By Michael Katz

Five years ago, when we went to adopt Kimball, the mutt, not the pure-bred sportswriter, we were given material on the care and feeding of dogs. There was a quote from Mahatma Gandhi on the cover:

“The greatness of a nation can be judged by the way its animals are treated.”

Let us not judge this land by Michael Vick or Roy Jones Jr. There can be no debate that fighting dogs or chickens is an abomination, and I don't care how “natural” it is. I mean, you don't hear Don King howling, “Only in America, the underdog must have its day because it's not the size of the dog in the fight, but as St. Thomas Aquinine said, it's the size of the fight in the dog.” Bob Arum isn't out hyping King Rex as the best in show of all-time. Not even boxing promoters, who make money (when they're good at it, like King and Arum) by satisfying the blood-lust of the public, would soil their hands on this so-called “sport” of dog-fighting.

Which brings up an interesting question. There's been a debate in my hometown paper, the Las Vegas Review-Journal, started by one chap who said dog-fighting was no worse than boxing. The response, of course, was that boxers go into dangerous combat of their own free will and the object, while it may be to render the opponent senseless, is not to kill, the way it is in dog and cock contests, the way it was before human combat became “civilized,” like back in the Roman arenas.

Animal losers, it has been pointed out, if they survive the match, are not recycled as bums of the month to build the records of pit bull prospects. In the Federal indictment of Vick and friends, it was spelled out in gory detail just how the losers were killed.

One of Vick's co-conspirators in the indictment has admitted to killing two dogs himself, one by shooting, one by electrocution, when they didn't do well in prelims. The original indictment mentioned that one dog was killed by slamming it repeatedly to the ground. Mike Tyson, whose bite has been known to be as bad as his bark, never treated sparring partners that badly.

Lamon Brewster, the former heavyweight title-holder, was among the first in boxing to decry dog-fighting, if nothing else as an affront to his relationship with his dog, named Slayton in loving memory of his late, great trainer, Bill Slayton.

But when I called one of the nicest guys in the game, one whose heart has reached out to challenged youths with a foundation he named Destiny's Child, I was somewhat taken aback. The Viper has been to dog fights.

“What we do in the ring,” said Vernon Forrest, “ain't that much different. Maybe the biggest difference is that dog-fighting is illegal and you can collect tax dollars on what is legal.”

Forrest had just walked in the door to his Atlanta home after driving up from his training camp in Florida where he had flown to from Tacoma after battering poor Cartlos Baldomir into retirement Saturday night. He was tired and sore and he knew that at least Baldomir wouldn't have to sell feather dusters in the streets when he got home to Santa Fe, Argentina. That's a minor difference between a losing fighter and a losing pit bull.

Forrest refused to join the crowd and pile on Vick, his Atlanta buddy. “I know Michael,” he said, “I have his number and he has mine.”

“I'm not here to judge him,” said Forrest. “People make up their minds right away. Mike has been proven guilty by public opinion. He's arraigned, not convicted, and he's lost contracts with his sponsors and he's not allowed to report to football camp. That's not fair.

“In the South, dog-fighting is part of the culture. It's like, if you have a dog and I have a dog, we'd want to see which one was tougher. It's almost a normal thing.”

In the South, I reminded Forrest, part of the culture once included slavery.

“I'm not an advocate for dog-fighting,” he said. “I'm not an advocate against it. I'm just trying to tell you how it is.

““You know, we had this same conversation two days ago, me and my trainer, Al Mitchell and Buddy McGirt. Dogs do the exact same thing we boxers do. They go running in the morning, you watch 'em fight, they're moving back and forth, up on their toes. In a way, it's the same thing as street-fighting, like the MMA before they legalized it.”

He said he wasn't into cock fights. “Nor do I LIKE dog fights. Roy talks about his cock-fighting all the time.” But he said the outcry over these “games” people make animals play till the death should also be echoed in other aspects.

“They got test monkeys, what do they do when they get old? They put 'em down, don't they? They don't return them to the jungle. Look at zoos. Is that right? Horse racing, I've seen horses beat by whips. There are a lot of barbaric things.”

Boxing may be one of them. Yes, there are major differences between the “sweet science” and roosters fighting with razor-edged claws. But what they both have in common can be seen in the audiences: The vile and the ugly.

Forrest has noticed it the few times he's not been a participant and has sat ringside, “you see the blood lust of the fans. I guess we encourage it, but I wonder sometimes about the people who enjoy the ultimate violence.”

He mocked the so-called “sweet science.” Most people,” he said, “boo when they see real good boxing.”

Michael Katsidis, the heir apparent to Arturo Gatti as Larry Merchant's favorite brawler, engaged with Czar Amonsot in 11 rounds of fight-of-the-year quality on the Bernard Hopkins-Winky Wright undercard this month. When he caught his breath momentarily in the 12th round, there was loud booing.

It was like the scene in my favorite boxing movie, “The Set-Up,” which I erroneously attributed to another director when I know damn well it was Robert Wise's brilliant work, where the camera pans the crowd to show us the impassioned faces hoping to see a human being rendered unconscious.

Anytime I turn my head at ringside, I see those same faces. Of course, not all the faces look alike. There are those in the crowd who want to see not only a contest of wills and skills, but also to marvel at the courage and tenacity of the human spirit, the never-say surrender backbone that has enabled man to rise above the animals.

Forrest saw it in the man he defeated last Saturday, the tough Baldomir.

“I take my hat off to him,” said Forrest, once again at 36 at least a titular boxer who can at least hope for a mega-payday. “I see a lot of myself in him. He's hard-working, determined and there's no quit in him. In the 12th round, even though I was tattooing his head (and was way out in front), he was still trying to win. And he's a road warrior, goes into other people's homes and knocks them off, even undefeated ones.”

“What about those two guys that night who will never fight again?” said Forrest, referring to Amonsot and Oscar Larios, who lost a thriller to the game's newest young star, Jorge Linares. Both were found to have small bleeds on the brain and will be unable to fight again. At least they were treated better than canine losers; it is unlikely they get MRI's and CAT-scans.

Last week, one of my talented colleagues on BoxingScene.com, Keith Terceira, offered a piece surveying the sports pages and concluding, “The Sport of Boxing Not Looking So Evil.” In it, he took to task the baseball writers for sticking their heads (no, not there) in the sand and willfully refusing to address or investigate the suspected use of performance-enhancing chemicals. Terceira argued that, following the 1994 strike, baseball writers, whom as a group I hold in very low esteem, instead did purblic relations for the game which gives them such a nice life style - spring training every year, girls in every road stop.

Terceira also pointed to Michel Vick and Barry Bonds, the alleged fixing of games in the NBA, and concluded that boxing for a change was not the whipping boy for the national media.

Not that boxing hasn't had it own little scandals. But at least, when a basketball referee from the Philadelphia area is accused of tampering, his name is not Zack Clayton, and the mob connections are not to Art Pellulo or Bernard Hopkins. But it wasn't long ago that Thomas Williams was found taking a dive to that talent-less New Yorker, Richie Melito, and never mind about the so-called “good old days” when fighters from world champs to pugs were told, “This ain't your night.”

Barry Bonds has not been caught or indicted for using steroids. So far. Being from Atlanta, naturally Forrest is familiar with Hank Aaron. Again, the boxer comes to the defense of the accused, saying “again, it's got to be proven first, we've got a lot of allegations, but I thought in this country you're innocent until proven guilty.”

That's in a courtroom. But Forrests says Aaron's silence at the approach of the toppling of his home-run record could be a result of what the Braves slugger went through when he was nearing the mark set by Babe Ruth. There was a lot of filthy racist crap going on back then and Forrest said Aaron, “who was ostracized by the public,” may feel some empathy because “the same thing is being done to Barry Bonds.”

Of course, Mr. Terceira should not gloat at baseball's discomfort over the steroid issue, not when you can suspect almost every heavyweight this side of Chris Byrd of sometimes adding a little juice to their regimens.

Boxing can not live in a glass house, but at least it now has lots of company in the sewer.

PENTHOUSE: Who knows how long it will last, but the truce between Golden Boy and Top Rank - Richard Schaeffer and Bob Arum may be watching each other's backs, but is it to see where to eventually stick the knife? - has already helped make 2007, on the calendar at least, one of the great vintage years. Add to Manny Pacquiao-Marcos Antonio Barrera II such co-promotions as Miguel Cotto-Sugar Shane Mosley and Joan Guzman-Humberto Soto, such goodies as Floyd Mayweather Jr.-Ricky Hatton, Joe Calzaghe-Mikkel Kessler, Juan Manuel Marquez-Jorge Barrios and Juan Diaz-Julio Diaz. Throw in a rare heavyweight “unification” fight between Sultan Ibragimov and Ruslan Chagaev, Oleg Maskaev-Samuel Peter and the return of Vitali Klitschko, sprinkle with Chad Dawson-Antonio Tarver and Jean-Marc Mormeck-David Haye, and hell, so what if Roy Jones Jr. finds a dance partner?

OUTHOUSE: They're still doing it, feeding pablum to build up phony records and expecting the consumer to pay for steak. There's a no-talent heavyweight named Roman Greenberg - he gets puff pieces done on another web site because its owner manages him - who has a 25-0 record on a minor-league pay-per-view card next week in Utah, headlined by David Tua's latest baby step, the ancient Saul Montana. For weeks, Greenberg's opponent was listed as “TBA.” You would think, after 25 straight victories, he'd be matched a little tougher. Well, he was not. TBA has turned into Damon Reed, some clown from Topeka who not only was knocked out in five by cruiserweight Dale Brown, has actually lost to aforementioned Richie Melito.

MOVING DAZE: Returning home after six months of temporary residence next to Sonny Liston's old abode has given me the pleasure of going through a few hundred cardboard boxes. In one, I discovered a long forgotten notebook whose first page has no heading. In other words, I have no remembrance of who said these first three lines in it, none whatsoever, though I'm sure there'll be lines forming claiming authorship. They were one after another, nothing in between, at the top of the first page:

“You have obviously have more faith in my profession than I do.”

“I believe he vomited when he realized he wasn't going to get paid.”

I'm glad he got hurt, he should have gotten hurt worse.”

GOOD NEWS: This Saturday is another case of dueling dates, but at least in my Pacific time zone, because there's a taped delay on the “Rematch of the Year” between Rafael Marquez and Israel Vazquez, I won't have to get a TiVo or whatever. Hopefully, I'll have cable by Saturday. Moving is not fun, and you don't need me to tell you that. I'll certainly buy Bob Arum's pay-per-view from Rosemont, Ill., the “War for 4” where Erik Morales, in his twilight, tries to become the first Mexican boxer to win a title in four different weight classes. Morales, now up to 135 pounds, challenges another Diaz, David, for some interim or whatever belt. The real lightweight champion is Joel Casamayor, no matter what the alphabets say or do. Anyway, last time I looked, this was a pick 'em fight, which inidicates, to me anyway, that the “smart” money is on the unheralded Diaz.

There are good reasons for that. Morales was last seen getting stopped in three in the rubber match of his series with Manny Pacquiao. Diaz has been fighting at 135 and junior welter during his career. He's a hard-working over-achiever who I saw twice chase the infinitely more talented Zab Judah out of the ring, in the 1996 Olympic Trials and again the Olympic Boxoffs.

Morales says Diaz's head-down, straightforward approach is the perfect style for him. It's also the perfect style for Diaz. Morales showed no legs against Pacquiao and he'll be facing a bigger and presumably stronger guy here. Even at 130, El Terrible was not knocking guys out. Diaz is fighting in his hometown - well, Chicago is at least a suburb of Rosemont. He's said, “No way I'm going to lose in front of my fans.”

But Morales has been such a game fighter through all these years, through the great trilogies with Barrera and Pacquiao, the top-flight guys he's beaten from Junior Jones, Kevin Kelley, Paulie Ayala, Wayne McCullough, Carlos Hernandez and Jesus Chavez, it's difficult to remember he won his first title at 118 pounds by sending Daniel Zaragoza into well-earned retirement. It's hard to root against him.

The other main event of the night is of course the main event. Earlier this year, little brother Marquez moved up from bantamweight to try one of the biggest punchers at 122. It was a beauty of fight, dominated by the quicker hands and better skills of the Nacho Beristain-trained Marquez. But Vazquez, seemingly out of it, floored Marquez and the tide might have been turning - except for the lack of oxygen. Vazquez's nose suffered such damage that he had to quit on his stool after seven great rounds and his old trainer, Freddie Roach, fears for his health in the rematch. Roach thinks Vazquez should have taken at least a year off to allow the nose to heal.

Maybe that's why the line, Marquez almost a 3-1 favorite last time I peeked, is so high. Vazquez will have a good man in the corner, even without Roach. Rudy Perez, who has been training only Barrera in recent years, takes over.

Even up, there's no question I'd like Marquez. At very high odds, I think I'll keep my pockets closed and my eyes open. It's another example of two good fighters meeting - it almost has to be a good fight.

MACHO ADO: Must wish a happy retirement to Hector Camacho Jr., whom I've known almost his whole life. He wasn't his old man in the ring, but thankfully he wasn't outside, either. I liked the Macho man. His son was a class act, though…..Talk about straight lines: On his chat with his beloved “freaks,” Dandy Dan Rafael was confronted by a Roy Jones Jr. fan trying to convince the man who invented boxing that his hero had a legitimate reason he lost the first time to Antonio Tarver. The freak asked if Dandy knew how hard it was to lose twenty pounds of muscle. Well, it was certainly worth a belly laugh.