I Quit.

It was past midnight on a Saturday as I raced through red lights with an eight-week-old Pit Bull puppy having seizures in my lap. Ricky had gotten into some medication he shouldn’t have at a friend’s house, and there was no way I was going to lose him. Eight months earlier, I cried and pounded my fist onto the concrete floor at my vet’s office after she told me there was nothing more she could do for my very ill 12-year old Pit, Petey.

I’ll do anything to protect my dog. I’m a Pit Bull owner. And I’m a New York Jets fan. I’ve been a Jets fan my entire life, and I’m not casual about it. I watch every game, read everything about them I can get my hands on, and proudly wear the team’s merchandise. I stick, through anything – terrible trades, terrible drafts, inept coaches, decades without a Super Bowl. I stay dedicated no matter what.

But on Friday, Michael Vick became a Jet. And my dedication came to an end.

In 2007, when Michael Vick was no longer able to cowardly deny his dog-fighting ring, his fans posted all kinds of thoughtful notions. “It’s not like he killed people!” “They were just Pit Bulls!” “Dog-fighting is a way of life in his culture!”

Actually, it’s a federal felony. It’s why Michael Vick denied and lied and begged for his freedom when he was caught. And why people like Russell Simmons and Reverend Al Sharpton joined with PETA against him.

After Michael Vick went to prison, I would occasionally see guys wearing his jersey in some sort of public act of defiance. I almost got out of my car one day on Hollywood Boulevard to personally yank a jersey off of someone.

Would my violence have been hypocritical? Not to me. Not when a guy is inviting confrontation. Dogs, on the other hand, don’t have a choice. I’ve had Pit Bulls for 14 years, which qualifies me enough to know that all they want to do is please people. If their owners want them to fight, they’ll fight. But when Michael Vick’s Pit Bulls didn’t have a taste for blood, or didn’t fight well enough, Michael Vick personally killed them – by gunshot, electrocution, drowning, hanging, swinging them around by the neck or, in at least one case, repeatedly slamming a dog against the ground.

Here are pics of Michael Vick holding a puppy, and the same puppy months later, after Michael got through with him:

This is the man whom my football team just gave a $5,000,000 contract.

Yes, Michael Vick served his time, and I suppose that entitles him to return to his career, just as much as I’m entitled to be horrified when my team puts winning ahead of the unimaginable things he’s done. If you think he’s a swell guy now because he paid his debt to society, ask yourself: would you want your company hiring a man who killed dozens of dogs? Would you want him living next door? Would you trust him with your kids? Would you let him dog-sit?

Some folks have already given it some thought:

For as long as Michael Vick is a Jet, I will not be a fan. I won’t go to Sharkeez every Sunday to watch the Jets play, or attend their game in San Diego this fall. I won’t pay attention to anything they do, with the exception of hoping they lose every game. Until the dog-killer is gone, this lifelong fan is out.

Here’s Ricky, as a puppy, with his Michael Vick chew toy:

Ricky loves everyone. He would give Michael Vick a second chance. But he’s much more forgiving than I. By the way, proceeds of the toy go to charities that raise awareness toward animal abuse. It apparently needs to be raised significantly in New York.

It’s truly heartbreaking to give up my team, but you forced me to choose sides, Jets. And I’ll choose the puppy in my lap every time. Goodbye.