Pit Bull Notes from Seattle

The same day I unloaded the boxes I picked up from Gaye’s house, I started organzing the contents of Anne’s rescue work. There are twelve boxes of file folders.

Each manila file folder is labelled with a dog’s name and the date Anne first became aware of the dog. Sometimes the labels include the dog’s new adopted name, a euthanasia date, or an adoption date.

The files start in 1998 and some years, 2002 and 2003, have two boxes of files.

Anne’s record keeping was meticulous in the beginning. For every dog, I know where the dog came from, have a detailed description, and there’s almost always a photo in the file. I knew Anne worked with hundreds & hundreds of pit bulls but going through these files made her work very real to me on a different level. Her chicken scratch intake notes, her follow-up notes on dates and times she called vets, foster parents, prospective adopters.

Going through the files, I came across dogs that I knew their stories start-to-finish. And there are also dogs like Daisy that I only remembered had been adopted by a wonderful family. I learned Daisy fell off a cliff and died hiking in the mountains by reading her file.

Anne’s files in 2008 tell the story of a woman struggling to do rescue. Her notes are spotty, dog photos are few, vet bills are unpaid, and there are labels with ”outcome unknown.”

In addition to the files, there were three, black garbage bags neatly wrapping poster board displays Anne and her volunteers had created over the years. I unfolded each one and photographed them.

Their purpose was to educate and inspire. Anne used these boards at fundraising events, at public outreach booths, at Ideal Pet Stop.

The tri-fold boards had dog fur stuck to the edges and smelled like Anne. Cigarettes and perfume.  There was a poster board for the 2005 Pit Bull Project calendar photographed by Bev Sparks.

There was also a poster board for the 2007 calendar which also includes beautiful photography and a few dogs I recognize. 

And finally, one of the last poster boards in the set was of Anne’s house. Photos of her son and daughter and the dogs that were a part of their lives.

So many details. Anne’s cursive handwriting. Jots of this-n-that. Names and addresses of people who adopted dogs. Photo-after-photo of pit bulls, pit bull mixes, mutts with brindle coats. Vet bill-after-vet bill. Yahoo emails. PetFinder listings. Copies of Canine Good Citizen certificates. Business cards. Newspaper clippings. Magazine articles. And thank you letters for miles.

Here’s an excerpt from the parents of Sammy Snuggles written in 2001: Dear Anne, how can we thank you for the newest member of our family? Mr. Sammy Snuggles charged into our lives and showered us with kisses and goofiness. He talked us into buying a house with a yard so while we’re not as close by as we used to be, we thank you every day for saving this dog that our lives would simply not be complete without.

On a beautiful summer day in Seattle last year, I was drinking a margarita under the magnolia tree when I checked my phone for messages. One voicemail from Lorrie. There was a lot of crying and after replaying the message several times, I made sense of it: Lorrie’s finger was bitten off trying to break up a dog fight–the fight did not include pit bulls–and Anne Holte was found dead in her home curled up with Merlin.

My mind kicked in to remember: When was the last time I saw Anne, when was the last time I spoke to her on the phone, when was the last time we exchanged emails. It’d been 3 years since I’d seen Anne in person. It’d been 2 years since I’d spoken to her on the phone. And it’d been 6 months since we exchanged emails.

In our last email exchange, I’d reached out to tell her Louie was put to sleep for behavior issues and wasn’t sure how welcoming Anne would be. This was one of a handful of times we interacted since our falling out when I left Pit Bull Project in 2004. She was very warm and saddened to hear the news. We exchanged baby pictures. I sent her a photo of Gigi with Buffalo and Chaney, and she sent me a photo of her grandson with Merlin. To my surprise, she asked me to come visit her. I never did.

And two months later, she included me on a mass email asking for help to keep Pit Bull Project operating. I knew the Web site hosting was always on the verge of being shut-off because I continued to receive the warning notices for some reason. I also knew that Anne’s health was not good. I didn’t respond to her email.

Anne’s memorial service was the following Saturday, July 25th, in Columbia City.  While I didn’t recognize most of the people at the ceremony, I did recognize Chris and Kip. They recalled meeting me the first time they visited Ideal Pet Stop. Here they are in the 2006 Pit Bull Project calendar. They are one of hundreds of families Anne touched through her rescue work.

Gaye Davies, one of Anne’s closest friends, was on the original Pit Bull Project board, and I hadn’t seen her in years. There were many tears when she arrived with Merlin, Anne’s go-everywhere dog.

Turns out Gaye was storing a truckload of boxes of Anne’s dog rescue stuff, stuff Anne’s family didn’t know what to do with. Gaye asked me to take it, and I agreed. Seemed right for Pit Bull Project to come back to me so two weeks later I went to Gaye’s house for pick-up.

Gaye and I went through the boxes. From thank-you cards to dog collars to Pit Bull Project t-shirts to dog tags with Anne’s name and address, I felt blessed to go through her things. I packed my Outback full and drove off blowing kisses to Gaye.

Driving home with Pit Bull Project: Another beautiful summer day, the sunroof open, the smell of Anne (cigarette smoke, perfume, dogs) swarming all around me, and Fleetwood Mac. Hold me.

I’m holding on to you, Anne. You’re just around the corner. Lovin on all those pit bulls you’ve embraced and kissed squarely on the nose.