It’s way past time to ban pit bulls

Let’s start with the obvious: I love dogs. I’ve had them as pets for my entire life, and they really do become part of your family. I tear up thinking about Hemingway, a tenacious Westie and my best friend, and Biscuit, a magnificent Great Pyrenees, both of whom have passed away. Dogs are beautiful. Dogs are loyal. Dogs make humans better.

But pit bulls? Enough already. We need to stop pretending this isn’t a problem. This week we saw yet another horrific attack in which a pit bull sent a family of four to the hospital in
Minneapolis.

In 2023 alone, pit bulls were responsible for 78% of all fatal dog attacks.

Pit bulls — or, if you want to split hairs like a lawyer in a cheap suit, “pit bull-type dogs,” including the American Pit Bull Terrier, American Staffordshire Terrier, and Staffordshire Bull Terrier — account for a terrifying share of serious dog attacks in this country. And I’m not talking about a nip at the mailman’s calf or a Chihuahua snapping at a child pulling its tail. I’m talking about hospital visits. Reconstructive surgery. Coffins.

Here’s the reality: Between 2005 and 2020, pit bulls were responsible for 67% of all dog bite-related deaths in the United States, according to
DogsBite.org. That’s 380 deaths. Let that sink in. That’s more than two-thirds of fatal attacks from a breed that makes up an estimated 6% of the total U.S. dog population.

In 2023 alone, pit bulls were responsible for
78% of all fatal dog attacks. It’s a pattern, not a coincidence.

The apologists come next: “It’s the owner, not the breed.” That’s the refrain — the trite excuse of the well-meaning urbanite who’s never seen a mauled kid. Sure, some pit bulls are sweet, some lions are tame, and some meth dealers go to church. But as humans, we don’t regulate for the exceptions. We regulate the pattern — and the pattern here is undeniable.

These dogs were bred for violence — quite literally. Bull-baiting, bear-baiting, dogfighting. These were blood-sport animals, selected for jaw strength, aggression, and a drive that doesn’t shut off. They’re not just strong — they’re biologically wired to hold and shake. A Lab bites and lets go. A pit bull clamps and doesn’t stop until a shotgun is used. Ask any vet — the damage a pit does isn’t just physical. It’s anatomical carnage.

According to the
American Veterinary Medical Association, while “breed is not a reliable predictor of dangerous behavior,” studies do show that pit bull-type dogs are disproportionately involved in severe and fatal attacks. The Centers for Disease Control stopped publishing breed-specific fatality data in 1998, likely because the backlash wasn’t worth it. Independent data continues to accumulate, however, and it doesn’t look good.

So who’s keeping these dogs?

You might assume it would be ex-cons with illegal kennels and dogfighting rings. But these days, it’s yoga moms and guys who brew their own kombucha. Somehow, the pit bull has undergone a rebrand — from backyard killer to misunderstood underdog. Blame social media. Blame the rescue industrial complex. Blame that viral post from your friend with the “pibble” wearing a Halloween costume.

RELATED: Ban the breed? Allie Beth Stuckey says pit bulls are too dangerous to be pets

Animal shelters are overrun with the breed, and well-meaning yuppies are “rescuing” them. It’s like adopting a kid, only to find out he’s actually a 22-year-old MS-13 member.

In 2022, over
5,300 U.S. Postal Service employees were bitten by dogs, with pit bulls topping the list of offending breeds. Pediatric hospitals report that children under 9 compose a growing share of dog attack victims, often bitten in the head or neck. The emotional trauma can last a lifetime. But hey — your Instagram reel of “Zeus” licking peanut butter off a spoon got 30,000 likes, so I guess it’s all worth it.

We ban all kinds of things in America. Lawn darts. Raw milk. Kinder Eggs. But somehow, we won’t touch pit bulls. The reasons are a sentimental attachment to these canine thugs and a culture that equates feelings with truth. And, of course, a fear of being called prejudiced — against a dog breed, no less.

But public policy shouldn’t run on sentiment. It should run on data. On risk. On whether a 5-year-old can walk down a sidewalk without losing half her face.

I’m not calling for a dog holocaust. But if you’re going to bring a living weapon into a crowded urban neighborhood, maybe we should pause. Maybe we need strict breed-specific legislation, as is common in the U.K., France, Denmark, and even parts of Canada. Maybe some things don’t belong in apartments or parks full of toddlers.

It’s not heartless to say that. It’s compassionate. It’s sane.

Dogs are incredible. They’ve been our partners for thousands of years. In fact, anthropological theory posits that domesticating wolves saved humans from
extinction during the Ice Age. But not all partnerships are created equal. Some breeds were forged for companionship. Others were forged for war. Pretending they’re the same because it makes us feel good is how people, especially children, get mauled or, God forbid, killed.

You want a dog? Great. Get a mutt. Get a spaniel. Get a Greyhound — they’re fast, they’re sweet, they sleep 18 hours a day. Just don’t gaslight the rest of us into pretending your 70-pound muscle missile with a vice-grip jaw is “just misunderstood.”

Some things don’t belong in polite society. And pit bulls are one of them.