My home page and little bit about me.

Why do people fight dogs.

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# 1 My Pitbulls and Photos & pedigrees of dogs I own today.
.Pretty Boy Floyd at Stud $1000. One small pups for sale for $500 each.
Friends with pups from my bloodline of dogs for sale.
Some Laws & theories about dogfighting.
Some of the dogs I fought 1960's 70' 80's History #2 & dogs fought out of my dogs.
Many New Arrest. These dogfighters families suffer more than any dogs when arrested.
Some top Bred Patterdale Terriers.
Weldon Stockton's Page Also Bennett Clayton.
(Joseph) Joe Corvino & Floyd Merriman story
Some History J. Williams, B. De Cordova & More & Light'in Billy.. #3
Some Pitbull history # 4
EARL TUDOR & JIMMY WIMBERLY PAGE # 5
Earl Tudor PAGE #6
John P. Colby, Family and dogs. Page # 7
Some old timers- George C. Armitage-Al Brown-George Saddler Page # 8
Lonzo Pratt and some Zebo talk.
Don Mayfield and some dogs he owned & some he Borrowed Page # 10
Floyd Boudreaux one of the Best dogmen of my era. Page # 11
More Floyd Boudreaux Bullyson,Eli Jr. ,Zebo comparison. Page12
Danny Burton Page 13
Walter Komosinski Page14
Bert Clouse Page 15
Howard Heinzl page 16
Ralph Greenwood Page 17
Clyde Mason page 18
Bobby Hall Page 19
Maurice Carver Page 20
Lots of top dog men. A1
Lots of top dogmen A2
Lots of top dogmen A3
Rick Halliburton and Marty Reed & Dick Harp. Page 21
Donald Lee Maloney Page 22
Gary J. Hammonds page 23
Robert L. Neblett Page 24
Cecil Collins Page 25
Oklahoma dogmen in the early days page 26
George Gilman Page 27
William J. Lightner Page and Norman Hooten with Butcherboy. 28.
Clemmons & Elliott page 29
Wolves Attack Pitbulls on chains in Yugoslavia. See what happened
Building a Breeding Stand and a forever Swivel.
Some old Pedigrees
Some friends I've met through my Pitbull Era and my family.
Why do pitbulls all have a different level of gameness?
Why do people fight dogs.
What I think about Pedigrees online.
Unjust facts about pitbulls and dogfighters.
Politics and a USDA & Health Department Warning.
.Cajun Rules By Gaboon Trahan
Links
Some of the dogs I liked from the 60's-70's and 80's
My Friends from other Countries..
Interesting History Concerning children and Pitbulls
Some More Pitbull Trivia and old pitbull photos with famous people
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       I've ask myself many times. Why do people fight dogs? Why did I fight dogs? Was it something in a person's back ground genetically?  Was it something in their upbringing or family life that caused this cruel hobby? I read a article about serial killers. There was a man that was in Germany who became a serial killer. He was in an area that was in a war. A bomb was dropped and in a heavily populated area. The explosion blew many people to bits. Body parts were flying all over the place. A human head rolled across the ground and hit this man in the foot. They credit this ordeal in changing him into a serial killer. Yet there was another man that was an artist. He made paintings about all kinds of scenery and other things. He was walking along one day and a bad car collision happened right in front of him. It was a terrible wreck. Human body parts were flying all over the place and some landed at his feet. He didn't become a serial killer but became a famous artist that makes paintings of distorted bloody body parts and bloody hurt humans. His paintings are sought after by many admirers. He is worth millions. Yet a similar ordeal didn't make him a serial killer. It made him famous and rich. Some people think he is weird for painting this stuff. I question the peoples mental state that buy his paintings.
      Dog-fighters have different levels of cruelty that they do.  For an example. I have had  some champion fighting dogs. A champion fighting dogs is called a champion once he has won three fights. Some two time winners and some one time winners. I didn't make any dog fight over three fights. Although some people make them fight 6 to 10 fights. Sometimes they get hurt bad in one fight. When this happened I didn't make them fight again. Some don't get hurt much in one fight and I fought them two fights. In the second fight if they were hurt  bad. I didn't make them fight a third fight. My Alvin dog fought two fights. In his second fight he lost and eye and carried one rear leg most of the time. That rear leg would hit the ground about every third step. I told him you don't have to fight again two is enough. I made a deal with the three time winning dogs that if you win three you do not have to fight again.
    It bothered me to fight a dog I raised. I bought almost every dog I fought. It wasn't quiet as hard on me to buy one and fight it. It was to heart-wrenching to fight one I had raised from a baby. I did many cruel thing with the dogs. If they didn't fight good or they quit fighting. I killed them. When I was a young man. I killed several dogs an threw them in the pond beside my home. I let the fish eat them. My wife did not favor any of my dogfighting or cruelties. She had dreams about dogs with her floating in a glass bottom boat in that pond. The dead dogs  were scratching, crying at the bottom of the boat wanting in as she watch them. I'm glad she didn't like the sport because that made it easier to quit. It is like a married couple smoking. It is harder for them to quit the habit. 
       There is a group of intercity people that have started fighting dogs by putting them in a trunk of a car and then come back and see which dog is dead or alive and then collect their bet. This sounds extra cruel to me. Those guys raised in that intercity area have been raised around constant cruelties. They have seen family and friends gun down and many more cruelties they have had to face. So A dogfight in a trunk is minor league to them.
       In the dogfight world I was in. The easy way to explain it. The dogs are separated ever so often and held in opposite corners for one minute to rest n a square pit. Then they let go of one dog and he has 20 seconds to go across and grab the other dog. Then they fight a while longer and are separated and taken to opposite corners in the square pit.  Then the dogs have go to opposite corners again  and after resting one minute the dog that didn't have to go across and grab the other dog goes this time and has 20 seconds to get there. The first one that is hurt bad enough or is to tired, or has had enough and wants to quit and doesn't want to go across in the 20 seconds is the loser. These rules believe it or not keep dogs from seldom getting hurt bad enough to die or be maimed permanently.
      I couldn't be a boxing fan that lets their son fight in the ring professionally. I do love boxing. I couldn't stand to see a child of mine hurt. I feel a parent is suppose to take steps to prevent their children from getting hurt. I couldn't  put them in a place to get them hurt. 
   I was raised on a farm with cattle and horses and I even had some pigs. We castrated the pigs and cattle by tying them down and cutting out their testicles with no sedative. I didn't consider that cruel. We rounded up everything yearly and castrated everything that needed to be castrated. Five states have passed laws to keep animal rights groups from sneaking in and phtographing things they believe to be cruel. That tickles me to death.
                 A lot of the dog-fighters had no fathers some had no mothers. There were cruelties in many of their lives. Yet some of them had good normal family situations. They did adopt a cruel hobby.
   Unlike the animal rights groups people. I do believe the cruelties we do to each other are much more important than any animal cruelties. If we could stop all the cruelties that people do to each other. It would cut way back on dog-fighting. Make divorce a prison sentence. Make bad fathering and bad mothering a prison sentence. Make slapping a woman a prison sentence. Make anything we do cruel to another human a prison sentence. Or maybe a death sentence for all the human cruelties to each other.
     
There was a fellow named Wayne from Australia that came to my home in 2012. On one of our drives. I took him down to the assisted living center to meet my parents. My mother and step-dad live there and seem fairly happy. Mother is 90 and my step-dad is 96. They have their health issues but still seem to be in pretty good shape for their age. Wayne ask my mother what kind of son I was when I was young. She did not answer him. I thought I would share some of my childhood to explain why she did not answer him.
My mother divorced my dad when I was a child about 2 or 3 years old. I did not ask her when she divorced or when she remarried. I could find out but that isn't important to me. I was born Randy McCasland. When I started to school they enrolled me as Randy Fuchs. The name Fuchs is German and is pronounced Fox. As a young adult I had it legally changed to Fox. I hated the name Fuchs because kids teased me about it and you can guess why. I'm one of the very few men that have had three last names. I felt out of place after she remarried when I was around 3. I was like a fish out of water. I know people tell stories about unhappy childhoods. Mine was happy most of the time. Most people do not want to hear about childhood unhappiness,. Yet this is the only way I can explain why my mother didn't answer Wayne when he ask what he did. My step-dad was a strange man. He didn't ever tell me happy Birthday, Merry Christmas or anything that most children hear. He didn't ever say anything complimentary. He didn't ever have a one on one conversation except to criticize me. He was a cruel hard man in my eyes. As I got older I began to show my dislike for him and his actions. He would get mad when I said anything in my defence, When he talked. I was to just listen and not talk. I couldn't always do that when he was in the wrong. I would get angry and say things back. He would hit me and knock me around and sometimes kick and stomp me but not often. My mother would take up for me and comfort me on occasions. Yet this created a problem for her.
                      Once while helping him combine wheat. I was around 14 years old. My job was to keep the grain level in the grain ben on the combine as he combined wheat. He had given me an ax handle and had me raking the wheat making it level. I kept it level while it tried to build up on one side in the grain ben on the combine. That way he could get the ben fuller as he combined and it wouldn't spill over the edge of the ben onto the ground. As it approached the top and was fixing to run over. I yelled at him to stop the combine as I was told to do. Yet he couldn't hear me. I climbed over to him and made him stop. About a hand full of wheat had run over and spilled to the ground. His plan didn't work because he could not hear me yell at him to stop. He saw that grain spill and it shorted him out. He jerked the ax handle away from me. He took a wild swing with the ax handle at me as I was trying to get away from him. He hit me hard in the back. It knocked me off the combine and I fell about 6 or 8 feet to the ground. Luckily I wasn't hurt. If I had been knocked into the combine's swather. It would have killed me. I somehow missed the swather and landed on my feet. I then fell to the ground after landing. I got right up and ran to the house. I ran fast as I could go and didn't look back. The verbal abuse had much more impact and came more often than the physical abuse. I blamed myself for that for years and this had convinced me something was wrong with me.
Sometime back I told my Aunt. I guess some of that was my fault. I didn't really try hard enough I guess. She said. You were just a boy. He was a man. It was his fault. No person would ever suspect this went on. He was such a nice guy in front of people. He went to church every Sunday and seem to be the perfect father. He still goes every Sunday at 96 years old along with my mother.
When I was 13 or 14. I started running off to my Grandparents. I was treated wonderful at their home. I adored my grandfather and Grandmother and their daughters. They were my twin aunts that were my age. I would climb out the upstairs window and jump to the ground and head to the road. I would always catch a ride. I was a little over 100 miles but hitchhiking always worked out.
My mother woke up to find me gone and that created a problem for her and her family situation. She would get in a car and come to Grandpa's and get me. I did this till I was 18 years old and then moved out for good. She told my Grandfather. I do not know what is wrong with him. He keeps running off to you guys place. Grandpa said. Well, maybe he's finding something here that he is not finding at home. My life and my childhood turned out to be a blessing. While staying at my grandfathers I enrolled in school there. I met my future wife and we married when I was 20 and she was 17. We are still married in 2013 for 49 years. For the most part it has been a good marriage. When I was young and crazy and fought dogs. We had our ups and downs like all people do. As I matured and the children were grown everything leveled out. We are happy and are doing great.
After I married and my wife was 8 months pregnant. We went down to Fort Cobb Lake to my folks Cabin to see them, (really just to see mother). I had an Aunt by marriage that was there. We were all talking religion. Which is a bad thing to do in my book. Never talk religion or politics is my policy now. My Aunt said she knew she was saved. I'm of the belief that there will be a judgment day and God will judge you and make that decision. Just like a report card and I believe he will make that decision. That is, if you have been good enough to be saved. So in my rebuttal to her. I said, let me see your ticket to heaven. That made her cry. I felt bad but I had already said it without thinking. I quickly found out. She could express her belief but it became a 'no no' for me express my beliefs. My step-dad yelled from across the room. He said shut your mouth. I told him. Why don't you try to shut it for me. He didn't answer back. I had longed for that moment but never pursued it because of mom. My wife started crying and my mother started crying. My wife said lets go. Take me home. She wasn't use to my family and his loud mouth scared her. So we left. Not one time has my step-dad ever mouthed at me since. So when you ask my mother what kind of child I was. That is why she doesn't answer and she is not going to answer you. I was my Grandfather and Grandmother's child as far as I was concerned. My twin aunts I spoke of earlier are actually 9 months younger than me. They consider me a brother instead of a nephew. Since I was at my grandparents with those aunts so much. They all four loved me and treated me special and I loved them. Now that I am older. My Step-Dad treats me alright and we get along just fine. I have forgiven him but not forgot all he did. My mother might have answered Wayne. If she was not setting in the room with my Step-dad. She may not have still answered either. Who knows. So much for that story and people wonder why I fought dogs.
Most people have some flaw in their life that have fought dogs as a pastime. I have seen some dog-fighters that do not reveal a bad past in their life. They may still have a hidden one though. The reason I say that. I entered the dogfight world with some reluctance. I felt it was wrong and I had a funny feeling in my stomach about it. I was always looking over my shoulder. Yet when your 20 years old to 49 years old. Your judgement is not on track as it should be. Most of the men on my true dads side of the family do wild things and do not straighten up and become true good humans till they are around 35 to 40 years old. With each dog I fought. I became better and better at it. People begin to call me at home. They were wanting to talk to me about my dogs. When I was at the dogfights people would follow me around like I was a movie star or someone famous. It is a good feeling when you have been talked down to most of your young life. The average normal upstanding humans do not fight dogs. That is why I protest the new laws being past in many States.They are giving 20 years and 100,000 dollar fine for fighting dogs in Michigan. If these young men's life wouldn't have been altered as they grew up. They may have never fought dogs. They are getting punished at home while growing up in abuse. Then they may go to prison and are being punished again. That is before they find their way in life and straighten up and fly right. These young man will not be given the chance to grow up and straighten up like I was. That 20 years will take their children from them. It will put their children in a position they will not be supervised by their dads. It may make criminals out of their children. It also may rub off on the dad being locked up with men that are killers, Thieves and other type felons. It will cost our government 50,000 dollars yearly to house them. This will come with a price tag of 1,000,000 dollar for the 20 year stay. That is a lot to deal with in a broke country like ours. No one thanks about what problems and cost these special interest groups create. They bribe AKA Lobby our legislatures to pass these laws. Yet they do not keep paying for these laws they get passed. The government agencies that pass these laws never look into the long term effect of problems this creates. They should put a monitor on these young men's leg and supervise them with that Monitor. It will cost far less and will punish them. Well that is my growing up story. I'm just an old man looking back and looking forward. Please do not fight dogs. You may get caught and go to prison. There is no full-proof way to get away with dog-fighting . Randy Fox

I took this off a chat. It is well written and believable. and It was written by Fredric.

Dog-fighting !!!

But more than the entertainment aspect, my position above is that people fight other animals in order to deal with our own mortality and propensity for aggression in a manner than doesn't harm humans (i.e. the animals endure the physical harm). This is deeper than entertainment. And does a dog care if he dies a hero? Isn't the idea of the "hero" just a human construct (i.e. Achilles' choice in the Iliad)? I don’t know what dying a "hero" is worth to a dog, but you are in a much better position to know this, and I likely never will; hence, you can opinion such matters with much greater authority than I. Is it heroic to die in a fighting ring? What is the dog really dying for and for whom? I guess his human -partner, but I just have trouble with the idea that the human is making a good decision for the dog by putting him in that situation."

Don‘t know. It seems to me that folks in the midst of making a moral argument feel certain in themselves that morality is something that can indeed and in fact actually be pinned down. I'm not so sure it can. In fact, I'm certain it can't. The minute you grab hold of it, away it scampers leaving its tail in your hands. Always "morality" is relative to its time and place, and -- to make matters far more complicated than that -- relative to each individual soul as well. How reconcile the morals of a ground squirrel, and, say, the red-tailed hawk who eats it? And if in the grand scheme of things one man's spirit is more akin to the ground squirrel's than to the red-tailed hawk's...? I mean how legislate such a thing? How set it down in the books? Again, don‘t know. Best ask the King. Or better yet, put it to a vote. And if none of these work, there's always war, "civil" or otherwise.

"Isn't the idea of the 'hero' just a human construct?"

Yes, of course it is. And still, when in the midst of a fight, one see's a dog's tail held high, sees it give its electric little wag -- one knows in all one's soul that the dog is a thousand times more glad and alive than it would be were its tail lowered, the dog's courage ebbing away, his life dwindling in him. Dogs don't speak to us in words, after all -- or at least I've never heard one articulate the word "hero." But thanks to a dog's tail (among other things), one recognizes immediately just how heroic a dog is feeling at any given time. Instinctive, perhaps, in these dogs of ours (non-articulated, of course,) that a coward dies a thousand deaths, a hero but one?

As to why the dogs were bred and fought in the first place? One might argue along with ol' William James that, for man, there is no better moral alternative to War than the sports we engage in. One could of course spend the rest of one's entire life trying to pin it down, the whys and wherefores of our breed's existing in the first place -- and end up all over again with that proverbial tail in our hands. For my part of it, my motivations for breeding the few I did can be boiled down to one solid fact of the matter: my job was to bring about the most wonderfully courageous spark in all the world, and this in the form of a bulldog. I simply wanted to make something wonderful, is all.

All philosophical arguments, of course, and all of them after the fact. Dog-fighting is kaput, as well it should be.

This is interesting undercover action.