11 October

Frieda’s World. Storming Columbus

by Jon Katz
Frieda's world

For years, she lived out in the Adirondacks, hunting for food. Lately, the playful Frieda has emerged, and she loves her read squeaky toy, which she dug up out of the ground in the back. Mischief in those eyes. Tomorrow, to Washington D.C. for interviews, then to Virginia Wednesday to appear with Rita Mae Brown at Borders in Bailey’s Crossing, Va.

We are going to the Red Fox in Glens Falls Friday night (the Crandall Library) and then to the Halfmoon Library in Clifton Park on Saturday and after that, we storm Columbus Ohio, holding our renegade reading at the Book Loft in German Village at 2 p.m. Sunday. Facebook got us there, I have to say. We’re doing the talk in the courtyard of the Book Loft, a famous independent store, and the weather is supposed to be perfect. I am doing a series of guerrilla readings along the tour route.

11 October

Crazy time

by Jon Katz
Navigating the crazy time

Now begins the crazy time. For the next month, I am traveling, speaking, or giving interviews at least one a day, sometimes more. My voice is already gone, I’m already tired, I’ll miss the farm, and I will not be able to do my work for a long time. I really hate that. I am grateful to have a book tour, eager to battle for my novel, glad to meet the people who read my blog and books and see my photos. That is special. But it is a crazy and disruptive time, far from my life, hours of driving, talking, interacting. I will be glad to get home and get to work, as I am glad to get out there and fight for my work.

The first phase of a book’s life is the oddest. You wait to see how it is received, and sense if it is selling or not. The book is being very well received (somewhat more controversial than I would have expected) and I gather it is also selling well. I can now leave those concerns behind. The second phase is mustering the focus and energy to talk well about my ideas, to get them out there and make it worthwhile for the good people who come to meet me and hear my ideas. That is a very special and rewarding thing, and I love it. Then comes the practical side – eating well, getting laundry done, moving a border collie around the country, feeing him and exercising him, fending off people who bring dogs to readings, fighting fatigue, taking throat lozenges, drinking tea, trying to sleep. Getting clothes cleaned, Izzy groomed, the car serviced, bills paid. Worry about the farm, and the water and the donkeys and the other dogs left behind.

Was in a restaurant last night and at the bar were three people who were talking about me and my farm. They came to the farm and sat there for an hour waiting for me to come out, and they were annoyed that I wasn’t there. I shook my head. Life is a mixed blessing.

Anyway, I am thinking about handling the crazy time. I will meditate in the morning, and at night. I will not read the news or listen to it. I will get several books and e-books together to read on the trip. I will focus on making sure that I treat teach interview, talk and reading as if it were the first and only, so that noone ever leave it feeling I am sick of it, tired or bored. I will not be any of those things. It is magical to get to talk about your work to people who care about it. And I will look ahead to November, when I will be holed up in my office, looking out at the donkeys, surrounded by four wonderful dogs who much admire me and my work.

11 October

Dogs and heaven. I hope not.

by Jon Katz
My font yard, at Bedlam Farm

A reporter asked me last week if I believed that dogs go to heaven, and I said I didn’t know. When I posted the question on Facebook, just about everyone who replied said dogs surely go to heaven. It’s an odd idea, really. There are two things I avoid like the plague – discussions of theology or politics, two areas where Americans have seemingly lost the ability to have rational conversations. Dogs might be the third, although I can’t really avoid that.

In fairness, I gave some thought to the question this weekend. What do I think? First off, I think it’s presumptuous for us to assume dogs will go to heaven because we want them to be there. Heaven is a human notion, not, as far as I know, a canine idea or aspiration.

Why would dogs want to go to heaven, and sit up in the blue clouds and float around with nothing to do? Would they be able to chase each other there? Roll in disgusting stuff? Have sex? Chew carpets and furniture? Lick themselves for hours? I doubt it. We don’t even let them do those things here, let alone in the celestial space.

In my mind, dog heaven would be quite different from human ideas about heaven. Dog have would have lots of sofas to lie on, gardens to dig up, the freedom to run offleash, and chase chipmunks, lawns with holes in them, unrestricted sex, areas to fight and squabble with one another, animals to chase and kill, lots of smelly, rotting things to rub and roll in.

We humans are an arrogant lot, much more so than the faithful dog. We assume that because we think or want something, then our dogs would naturally think or want the same thing. They must think what we think, feel what we feel.

They must be going to heaven because we want them to be there.  I don’t like the idea myself.

I have no idea who is going to heaven, me, dogs or anybody else. So far, I don’t think I deserve it.

But if there is a heaven for humans, my greatest wish for all the great dogs I know is that they don’t have to go there, just because we are there. For their sakes, I hope they don’t have to go there at all.

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