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Felanie
Felanie, my inspiration and the dog to whom this website is dedicated, passed away on February 29, 2008. She was about ten years old, which is considered pretty darn old for a big dog like her. Nevertheless, this site will continue to spread the messages of equality, tolerance, fairness, and love that Felanie carried with her and shared with others throughout her life. Though she never knew it, Felanie directly changed the hearts and minds of the people she met, and, through this website and other publications that tell her story, I hope she is able to open the eyes and hearts of those who never had the pleasure to meet her. I can sum up her story fairly quickly; though the details are a bit unusual, the story itself shares a common thread with many other pit bulls' tales. Puppy Felanie was acquired by an acquaintance of my husband, a twenty-something young man looking for a status symbol. He named her "Felony," cropped her ears to make her look vicious (the only time he ever took her to the vet), and began to tease and torment her in an effort to "toughen her up." The low-level mental and physical abuse didn't make her tough or mean; the poor dog became a hollow shell of fear and suspicion. Two years later, Felanie's previous owner got in some trouble and vanished. My now-husband and I moved into the house where the young man had lived, and there was grown-up Felanie. She was ours. I changed the spelling of her name right away, and in public, we called her "Fel." If I had known more about dogs, I would have changed her name more significantly, but at the time, I didn't think you could change the name of such an old dog! At first, Fel was a terrifying dog to live with. She had some serious fear issues; every little movement and noise startled her, and she spent a lot of time slinking, darting, growling, and hiding. She definitely did not trust us at all. Her truly devilish appearance did not help (totally red, with pointy ears and yellow eyes), nor did the fact that I'd never had a dog before. Furthermore, I knew that Felanie was a pit bull, and pit bulls are notorious for killing people, eating babies, and being totally unpredictable. But I wasn't about to let my own fear possess me. And I wanted to give Fel every possible chance to become part of our family. I immediately started reading books and websites. I enrolled the two of us in obedience classes. I loaded my pockets with treats.
Ultimately, Felanie became everything I could have wanted in a dog. She was intensely loving, faithful, gentle, quiet, tolerant, and completely obedient. She was not the "Evil Pit Bull" I had so feared. She was a wonderful companion from start to finish.
But her influence permeates deeper than this. Because of her (and now, Dozer), I became a member of the heavily stigmatized group known as "pit bull owners." This was the first genuine experience with "adult-level" discrimination I'd ever had (in school, I was a "nerd," but that's kid stuff), an experience I probably would not ever have had if not for Felanie. It was both shocking and painful to learn that, because of my dog, I was personally unwelcome in dozens of cities and towns across the country. Certain politicians apparently consider me—and many other pit bull owners just like me—a criminal who is undesirable in their community! Felanie lit the flame of justice that burns inside me today, and in her memory, I will continue to speak out against prejudice and stereotype in all its forms for as long as I live.
Felanie, my first dog ever, was a total accident - and a two-year-old pit bull. She was left behind when her owner, fleeing the law, moved out of the house we moved into in 1999. I was terrified, and so was she. My husband was more familiar with dogs and, combined with our love of animals, "Felony" (as her previous owner had called her) stayed with us, though I was frightened of her. I did not understand dogs, but I recognized the universal animal body language that said, "I don't like you and I don't want you near me." I avoided her, and the feeling was mutual. When my mom found out about Fel, she freaked out, and told me I would be slaughtered in my sleep by this dog. That really didn't help me feel better. What I learned a little while later changed my attitude. Fel had not been socialized and her owner subjected her to physical teasing for his own amusement. Pinching, shoving, stepping on her feet, chasing her - he laughed to watch her yelp and run away. She had been to the vet once - to have her ears cropped, to make her look vicious. After all, he didn't buy this pit bull to be a cute and sweet companion. To his disgust, she still did not become mean. She became timid and frightened of strangers. Of me. Of Byrd. I realized this scary, growling, slinking, darting, hiding animal that I saw in my house was not a true dog. Rather, she was a creature filled with fear and pain. Her real dog soul was buried, hidden away after two years of mental abuse. The rest of the story follows naturally. I read about pit bulls, researched dog behavior, took her (and myself) to obedience classes, talked to behaviorists, and went about grabbing every bit of information I could. Working with her, I learned how to mend a broken heart and spirit. A true dog shines within her now, and I am ashamed to think that I was once scared of this wonderful, loving, gentle companion. Though she is still shy, she loves to be with people, loves to be petted and hugged, gives kisses, wags her stumpy tail and butt passionately, and exudes a confidence and joy that she was cheated out of for the first two years of her life. She is our "pretty girl", our princess, our family. Oh, and she's my mom's favorite "grandbaby". Were she still with her previous owner, I have no doubt that she would have lived a life of misery, hopelessness, and fear. That was my first encounter with a pit bull, and it changed my life and challenged my beliefs.
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In weeks, Felanie had given up many of her fearful behaviors. Within two months, she and I had become a tight team. And over the next year, she graduated at the top of two obedience classes. We moved from obedience to canine sports—agility. She was fantastic—enthusiastic, obedient, agile, and attentive.
It's not easy to explain the dramatic impact Fel had on me. On a superficial level, she helped me develop a genuine interest in something for the first time in my life. All the way through my bachelor's degree and on into my first job, I had no real interest or specialty to call my own. But because of Felanie, I found myself learning about and sharing information about pit bulls and dog behavior through my website. This became a "specialty" of sorts, but I also saw the potential to delve deeper into communication so as to improve my website and communicate more persuasively and authoritatively. So, in a convoluted way, Felanie inspired me to get my master's degree in technical communication.
Back in 2005, the Iowa Source printed a piece from my old website under the title "Pity the Pitbull." I have retained the original text and it is reprinted below.