Getting Schooled by Pitbulls and Parolees

Sometimes I wonder why I dedicate the time I do into shelter dogs. Perhaps I should be spending more time decorating the house or playing video games or shopping. There are so many other commonly accepted pastimes but instead I go to the shelter. Is there something wrong with me? I sometimes seriously wonder if I'm exhibiting aberrant behaviour. I mean, what's the big draw with these dogs anyway?

I was thinking a lot about this while I was laid up in bed with the flu over Christmas watching Food Network. For some reason, the simple plotting of the shows on that channel was just about right for my groggy but bored, fever fueled frame of mind. As I watched, I became fascinated with the amount of effort put into food, finding food, preparing food, eating food, talking about food, yelling and crying and cheering over food and I thought to myself, Hey how come I'm not spending more time on food? Seriously, that's what I was thinking.

After I was well enough to crawl out of bed, I did indeed go to the grocery store and I bought a few items and made a few recipes I'd gleaned from Jamie Oliver and some other lesser known chefs (at least lesser known to me) but I knew the food thing wasn't going to last. I really appreciate food, especially good food, but I prefer eating over preparing. I'm a decent enough cook but that's only because I want to eat decent food especially if I have to go to the trouble of making it. If someone else made it for me, I'd be just as happy if not happier. And while I might occasionally have cravings for certain dishes, food doesn't make the type of impression on me where I feel I need to write or have long conversations about it.

Nevertheless, that little sidetrack into foodie land and other people's interests and obsessions did make me wonder about my own. I couldn't get rid of nagging little doubts about the worthiness of my preoccupations. There are so many problems in the world: birds falling from the sky, earthquakes and floods, Snooki. Or never mind all the external troubles that need looking after, what about the internal ones, like self-actualization and spiritual enlightenment? How can helping a bunch of dogs be more important than spiritual enlightenment? Perhaps I really need to start meditating or doing yoga. Or dancing. I hear you can get enlightened through dance.

A couple of days ago, I happened to come across the Animal Planet show "Pitbulls and Parolees". It's a reality TV show and the title tells it like it is. A woman in California, Tia Maria Torres, runs a sanctuary for Pit Bulls, the Villalobos Rescue Center, and hires parolees to help her look after the place. There are moments in the show when the dramatics are somewhat overdone in editing but for the most part, I find it's balanced and rather nuanced which for a show called "Pitbulls and Parolees" is surprising.

Here's Tia Torres, herself, talking about the sanctuary (click on image to play):



The ex-cons of "Pitbulls and Parolees" are hard asses no doubt and as I watched episodes of the show back to back, I saw how working with the dogs and forming bonds with the dogs slowly transformed them. They expressed their happiness when a dog was successfully adopted; they shed tears when a dog was euthanized. It's not like Villalobos was turning ex-cons into refined hipsters who could talk about their feelings with their girlfriends and make interesting art with their iPads but there was some manner of redemption going on there and it wouldn't have happened without the dogs.

Suddenly I felt better, snapped out of my self-doubting funk. The modern dog is a creature born to nurture and heal our emotions. For some people, a dog is better at uplifting their spirits than the highest paid doctors and psychiatrists; for some people, a dog gets through to their humanity deeper than the most earnest teachers and preachers. I guess I'm one of those people.

I figure for this life long service dogs provide us, it's not too big a deal for me to give them a helping hand when they need it. The next time I'm at the shelter on a Sunday morning, instead of sitting down to brunch at one of the trendy neighbourhood restos or chillin in front of my TV with a bowl of Cap'n Crunch and watching UFC and NASCAR outtakes, I can tell myself that spending some time with these dirty, used, abused and discarded dogs isn't such a crazy notion after all.