's just a dog. A big, friendly dog who lives in a shelter. And who may never have a real home.