I sit for you. I stay when told. I wag my tail when you smile. I’ve learned your voice, your rules, your home. I’ve memorized your scent and the rhythm of your footsteps. I follow you because you are my world. I protect you without hesitation, even from things I don’t understand. And I do it all without ever asking why. But when people look at me and only see danger—when they cross the street, when they whisper “pit bull” with fear, when lawmakers say I shouldn’t exist—will you speak up? Will you defend me the way I’d defend you?

I didn’t choose this body. I didn’t choose these ears, this jawline, this label you’ve attached to me. All I chose was you. Yet every year, dogs like me are banned, abandoned, or euthanized—not because we did something wrong, but because of what we might do, based on nothing but stereotypes and fear. I don’t understand why I’m not allowed to live in some cities. I don’t understand why shelters pass me over. I don’t understand why families love me… until someone says what breed I am.

And still, I sit. I wait. I trust. Because I know that love isn’t about headlines or bloodlines—it’s about loyalty, forgiveness, and quiet presence. I know that I’m more than what they call me. I know that you know it too. But I can’t fight this battle alone. I can’t vote. I can’t change laws. I can’t write letters or sign petitions. What I can do is sit. And hope. And love you, endlessly.

But now I’m asking for something in return.

Please don’t let fear win. Don’t let breed labels define who gets to live. Don’t stay silent while good dogs die. Stand up against breed-specific legislation. Speak out for those who can’t. Share the truth that every dog deserves to be judged not by their breed, but by their behavior. Because I sit for you—not because I have to, but because I want to. Because I love you. Because you are my person.

Now it’s your turn. Will you stand for me?