February has been a month of doggedness.
Earlier in the month, I was called a “pitbull.” No offense to anyone, but I don’t like pitbulls. They’re just not my dog of choice. So I took this word with me into my run later that same day to…sure, chew it over.
In my mind, pitbulls are all teeth and jaw and untrustworthy, according to my mother— or unfairly maligned, according to other people.
Either way, it’s not like being called a Collie, or a greyhound, or Golden Retriever. You are not called a pitbull because you’re snuggly or pet-able.
