Personal Narrative Essay: Pitbull Abuse

I received a call from my son’s uncle, Harold asking if I would give him a ride to a friend’s house to examine some pit bull puppies she had for sale. At first I had planned other activities for the day, but my daughter who overheard the conversation begged me to go. I made the plans to pick him up and as we were getting ready to leave, I reminded my daughter that we were not going for us. I had owned dogs in years past, and after the last one was stolen out of my yard, decided it was too painful to own a dog. Also, I had heard all the horror stories of people having pit bulls around their kids. When we arrived at my friend, Courtney’s house, I heard the deep barking from inside. My friend motioned for us to wait at the front door as she put
the adult dogs in the backyard. She opened the door and walked us to the little nursery she had created for the mom and babies. It was too much for my daughter. As soon as she seen the wiggling little fur bodies, she was overwhelmed with excitement. My son’s uncle picked up the largest puppy. As I was standing there I noticed this little bitty ball of fur. He was tiny compared to his siblings. For some reason and without thinking my hands were reaching for this small pup. He fit perfectly in my hand, and his tiny blue eyes looked up at me. He was grey and white, with little freckles of grey on his neck. I cuddled him to my face, enjoying the puppy smell, and he cuddled right back. I felt his little tongue kissing the end of my nose. As I went to place him back in the playpen he let out this heartbreaking cry. My daughter let out a gasp and picked him back up. They cuddled for a few moments, and she went to put him down and he let out the same little cry. My friend informed me that he was the smallest in the litter, and there were three born with his markings, but the other two did not make it.