There was a pit bull who lived in the city. A man wanted to buy him and raise him for protection, so he met with the owner and got the pedigree. He investigated the history of the dog and his family connections, to make sure he was a pure bred. Once he was clear the pit bull came from a legit line, he paid for the animal and brought it home. He was happy to have a nice pet, especially one so pure and not polluted like a mutt, a cross breed or mongrel, a mutation whose DNA was of questionable nature.
He loved his pit bull and the animal loved him. He trained the dog for fighting, and he was a great fighter, a champion who won many battles.
And then the man met a woman he really liked. He knew almost nothing about her, but he hooked up with her and eventually she moved in with him. He didn't know where she came from, nothing about her family roots, her friends, her education and work history, whether she was psychotic and/or neurotic, suicidal and/or homicidal, whether she was radical, revolutionary or reactionary.
He didn't know she had been raised in a foster home, and later an orphanage, that she had seen her mother stab her grandmother, that her mother had a nervous breakdown and was confined to an institution for life. He didn't know any of this. He didn't know she had been a prostitute, homeless and a drug addict.
But he loved her and married her. And when he found out about her past life, he didn't give a damn. Since he was rich, a baller, big willie, he gave her the best of everything, just as he treated his pit bull, even better. He dressed her in the finest clothes and took her to eat in the finest restaurants and party in the VIP section of clubs.
And then one day she disappeared. He didn't know what happened to her. Worried to death, he hired a private investigator to search for her. The private eye found her in a two dollar motel with a trick.
The man told the private eye not to disturb her, leave her where she was.