Katz - The Story of Rose

The Story of Rose

A Man and His Dog

Jon Katz

Ballantine eBooks

New York

2012 Ballantine eBook Original Copyright 2012 by Jon Katz
Excerpts from Dancing Dogs and Going Home 2012 by Jon Katz

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

eISBN: 978-0-345-54265-6

Cover design: Victoria Allen Cover photograph: Jon Katz

www.ballantinebooks.com

v3.1

The Story of Rose
Dancing Dogs
Lenore Finds a Friend
Going Home
Meet the Dogs of Bedlam Farm
Rose in a Storm
Soul of a Dog
Izzy & Lenore
Dog Days
A Good Dog
Katz on Dogs
The Dogs of Bedlam Farm
The New Work of Dogs
A Dog Year
Geeks
Running to the Mountain
Virtuous Reality
Media Rants
Sign Off
Death by Station Wagon
The Family Stalker
The Last Housewife
The Fathers Club
Death Row

To Andy Barzvi

Rose, looking back

Sometimes, when you are inside of a story, you cant really see it. Lately, three months after Roses death, I am getting a clearer picture of her, and of us. Of what a wonderful story her life with me was.

When I think of classic dog stories, I think of my favorite, The Call of the Wild, by Jack London, which I read for the first time as an adolescent. This story is very different from mine, but one common thread runs through them both: Man and Dog, together on what Joseph Campbell called the heros journey. In The Call of the Wild, a dog is cruelly mistreated, enters the life of a man, saves it literally at times, metaphorically at others, changes his life, opens it up to new experience, to his own humanity, and gives him the strength to move forward.

Reading London, thinking of my own life, I realized how dogs and humans shape and reflect each other, and how that is the story of Rose and me. It was a case of that rare but absolutely perfect collision of human and animal, each one defining, seeking, and needing the other at precisely the right time in precisely the right way.

I like to say you get the dog you need, and I dont think any human ever needed a dog more than I needed Rose in the fall of 2003, when I impulsively bought a run-down ninety-acre farm in a remote upstate New York hamlet neither I nor anyone else had ever heard of. I wanted to know more about dogs and other animals, and I wanted to write about them, so I arrived with twenty-five sheep, a beat-up, grumpy old donkey, and absolutely no understanding of what it means to be on a farm with animals. I had, in fact, never set foot on a farm in my life.

Sometimes, if we are lucky, our instincts are working even if our conscious brains are not. I knew I needed a working dog, a border collie, so I flew to Denver to get one. I named her Rose, after a Quaker woman who befriended me during a time of need. Truly, there have not been too many times in my life when I have made a better move.

Jack Londons Call of the Wild entered my adolescent imagination, inspired me to be a writer, and shaped my view of the soul of a dog. In an age of nearly epidemic emotionalizing and sentimentalizing of animals, Londons Buck still reminds us, as Rose so often reminded me, that the dog is an animal at heart. That, even with imperfect masters, the canine soul is pure, loyal, and dependable.

London also reminds us that we are descended from apes, and they are descended from wolves. And that is a big difference. Buck thought nothing of serving even the most cruel and detestable of people, and when he finally found one worthy of him, he offered his life again and again to serve his human being. In the end, he abandoned our species to return to his own, free at last to answer the call of the wild.

Like Buck, Rose deserved better. But she didnt seem to care or notice and her presence helped make me a better human. Unlike us, dogs are not judgmental. She offered her life for mine again and again. Uninterested in cuddles, treats, or cuteness, she was all about work, loyalty, and getting it done.

It did not take Rose long to change my life. In fact, she saved it more than once. As Campbell forewarned in his books about people who change their lives, you can fall into a dark place. I did, and Rose jumped in with me and walked, battled, and loved me through it. Campbell writes that if we are fortunate on the heros journey, and if we wish to survive it, we will encounter magical helpers, often in the form of animals, to help us along the way.

Rose was my magical helper. On the farm, I walked in terror and loneliness and confusion. And sometimes, something I had not anticipatedreal danger. She was there, every step of the way, to walk in front of me, alongside of me, and to cover my back.

She had a remarkable connection to all people who love dogs, but especially to working women, who saw themselves in her courage and her vulnerability. Rose was not a pet, really. She did not like to be touched or to cuddle in public, did not care about food or treats, had no desire to sleep in anybodys bed, and did not care for anyone who did not work with sheep or bring them to the farm.

If Rose reminds me of the mythic dogs in classic stories, I am well aware that I do not fit the mold. I am no John Thornton or Lassies Timmy. I am the first lost middle-class man to join this lexicon. On the heros journey, heroes are not always noble or brave. They are filled with yearning and profoundly flawed. Campbell defined a hero in the context of people who seek to leave their familiar lives and set out to find themselves. The oldest story in the world, perhaps. This is probably the only circumstance in which the word hero will ever be used alongside my name.

I came to my farm in middle age, with a wearying soul, flat, sore feet, a balding head, and city ways. I am not a country boy, an outdoorsman, or an adventurer. I have lived in New York, Providence, Boston, Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia, Dallas, and northern New Jersey.

I have come to love my farm and my life in the country as much as any of those places, but it was a long way from there to here. Rose was my witness, my partner, my deputy. If I thought there was drama in my life as a police reporter, I had no idea how much drama is built into a living farm with real livestock and disintegrating barns and buildings. I was unprepared for the unpredictable life of animals, natural disasters, and ever-present predators. My journey also triggered the collapse of my personal life, the end of my marriage, and a long plunge into darkness, fear, and confusion.

I did not expect Rose to die so soon. But I do not see her life as tragic. Quite the opposite. I was so lucky to have known her, loved her, worked with her. What a ride we had together. This book is a celebration and remembrance of a wonderful dog, a powerful spirit, my great friend, and yes, a great love.

Of all the great animal stories, The Call of the Wild touched me the most deeply. Perhaps because it was the least sentimental, the best written. Perhaps because London was careful to respect the real nature of a real animal. He recognized that all dogs are descended from wolves, and in the right circumstances, they can all hear the call of the wild. In Bucks search to find his life, we see our own sometimes painful wish to do the same.