22 February

Getting A Dog, Cont. First Thing. “What Do I Want?”

by Jon Katz
What Do I Want?
What Do I Want?

Maria asked me last week what the first thing I did was when I started the process of getting a dog. A good and important question, perhaps the most important question. The first thing I do is ask myself “What Kind Of Dog Do I Want?”

It’s a simple and somewhat obvious question, yet I meet very few people  ask it. People get a dog because of a movie or video on YouTube. They get a dog because they want to rescue something. They get a dog because their child saw one in a pet shop window, because they saw a cute puppy. They only want a dog that is free, the dog is less important than the cost. They have a favorite breed they always get.

Almost everyone I meet tells me about the problems they are having with their dogs – you would not believe the horror stories that come in my e-mail. They seem perpetually surprised that dogs don’t come in neat pre-trained packages. One woman who went to a backyard breeder was stunned that the dog had severe allergies and gum problems. A man who will not consider any dog but a rescue taken from a shelter cannot imagine why his dog is traumatized by strange noises and is aggressive around men. A woman who bought her daughter a Lab puppy for Christmas cannot understand why the dog, confined to the basement of their house every day, is overweight, destructive, and neurotic.

There are lot of different dogs, lots of reasons to get them, lots of ways to get them. I think about what I want from a dog, what I can give them, what they can give me, how I wish to spend many years with them, what  do I wish to do with them? And what do I know about them?

What do I want in a dog?

– I want a dog I can trust. A dog who will be still and secure when a 13-month-old baby crawls onto his back and kisses him.

– I want a grounded dog, that is, a dog whose temperament is known to me, and who will behave in ways that are predictable to me. A dog I can trust to not harm a human or another dog.

– I want a healthy dog. As it is, dogs do not live very long, we will all experience grief and loss if we live with them. I want a dog who is hardy. I don’t want a dog who is frail or prone to bone, joint, skin or respiratory problems. I don’t want lots of vet bills.

– I want a dog who is biddable, that is healthy and grounded enough and smart enough to be trainable. To be calm enough to look me in the eye, hear signals and commands, respond to training, which I take very seriously. Calmness is essential to obedience and training, if a dog doesn’t know his name (most don’t) or can’t look  you in the eye or listen you, they cannot be trained well. I have never had a dog with separation anxiety, I have never had a dog run off, I have never had a dog run in the street.

That is not a tribute to my genius, it is a testament for me, to the way I get my dogs.

– I want a dog who will help me continue my work to be a better human. I have never seen a happy or healthy dog living with an angry or frustrated person. To have the dog  you really want, you do have to be a better human being – compassionate, patience, empathetic.

– I want a dog who wants to work. Dogs who work, like horses who work, have a vitality and purpose that I will share with them. It connects us to one another, grounds the both of us. You don’t need sheep to have a working dog, there are all kinds of work for dogs to do if given the opportunity.

– I want a spirit dog, a dog who will enter my life and mark the passages of it, a dog who can ride with me, walk with me, who can do therapy work if it is appropriate, who can be with me in the theater of chance. Not a pet, but a partner.

– I want a dog with intelligence and powerful instinct, a dog who can grow and learn, sit by my feet or run in the woods. I will give him or her the opportunity to work and experience a wide range of life, I ask the dog to respect me and my property and my house and my dignity. To walk peacefully with me, honor the time I need to work, and then go share my world.

For me, having a dog is a spiritual and creative experience, I do not seek obedience, I seek a wiser and more mystical understanding of animals. An animal who  is eager to be socialized, who will share the joys and travails of my life, who will be connected to me but also have a life and a sense of self that is apart from me. I do not need a dog in my lap every minute.

Although many people like to tell me what to do and how to get a dog, I like the way I do it. I have had remarkable dogs – Orson, Rose, Pearl, Lenore, Izzy, Frieda, now Red. I have made many mistakes along the way, learned a lot of things. I hope I never stop learning, that is the first death.

My way works for me. I do not set out in advance to say “I will only get this kind of dog or that,” or “I will only get a rescue dog or a bred dog,” or “I will only get a free dog or an old dog.” I start by asking myself what precisely do I wish to do with my dog, and then setting out to find which kind of dogs match those desires and ambitions. It is not easy, but it is not that difficult either. Human beings tend to be both lazy and arrogant when it comes to getting dogs, they think only of themselves and their own emotions, not the dogs.

On my search, I learn about breeders, I talk to breeders, or I talk with rescue or shelter workers, I talk to vets, sometimes to behaviorists. I want to know as much as I can about the dogs I get, I do not wish to live in conflict with them, to make their lives miserable, to yell at them all the time, to come home to damage and mayhem, to wrestle with them on walks, to see them jump on people or be out of control. I do not wish to be in conflict with my dogs, it is not about that for me. I am not willing to accept that as a necessary by-product of my own ignorance or selfishness.

I am passionate about the process of training dogs, of showing them how to be calm, of learning how to communicate with them through food, emotions, visualization.

What I want is a nice dog, a dignified dog, a versatile dog.  A loving dog. The sky is the limit with me and dogs, there are endless possibilities if I do the work now and open my mind to the things we can do together. There are very few possibilities if I don’t. It is not my wish to have a dog whose boundaries of life are my house and my backyard. I want a lot more than that,  they offer a lot more than that.

So those are some of the things that I want. There are probably more, and I will think about them.

I know this is hard work, I have done it again and again. I am doing it now. Anything worthwhile doing in life is hard and takes thought. There are many good ways to get a dog. I will explore all of them.

22 February

Find Red: The Last Stand

by Jon Katz
Last Stand
Last Stand

Red is in this photo somewhere, he popped his head up looking for me as I shoveled off the buried car. One friend has invited us to California, another to her home in Florida. We are making our last stand right here, just like the pioneers. I mean, we didn’t come here to be warm or comfortable and sit by the pool. We came to put our lips to the world and just live. So here we are, my lips are chapped but they are determined. Would you want to be anywhere else?,” I asked Maria. She hesitated just a bit. No, she said. Me too.

I’m a writer and every day, my farm yields an idea, a story, a photo, a lesson. Why be anywhere else?

22 February

The Disappearing Farmhouse. Hitchcock’s Revenge.

by Jon Katz
Disappearing Farmhouse
Disappearing Farmhouse

I saw a horror movie once, and the plot seemed dumb at the time, a blizzard manufactured by a deranged scientist sought out the homes of people he wanted to destroy and the victims thought it was just another snowstorm, but it was a thinking blizzard and it kept snowing until the targeted homes were completely enveloped in snow and his enemies belatedly realized they were trapped inside and by the time they grasped what was happening,  it was too late for them to get out.

It might have been an Alfred Hitchcock tale, maybe Rod Serling. It can literally give you the chills, and we have them.

It doesn’t seem all that dumb to me anymore, our farmhouse is being enveloped by snow, there is no place to put it or move. And more of it comes every day – a foot last night.  I realized this morning, as I tried to shovel the snow away from the car, that there was no place to shovel it, the car is surrounded by mountains of snow.  The new wood on the porch is buried, we had to dig our way out of the door. Poor Red can’t even see the pasture.

If you don’t hear from us in a few days,  remember all of the good times we shared (the bad ones too) and do not under any circumstances come and get us. It will be too late.  Protect yourselves. Maybe we can make it to the Roundhouse for some of Scott’s pancakes before the world disappears in a great white cloud. Like my pal Simon, I had a good run.

22 February

Hemmed In. Red Stumped. The Flight Of The Bedlam Refugees.

by Jon Katz
Stymied
Stymied

For the first time in his work life, Red (and the rest of us) are stymied, hemmed in, shut down by more snow than I have ever seen in my young life. No sheep herding, he cannot see the sheep, move the sheep, do one of his believed outruns. He can’t do much of anything but sit and look nervous and frustrated.

We got another foot or so last night. We spent the usual couple of hours digging paths, raking roofs, cleaning off cars. We are planning to flee to an inn for a one-night stand to keep warm and sleep and get away from our upstate Siberian tundra. I’m not sure we can get the car dug out and into the road or if the roads are passable to where we are heading. This winter is humbling, it will probably take until summer for all of this to melt.

I did feel bad for Red. We shoveled a path to the feeder and got some hay to the animals. Tyler is coming later to help dig more snow out. I think Red may have a nervous breakdown, he knows where the sheep are, he just cannot get to them. I think Liam is jeering at him through the fence and the snow mounds.

Tomorrow, more arctic cold.

Email SignupFree Email Signup