Last May, I spent a gloomy Saturday down in Springfield, Massachusetts, the seat of Hampden County, about an hour or so west of Worcester. Springfield gets a bad rap. The city has a higher-than-average violent crime rate and drugs are a real problem, but it is also a bona fide star-maker. Dr. Seuss, the game of basketball, the Merriam-Webster dictionary, Smith & Wesson firearms, and gas-powered cars are among Springfield’s finest gifts to the world. Add to the list, the MassMutual Center. That’s the convention center where the Rumble on the East Coast was held, the premier expo for American Bullies.
The American Bully is not a dog you can photograph without proper training. Their heads are like microwaves. Their bodies, compact and overbuilt, seem like they’re perpetually bracing for a slow-motion explosion. The camera doesn’t know where to focus. The dogs just blink, pant, and blink again.
Inside the expo, I counted more Gucci belts than leashes. Whole families sported matching tees printed with their breeding, kennel, or training services on the back. Some bullies were paraded in baby strollers. Some were posed on wood blocks for long periods of time at most booths, panting but perfectly still as their tongues hung out of their huge heads.
After a few hours, I ducked out of the event’s only entrance to find some air that didn’t smell like skin infections and dog shit. It was raining. I stood under the steel overhang, watching the line of latecomers grow longer. Some had been driving all morning from down the East Coast and were now waiting in the rain with dogs wrapped in thick blankets like a quarterback in January.
Bully breeding differs from the Westminster-style, high-class pedigree. This is not a world of royal lineage and impeccable genetics. It’s its own beast: brash, cash-driven. There’s a deep on-line culture.
For many breeders and owners, bullies are more than just dogs. They’re status symbols. At many expos, sneaker resellers have their own booths showing off rare Air Jordans and streetwear. The dogs and the shoes exist on a similar plane: limited-edition, bold, and built to turn heads. And both can cost thousands.
The Continental Kennel Club has commented on the rise of “designer dogs,” noting that social media has radically changed the culture around pet ownership. On Instagram, breeders (who seem to have cracked the code on how to photograph these dogs) pose their bullies in aggressive fashion. Jorge Soto’s bully, affectionately named Redrum, gives a Kubrick stare into the camera that would make Jack Torrance shiver. The equally menacing but less aptly named Mr. Bean, from breeder Muscletone, pulls at his leash like a bodybuilder whose heart is one rep away from exploding.
Studs like them are huge moneymakers. Breeders charge thousands for puppies, sperm, or “lock-ins”, which are reserved rights to have your dog bred with the prized male. Puppies are marketed like collaborations. Like Nike teaming up with Ben & Jerry’s to make an ice-cream-themed sneaker, breeders invent dogs like Doughboy, whose family tree includes the pedigree of legendary studs Pimpy and Bape. Doughboy’s famously desirable parents appear multiple times on his family tree, a result of “line breeding,” a practice related to inbreeding where one or more dogs show up in a dog’s ancestry multiple times in order to encourage their traits.
Bully breeders seem to create a product uniquely shaped by the grotesque hand of the internet. Size is exaggerated. Eyes edited. Tri-color palettes are curated.
The American Bully was developed in the 1990s and first recognized as a breed in 2004 by the American Bully Kennel Club. Created by breeding American Pit Bull Terriers with various Bulldogs, the ABKC breed standard says bullies “should give the impression of great strength for its size.” Bullies are one of the newest official dog breeds. A freshman in college, basically.
Traditionally, dog breeds were developed based on utility. Even the Poodle, famous for its grooming rituals and world-class pedigree, was originally bred to retrieve ducks. However, in the 21st century, many breeders aren’t designing animals for any tangible purpose as much as for aesthetics.
Prioritizing appearance over health has had considerable consequences for bullies. Their elephantine heads, fleshy skin folds, and compressed snouts leave many with respiratory issues, overheating problems, and skeletal disorders. The American Kennel Club has drawn criticism from PETA, who argue that the standards for these dog breeds cause them “deformities, great suffering, and premature death.”
Online, resistance to bullies has organized into something more militant. The subreddit r/BanPitBulls contains a header showing the faces of dozens of children, all reportedly mauled by the bully breed. Users call bullies “Mengele Murder Mutts” and post security footage of attacks. In the U.K., the government banned XL Bullies in 2024. Any XL Bully still alive has to be registered, muzzled, and sterilized.
Back in Springfield, under the dripping concrete awning of the MassMutual Center, I stood next to a man built like a refrigerator wearing a Yankees cap and grinning at my Red Sox one.
“You’re wearing the wrong hat,” he spat.
“It’s definitely the wrong one this season,” I offered.
Down at his feet, on a pink leash, was a dog no bigger than his Timberlands.
“You’ve got a beautiful dog. What’s their name?”
“This is Tony. Smallest bully on the East Coast. Nobody here’s got a smaller one. Full grown,” he said. “Nobody has a smaller one.”
He reached out and shook my hand.
“It’s an honor,” I grinned.
I didn’t know if Tony could walk up a flight of stairs. I didn’t know if he could breathe properly. He was the product of this whole subculture that exists as both a celebration and a slow-motion car wreck.
A few minutes later, the clouds started to thin, and the line began inching forward. Tony took his place. The Rumble was still going.
For all the noise, the testosterone-fueled bravado, and the smell, I encountered the unmistakably human aspect at the heart of it. All these people standing in line, getting soaked down to their underwear, people without booths or profit incentives, looking to connect. In these dogs, people have poured their ambition, their hustle, their heartbreak, their need to be seen. Although through questionable practices, some breed bullies like they’re carving statues from marble; others just love them indiscriminately like children.
