Contact them if you can help.
click photo to view larger.
Friday, February 8, 2019
APB: Pit Bull Attack at UC Davis Arboretum
The Police are interested in the identity of these two culprits.
Contact them if you can help.
click photo to view larger.
Contact them if you can help.
click photo to view larger.
Sunday, January 20, 2019
Sunday, September 2, 2018
APB - Pit & Run - Venice, CA
Hi all, does anyone know the lady in the attached picture or know where she lives? Her pit bull attacked my aunt and her dog this morning in Venice on Lincoln Bl and Sunset Ave at approx 7:00 am (right across the street from Clutch). Anyway, she refused to give my aunt her contact info. My aunt has multiple bite wounds, a fractured wrist, and is in so much pain. If anyone knows who the lady is or how we can get in touch with her, can you please PM me? thanks so much.
link
link
Monday, February 5, 2018
Justice Mule
Justice Mule has competition. in reno, three ugly grippers escaped their property and attacked a horse. one of them sustained injuries severe enough to result in a dirt nap. well done horse!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H37Hno47O7Q
in a perfect world, EVERY attacking ugly mutant frankenmauler would end up like this :)
doing his job
pulling his cart
justice the mule
he had a big heart
one day in a narrow road
out popped a shit bull from a commode
it went for his master
it went for his friend
justice the mule said
this shit has to end
so ran at the dog and dealt it some pain
justice mule said
this dog is insane
the first few kicks were just a warning
now that shit bulls owner will be in mourning
-DubV
Sunday, October 29, 2017
genetics
border collie, 14 weeks
border collie, 12 weeks
american pit bull terrier puppies
english pointer, 11 weeks
pointer
english setter, 9 weeks
any questions?
Monday, September 11, 2017
sneak preview
The setting for this adventure is the middle of the okeefenokee swamp.
Literally in the swamp. The lights were strung over the dog pit
suspended from tree limbs and run by generator and yeah somebody did
live there.
The hundreds of photos I shot over the years were quite accurate but could never really convey the atmosphere. Imagine if you will approximately 100 people sitting on cobbled together bleacher eating, drinking and smoking waiting word from the promoter.
This show was being staged by my buddy the illustrious Harry Hargrove who at the appointed time stepped over the pit wall to make " the announcement." Back in the day all shows where prefaced by the promoter giving a brief speech.
"We're getting ready to have a dogfight here tonight (whistles, cheers) so if there's any sheriff's department, ATF, Treasury agents or humane society here I want you to stand up and identify yourselves (no one does, duh) . I see some people here tonight that I don't know so I'm going to point to them and somebody tell me who they are (all eyes scrutinize the crowd).
At this point my somewhat warped sense of humor kicked in. I turned to Carolyn Hand who was sitting to my left and asked, "you don't think anybody like that's here tonight do you?" She leaned close and (sotto voce) said "oh honey you never know who might be sittin next to you at one of these things anymore". She then assured me that if there was the men would handle it so I shouldn't worry.
After ascertaining that no undesirables were present the matches commenced. There is no way to convey the atmosphere. The smell of wet dogs, blood, beer, b.o. and the all pervasive miasma of redneck moron overlaid with barbeque is beyond description. Bets are being called with odds, some are taken while others are countered. A half kilo coke deal goes down not ten feet away while two dogs grapple and swap out holds.
I'm in my own little world bounded by the viewfinder of my trusty Nikon. The owners want pics if their dog wins or shows game. Jack Kelly will publish them in the Sporting Dog Journal along with the match reports Carolyn will submit. Kelly is absent from this show, the dogs are average, no one going for a title tonight so he'll get the report and photos in the mail.
The matches go as expected until number six. Two fast mouthed fast footed bitches both looking for their first win fight wall to wall. This match went about forty five minutes before one quit standing on all fours.
After number seven is done it's time to convoy out of the swamp and down to the nearest all night diner for breakfast. It's only around two and sitting around for the post show dissection is always rewarding. We take the three largest tables in the place and begin evaluating the dogs, the handlers, the gate and the crowd. These post match parties usually last an hour or more and something I always found quite productive.
I now have additional names to go with match handles. The guy sitting across the pit from me wearing three different plaids is from N.C. and a friend of Robert Bass. His kid is pre vet at UNC. That'll come in handy for everyone. The dogs this night had required no urgent post fight care, they just weren't that good. He and I will meet again in the not too distant future.
Finally it's time to go. After I leave the parking lot I spray myself with air freshener. The cloying smell of dogfight has permeated my clothes and I've no desire to spend the next few hours with it in my nostrils. Tonight the Doors, Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin ride with me over an empty rolling two lane road. It's very cold, sever clear with a full moon riding west. Frost sparkles like diamonds on cut over fields. The songs, the solitude and the night are really quite lovely, it's a good drive home.
The hundreds of photos I shot over the years were quite accurate but could never really convey the atmosphere. Imagine if you will approximately 100 people sitting on cobbled together bleacher eating, drinking and smoking waiting word from the promoter.
This show was being staged by my buddy the illustrious Harry Hargrove who at the appointed time stepped over the pit wall to make " the announcement." Back in the day all shows where prefaced by the promoter giving a brief speech.
"We're getting ready to have a dogfight here tonight (whistles, cheers) so if there's any sheriff's department, ATF, Treasury agents or humane society here I want you to stand up and identify yourselves (no one does, duh) . I see some people here tonight that I don't know so I'm going to point to them and somebody tell me who they are (all eyes scrutinize the crowd).
At this point my somewhat warped sense of humor kicked in. I turned to Carolyn Hand who was sitting to my left and asked, "you don't think anybody like that's here tonight do you?" She leaned close and (sotto voce) said "oh honey you never know who might be sittin next to you at one of these things anymore". She then assured me that if there was the men would handle it so I shouldn't worry.
After ascertaining that no undesirables were present the matches commenced. There is no way to convey the atmosphere. The smell of wet dogs, blood, beer, b.o. and the all pervasive miasma of redneck moron overlaid with barbeque is beyond description. Bets are being called with odds, some are taken while others are countered. A half kilo coke deal goes down not ten feet away while two dogs grapple and swap out holds.
I'm in my own little world bounded by the viewfinder of my trusty Nikon. The owners want pics if their dog wins or shows game. Jack Kelly will publish them in the Sporting Dog Journal along with the match reports Carolyn will submit. Kelly is absent from this show, the dogs are average, no one going for a title tonight so he'll get the report and photos in the mail.
The matches go as expected until number six. Two fast mouthed fast footed bitches both looking for their first win fight wall to wall. This match went about forty five minutes before one quit standing on all fours.
After number seven is done it's time to convoy out of the swamp and down to the nearest all night diner for breakfast. It's only around two and sitting around for the post show dissection is always rewarding. We take the three largest tables in the place and begin evaluating the dogs, the handlers, the gate and the crowd. These post match parties usually last an hour or more and something I always found quite productive.
I now have additional names to go with match handles. The guy sitting across the pit from me wearing three different plaids is from N.C. and a friend of Robert Bass. His kid is pre vet at UNC. That'll come in handy for everyone. The dogs this night had required no urgent post fight care, they just weren't that good. He and I will meet again in the not too distant future.
Finally it's time to go. After I leave the parking lot I spray myself with air freshener. The cloying smell of dogfight has permeated my clothes and I've no desire to spend the next few hours with it in my nostrils. Tonight the Doors, Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin ride with me over an empty rolling two lane road. It's very cold, sever clear with a full moon riding west. Frost sparkles like diamonds on cut over fields. The songs, the solitude and the night are really quite lovely, it's a good drive home.
Hitting the Bigtime
I know I'm solid. I am absolutely granite rock solid. I've been invited
to one of the biggest conventions in the country! My friend Harry
Hargroves and his partner Robert Swetman are promoting this one. I got
the call two weeks ago and my adrenaline level spikes to an Everest high
the day of the show. I'm so high I'm cruising at 30,000 feet in still
clear air. It's the best high on earth and I need it for my job.
The old Silver Fox, Maurice Carver died only a few days before the meet. The dogmen all have sads. Funnily enough it's not bothering me in the least. We talk about Carver and the old timers, old days and old dogs sitting around the motel. Good stories and I'm being introduced to some of the major players from all over the country. Their stories are wonderful, I can't get enough. My genuine interest aids my cover - they love an attentive audience. The Devines are here from central Florida. They're not showing at the convention, they're very wary of large gatherings. They are fighting at a private residence in the early afternoon. Don Devine invites me personally, after all I'm with all the right people and have been around long enough to be quite well trusted. He asks me to bring my camera, both dogs are highly touted and it should be a good one. Not a problem. Even Pete Sparks won't be at this match, mine will be the only camera pitside this afternoon.
We hit the local I-Hop for lunch and leave from there. I'm riding with a dogman from Virginia to the pit. This house is way in the woods at southeast Georgia /northern Florida border. The sand track driveway is approximately a quarter mile long. It's really pretty here, good landscaping, nice home, not what I'm accustomed to in dogfighter abodes.
We park in front of the house and are met by the principals. These guys are really careful. When the dozen or so invitees are accounted for the gate is locked. As I walk back toward the dogpit I see a stack of tires placed to form a ring. When I get closer I see a little bulldog puppy maybe eight weeks old inside the tire ring. His front paws don't reach the top. He's just too cute. I'd take a shot if I weren't afraid of burning film, it's going to be a very long day and night.
One of the Devines' boys will be handling their entrant. It's males at 32# and each of these dogs has won a good match before this one. Both dogs are red, the Devine dog a deep dark red, his opponent lighter. They're on weight and in excellent condition. This ain't no drop match folks it's the real deal.
They meet in the center of the pit at the words "let go". Holy shit they're fast! Fast mouth, fast foot and unreal talent. I've been going to the wrong goddamn dog matches. The "B" grade is a natural starting point but now I'm seeing top flight dogs. Neither dog has much mouth and very little damage is being done. As cool and overcast as it is if they are game and have good wind this could be a long one.
For the first hour and thirty there are no turns and no out of holds. Finally a turn is called and they are able to make a handle. This will start the scratch in turn as specified under the rules of the contract, which is modified Cajun rules for this fight. The handlers are tossed sponges from a shared water bucket to cool and clean the dogs. They are checked for fanging and time is called to face the dogs.
The dog that turns first must scratch first and depending on the rules in use must make contact with the opponent either hair to hair or taking hold. There are actually several different sets of rules governing a dogfight. When a contract is made the rules to be used are specified along with sex, weight, time, place, the wager amount and forfeit. On occasion there will be contingency plans in the event of disruption by law enforcement. Only rarely are the dogs specified in the contract.
The scratching begins but it's another twenty minutes to the next handle. We're now at about the two hour mark and the action has slowed. Both dogs are still strong and engaged and have scratched well. Finally at the 2:40 mark the light red dog is counted out before he makes contact. The Devines' dog has won number two and the loser is happy with his little dog as well. Both have shown to be seriously game little dogs. We all now head back to the motel for more tales of dogs and dogmen past until time to leave for the convention.
end part one
The old Silver Fox, Maurice Carver died only a few days before the meet. The dogmen all have sads. Funnily enough it's not bothering me in the least. We talk about Carver and the old timers, old days and old dogs sitting around the motel. Good stories and I'm being introduced to some of the major players from all over the country. Their stories are wonderful, I can't get enough. My genuine interest aids my cover - they love an attentive audience. The Devines are here from central Florida. They're not showing at the convention, they're very wary of large gatherings. They are fighting at a private residence in the early afternoon. Don Devine invites me personally, after all I'm with all the right people and have been around long enough to be quite well trusted. He asks me to bring my camera, both dogs are highly touted and it should be a good one. Not a problem. Even Pete Sparks won't be at this match, mine will be the only camera pitside this afternoon.
We hit the local I-Hop for lunch and leave from there. I'm riding with a dogman from Virginia to the pit. This house is way in the woods at southeast Georgia /northern Florida border. The sand track driveway is approximately a quarter mile long. It's really pretty here, good landscaping, nice home, not what I'm accustomed to in dogfighter abodes.
We park in front of the house and are met by the principals. These guys are really careful. When the dozen or so invitees are accounted for the gate is locked. As I walk back toward the dogpit I see a stack of tires placed to form a ring. When I get closer I see a little bulldog puppy maybe eight weeks old inside the tire ring. His front paws don't reach the top. He's just too cute. I'd take a shot if I weren't afraid of burning film, it's going to be a very long day and night.
One of the Devines' boys will be handling their entrant. It's males at 32# and each of these dogs has won a good match before this one. Both dogs are red, the Devine dog a deep dark red, his opponent lighter. They're on weight and in excellent condition. This ain't no drop match folks it's the real deal.
They meet in the center of the pit at the words "let go". Holy shit they're fast! Fast mouth, fast foot and unreal talent. I've been going to the wrong goddamn dog matches. The "B" grade is a natural starting point but now I'm seeing top flight dogs. Neither dog has much mouth and very little damage is being done. As cool and overcast as it is if they are game and have good wind this could be a long one.
For the first hour and thirty there are no turns and no out of holds. Finally a turn is called and they are able to make a handle. This will start the scratch in turn as specified under the rules of the contract, which is modified Cajun rules for this fight. The handlers are tossed sponges from a shared water bucket to cool and clean the dogs. They are checked for fanging and time is called to face the dogs.
The dog that turns first must scratch first and depending on the rules in use must make contact with the opponent either hair to hair or taking hold. There are actually several different sets of rules governing a dogfight. When a contract is made the rules to be used are specified along with sex, weight, time, place, the wager amount and forfeit. On occasion there will be contingency plans in the event of disruption by law enforcement. Only rarely are the dogs specified in the contract.
The scratching begins but it's another twenty minutes to the next handle. We're now at about the two hour mark and the action has slowed. Both dogs are still strong and engaged and have scratched well. Finally at the 2:40 mark the light red dog is counted out before he makes contact. The Devines' dog has won number two and the loser is happy with his little dog as well. Both have shown to be seriously game little dogs. We all now head back to the motel for more tales of dogs and dogmen past until time to leave for the convention.
end part one
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