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A Long Road Named Exile
By David Edelstein

  After 20 years of working for others in the Restaurant and Catering Industry, I decided I had had enough and started my
own Catering and Personal Chef Service in 2003. Like all small business owners, I learned to starve and struggle for the first few
years. After that time, my name and level of service made a name for itself and I then began to dine on the fruits of my labor.
Life and business were grand.
  In early 2006, I joined an animal rescue email list. Almost daily, I received emails about lost dogs, liters of kittens needing
homes, the re-homing of a family dog, etc. Almost a year later, I started seeing emails about a female Pit Bull mix running at
large in one of the canyons not far from where I live here in Southern California. These emails went on for several months, so I
decided to inquire with the contact person. We corresponded for a few weeks, but then “the dog” disappeared. A few months
later, the dog re-appeared. I decided to take a very active role in this particular situation and get the dog to a rescue. I
coordinated with the local contact person, and arranged the best time to “relocate” the dog that belonged to a group of
homeless people who didn’t take very good care of her.
  Mid July of 2007, Daze left Trabuco Canyon and the homeless people, never to return. Our bond occurred immediately, so
she would never see a rescue. Daze was a 1 year old American Pit Bull Terrier/ Yellow Lab/ Shar Pei mix. She was unaltered, a
little thin, and a little dog / people aggressive. Using common sense, I scheduled Daze to be spayed, get her full panel of
immunizations, get her micro-chip, and finally licensed. Daze suffered a long and hard recovery from her surgery. She rested
next to my father, who was recovering from triple by-pass surgery.
By the end of that summer, we were inseparable. We hiked, we kayaked, we went to the dog park, and we visited friends and
family. My good life became our even-better life together. Daze learned to live indoors, to be polite to strangers, to not fight
every other dog, and to be my constant companion.
  Like most new pet parents, I googled Daze’s breeds looking for specific ailments, special dietary needs, training tips, etc.
Using the terms “breed” and “specific” lead me to a place in my life where I would gladly never return from. This place was called
Breed Specific Legislation (BSL) and the war on its very foundation.
  Breed Specific Legislation are laws that apply only to a certain breed or breeds, but not all dogs. Over the years; Rottweiler’s,
German Shepherds, Doberman Pinchers, etc have all taken their turns at being the target of BSL. In the late 1970’s/ early 1980’
s when “the bad element “ chose the Pit Bull Breeds as the new and preferred dog of choice for organized dog fighting, the real
problem with Pit Bulls and BSL began. Cities all over the United States started seeing more and more dog bites and maulings by
Pit Bulls. In response, all blanketing stereotype ordinances were adopted banning or restricting ownership of these dogs.
  Not believing this type of discrimination could occur in the new millennium, I researched further. Every spare moment I had, I
spent reading and studying this atrocity that was going on in the U.S. The most frustrating ideal of all was the fact that main-
stream America was unaware and unconcerned about this discrimination, so I created my very first video for YOUTUBE: “BREED
SPECIFIC LEGISLATION: Nothing More Than A Witch Hunt.” From the moment the video went live, the emails of praise and hate
started rolling in. This only fueled the fire for me to further entrench myself in the war on BSL.
  Summer of 2008, our local dog park celebrated its one year anniversary. The celebration was an expo type event. The Mayor
said some beautiful words, there were “best ___ dog” contests, a ribbon cutting ceremony, and a couple dozen vendors
peddled their wares. One of the vendors invited to this expo was Dr. Paula Terifaj DVM of Founders Veterinary Clinic in Brea, CA.
“Dr. T” was asked to speak about dietary needs, immunizations, etc. Coincidently, Dr. T is one of the most active and vocal
advocates for Anti BSL efforts in Southern California. A mutual friend introduced us and a force to contend with began to form
and take shape. I joined her organization “Roverlution.org” and jumped in face first. We attacked legislators, municipalities
currently enforcing and/or considering BSL, corporations such as Petsmart who discriminated against Pit Bulls, and we attacked
Verizon Wireless for portraying all Pit Bulls as ferocious in one of their commercials. And yes, we won. Verizon yanked the ad
within 24 hours.
  Late that summer, we got wind of Chris McGahey of Commerce City, Colorado. Chris’s dog “Forrest” wandered out of
Commerce City and into neighboring Denver. Because of the absolute zero tolerance ban on Pit Bulls in Denver, Forrest was
incarcerated and scheduled to be euthanized. Chris lost his job and his home to sit on the floor outside Forrest’s cage on
(DMAS) Denver Municipal Animal Shelter’s “Death Row”. This vigil went on for two months, until we rushed in with a major
email/ phone call/ fax campaign, media, and protests. Concurrently, this was the moment the idea of the Run Forrest Run
Campaign 2008 was born.
At this particular time, President Elect Obama and his traveling show (aka the Presidential Convention) came to Denver. The City
Fathers of Denver would not have us tarnish their good name at their own party, so they allowed Best Friends Animal Society
to negotiate Forrest’s release. This release was to be conditional:
Forrest would have to be relocated to an out-of-state rescue & he was to never return to his original owner. Chris signed away
for Forrest’s freedom, but lost his dog forever. Best Friends sent a van and Forrest was driven out of Denver under police
escort.

  While the powers that be in Denver played their games, I sat and thought a lot about my life with Daze, our freedoms here in
Southern California, and what would become of this dog exiled from Colorado. I decided to adopt Forrest and bring him home
to live with us. I submitted my application to Stray’s Rescue of St. Louis, MO.
After a debate over a 2800 mile away home visit, calling my references, and a credit card payment; Phil Adams (Forrest’s foster
dad) called me to say “Come and get him”. My parents, my friends, my co-combatants alike all could not believe the news.
“Daze and I are taking a little road trip to Missouri” I announced.

Word spread though the anti-BSL community that some guy in So Calif had adopted Forrest and was driving all the way to get
him. Cheryl Kaminski of the Dallas, TX based rescue transport organization “Get Me There Please” got wind of this road trip. We
were in contact and negotiated a trade: Forrest would be brought back into Colorado if I would transport “Lodi” (an 8 year old
Rottweiler bound for Omaha, NB) from Los Angeles as far as Colorado. Going only as far as Colorado would cut my total driving
distance in half, so I whole heartedly agreed. On September 16, 2008; I rented a car, scratched off my work calendar for a
week, pack a toothbrush and some clothes, and drove off into the unknown.

Reaching Vail, CO around 5am on morning number 2 of my road trip, my cell phone rang. It was Dr. T asking about my itinerary
for the next few days. “Can you get another dog off death row?” she asked. “Line them all up, I will trade in the rental car and
rent a truck for our return trip!” I proclaimed. “Kane” was the second dog to be negotiated out of DMAS by long time opponent
of Denver’s Breed Ban: Sonya Dias. Kane was taken at gun point from his owner Gema Martinez of Denver a month earlier.

I reached the home of Sherry Moore in Golden, CO; the local contact who I would be staying with just outside of Denver that
morning. We had old home week as this was the first time we had ever met in person. Our relationship was quite involved with
Denver and Pit Bulls and so forth, but only through emails. We let our dogs play together; we took walks with the dogs,
discussed BSL, and plotted our trip to Death Row in a few days. Being fairly new to rescue and BSL, I hadn’t a clue of what I
was about to walk into.

  We met with Sonya Dias for lunch that Friday. We discussed a minimalistic approach to springing Kane. We got in our cars
and drove to DMAS. We were met outside the shelter by Kane’s mom Gema Martinez and her entire family. At the time, the
Martinez’s were complete strangers to us. That did not stop them from hugging us and shaking our hands and praising us for
saving their dog.
While Sonya signed the papers, I took a stroll back into the kennels. This little walk emotionally knocked me on my rear end. I
walked back to Death Row. I saw the wet noses and claws poking out of the rusted chain link gates. I smelled bleach and urine
and feces, I heard deafening barks and squeals of frustration.
As much testosterone and manhood as I could muster was not nearly enough to hold back my tears. I recall a deep pain in my
chest. I felt my heart hurting as it was broken in half.
The papers were signed, I was asked to leave Death Row and bring my car around to a secured yard, and Kane was brought
out. Sonya signaled me to drive and meet her up the street where we were to follow the Martinez family back to their home for
a final good bye.

We reached Gema’s home where I opened the tail gate of the car and opened Kane’s kennel door. Each of the family members
took turns hugging and kissing Kane goodbye with tear filled eyes and sorrow. I was feeling both the ultimate in evil and the
holiest of standings at that curbside. I have helped in saving their dog, yet I am taking him away from them as well. We said
our final goodbye’s and left Denver. I wailed.

Kane was taken to Dr. Diana Roberts DVM of Harmony Animal Wellness in Kittredge, CO. With the exception of being a little
underweight, slight atrophy in his hind legs, and the need for a bath: Kane received a clean bill of health. This was also Kane’s
way of acclimating me to his love for women, all women, two legged and four. Kane made fans of that entire clinic that day with
his charismatic way and sad tale of woe.
The day after Kane’s release, we were to take Lodi to Denkai Animal Sanctuary near Fort Collins, CO. From here, she would
make her final leg to Omaha. While at the sanctuary, Daze was introduced to farm animals, she ran and played with an
Australian Shepherd on the prairie, and chased the Buffalo living there. Kane was put on a lead, I borrowed a bicycle, and we
ran and ran and ran. Not only was this a one of the highlights of the road trip, but it is a memory I will keep forever. We left the
Sanctuary in the afternoon as we had a dinner time appointment: Forrest was arriving on a rescue transport.

The City of Aurora, CO (not far from Denver and also a BSL city) is where the rally was to take place. We arrived at Walmart,
drove to the side parking lot, and waited. I was under the impression that a single car with a single dog in it was who we should
be watching for. I was wrong, dead wrong. Over the next hour, these odd people showed up, parked their cars, and were just
wandering around in the parking lot near us. I asked one of them “Are you dropping off a dog?” They replied, “No, I’m picking
one up.” This was what all these people were doing here. Some were with rescue groups, some were picking up and continuing
on to other states, and some were new pet parents like me.
And then, it arrived. Like a bus full of kids returning from Summer Camp, a Ryder rental van pulled in with what sounded like a
full animal shelter inside. Barking, barking, barking. I could not believe my eyes or ears. This was one of the most amazing
events I have ever witnessed.
The side door of the van slid open and 27 dogs in kennels were found inside. The driver asked that we all help lower the kennels
to the ground, put the dogs on leashes, and get them over to the lawn to stretch their legs and go to the bathroom.
Mastiffs, Labradors, Golden Retrievers, Basset Hounds, and a few others were all unloaded. And then there was Forrest: A dog
I had only known and seen on the internet, a dog we had all fought to save, a dog that had drawn so much attention in Denver
and across America.
Forrest is a big boy. He is so big that he doesn’t wag his tail like other dogs: He wiggles. And wiggle he did, right into my arms.
I wept some more. Forrest was excited and friendly and anxious. Forrest wanted to make friends with all the other dogs he just
traveled with. The driver even explained to me how Forrest ate his way out of his kennel and chose to travel in comfort: on a
giant throw pillow on the floor of the van. After we took what seemed to be a million photos and 8 hours of video, we
introduced Forrest to Kane and Daze. We all hopped back in the car and retreated back to Golden for some supper.

Chris McGahey and his mom Pat were called to arrange a private good bye party. The following day, they arrived and all these
internet strangers, all these people who had worked into the wee hours emailing and coordinating, all these people who clung to
one another from thousands of miles away met for the first time.
Again, tears found me. We all spent that entire Sunday together talking and laughing and watching the dogs all play together.
In my opinion, it was “The Party” of the century. We called everyone who helped make this day happen to share in our joy. I
think all of our cell phone and camera batteries were dead that evening. We said our final goodbye’s that late afternoon. I
began to pack my bags as we would be leaving for California that night.

  As I loaded the three dogs, dog food, water and bowls; I hesitated for a moment. “I don’t believe in the public stigma about
this breed” I thought to myself. None the less, I was about to drive 1400 miles with three strange dogs in the back of my car.
Within the first hour, they had all settled in for the long ride home.
And I knew it. I knew at that moment they had already bonded. They draped themselves over one another for comfort and
warmth. I again shed a tear in my rear view mirror.
We left Colorado in the dark, passed into Utah, and decided to get off the road in the town of Beaver. We found a truck stop,
nestled our car in between several big rigs, and climbed in the back for some shut eye. About three hours later, I awoke to
Daze in the driver’s seat asleep, Forrest draped over my feet and Kane’s face shoved up against mine: snoring. It was then we
were officially “A family”.
I got some coffee, fed and walked the dogs, and we continued on our journey home. We stopped in Las Vegas for gas and so
the dogs could see the Strip, and then continued on our final three hour leg into Orange County. We arrived at Founders Vet at
a little after 4pm that Monday. We were met by Dr. T and her staff at the clinic. Even my parents were there to welcome us. It
was good to be home.

After spending a very intensive half year with these dogs and been involved with many others through rescue, our local dog
park, and training / acclimating, I can testify that these dogs, though very high in energy, are just like every other dog of every
other breed. They have personal quirks, they have fears, they have strong attributes, they sleep, they poop, and they run…
just like every other dog.
I will gladly go toe to toe with any believer of the public stigma that Pit Bulls are inherently more dangerous than other breeds.
All dogs can get into fights. All dogs can be toy or food aggressive. All dogs can be abused and fought to the point of
becoming violent and dangerous. All dogs can be family members, companions, therapists, and guardians.
The issue with Pit Bulls and all dogs is not the dogs themselves, rather, the humans on the other end of the leash.
The day that we grant animals even the most basic of rights will be the day our society gets a little better for the animals living
within it.

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