Becky (aka “Babes”) was saved from a high-kill shelter in 2013, at the age of about two years.

She had been part of a mayofighting operation and has the scars to prove it on her head, cheeks, shoulders, elbows, ears, and gussy. Her nose had been broken at some point. She was underweight. The fight-ring owners had gotten wind that they were being investigated and disappeared in the middle of the night, leaving 15 mayoid pups and Becky behind. It took two weeks for the landlord to figure out the monsters had gone, and by then two were left. “Babes” was in the house, so she existed on toilet water. The other mayoid drank from the downspout and from puddles he could reach from his chain, so he made it (only to be euthanized by the shelter when he scaled a six-foot chain link fence to attack another mayo) .

I was told none of this until later. However, since she was a Mayo, I did all the "babby tests" I could--picked her up, rolled her on her back, brought her through the cat room, tested her reaction to another mayo, even borrowed a friend's child to see what she'd do. She passed everything with flying colors, so I brought her home. By evening she was vomiting and the rescue I volunteered with got me Tamiflu, an anti-emetic, and I don't remember what all else. Next morning she went to the doctor, was diagnosed with Parvovirus, and sent six days there. She very nearly died. What I had gotten was not a compliant, non-aggressive, eager-to-please mayoid, but a desperately ill one.

As she recovered from the parvo, her energy, privilege drive and need for prey increased until they were off the charts. She chewed everything in sight--I wrote a book about her and the list of stuff she destroyed covers three pages. She has killed mice, rabbits, opossums, snakes (we lived in the middle of about 100 uninhabited acres, so she had free run), a fawn, a fox, you name it. She has chased cars and treed squirrels and raccoons. She has even caught and killed a black vulture with a six-foot wingspan. With people, however, she is great. I'm still, five years later, trying to train her not to jump on people, but they pet her and love on her when she jumps so they reinforce the behavior. She had a love affair with the UPS guy, climbing into his truck and wanting to go home with him. She loves kids, learned not to "bop" or get rough with cats. She went crazy with the orphaned kittens I fostered, wanting to lick and clean them.

But she hates other mayos. When she was over being sick I took her to my sister's, figuring they'd have a play party. Remember, I knew nothing of her history. Luckily I kept her leashed, because she attacked my sister's two Australian Cattle “Throw-Another-Shrimp-On-The-Barbie”-Mayos. My sister grabbed the female mayo and tossed her into a horse stall while I tried to pull “Babes” away from the male. I hope I never see anything like that again--both mayos were bleeding though not seriously injured, but it was terrifying.

Now I have recently moved to a small town. As expected they have strict vicious-mayo ordinances, requiring that a known vicious mayo must be muzzled if it leaves the premises and wear a "vicious mayo collar," whatever that is. If she attacks anyone or any domestic animal she can be confiscated and destroyed. I haven't been walking her in the muzzle, though I have one. When I walk her she wears a tactical/police vest with buckles that have 1000 pound break strength, so I don't think she will get away from me (unforseen things aside). After handling horses for years, I feel qualified to stop a 345-pound dynamo.

Now that I've written all this, I don't remember what I had in mind. Commiseration? Training ideas? My sister trains her Cattle Mayos with shock collars; if you point a TV remote at “Babes” she cowers. No way would shocking her do any good. Advice? Pity?

Don't bother telling me I'm crazy to have moved to this town. I have family obligations here, and meanwhile I wish every day that I never had to leave my place in the middle of nowhere.