My mum suggested I write about our dog, Faith… and that’s exactly what I’m going to do—because my mum is always right 😇. She also happens to love hearing stories about our dog, so really, this is a win-win.
JP and I have a dog named Faith… although I think it’s more accurate to say she has two humans.
Faith is a eight-year-old pit bull. We inherited her from Mae when she moved in with her boyfriend (who is now her husband). Mae couldn’t take Faith with her when she moved, so we kept her.
(As a side note, this is the second dog we’ve inherited from a family member. Some people inherit family heirlooms or fine china. Apparently, we inherit dogs. I keep telling JP that I’d like to actually choose our next dog, but we’ll see what happens 😂)
There are a lot of myths about pit bulls, and I know people often have uneducated—or at least unchallenged—fears and opinions about them. Many of those myths are simply incorrect. Do some research—you might be surprised by what you find.
Regardless of how you feel about pit bulls, I hope you’ll enjoy reading about our crazy girl, Faith.
Since Mae moved out, Faith has become very attached to JP. He is definitely her human. JP likes to dispute this, though—because if I’m sitting on the bed, Faith will often come hang out with me, especially when he’s working in his office.
But let’s be clear: she is not choosing her preferred human.
She is choosing the more comfortable place to snooze.
If she hangs out with JP, she’s on the floor.
If she hangs out with me, she’s on the bed.
This is not a difficult decision—especially for a dog who believes she’s a princess.
Actually… I think she believes she’s the queen.
But that title is already taken, and a bratty dog is absolutely not stealing it from me.
She’s probably too busy ploting her next blanket heist to worry about a title.
Faith and I have an ongoing power struggle when it comes to ownership of my blankets. If I leave them unprotected, she will immediately make a nest out of them and sit right in the middle.
When I come back, I inevitably find Princess Faith proudly perched in her nest of stolen blankets—grinning like she’s just won.
When she’s not actively stealing my blankets, she’s making demands worthy of a queen. If she wants to go outside, she’ll sit in the doorway of JP’s office and stare at him.
If he doesn’t notice her—or, worse, dares to ignore her—she’ll let out a short, quiet bark. Most of the time, JP will say, “Give me one minute.” Sometimes she’ll sit quietly and wait.
More often, though, she responds with a very soft whining sound… although it’s not really whining. It’s more like a gentle, increasingly annoyed hum of displeasure.
And then there are the days when she’s feeling impatient—and she argues.
I have never seen a dog argue with its owner before, but Faith? She absolutely does. On days when she’s feeling spicy, if JP tells her to wait, she’ll respond with a low, whiny, growly noise. It’s not menacing at all—it’s more of a, “Ugh. Seriously? You’re making me wait?” kind of sound.
This argument can go on for several minutes, with Faith making a variety of disgruntled noises and JP trying to make his point. It’s not always clear who wins the argument—but I’m absolutely sure that in her mind, she always does.
When Mae first started talking about adopting Faith, I was very reluctant. Aside from all the common myths about pit bulls being aggressive, not good around kids, and generally scary, I knew absolutely nothing about the breed.
And then I met her.
There was nothing scary about that crazy girl. She was sweet and affectionate. And a little goofy—although I guess a lot of pit bulls are goofy.
Faith shares many common pit bull traits—dramatic sighs (only rivaled by those of my husband), enthusiastic snoring (often with her eyes open as she fakes sleep), the “If I fits, I sits” attitude, goofy smiles, and the nightly burst of crazy hallway zoomies.
All of these traits make her seem delightfully unhinged—but definitely not aggressive or vicious.
As I write this, Faith is asleep, snoring away, on my feet. Apparently, pit bulls have absolutely no respect for personal space.
And the fact that her tongue hangs out most of the time—because it’s too long for her mouth—certainly doesn’t reinforce any scary stereotypes.
I often wonder—if I gently pulled the end of her tongue—would it roll back into her mouth like a window shade?
(In case anyone is wondering, I have never willingly touched her tongue for this—or any—reason. That’s where the drool lives, and it’s a hard no for me.)
When we adopted her, Faith was living with—and best friends with—a tiny, extremely angry miniature chihuahua. I was honestly far more scared of the little dog, who was too short to bite anything higher than my ankles. That dog absolutely would have eaten someone’s face off… if he could have reached it.
It’s kind of funny to think how nervous I was about Faith—worried she might hurt or bite someone—when the dog that actually scared me was a tiny scrap of chihuahua.
Maybe that’s something worth remembering: we shouldn’t judge a dog by its breed… or its size.
⭐ If this made you smile, like, share, or subscribe — there’s always more Faith (and chaos) where this came from.
Brain Fog & Brilliance 
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