February 27, 2008 – Clearing, cold. Yuk. Roads being plowed. Granville class postponed.
Got this wondrous e-mail from Brazil, a first for me, I think, although I go get e-mail from all over the globe.
This was from Ivana Janousek, who read “A Good Dog,” the story of my beloved border collie Orson, who I put down after he injured three people. The book is the story of my amazing relationship with Orson, who was responsible for my writing about dogs and coming to Bedlam Farm.
  Some people thought I was wrong to put him down, but few have been as wondrously expressive as Ivana:

  “I have to tell you that you are despicable, cruel murderer and it doesn’t deserve the respect of anybody.
   “Did he/she/you already stop to think that if your survival law was worth for the humans you would be a candidate for the euthanasia? Euthanasia not only because Orson was healthy, happy, he was your true friend, perhaps your only friend.”
  Ivana says she burned the book after she read it, “If I will write everything I feel him/it of bad of for you it would be hours typing, but I won’t lose more of my time with a human garbage like you. Did I and all the Brazilian readers hate you, already entered in Orkut to see your popularity?
 Scrotum, garbage, hideous man.”

             -Ivana

  This message definitely belongs in the complaints and compliments section but as I have never before been called a scrotum (I have been called garbage), I thought it was definitely worth passing on. Orson was a remarkable dog, and the book sparked some understandable controversy among dog lovers. I am a follower of Hannah Arendt and I always adhere to the notion that you have to please yourself, not others, and not hate yourself when you look in the mirror. The standard is self-respect, not approval. I am okay with the decision to put Orson down, and have always been, as I value human life more than dogs, much as I love them.
  I think it is mesmerizing, the idea of Ivana firing off this impassioned message from Brazil, landing in the snowy tranquilty of the farm. I bet it’s warm there.

—  the Hideous Man