Each of us has a story. This one made our website. To suggest someone for the Us column, email Uscolumn@post-gazette.com.
I see Alcee and Miss Peaches and Randy and Bishop and Duncan and Kevlar and a dozen other friendly dogs — all pit bulls or pit bull mixes.
Miss Jean never saw them through her Magic Mirror on “Romper Room,” but it does seem a little magical to get licks through a fence from the faces that flash by in the Animal Planet TV show “Pit Bulls and Parolees.” The show features a changing cast of dogs at Villalobos Rescue Center, which my wife and I visited several times on a recent trip to New Orleans.
On “Pit Bulls and Parolees,” Tia Torres and her daughters or daughters-in-law rescue dogs from bad situations with help from paroled felons and volunteers. In every episode, Tia or daughters Tania and Mariah closely question a couple before handing off a dog that always seems to be the perfect fit for their family.
It’s heart-warming television for any dog lover but especially those who love pit bulls and think they get a bad rap. We have met dozens here and even fostered a few. Nearly every single one loves people, but may not like every dog they meet.
Pit bulls are not the right dog for everyone for one simple reason: When they get really excited, there’s no off switch. Tia talks on the show about distracting and diverting her dogs before they get wound up, but TV viewers rarely see it. On this show, the families who walk or drive off with their new best friend are usually people who know the breed well. It’s the nature of reality television to show only the emotional or exciting parts, but it begs the question: How many people and dogs don’t end up together? I don’t know the answer, but I got a glimpse in New Orleans.
Our first visit was just to see the shelter. As we were standing out front, a security guard came over and said we could return the next day to walk dogs at 8 a.m., 2 p.m. or 8 p.m. He also urged us to visit Villalobos’ Tahyo shop and Tahyo Tavern in the French Quarter. We had already been to both and bought a $25 T-shirt for the woman who was watching our three dogs, all Labrador retrievers. I took a picture of my wife with a life-sized cutout of Tia, the closest we would come to the real thing.
The next day, we signed and initialed a five-page waiver that basically said if anything happened while we walked dogs, Villalobos wasn’t liable. The guard gave us a quick tutorial: Stay on the short loop that runs beneath the highway overpass. Wrap the rope leash around your hand and never change grips. If you get tangled, spin around to untangle. Watch out for feral cats. If the dog picks up anything, do not stick your hand in those powerful jaws — call for help.
A quiet young man named Zion brought out dogs one at a time, and we each walked four. It was easy — no cats ran by — and we took smartphone pictures with the dogs at the end. We asked lots of questions, including the number of dogs at the shelter. About 150, we were told.
We returned on Thursday, one of four days that tours are offered. Another security guard had us sign in — no waiver — and he and our guide, Kyle from Canada, gave us another tutorial: If you see Tia or anyone else from the show, do not approach or engage. You can stick your hand inside the cages; these are all friendly dogs. If you’re interested in a dog, let us know.
Kyle was easygoing and funny, describing each of a dozen dogs as we visited their kennels. Alcee, Duncan and a few others leaned into the fence so we could pet them. One had been there two years, another four years. He said we would not go inside the warehouse-like shelter, where some of the tougher dogs live. If two sweetheart dogs stay that long, we wondered, how long do the inside dogs wait for a new home?
At the end of the tour, Kyle showed us electrical cords, ropes and chains that dogs’ previous owners had used as leashes or tie-outs. One massive chain weighed 15 pounds, one-third the body weight of the dog who wore it.
I thought of all the sweet pit bulls in shelters and rescues, burdened by the weight of a bad reputation. And I thought of the ones I have known, including Nola, NeNe and Menace, who despite his name, was a kind, gentle soul. Mister, who stayed with us for a month because he didn’t do well at a shelter, was the most docile dog we’ve ever had. Guess who were his favorite companions at his forever home? Foster kittens less than 6 months old.
Kevin Kirkland: kkirkland@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1978.
First Published: February 10, 2020, 1:00 p.m.
