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Tuesday, February 22, 2011

The Vicktims speak: What dead dogs tell us

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One has to wonder, when looking at image after image of the decomposed corpses of the dogs once owned by Michael Vick, that if you forced every one of his apologists, every one of those parroting his carefully crafted “redemption” narrative and every one of those who shrug and say, “so what? They’re just dogs” to look, and look hard, would they feel the same way?

One has to hope, when looking at the images yourself, that they would not. And marvel at those who no doubt have seen the same images I did and still apologize for the man.

I know I could not do that dirty work.

Such were my thoughts Saturday when I attended my first seminar of the conference, “The Body of Evidence: What We Can Determine in Decomposed Bodies,” sponsored by the ASPCA and presented by Dr. Melinda Merck, an expert in veterinary forensics who, it must be noted, has come under fire lately for a couple of high-profile South Florida cases.

No such doubts attach to the findings in the Vick case, it must also be noted, where the evidence of brutality was evident even to a lay-person, and certainly to a roomful of veterinarians here in Orlando at the North American Veterinary Conference.

There’s a reason why I’ve not shared any of the images, trust me.

Vick, of course, was never convicted for the suffering of his dogs, and instead his team of enablers finagled a sweetheart deal giving him a little prison time to amp his cred with other thugs followed by an image-rehabilitation program as skilled at manipulation as the man himself is on the football field. Frankly, just thinking about the money poured into the “redemption” of this man wants me to post the most gripping image of the lot to call them all out on their behavior. The image: That of the dog who was swung like a jump rope and slammed to the ground as many times as it took to beat the life force out of the animal.

When I saw this dog, the pain on the rotting face could barely be discerned, if at all. But what could clearly be discerned, even before the red dot of Dr. Merck’s laser pointer touched them, were the points of impact, the circles of damage from repeated slamming into the ground.

Forget? Forgive? Not in my lifetime. And shame on those who banked the checks to spin this for a man who should never be trusted to care for his own children, much less be allowed to keep another dog to pose prettily for pictures to complete the narrative of redemption.

Of course, Michael Vick isn’t the only such person, and in fact, the lecture could just as easily been titled, “The 10 Most Brutal Ways Dog-Fighters Kills Their Pit Bulls” as Merck flipped through the images, the ax bite through one skull, the shotgun blast through another, the ruptured vertebrae indicative of hanging on yet one more. The drowning, the blunt object trauma, the starvation … every corpse making the point that as much as many people fear and hate this breed, it’s clear these dogs have a bigger grievance with us.

Many of the killings are not in and of themselves illegal, by the way.  As Merck explained, in many places if you choose a bullet over a needleful of euthanasia solution you’re well within the law as long as the animal died immediately, and honestly (aside from the bigger issue of dog-fighting) this is probably as it should be, a bullet being something you want to be able to use to end an animal’s suffering if you need to and cannot get to or even afford a veterinarian.

But prosecutors, judges and juries don’t like seeing the evidence of such unsavory deaths, said Merck, and such images tend to help support the real evidence of cruelty and neglect that’s offered. There was plenty of that, too: Leg bones and muzzles scored by repeated slashings of the teeth of opponents in the fighting pit, and other bones snapped and left to heal on their own in haphazard ways that no doubt left the animals suffering throughout their lives.

The veterinarians in the room, used to a constant parade of the normal guts and gore as all doctors must be, studied the images intently, took copious notes and showed little emotion. So did I, truth to tell, quickly retreating to that “reporter space” of detachment that my own profession has as well.

But Michael Vick? That name sticks in my throat like vomit, because while many have argued that he was singled out because of his fame or because of his race, the fact remains that because of his money — and the profit potential he represented in the future to his employers, apologists and enablers — a lifelong pattern of unspeakable delight he took in the cruelty he has yet to fully acknowledge, apologize or atone for has been largely forgiven and is well on the way to being forgotten.

At least in the eyes of those who never saw what was left of his dogs.

Image: The Vick property. Bad Newz, indeed.


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