ChiKat

My dog is 90 pounds. When I walk down the street with him, his tail is wagging in a desperate attempt to make friends with ANYONE WHO WILL PLAY WITH HIM. If someone tried to mug me, my dog would fetch my wallet for the mugger. If someone broke into my condo, my dog would greet them with a squeaky toy. The point is, my dog is the most submissive, gentle, needy, friendly dog there is.

But a lot of the neighborhood residents (adults and kids alike) have only seen guard dogs or fight dogs. Having a “companion dog” is an unheard of notion to someone who is living on food stamps. That means that when I walk down the street, people will randomly FLING themselves out of my way to avoid my dog. I will walk toward a huge, buff 6’ 5” guy and have him scurry across the street, looking back at me in fear (and being 5’ 5” and nowhere near buff, I know it’s my dog and not me that is causing the fear).

This is poverty in America. In our cities. A few miles from million dollar condos are people terrified of my slobbering, tail-waging, properly heeling dog. That breaks my heart. I don’t know how we’re going to fix poverty in the inner-city, but I’m pretty certain that what we’ve been trying for the last 50 years isn’t working.