Having just returned from taking my dog Maya for a walk, I feel like I'm sittin' on top of the world. Why is this such a big deal? Because a week ago, while on a walk one evening with Ann, Maya was brutally attacked by a Pit Bull. And because in order to take her out I have to tie her leash to my wheelchair, we're both sitting ducks.
I promised Ann that I would not do it anymore on my own until the situation was resolved. The fucking asshole who is responsible has six Pit Bulls in his backyard (totally illegal) which he breeds (totally illegal), and sells the puppies to kids (totally illegal) who use them as status symbols without any training.
Since I already feel like a complete prisoner, locked in the dungeon of my disease, I am not about to relinquish one of the few independent pleasures I have left in this world -- taking my baby for a walk.
Upon investigation, it turns out that people around here have been terrorized by the situation for years. This time, however, they fucked with the wrong people. We're having a meeting tomorrow of what will become a newly organized neighborhood dog group. The local watch commander from the police department will be there as well as dozens of folks who either have a dog or are simply concerned about quality of life issues. We could give two shits about the vet bills, but were gonna sue his ass too. I'll keep you posted.
