Customer Reviews

Dog Days: Dispatches from Bedlam Farm

5 star:		(22)
4 star:		(8)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(5)

 

 

While Jon Katz is controversial in some circles for non-professional dog management, his Bedlam Farm memoirs are captivating and gritty. They detail the activities of the farm's dogs, donkeys, sheep, cat, steer, chickens--and the man himself, who gets by with lots of support from more country-wise locals.

With his flight from urban professionalism well-documented in A Dog Year: Twelve Months, Four Dogs, and Me and Running to the Mountain: A Midlife Adventure, Katz continues the Bedlam Farm series with this book about his third year of "hobby farming" in upstate New York. He's been at it long enough to improve his lambing skills and to establish an Easter tradition (reading from St. Augustine to the dogs and then bringing the sheep down the meadow above the church).

Katz writes without undue sentiment about farm life. He counts himself as a newcomer whose animals are "somewhere between products and pets." (p 29) The sheep-herding border collie, Rose, and the affectionate Labs Clementine and Pearl (the "Love Twins") are his constant companions; when a second border collie joins the menage, things get complicated. His wife lives and works in the city but to Katz's satisfaction is learning to enjoy her visits to the farm.

I found this book more satisfying than the earlier The Dogs of Bedlam Farm: An Adventure with Sixteen Sheep, Three Dogs, Two Donkeys, and Me because Katz is so much more assured in farm matters. An entertaining read.

Linda Bulger, 2008

It happens that I've never had a dog and living with one is a thought that has occurred to me only rarely. This book hasn't changed my mind about this; indeed, it confirms that I have probably made the right decision.

But Katz's story-telling skills and thoughtfulness shine through in a way that should commend this book to an audience broader than those with specific canine interests and concerns. He writes with heart, and yet avoids sentimentality. There is plenty of humor, but it never becomes slapstick. There is, to the apparent discomfort of some reviewers here, a level of self-awareness that eludes many memoirs. This latter is especially noteworthy because Katz writes tellingly and apparently honestly about himself and his place in the world without becoming locked in a dance of self-absorption.

Whether writers have a high purpose in penning a book like this is not a question that interests me. Nor do I care anything for the little dust clouds of controversy stirred by those with different views (or, quite likely, resentment of Katz's having both the determination to make a mid-life correction and the good fortune to be able to pull it off). What I do care a great deal about is having discovered an author who writes with real grace about interesting circumstances, events, and people.

Elegant writing with heart: works for me every time.

Jon Katz writes dog stories from the heart. His warm anecdotes of life with multiple animals at Bedlam Farm, in upstate New York, fill the reader with peace. Wrung emotionally and physically from living in the big city, Katz has bought Bedlam Farm and become a gentleman farmer. His choice brings with it new realities. Life on a working sheep farm is a far step from that of an apartment in Brooklyn. His wife Paula, a working woman in her own right, respects her husband's move but does not embrace the radical change for herself. She keeps a home in the city and hibernates to the farm on most weekends.

The reality at Bedlam Farm is that much work needs to be done. Strong border collie stock, led by a dog named Rose, is the heart of the operation. Katz mourns the loss of his first dog-love, Orson, whose tumultuous life is chronicled in A GOOD DOG. Katz makes the best decision for the good of both the farm and the dog when Orson is put down. Orson's memory creeps onto the pages of DOG DAYS but in no way diminishes Katz's love for his remaining animals, of which there are many.

Katz realizes early on that the key to a successful operation is having good people in charge. Trained as a writer, not as a farmer, he sees in Annie DiLeo his strong counterpart. She's compassionate and a balance for his pragmatism. He has the ultimate say, however, when tough decisions are required. When Katz becomes impatient, Annie communicates with the animals. Pearl and Clementine are two lovable Labs, while Rose (and soon Izzy) claims a border collie's right to sheepherding. Elvis, a new arrival to Bedlam Farm, creates a clamor of his own. He's a lumbering piece of flesh, a gigantic, apple-loving Brown Swiss steer. Four donkeys, a herd of sheep, a rooster, chickens and a barn cat complete the menagerie at Bedlam. Katz's limitation is his arthritic back. He finds the feeding, care and clean-up an increasing chore, especially in winter, so Annie's help is a daily welcome.

When Katz receives a phone call from a friend, rescue-person Amy, he's hesitant to respond positively. Katz is drawn to rescue but realizes that it could become a preoccupation. He has helped Amy place a number of animals but has not welcomed one to Bedlam. A farm has sold; puppies need a home as does their parent, a three-year-old border collie named Izzy. Never housebroken, and raised mostly in a caged area outside, the dog's plight tears at Katz's sense of right. Izzy is an out-of-control hurler who thrives on human attention. His first ride in a car is home to Bedlam Farm with Katz. It's to be a temporary solution, but Izzy becomes a permanent fixture there. He even learns from Rose to herd the sheep and becomes quite good at it. According to Katz: "I loved him very much, and he had strongly attached himself to me."

The clever chapter titles mislead. "The Whore of Bedlam" reminds one of saloons and devious living. Katz's whore turns out to be a lovable Labrador named Clementine. By definition, Katz conjectures that a prostitute is one who sells his or her favors. Clem, according to her owner, "will give it up --- anytime, anywhere --- for a sliver of beef jerky." He sees her love of all people not as disloyalty to him but as the quality he loves most about her.

Katz's half-dozen books about animals throw his audience a bone that continues to please. His self-learned expertise on the rigors and joys of owning dogs, sheep, cows, donkeys and smaller farm animals is a story told with ease. I am an avowed Katz fan at present and eagerly anticipate more tales from Bedlam Farm. DOG DAYS is a book to warm the soul when one is weary.

--- Reviewed by Judy Gigstad

I had never read a Jon Katz book until a few days ago when "Dog Days" arrived from Amazon having been ordered as a result of hearing Katz interviewed on the radio by Laura Ingraham. Rather than talking about things political they were talking mostly about dogs. Katz also briefly described his home in upstate NY which he has named Bedlam Farm. Apparently for good reason as one will realize upon reading this book and apparently, others.

Bedlam Farm is basically a "hobby farm." Nothing is raised or grown on it that supports it's inhabitants, either two legged or four footed. However, it is a hard hobby that Katz has embarked on. The farm is old, having been built around the time of the Civil War and it's buildings are in great need of attention. At present also inhabiting the farm are four dogs, four donkeys, two steers, a cat, several sheep, a rooster and some hens. His wife Paula, a college professor, reporter, soon to be author and committed urbanite splits her time between the farm and the rest of her life.

Fortunately Katz has the resources to live this type of life which involves much hard work which sometimes wreaks havoc on his aging body, but seems to sustain him through good times and bad.

Dog Days is a series of stories about the goings on of the farm and it's occupants. Katz has an endearing way of understanding his animals from a literary point of view and there is much humor and warm feeling in his writing.

I found it to be a very relaxing and rewarding read and a nice break from many of the types of books I find myself enthralled with. My wife and I are dog people, owning two of our own and living in the country. I cannot imagine a home without two dogs. I am glad for Katz that he has added many other animals to the mix and that he finds the life he has carved out of his hundred acrea or so of upper New York state to be so rewarding. I was delighted to share his account of it vicariously and I suspect many of you will also.

The more I read Katz, the more I've decided his often contradictory statements are most likely him bending the truth or altering the facts to illustrate his (often contradictory) points. So in one book, a dog may be described as being a talented herder. In another book, that same dog is then said to not have mastered a very rudimentary skill any sheep dog would need. But in the second book, Katz is now illustrating what a phenomenon his dog Rose is because she immediately mastered that basic skill right out the gate. The fact that many dogs show the exact same ability their first time on sheep is never mentioned because that would distract from Katz's point that Rose is exceptionally gifted.

Examples like this abound even in the same book. Katz appears unaware of his contradictions or else he has so little respect for his readers that he doesn't think they'll notice. Or maybe in his world, whatever he says at a given moment is the truth even if tomorrow there will be a completely different truth.

In Katz's world, anyone who doesn't agree with his approach to training his dogs how to herd is a "Border Collie Snob" (BCS's). He goes on to describe BCS's as expensively dressed people, dripping money, who travel to Scotland regularly. Now Katz lives in a different section of the States than I do, but the working (herding) Border Collie folks I know dress for farm work, never discuss money and don't generally travel other than to herding trials.

Katz goes on to proclaim his approach to training is better than that of BCS's because he doesn't repeatedly click a clicker at his dog when her head is turned just so at the sheep. Again, Katz and I live in different parts of the country, but no one I know clicker trains sheep dogs. The sheep are the reward for any dog with decent instinct and ability. I doubt if a good Border Collie around sheep would even notice a clicker, or for that matter, meatballs thrown at his head. I'm willing to believe that there are people out there, probably with dogs who have little to no instinct, who train the way Katz described. Still, after reading so many of what appear to be falsehoods in his writings, I have to wonder if that isn't just one more made up story on his part. "See?" Katz seems to be saying. "I'm a much better trainer/person than those jerks who don't agree with my methods!"

Going to his website to watch videos of his dogs working sheep raise further doubts -- and eyebrows. Rose, who he describes as such a fantastic sheep dog, is seen running without the slightest direction and taking cheap shots such as biting a sheep on the neck. I saw a lot of chasing (the kind my dog was trained not to do at his very first lesson), no control (the dogs just burst out after the sheep instead of being sent) and Katz going on about what great instincts Border Collies have. Honestly, you don't need a Border Collie to harass livestock the way his "trained" dogs are doing.

Repeatedly in Dog Days, Katz describes people coming to his farm and telling him what a wonderful little world he has created, how well he treats his animals, what joy he is bringing to those lucky enough to witness it. I see enough thrilled reviews of his books to believe that may be the case. The farm does look very nice in the book's photos. However, I cringe at much of what he does with his dogs for whom he feels he is providing such a great life. A good deal of what his interactions with them seems very selfish and ego driven.

A typical example is Katz bringing Rose home from several days at the vet's with strict instruction to keep her quiet and not working. As fate would have it, Katz gets a call exactly as he is driving the recuperating Rose home, requesting help for a cow that got loose and is in danger of getting onto a busy road. Katz sanctimoniously explains that livestock at risk is a very serious matter. I don't disagree, but I do think your dog's health and consequently her longevity matter too. But this is an opportunity for Katz to put a spot light on Rose's skills -- and coincidentally on him as her owner/trainer -- so they ride to the rescue, where Rose gets matters under control in minutes. If he says so, fine, now will he take the dog home and settle her quietly the way the vet ordered? Oh, no. First Katz must send her to get his sheep at the farm before he will finally allow her to rest the way she needs after being very ill. He uses the Border Collie's drive to work as his excuse for not protecting and caring for Rose as she deserves. I guess it isn't any wonder that none of Katz's dogs seem to live or stay with him past the age of 8.

If Katz wants to write fiction, that's one thing. But too much of his memoirs, what one would assume is nonfiction, just don't ring true in the end. Katz would have us believe that Rose is much more talented than most of the trial dogs, but he never takes Rose to a trial to see what she can do there. He writes Rose can do things at the farm that dogs never do at trials. That actually is true, but what he leaves out is many if not most of those trial dogs do the same sorts of chores and daily work Katz says Rose does. But to acknowledge that would be to take away from how special Rose is and by extension how special Katz is as her enlightened and wise owner.

In the end, that is what is pathetic about Katz. He insists that he is training in a way that is more fun and satisfying for his dog. However, he offers as evidence a bizarre example of "serious" trainers obsessively clicker training tiny behaviors that in reality would only detract from a dog's ability to herd. He says that Rose is exceptionally talented, then posts videos of his experienced, amazing dog harassing sheep the way you'd expect a new, untrained dog to do. What's more, you'd want to prevent or at least stop the new dog from "herding" that way, but Katz is either blissfully unaware of what his dog is doing in front of his eyes or figures his audience won't understand how badly his dog is behaving toward the poor sheep.

I still haven't figured out if Katz truly believes his contradictory writings or if he's perfectly happy to fool and mislead those who are unfamiliar with Border Collies, stock work and farm life. When he writes at the beginning of Dog Days, "No dogs die in this book," is he reassuring upset readers of A Good Dog or taunting his critics? I can see it being either way. With Katz, I can see it being both ways, depending on his mood and the day.

Next, I hear we are to be treated to a book by Katz on whether animals have souls. Given that he has often stated he doesn't believe they do yet has repeatedly consulted an animal communicator who "talks" to his dogs both alive and dead, I can only imagine the confusing, contradictory writing that awaits us.

I listened to the audio version of this book. The reader's voice had a bit of gravel in it which made for a believable autobiographical narrative. Jon Katz will entertain you with stories of his animals, the farm, and his expositional speaking on what it all means to him. Life is ironic because what he says he believes versus what he does are not always the same thing. This may grate some readers - that is why I give this book 4 stars. Also one chapter on how to talk farmer really was not necessary for the story. A plus is that you fall in love with the animals when reading this book.

I'm a longtime fan of Jon Katz, even going back to the mystery days, and this latest release is no exception -- in fact, it's one of his most enjoyable books ever, a relaxed and fluid read throughout. (Those of you who couldn't handle "A Good Dog" should be quickly reassured: "No dogs die in this book," Katz announces in a note before the first chapter). A series of illuminating vignettes about life on his upstate NY farm, and the people and animals that make it what it is, Dog Days is enormously appealing yet clear-eyed: Katz is careful not to over-romanticize country life, or animals in general. It's all here, the good as well as the bad; though, be warned, it probably will give you an itch for rural life. Among the highlights are a mysteriously pregnant donkey, the Grunt and Grumblers, and the hilarious story of Elvis, an enormous cow.

I have a great dog, but I don't really consider myself a "dog person" per se, let alone a donkey person. This book will be marketed towards that crowd, and I don't doubt that they'll enjoy it, but I think it has a broader appeal than that, too. In an understated way it's about much more than dogs and donkeys - it's also about middle age, and relationships, and our connection (or lack thereof) to nature.

Jon Katz, a man who knows dogs and other animals, has at last found his place on an old farm in upstate New York, just over the border from Vermont. There he tends critters, fences, and pastures with occasionally time for a few humans in need. His introspective nature lends itself to loving and living with and writing about animals, and this introspection and hard-won philosophical outlook on life permeates each paragraph. These are insights not casually come by or lightly offered. You don't have to agree with him, but he is offering thoughts worthy of our consideration and discussion.
In this recent book, readers meet the inhabitants of Bedlam Farm:
Elvis, the atypically-friendly 1,800-pound bull, who will remind you of the fictional bull named Ferdinand; the hyperactive border collies Rose and Izzy; the laid-back, lovable Labs Clementine and Pearl; Mother, the barn cat; Jesus, the unexpected donkey; well, you get the idea.
This is a warm, feel-good book that will send you to bed with happy thoughts. Animals are good company and so is this book about them.

This isn't a 'dog' book, it's about Jon's farm, Bedlam Farm. It's about the many people and animals that he interacts with on a daily basis.

I have never lived on a farm but I have through reading about Jon's experiences on his in "Dog Days". The late nights, the freezing cold nights, dealing with sick animals in the wee hours of the night, learning about the pragmatism of farm life have all shed a new light on what it would mean to my own dream of owning a couple of acres and having animals on them.

Depending upon your point of view this book may continue to disturb dog lovers. No dogs die in this book is true. Jon does make a decision about rehoming one of his dogs that some may not agree with. It was not an easy decision or one made lightly. Was it best for the dog? By his accounts, yes.

Jon does an amazing job of baring is life to the reader. His struggle with anger management, juggling life with his wife while living in different cities, trying to have a life away from the farm (someone to come watch the animals while you're away certainly doesn't sound easy!), trying to recover from back surgery and pain management. More details about the people who interact with the farm with him, either as co-workers or visitors.

Enjoy your Dog Days of Summer with Jon's Dispatches from Bedlam Farm.

*********Review based upon a galley reading of the book******************

There's nothing new in this book, which will delight Katz's admirers and further disgust his detractors. The only slight difference is that Katz formerly tried to portray himself as some sort of dog expert, both on training dogs and on the sociology of dogs and humans. Having been proven particularly clueless on both, he's backed off somewhat on that. His books thus have slightly less grandiose philosophy and more of a personal story air. However there's nothing new in the personal stories either, which makes this reader believe there's either very little reality to these stories, something many have long suspected, or that Katz is particularly stupid.

Change the dog's names and this book is essentially very similar to previous books. In earlier books, Katz dumps his once loved labs for the excitement of trendier and more photogenic border collies. He'd gotten his book out of those "staid" labs and he needed new exciting dogs to write about. Euthanasia count - 2. Then, having discovered the unstaid border collies were too much for him, and having written the requisite books about them, he dumps them to go back to labs - except for BC Rose, whom he needed for herding duties. Euthanasia count - 3, one BC "rehomed. All four dogs of the first few books are now gone, dead or given away. He then gets a book out of his newly acquired lab puppy, and picked up another sedate lab with a tendon injury repaired by her breeder (though one doubts he would ever spend that kind of money on the dog himself, based on his own philosophies on vet care and dogs). But now he realizes he's got nothing new and exciting to write about, other than describing his philosophy on animals and money (don't spend it) and his philosophy about everything else - spend money freely on housekeeping, farm help, and renovations, not to mention buying more land. Odd that he never gives the reader lectures on why it is immoral to restore an antique barn, or spend money on animal communicators, or housekeepers or barn help for what's essentially a play farm, but we are treated to several lectures in this book and others on why it is immoral to spend money on vet care for sick animals that exceed their productive cost. He's a bit schizo on this subject, since his books cater to the soft animal loving heart of potential consumers. Since Katz pretty much has no heart for anything but himself, it's hard for him to dredge up good subject matter. He needs animals to write about and since he can't forge any lasting relationships with them, he's now stuck. So for Dog Days he once again jettisons a now disposable lab for a more exciting BC. This ups the revolving door to Euthanasia count 3, Rehomed 2. In a déjà vu moment (or perhaps Katz just reworked old copy, after all it sold before) the new BC "slips its lead" and once again goes running down the road, fodder for cars, shades of Orson, while Katz chases it madly in the car in a Katzenjammer kind of idiotic dash.

At this point, I just can't suspend disbelief that Katz has once again had a dog slip its lead. What kind of lead is he using? Later in the book is another déjà vu moment, when he introduces one of his dogs to a rescue dog recuperating in his barn and the dog attacks his own. In another deja vu moment, he rediscovers screaming at the new dog yields poorer results than praise. All of these situations have happened before, and it seems Katz has either learned nothing as a dog handler or he thinks his readers are equally clueless and can't remember he's used all this material before. At this point, a reader just wishes he had forgone buying more land, and actually put up some functional fences to keep his dogs in and taken some training classes to learn the use of a leash. Are we supposed to forget that in a previous book one of the potential reasons for Orson's temperamental decline was that he had an unresolved hit by car injury from his early days in Katz's care? That he grew nervous and edgy from being yelled at? That one reason for Homer's problems was that he was attacked by other dogs in Katz's care? How are we supposed to react to these continuing mistakes and near abuse with new dogs knowing the disastrous results from before? Are we supposed to cheer him getting another potential victim on which to repeat the same dangerous mistakes? Sympathize with him when that dog gets killed, rehomed or put to sleep?

Katz has forgone the lesson, put forth by so many, that getting a dog should be a lifetime relationship for the dog. A good safe relationship. Of course he has good excuses why he needs to get rid of his dogs - he always belabors these as fodder for his books. Both acquiring and disposing of dogs is sellable subject matter. The reasons seldom hold up from book to book, but he trots them out gamely anyway. In "Katz on Dogs", Clem was going to be the shining example for his training methods - and ended up being the dog always left behind, and finally dumped on someone else's kindness when it turned out she just wasn't suitable as a hawker of books or a herder and thus didn't fit anywhere in his life. In "A Dog Year", Homer was the sweet tempered, nearly perfect herder, before being dumped and rehomed so that Katz could "buy up" to a dog with working herding lines. In "Dogs of Bedlam Farm", Orson was rehabilitated, safe with the little kids who came along the fences. But having served his purpose in that book, by the time we got "Orson, A Good Dog", we heard nothing of the formerly lavish praise and only a litany of his faults as if we couldn't refer to or remember the book we'd read before. In "Dog Days", Katz speaks with pride of his newly and lavishly renovated "dog room". Apparently, we're not supposed to remember Orson, vainly trying to defend his home against the workmen coming to renovate that room, pelted with biscuits and shoved aside with tools and workboxes, ignored and forced to ramp up his aggression till he bit someone, while Katz stayed holed in his study, presumably writing either mantas of praise or condemnation about him, depending on the book. The wonder is that Katz seems to have forgotten writing that. Were I Katz, I wouldn't take any pride in the renovation of that room, seeing how it was done over, and funded by, Orson's now dead body. And of course we hear about why Clem, still just a young dog, no longer fits in his life, but the new potentially "lifetime dog" BC does. God help it.

It's all just words, written to serve the book of the moment; another dog served up like dinner and then, like dinner, slaughtered one way or another. And the words are all garbage, too easily seen through by anyone who can remember from one book to the next. To Katz, his dogs are so clearly fungible, taken up, touted and praised, then discarded. So easily is one dog substituted for the other that he tells the same stories about them, over and over. Only the names change. Sadly their fates don't seem to. And perhaps that's why, in Dog Days, he so identifies with working farmers and the casual disposition of livestock, because he treats his dogs the same fungible way. His farm is also a working farm, except it produces books, and when that book is over, and that dog served up, he gets rid of it for the next. That's pretty much the lesson of this book, and the subliminal point of the title. To Katz all days are dog days. Each dog gets his season, his day in the sun, his shining accolade, and then, the season past, the dog gets dumped or killed, his star waning, and room made for the next shining light in the sky. That seems to be the point of Katz's books and his philosophy. In that vein, Katz might be better off numbering his dogs, like his farmer friends do their livestock, rather than naming them. It would be more honest.

Suffice to say, if you have read one Katz book, you've read them all, and none are worth reading.