Baby Killer

This is Howie. Howie is a four-week-old pit bull puppy one of my RAAPers, Jami, rescued from a dumpster outside where she works (RAAP stands for Responsibly Adopting Albuquerque's Pit Bulls, a pit bull advocacy, foster, and education organization I founded in January 2006).

Jami is always finding pit bulls. Or, rather, they find her. About once every couple months, I get an email from her with "Look Who Followed Me Home" in the subject line, along with a photo of some big ol' dorky pit bull smiling for all the world like Hollywood's calling. Which is one of the reasons I love the breed. They are so unabashedly full of themselves.

Over the years, Jami has rescued dozens of pit bulls. Currently, she shares her home with eight permanent residents and one RAAP foster dog. Howie makes the tenth. But that's okay, he's pretty little. I'm sure he doesn't take up much room.

Here's the other foster, a six-month-old white pit bull named Stevie Rae:



Stevie Rae is blind. But she doesn't know it. For all she knows, not only is she normal, she's also simply fabulous and deserving each and every day of tons of hugs and kisses. And treats. Another reason why I adore the breed. They bring new meaning to one of my favorite lines of poetry: I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself.

So anyway, it's been two weeks since Jamie found Howie and she has been diligently hand-feeding and caring for him. Looks like the little fella is going to make it. I can't wait until he grows up because I think he's going to be a looker. But I have to admit, he is sorta cute as a puppy. Just look at that face. The baby, he kills me.