Pit Bulls—the Jews of the Canine World

I’ve always loved dogs that look like pit bulls: wide and smiling faces, goofy expressions, broad chests, sturdy bodies, short coats, enthusiastic tails. I grew up not knowing about dog fighting, or about this breed’s vicious reputation. My terror was reserved for German shepherds (my equally frightened little brother tremulously called them “sheffers”), with their pointy, mean faces and loud barks. There were some territorial ones in the yards in my Providence, Rhode Island, neighborhood.

But after moving to New York, I came to understand that pit bulls are hated. My little East Village copy shop, where we got Josie’s bat mitzvah invitations, has a big, short-coated, wide-chested, flat-faced dog behind the counter. His name is Curtis. He comes when you call and accepts head-pats with dignity. But when I asked the owner, Santo, what kind of dog Curtis was, he hesitated. “He’s a mix,” Santo said. “Terrier, other things … pit bull.” He clearly was reluctant to say those two words. He thought I’d recoil.

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