True confessions from pit bull owner Thug Shanda
I'm a thug. Yo! 30 year old woman, BA in English, going on to grad school for literature or law school. I drive a fuel-efficient car. I vote. I raise litters of orphan kittens with the help of my vicious and abused dogs, and on weekends we eat innocent babies and maul Puggles. They have aggressively taken over the house and forced me to buy each of them their own two dog beds (one for each side of the house), raised feeders, custom Paco collars and leads, good food, a water fountain, and hordes of toys. Oh, and I torture them with dog clothes on the rare occasions it gets cold, since I know their naturally plush and insulating bulldog coats are sufficient to keep them warm and that a sweater is just cruel.
Thug dog Ruadh running from the police.
Ruadh and his thug friends had a birthday party for two bottle-raised pups' 1st year. (PeTA won't invite us to the dog parties, so we throw our own!)
Great cake...er, I mean, great bloodbath. (This photo was also in the blood-spattered pages of that fighting dog rag, Bark Magazine.)
Very recently adopted thug dog Frodo. I would have left him outside on a logging chain, but the weather was just too nice so I brought him into the stagnant AC to suffer. Anyway, he's so thug, he breaks chains, which is why he's wearing the cutesy collar.
O the horror.