Jon Katz: Good thing his dogs love him, right?

March 22, 2008

Life’s never been easy for anyone trying to make a living as a writer, but in the old days you were either dealing with the starvation that comes with being unknown (unless you married well and or lived off an inheritance) or weeping privately into your pillow after reading the work of professional critics in journals that were often pretty darn obscure.

Oh, for the simple days of yesteryear!

Now, of course, every word you write or say is examined, your facts checked, your subconscious or potentially hidden agendas speculated upon. And everyone with an Internet connection is a critic, like the person who trashed my “Dogs For Dummies” on a book-sellers Web site because it wasn’t much about Boxers. Well, it wasn’t much about Dachshunds or Irish Wolfhounds or Finnish Spitz, either. It’s a general reference, duh. Or the person who trashed the same book because it recommends the use of a crate for house-training — she thought that cruel in the extreme, even though it’s been common, accepted practice by trainers and behaviorists for a couple decades now.

This is all by way of saying if you’re going to put it out there, you’d better have a pretty tough hide because you’re going to need it.

Jon KatzWhich brings me to Jon Katz.

Katz is a very talented writer who knocked around for a long time writing on all kinds of topics. And then, I’m guessing by accident as much as anything else, he latched onto the subject of dogs. Success breeds success, and soon, too soon perhaps, Katz was writing about pretty much nothing else except dogs, border collies to be precise. And soon, without the years of work, apprenticeship and study that characterize the true “dog man/woman,” he went from an expert writer on the subject of dogs to an expert on dogs who writes about them.

If there’s one breed in which that’s truly not advisable, it’s the border collie.

The loathing each faction of serious border collie people has for the people within another faction is truly quite remarkable in the dog world. (The heated show-field split in some sporting breeds is a mere preschool food fight by comparison.) The agility border collie people hate the show border collie people who hate the obedience border collie people who hate the stockdog border collie people and they all hate hate hate people who get a border collie for an under-stimulated suburban family pet. It’s not by chance that regular Pet Connection reader Christopher has called his blog Border Wars. It’s ugly out there.

But whether because ignorance is truly bliss or because he knows controversy sells books or because after knocking about for years as a writer he actually doesn’t give a damn what people think — or all of these combined — Katz bravely/foolishly finally writes a book about a border collie with a behavior problem: The dog bites people. After page after page of angst and some previous work from other places, most notably his Slate.com column, Katz decides that the dog needs to be killed, so that happens.

At that point things go nuclear.

One editor tells me that Jon Katz is “the most vile human being ever born,” which, I don’t know, seems just a little over the top. And now the brilliant Luisa, over on Lassie Get Help, lets the world know in no uncertain terms that Jon Katz … well, look to the right and you get the point. Or read on:

Jon Katz has parlayed inept stockmanship and mismanagement of his dogs into a Slate column, a movie deal, the odd radio appearance and a string of books, and there’s a website, too, but I won’t link to it. [Oh, all right, dammit: here.] He is a willfully ignorant, patronizing author who wants you to believe everything he tells you about dogs in general and border collies in particular even though, gosh, he’s never claimed to be an expert or anything. And besides, experts are just big old snobs, ha ha ha! He is like that man who wrote The Emigrants’ Guide to Oregon and California back in 1845 with directions to a new route he’d never actually traveled himself and when a group of settlers took his “shortcut,” they wound up struggling across the Wasatch Range and the salt flats of western Utah and were trapped in the snows in the High Sierra, where they ran out of food and resorted to cannibalism.

On second thought, he’s much worse than that.

Whoa! Talk about a tough room. No-kill flame-thrower Nathan Winograd doesn’t much like him, either:

[F]ear mongering at HSUS has taken a new turn with the publication of an interview with best-selling author Jon Katz, author of “A Good Dog,” in the current issue of Animal Sheltering entitled: “I Chose a Child’s Face Over My Dog.” The question and answer format with Katz does nothing to illuminate the truth about aggression or dangerous dogs, and in fact, only serves to heighten stereotypes and perpetuate myths. That Katz killed his dog because of what he considered severe aggression is not what one takes from the article. That would have been a very different piece, a tragedy for all involved—Jon Katz, his dog, and the people his dog hurt. And maybe, just maybe, our hearts would have hurt for all of them.

Instead, HSUS asks a series of very deliberate questions which not only globalize the tragedy that occurred in the Katz family, but appear to assume the worst in dogs, and the worst in people who want to see less of them killed. Opposition is dismissed as irresponsible. Dog lovers are pitted against children. It’s the type of either-or, you-are-with-us-or-against-us, your-dog-or-your-child hysteria most of us, especially those of us who love both our dogs and our kids, dismissed long ago. In fact, the parallel to attacks the nascent animal welfare movement was subjected to from industries which hurt animals is stark. Our movement’s history is littered with these sorts of unfair accusations by those who profit from animal exploitation.

And even Terrierman Patrick Burns gets off a great line:

Getting advice on dogs from Jon Katz is about like getting cooking tips from Jeffrey Dahmer; yes, it’s cooking, but …. well, should there be leg bones in the soup?

Good job, Jon! You’ve managed to piss off not only the border collie people, but the no-kill movement and the working terrier contingent, too. Maybe your next book could be about, oh, I don’t know, abortion. Just to take a break from controversy.

Albert Payson TerhuneAs I mentioned on Luisa’s blog, I see Jon Katz as a latter-day — and hugely more talented — version of Albert Payson Terhune, the latter once the nation’s best-selling author — not best-selling dog author, but best-selling anything author — famous for such hackery as “Lad: A Dog.” (Check it out: They even kinda look alike!) Terhune also took on the mantle of dog expert, even though he barely knew which end bit and which … well, you get the picture. People who truly knew about dogs at the time (1920s and ’30s) loathed him. (Since then, part of Terhune’s old property has been restored as a shrine and at least two biographies have been written about him. Not sure what to take away from that in terms of a lesson.)

So, no, Katz is no more a dog expert than Terhune was, although like Terhune, Katz seems happy to cash the checks for being seen as one and to encourage that perception.

I’ve never met Katz or talked to him — although I’ve exchanged an e-mail or two with his wife, also a writer — so all I know of the man is what I pick up from reading his stuff, which I have, almost all of it.

I could personally do with a lot less of the definitive spouting of expertise he really doesn’t seem to have, but that’s his business, and he gets to write any way he wants and face the fallout. (He has also written the piece I’ve linked to probably more than any other in this blog, and it’s here on Slate.com.)

But my bottom line on Katz is that he’s worthy of his place in the discussion, and it’s just fine with me that he challenge the orthodoxy. Whether he does it for money, fame or an interest in dogs is irrelevant to me, because I’ve long noted that whenever anyone suggests something outside what’s “common knowledge” they are almost immediately accused of doing it for money or personal advancement. (Nathan Winograd’s been getting a lot of this kind of criticism, from people who argue that he’s only challenging the kill-happy status quo of the sheltering industry to sell books and consulting services. Pretty funny, really, since anyone who talks to Winograd for more than five minutes walks away with the impression he’d fight for what he thinks is right even if he had to pay to do it.)

To my mind, the only bad question is the one left unasked. Katz to his credit asks (and to his discredit answers) a lot of questions about our long-held beliefs on dogs.

For those who disagree with him, I am delighted to see the discussion, heated though it may be. This is the way we move forward, by having our long-held beliefs challenged, and either changed or reaffirmed as a result.

Share and Enjoy:
  • del.icio.us
  • Technorati
  • Digg
  • StumbleUpon
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
Filed under: Books, animals: pets — Gina Spadafori @ 10:32 am

21 Comments »

  1. Terhune and Katz really do look alike!

    The K-word is really of the 4 letter variety in BC circles.

    At a Secret Santa event this last year, one of the non-BC people (the minority in the sport for sure) brought a Katz book (and some others) for their gift. This, of course, lead to a mutual sympathy discussion of how everyone with a BC seems to get Katz books from their friends and family.

    To some, this is like getting a KKK manifesto. How does one politely inform their friends that such gifts are not appreciated?

    Katz is right about the “snobs.” What I think he misses is that the snobs are mostly from the “also ran” class. People who are finding their way in the world instead of leading the way in the world.

    This makes sense to me, as I myself am an aspiring also ran. This group of people is more likely to look to tradition, common effective methods, and dogma to help them learn and succeed. Following the rules becomes very important to these people, because we’re not comfortable enough to break them.

    My own flavor of criticism comes from this phenomenon. Entering into new activities, I looked around at what other people were doing and tried to pick a path. Give everything a try and see what fits. Try and read through the heated debate of the also rans and when available soak in what the experts have to say.

    Katz gets flack because he didn’t pay his dues in the dog world, he paid them in the writing world. Good luck finding someone who has done both… you probably know them all (there aren’t too many of you).

    Comment by Christopher — March 22, 2008 @ 3:20 pm

  2. In Katz on Dogs, and I gather elsewhere, Katz is pretty judgmental and condescending about people who spend lots of money on toys for their dogs, regarding it as evidence that they have mistaken their dogs for human children. His attitude had seductive reasonableness to it, until I contemplated the fact that he had bought a farm and a flock of sheep for his dog.

    He was also, apparently, willing to spend money on an animal communicator to try to find out why Orson was biting, but not willing to spend money on more conventional medical diagnostics to find out if, just maybe, the cause was physical pain making him grumpy.

    Comment by Lis — March 22, 2008 @ 4:34 pm

  3. Just got back from the store where _Marley And Me_ is still on the best sellers list. I recall seeing the author on an episode of The Dog Whisperer (another controversial figure), messing up yet another dog and my impression of him was a complete idiot.

    I’ve avoided writing on Katz until I can make it through his oeuvre, but perhaps his talent with words belies his real skill level. I think you can get a much more accurate impression of someone by seeing them in person or on video.

    But I have to agree with your sentiment that questioning the old guard is a vital practice. Times do change, and you can adapt or go extinct. That process is always messy and the narcissism of minor differences means that those who are closest to us and not really our enemies often get the most vitriol.

    Fun fun.

    Comment by Christopher — March 22, 2008 @ 6:15 pm

  4. Christopher writes: “Katz gets flack because he didn’t pay his dues in the dog world, he paid them in the writing world. Good luck finding someone who has done both …you probably know them all (there aren’t too many of you).”

    There aren’t too many, that’s for sure. I can off the top of my head think of two people whose canine expertise and writing skills are both top-notch, but to name them would earn me the eternal hatred of all those I don’t put in that class. So I think I’ll take a pass on that.

    I do know a ton of top-notch veterinarians, veterinary specialists, alternative practitioners, trainers, behaviorists, rescuers, breed experts, ethologists, historians, working dog experts, dog-sport competitors, traditional dog men/women (i.e. school of hard knocks graduates) and more. And very few of any of these people write particularly well, even though many of them are published.

    I also know a lot of pet writers who really don’t know heck-all about pets … but that doesn’t stop them from presenting themselves as experts, albeit nowhere as successfully as Jon Katz (possibly because they don’t write half as well!).

    For my own part, I figure when you think you know everything, you lose the ability to learn anything. So I’ve always worked to remain as a decent writer/editor/reporter who knows enough about pets, behavior, veterinary medicine, law, etc., to be able to ask great questions of people who know a whole lot more than I do. (And to call someone on their BS when I see it.)

    I think that’s fair and helpful to my readers.

    Comment by Gina Spadafori — March 22, 2008 @ 7:33 pm

  5. Terhune was a better dog person than writer, in my not so expert opinion. He made some WEIRD breeding decisions by modern standards, but his dogs DID play a role in the early collie fancy- he had some champions whose bloodlines *are* still around today.

    Comment by Cait — March 22, 2008 @ 11:35 pm

  6. Hard to say how much Terhune got involved in the work of running the kennel. Remember he had a kennel manager, the Englishman Bob Friend, referred to in APT books at “The Superintendent.” Chances are as an affluent, famous man Terhune was also able to purchase from the best collie lines around, so it also not surprising he had decent dogs. Not to mention, everyone from that era wanted a “Sunnybank Collie” so the lines were wide-spread and preserved as special beyond whatever value to the breed they offered.

    I’d bet Terhune had plenty of ability as a writer. He chose to hammer out formulaic hack novels about dogs (before that, he did hack newspaper serials), and he wrote them at an amazing pace, showing incredible discipline as a writer. And he certainly had an example of choosing sure money over the uncertainty of laboring over more serious work. His mother Mary Hawes Terhune, was a promising writer, but she made her fortune inventing the first modern cookbook (as Marion Harland).

    So, no, I doubt he was much a dog expert at all, but he was likely a much better writer than the majority of his published works reveal.

    Although, a lot of very good writers from his time are long forgotten, and he is not. So who’s to argue with his path?

    I adored Terhune as a child, and have collected all his books as an adult, including the two biographies, his non-dog works and his mother’s cookbook. For whatever weaknesses he may have had a writer and “dog expert,” he inspired a lot of children with his love for his dogs — and he most definitely set me on my life’s path.

    Comment by Gina Spadafori — March 23, 2008 @ 7:12 am

  7. Add me to the list of dog lovers influenced by reading Terhune as a child. I’v found his books in used book shops/antique malls, but it’s not easy finding his works.

    Comment by glock — March 23, 2008 @ 11:04 am

  8. I’d suggest to Christopher to skip the border collie books (they may just irritate you) and read “The new work of dogs,” where Katz explores the idea that instead of dogs for physical work, we now use them for emotional support, and how dogs can both fulfill and fail that need. While I don’t agree with Katz’s thoughts that we may relying too much on dogs at the expense of people, there are some really poignant stories.
    My virtual hat’s off to you, Gina, for stepping into this incendiary personality issue.

    Comment by lin — March 23, 2008 @ 6:57 pm

  9. Found this site while looking for the Jon Katz Blog. Couldn’t stop laughing, especially at the Nat’l Geo cover.
    While I very much enjoy Jon’s books and feel he has learned and passed on a lot of very important lessons through his self-admitted mistakes, it’s crucial we remember that he’s human! We’ll all be better off when we stop expecting others (and ourselves) to be perfect.
    BTW, Lis, in A GOOD DOG, Jon mentions he spent over $1000 on traditional vet testing Orson before resorting, reluctantly, to alternative medicine and an animal channeler. Coincidentally, I was just listening to that part of A GOOD DOG on a CD from the library today…very timely.
    I also recommend THE NEW WORK OF DOGS; I gave out 9 copies for holiday gifts in 2006.
    Thanks in part to Jon’s writing (and his sister, who is very active in Newf rescue), I found a new home for a rescue Yorkie we had for 6 years; we’re too busy to provide laps for her, but now she’s with an older couple now who adore her and spend lots of time cuddling with her (and dressing her and carrying her shopping in her own little purse…shudder!), so it’s worked out great. I thought dogs were for life, but now I realize it’s more important to make a good match.
    In summation: Jon’s not perfect, but I think folks can learn a lot from his experience if they keep open minds.

    Comment by Linda — March 27, 2008 @ 5:34 pm

  10. BTW, Lis, in A GOOD DOG, Jon mentions he spent over $1000 on traditional vet testing Orson before resorting, reluctantly, to alternative medicine and an animal channeler. Coincidentally, I was just listening to that part of A GOOD DOG on a CD from the library today…very timely.

    Over $1000, huh?

    Uh, is that supposed to be a lot?

    Just to put that in perspective: I spent a bit over $800 last year, on the digestive problems of a fourteen-year-old cat who, when I adopted her as a four-month-old runt of a feral litter, who was ill and not growing, I never expected to make it to ten years. Possibly not ten months.

    She’s sitting on my lap now, purring.

    I don’t have Jon Katz’s income, and no part of the income I do have comes from the pets.

    Also, at least one of the bites occurred because Katz chose to put his stranger-reactive dog in an area near where contractors would be working, behind a fence only four feet high—something many adult men can reach over to try to pet the nice-looking dog. With all that land, he could have provided a different enclosure for Orson, with a more appropriate fence, and spared Orson the stress of the strangers coming and going, and wanting to make friends.

    Yes, we can all learn from Jon Katz’s experiences, but not necessarily what he thinks he’s teaching.

    I guess we’re all supposed to be abashed and embarrassed that you “couldn’t stop laughing” when you found our discussion here, but, you know? Not so much.

    Comment by Lis — March 28, 2008 @ 5:23 am

  11. I don’t think much of Jon Katz either, but equating Terhune with him is startling, both because it’s completely unjustified and because there appears to be no rhyme or reason for the out-of-the-blue attack on Terhune. The claim that Terhune barely knew which end bit and which sh*t, and the weird jibe that “they even kinda look alike,” are so out of character that one wonders what the real motivation is. Yes, Terhune reflected the standards of his time. Yes, he wrote immensely popular dog books that he himself considered hack writing. Yes, not every statement he made about dogs was true. But he was a keen observer of dogs and dog behavior, and the narcissism that soaks Katz’s work is entirely absent from Terhune’s.

    Consider, for example, Katz’s view of good quality medical care for dogs:

    What was the outer limit of what was appropriate to do for a dog? How much money and time was too much to spend? Living in this hamlet upstate, I’d seen the grinding poverty people struggled with. A family up the road lived in a trailer with gaping holes covered by tar paper. Hunters desperately asked to hunt on my property—not for sport, but to feed their families. I knew of dogs that got shot when their owners couldn’t afford veterinary care. Where was the balance between the care and money I lavished on Orson and the needs of human beings? I didn’t know, but I felt I was approaching the line, perhaps had already crossed it.

    Terhune’s view was quite the opposite. His dogs got the best veterinary care available. When one of his pups was born blind, he hired an expert from Cornell’s Veterinary School to try to correct the problem. And he didn’t waste time agonizing about whether it was right to treat a blind dog when there were so many blind people who didn’t have medical treatment.

    The logical consequence of Katz’s view is that it’s immoral to own dogs at all, because there are needy human beings who should get the resources given to dogs. (Of course, Katz thinks it’s perfectly fine to buy expensive golf carts.) In one of Terhune’s stories, a particularly revolting villain spews out this nonsense, which is emphatically rejected by Terhune.

    Consider, also, Katz’s drivel about executing his dog:

    So, I settled on the porch with Orson and read one of Arendt’s chapters on moral conduct. It was a warm late afternoon, and the hawks were circling slowly over the meadow in front of the farmhouse. Orson was dozing near me, Rose sitting by the fence, eyeing the sheep. Clementine was on the lawn on her back, snoring contentedly. It was terribly discouraging to have made it through these five-plus decades, to struggle to reach this place with Orson’s great help and inspiration, to be living on this beautiful farm, sitting on the porch on a lazy summer day—and be contemplating this awful act.
    I felt old, weary, and sad.

    Now, this is only part of it. It goes on and on, and is not about the dog at all but about Katz (“Poor me! Poor me! The awful choice I have to make! Look at me! See how I’m suffering!”).

    Terhune’s description of his decision about euthanizing his blind puppy couldn’t be more different, focusing on the dog instead of himself:

    There seemed but one thing left for me to do. And, sick at heart, I prepared to do it. I had grown fond of the gallant and gay golden youngster, and I hated to shoot her. Yet─
    “I am going to put her out of her misery,” I told the Mistress.
    “She has no misery to be put out of,” answered the Mistress. “She is having a beautiful time in life. She doesn’t know anything better. She thinks everyone and everything is like herself. Why should you kill her while she is so happy? Wait till she finds out she is afflicted. Is there so much happiness in the world that you should something that has found it?”
    Perhaps that was maudlin sentimentality. Perhaps was splendid wisdom. In any case, it was enough to make me take the shells out of my gun, with an odd sense of relief.

    What a shame it would be if readers were discouraged from reading Terhune’s works and finding out for themselves just how enjoyable they are. A good idea of the merits of his work can be found in an excerpt from his story about Fair Ellen, his blind Collie:

    http://www.sunnybankcollies.us/excerpts4.htm

    I’ve had blind dogs for years, and everything about Fair Ellen’s story rings true. If you like this “hackery,” you can find more at:

    http://www.archive.org/details/ladadogal00terhrich

    For Terhune to take the trouble he went to for this blind dog, and become her advocate, is incredible given the era in which he wrote. Even today, the execution of blind dogs for the crime of being unable to see is commonplace. No doubt the “real” experts, who loathed Terhune, would have executed Fair Ellen.

    Who are these “real” experts who loathed him? Although Terhune showed Collies, he was quite blunt in his criticisms of the show-ring faddists who were ruining his beloved breed, and this made him many enemies. He also objected to breeders who kept their dogs like livestock, with no regard for the mental or psychological needs of their dogs. And his books educated readers about the ways that unscrupulous breeders could cheat them. This made him enemies as well.

    Terhune’s “hack” writing style made it possible for him to reach a huge number of readers and push for more humane treatment of dogs. Had he been more literary, he would have done far less good. People love a good story, and that’s what Terhune gave them. No doubt a classic like Pride and Prejudice is a much finer piece of writing than any of Terhune’s books, but it sure didn’t keep me up at night flipping pages to find out what happened next. Many of Terhune’s books did.

    If you’d like to find out for yourself why Terhune still has so many fans, you can find almost all of his dog books at amazon.com, abebooks.com, and other booksellers at very reasonable prices.

    Comment by Susan — March 28, 2008 @ 1:31 pm

  12. I’m not seeing a whole lot of disagreement here. Like you, I grew up reading Terhune books under the covers with a flashlight after my folks told me to “get to sleep!” His work put me on the path I’m on today. And you and he both agree that he was a hack writer. (In fact, I said he was probably a much better writer than he seemed, and surely as disciplined a writer as one could ever hope to find.)

    I’m enough of a Terhune fan that I’ve collected his books for years, enough that the first time I went to NYC in my early twenties I begged William Secord, then director of the AKC Museum, to show me the Terhune items the museum had in storage. (He did. I touched one of Terhune’s typewriters — so well-used that the letters were worn off the keys — and held his revolver, perhaps the very same one you mention with regards to Fair Ellen.)

    So … um … where’s the beef? My comparison between Katz and Terhune hinges entirely on the fact that they were writers who realized they could make a good living writing about dogs. So they both did.

    Comment by Gina Spadafori — March 28, 2008 @ 1:53 pm

  13. The beef is your statements that “Terhune barely knew which end bit and which” sh*t and “People who truly knew about dogs at the time (1920s and ’30s) loathed him.” He didn’t get everything right, but most of what he wrote about dogs was right on target, and a pleasure to read besides.

    Comment by Susan — March 28, 2008 @ 5:40 pm

  14. “[Terhune] didn’t get everything right, but most of what he wrote about dogs was right on target, and a pleasure to read besides.”

    I’m sure there are plenty of people who would say the same about Katz.

    Comment by Gina Spadafori — March 28, 2008 @ 6:07 pm

  15. On reflection it seems the entire book is an apologia: laden with tales of how good he was to the dog, and it was his lifetime dog (Yeah) All this seems to be an elaborate excuse for having killed a dog that need not have been killed.

    A muzzle could have been purchased, also he could have had more accupunture as it had lessened Orson’s aggression previously.

    Another good possibility would have been to call in the “Dog Whisperer” (an acquaintance with a border collie with similar issues told me her trainer did more in one hour than she’d been able to do in years.

    And then he might have considered a rescue group, border collie rescue for example who specializes in rescuing and rehabilitating them.

    Maybe he killed the dog so he’d have a reason to write the story and “win our hearts and minds”.

    For all his talk of loving animals, he seems, even in earlier work, to be rather callous: I recall how strange his reaction was to the death of his two labs: unemotional matter of fact.

    For Katz pets are commodities that he expects to get rid of when their batteries run down, or when they become a source of trouble.

    I’m reminded of his story of breeding and selling fish for much needed money. Well, seems killing Orson was an even better business deal: “what profit a man who loses his soul and gain the world.”

    These words seem cruel but I think Katz needs to look at and be responsible for his behavior rather than blame poor four legged Orson.

    I will boycott the movie and warn people against the book as well.

    Comment by margaret — July 18, 2008 @ 9:35 am

  16. Comment by margaret — July 18, 2008 @ 9:35 am

    “Another good possibility would have been to call in the ‘Dog Whisperer’”

    Or he could have called in a REAL trainer . . . . . . .

    Comment by The OTHER Pat — July 18, 2008 @ 10:38 am

  17. OK-I’LL KEEP IT QUICK…………..I SAW YOUR BOOK-A DOG YEAR- I READ IT ON A PLANE…….I WAS SURROUNDED BY DOG PEEPS! MY GIRL IS JANE-ONE BLUE EYE ONE BROWN……A TOTAL…BORDER COLLIE A LA HOMER! YOU DID RIGHT THING! LOVE YOUR BOOKS……NOW I AM ON -‘GOOD DOG’………I READ BEDLAM BEFORE THE BORDER EXPERIENCE……I HAVE TO GO BACK NOW! YOU WRITE FROM YOUR SOUL…..OR IS IT……ORSON?THANK YOU-BY THE WAY I HAVE NEVER WRITTEN TO AN AUTHOR BEFORE! I HOPE PAULA GETS HER MOMENTS W/HOMER! MY HUSBAND AND I SAY…”BOARDERS ARE THE BEST”

    P.S. I’m the husband and my life has never been so complete since I got a dog. I waited 40 years and feel God blessed me w/ Jane. Thank you for your books.

    Comment by sarah cargill-brundage — October 9, 2008 @ 1:21 am

  18. Hey idiot.

    This is not Fat Jon Katz’s website.

    Your reading comprehension and critical thinking skills do seem to be uniformly applied, and commensurate with your powers of written expression, though.

    Comment by H. Houlahan — October 9, 2008 @ 6:30 am

  19. Heather … c’mon. Among other things, let’s not be weightists.

    I once weighed 430 pounds, so I actually do know that a person’s heart, talent and abilities have nothing to do weight.

    Comment by Gina Spadafori — October 9, 2008 @ 1:14 pm

  20. But it rhyyyymmmeeeesss …

    In the way that “loathsome,” “pig-ignorant,” “bloviating tick” or “waste of protein” just doesn’t.

    But I apologize and withdraw the remark.

    Comment by H. Houlahan — October 9, 2008 @ 2:57 pm

  21. Fun discussion! And fun comments!

    I agree with your assessment of Katz, I went on a rant at a Secret Santa dog club event once. I ended up with one of Katz’s books, and I think I said something like “For God’s sake, he’s had dogs, what, 10 years now and he’s written 5 books? How much can he have to say?”

    Then “Marley and Me” came out! I have Labradors. And four copies of the book, all received during one birthday party. The infinite ways in which we can misunderstand and mess up our dogs…..

    Not that I am perfect, far from it! My Labs have taught me so many things over the years. I even have a list of “13 Things My Labs Have Eaten” (http://preview.tinyurl.com/49zk9s). My friend sends it out to anyone inquiring about a puppy. Embarrassing, yet I hope educational for the next generation. :)

    Comment by Mikey — October 9, 2008 @ 4:13 pm

RSS feed for comments on this post.

Leave a comment


Syndication

Recent Comments

Categories

Recent Posts

Web services by Black Dog Studios