On Fear, Dogs, and the Responsibilities of Being Human
A Public Statement
A friend jockingly says, “Dogs behave like their owners”. It’s an inside joke, one that makes me see my dog as an integral part of me. He’s a pure-breed American Bully, gentle, strong, relentless, naughty, independent and assertive. Then there’s the signature fierce square jaw look. I’d say he wouldn’t harm a fly, but that’s a lie; a couple of stray cats have fallen victim after invading his territory. However, it stops exactly there! He wouldn’t harm a human, unless instructed to do so, and that I can stake my life on.
Therein lies the bone of contention.
In recent times, conversations around the American Bully and associated breeds, or as the generalisation goes, “Pit bulls”, have taken a sharp and tragic turn. The air is thick with fear, and in that smog, I’ve watched misinformation rise like smoke from a distant diesel engine lacking maintenance —distorting not only the facts about these animals but also the responsibilities we carry as human beings.
Today, I want to speak not as a dog owner, but as one who sees his personality reflected in an animal he has nurtured for four years, and as a member of a society standing at a moral crossroads. I speak because the soul of a society is revealed not in how it responds to threat, but in how it upholds truth under pressure.
The Dog at My Gate
His name is Chase. He is not the friendliest creature on Mother Earth (he’s a security dog for crying out loud), but he is deeply human-aware. He has been raised with care, trained with patience, and socialised to understand boundaries, because that is what any intelligent creature needs: not domination, but understanding.
He is a family member with human siblings.
Yet, time and again, I’ve watched people approach my home with hesitation in their eyes. I’ve had visitors too afraid to step out of their cars. Yet he knows to hug the friend who says, “Dogs behave like their owners.” It’s their thing from when he was a puppy. Some carry personal stories of loss, others carry inherited fear. I do not dismiss this; it is real, it is felt, and it matters. In fact, it’s one of the reasons I’m making this statement.
But what also matters is the truth.
Myth is Not Evidence
We have all heard the horror stories, people mauled, lives lost. These tragedies are real. They deserve mourning, investigation, and prevention. But let us not allow grief to harden into mythology. Most of these narratives are recycled in fragments: a single pit bull becomes the face of a pack, a breed is named while others are not, and soon we are no longer dealing with facts but with archetypes. The “killer dog,” the “unpredictable beast,” the “monster with amnesia,” or as someone once asked, “Why do you keep this lion?”
These are not scientific assessments. They are cultural projections, born of fear, fanned by media, and reinforced by those who would rather ban than understand.
No dog suffers from selective amnesia. But many humans suffer from a refusal to understand cause and context.
From Blame to Responsibility
The uncomfortable truth is this: dogs reflect their environment. When we see aggression, we must ask not just what the dog did, but what the humans around it failed to do. Most dogs who attack have been:
improperly socialised
neglected or abused
trained for violence
left without boundaries
These are not “dog problems.” These are human failures.
So why then is our response to call for the elimination of the breed, rather than the education of the owner?
We do not outlaw vehicles because of reckless drivers, we issue licenses or ban the worst drivers, not cars! We do not burn books because someone misreads them; instead, we promote literacy. Even schools have “special classes”. Why then do we seek to destroy entire breeds rather than require competence from those who care for them?
Ban the Ignorance, Not the Breed
A more rational and compassionate path is clear: regulate ownership, not biology. I can buy a pellet gun over the counter, but I require a license to own a shotgun. Why not introduce licensing requirements for power-breed dogs? Drivers get licensed for different vehicle types; they are trained and retrained. Why not the same for dogs? Let ownership come with education. Let breeding come with oversight. Where does the assumption that dog ownership is for everyone come from? Let training be mandatory, not optional.
Are we not choosing ignorance over prudence when we advocate extermination? This is responsibility. It is the refusal to treat fear as truth or convenience as justice.
What This Moment Teaches Us
This debate is not about dogs. It is about how we as a society handle power, fear, and the unknown. Do we seek wisdom, or do we reach for torches? Do we regulate with clarity or react with cruelty? Are we willing to learn from our moments of behavioural lapse, or will we cover it up and dishonour the lives lost and the pain of those moulled? When will we rise to a higher standard of justice?
The answers we give here will echo in other places, too. It will shape how we handle people, communities, technologies, and cultures. History has shown: what we fear, we often try to eliminate. And what we fail to understand, we often condemn.
A Closing Word
My dog is not perfect. But neither am I. He is not a symbol, not a threat, not a headline. He is a life, moulded by the choices I made with awareness and care. I will continue to advocate for his right to exist in peace and for the right of responsible ownership to be protected, not punished.
I ask not for leniency, but for lucidity. Not for emotionless policy, but for informed compassion.
Let us not be remembered as the generation that banned a breed, but as the one that chose to be better stewards of all creatures in our care, human and animal alike.