American Pit Bull Terrier

There is a certain look that every Pitbull owner knows: the dog lifts its gaze to you, slightly tilts its head, and asks with it about the only thing that really matters to it in life — whether it is being good and whether you are glad you have it. All the rest of this breed — its brawn, energy, and arched musculature — is essentially only a backdrop for this one, disarming question. The American Pit Bull Terrier derives from old bull-and-terrier type dogs and carries with it a difficult history marked by humans, but for most of the 20th century it was in the States a beloved family dog and companion of children — gentle and protective enough that it earned the nickname “the nanny dog.” And it is precisely this closeness-craving, devoted heart that has survived in it to this day, whatever the world has managed to think about the Pitbull.

The Pitbull loves in a physical and unconditional way — love at a distance simply does not fit in its head. This muscular athlete is firmly convinced that it is a pocket dog, and at the first opportunity deposits its twenty-some kilograms onto your lap — all of them, with the sigh of a person who, after a long journey, has finally reached home. When you return, it greets you with a dance of its whole body bending into a banana and with such enthusiasm as if, during those ten minutes of absence, you had managed to be declared missing. And since it desperately wants to be good, it glances into your face again and again to check whether everything really is all right — because there are no words in the world that work on it like “good dog.” For these two words it will roll onto its back, learn a new trick, and give up the most comfortable spot on the couch. It is, meanwhile, a hopeless conspirator: its face cannot lie at all, so when during your absence it nonetheless sneaks onto the bed, absolutely everything gives it away — guilt, hope, and delight painted on its face so legibly that it could comfortably play the lead in a silent film.

And it is precisely this defenseless sincerity that makes the Pitbull such a moving dog. Because for all its brawn it is essentially a creature that longs for one thing: to belong — to be part of the family, to take part in everything, and to be certain that it is loved. The Pitbull attaches itself to its people without reserve, is famous for its angelic patience toward children, and is happiest when it can simply lie right beside you, touching you with even one paw — as if wanting to make sure you will not disappear anywhere. All the more painful is its unjust fame, because people who really know this breed know about it what the rest of the world seems not to notice: that the threat one sees in the Pitbull simply does not exist, and instead there is one of the most tender and faithful canine hearts that beat. It must be said plainly, though: this is a strong, energetic dog with character, which needs a responsible owner, good socialization from puppyhood, wise guidance, a considerable dose of movement, and, in relations with other dogs, prudence. But when it gets all this, it repays with a devotion so total that all its canine happiness begins and ends with you.

The Pitbull is one of the most tender dogs that walk this earth — a creature that was given as a gift enormous strength, and even so chose love with its whole self. This is not a dog without requirements: it needs an owner who will give it movement, boundaries, guidance, and a chance to show the world who it really is. But for someone who gives it that chance, it becomes a friend of a devotion impossible to compare to anything.

Give it movement, wise guidance, care for its muscles and skin, and plenty of shared time, and it will repay you with a joy so contagious that it will brighten your blackest day. And when this muscular optimist again jumps onto your lap, looks into your eyes, and with its gaze asks that one question of its — whether it is being good, whether you love it — remember that you have for it the simplest answer in the world. Scratch it behind the ear and tell it what it has waited its whole life for: that it is the best dog under the sun and that it can stop asking now. Because for the Pitbull there is no greater happiness than to hear from its human that it is exactly who, all this time, it so desperately longed to be — loved.