Canine Conspiracies

A guy rode up behind me this morning and said, "That's the original 'Little Rascals' dog." It took me a moment to come back from my own personal reverie to realize that the was talking about my dog, the one at the end of the leash I was carrying. "They really messed them up." Then I waited for the punch line: "There ain't nothing wrong with pit bulls, really."
I'm used to my dog being seen as everyone's favorite, or least favorite, breed. In many ways, she's a mirror of the society we live in. Little kids want to waddle right up to her and pet the doggie. Some of the older kids start to wonder if she's "a good dog." I suppose that all depends on what your world view is. If your world view extends to the end of your arm and will she bite it, then yes, she is a good dog and she will not bite your hand. Has she rescued blind children from a burning church? No, she's not quite Rin Tin Tin. She protects us from those vile mail carriers who are always trying to give us bills, and she always lets us know that someone is at our door, usually just after they have finished ringing the doorbell. Just recently, she saved me from the dangers of half of my birthday chocolate cake that we foolishly left sitting on the counter under a metal cover. That was the second time my family has been saved from eating some or all of a chocolate cake. Considering what I have been told all my life about the dangers of dogs consuming chocolate, this makes my dog very brave.
Aside from a little German Shepard, Dalmatian, and Cattle Dog, maybe there's a little Lassie in her after all.