Roberto Romei Rotondo
up your Pit Bull
Just back from a pawn shop on old Craig Street, now Saint Antoine. In the old days most of us wanna be rock star kids used to hit the Craig Street pawn shops in downtown Montreal on a regular basis, scouting out the joints for a guitar that didn’t put your wrist out of place when holding down a bar chord. But them good old days are gone.
No, what I got myself today is a sturdy Gerber DMF Automatic, fast action switch-blade; the kind of knife that’ll get you in trouble with the authorities should you so much as flash it.
Thing is I don’t want no trouble, but you see, way I figure the only chance I got against a pit-bull attack is to stretch out an arm as bait go for the knife with the free hand , press the release button, switch the blade open and proceed to cut the beast’s throat straight clean. Pit bull attacks have been compared to shark-attacks: “pit bulls inflict more serious wounds than other breeds. They tend to attack the deep muscles, to hold on, to shake, and to cause ripping of tissues.”
A mere stab in the chest won’t do it. Pepper spray will only piss it off even more. No, unless you’re Crocodile Dundee you’ve gotta decapitate them mothers. OK, so you’ll probably never again have full use of your leg or forearm, but you’ll not be a cripple or a corpse.
In my exposed neck of town, it seems every second dog on the block is a pit. I’ve been lunged at twice in the last year alone. Fortunately both times the savage beasts’ owners were strong enough to hold back their drooling toothy monsters. Not so today.
“He never did this before. Must be your damn aftershave. He hates sharp smells,” she managed to yell out as her pet dragged her some twenty feet as I high-legged out of there. And that’s when I made up my mind.
The hell with the law.
If people can walk the streets with an unmuzzled beast by their side I‘ll carry a blade. The law is an ass? I am not.
As for those who blame the master for the dog being aggressive, may be so, but who gives a damn once my head’s bit off. What are we gonna do anyway? Have every dog owner undergo a psychiatric exam followed by a one year dog training course before granting Madame license to purchase her four-legged, foaming-at-the-mouth, witless body guard? Not very bloody likely. Until them pits, Rottweiler and the like, no less than tigers, lions, panthers, bears and crocodiles are banned from strolling city streets, I am carrying a Gerber.
Only persons who should object to this, other than the owners, are the plastic surgeons.
So take my advice, arm yourselves and your kids with a switch blade, or even a bloody pistol, for that matter. I’d rather have a thousand switch blade carrying gals walk past me than a pit bull brush against me any day.
And don’t wear cheap after-shave lotions, not ever, not in my hood
For more visit my UP YOURS