Almost every day, I get a letter from someone telling me they have read one of my books and are eager to read more. They are complimenting me and my work and praising my books, which I spent many good years of my life writing and trying to promote.
I usually write back if I can, and there aren’t too many messages that day, and I say thank you, but I’m not sure I will write too many more books. I have one coming out next year, it’s called Gus and Bud.
But my blog is my book now, and I am passionately devoted to it. I write often and freely and am no longer encumbered by corporate marketing pressures and embattled and exhausted editors.
I admit I am torn about my book life, I’ve written 26 books and have loved every day of my publishing life, until recently.
I think that is difficult for some people to hear, and I am appreciative and empathetic. Publishing has changed radically, and the changes have not made me comfortable, secure, or creatively changed. The blog has done all of those things for me.
In addition, I’ve gotten deeply involved in making the urgent and timely case for the needy and vulnerable by supporting the Mansion residents and the young refugees who live near me. I feel I owe that to my country.
Maria, my blog, my farm, my photos, my dogs and donkeys, and the work I am doing with the Army Of Good are the focal point of a life I love.
My life has meaning, it is full of joy, love, and reality. I’m under the radar of publishing these days, they have little interest in blogs, and I don’t socialize with the literati.
I don’t even know who they are right now.
Today I had a phone conversation with my agent Richard, a very successful agent who just wrote his own movie script, and is watching as his movie is being filmed.
I asked him if he thought my time as a book writer was over, and he said no, it isn’t. Richard is an honest man, and he says what he means. He said he had an idea for me, a book he called When Good Dogs Die.
It’s a book that would build on Going Home: Finding Peace When Pets Die, which was lavishly praised but did not sell terribly well. It would be deeper and wiser, I think.
In publishing, as in most corporatized businesses, profit is everything. On my blog, I have real freedom and a lively and attentive and engaged audience. I can write as often as I want about anything I want. That is precious to me. Battles with publishing marketing departments are grueling, and rarely victorious.
Richard wants me to think about how a book like that might go, and I was thinking tonight that the book could be a chapter of every dog I have had and how they died and what I learned from each experience.
About how good dogs die, and what we can do to help them die comfortably and with dignity.
Each of my late dogs from Stanley and Julius and Rose and Orson and Izzy and Lenore and Frieda and Red taught me some of the most valuable lessons I have learned about life, and also about death and mortality.
I admit the subject is interesting to me. I am uneasy about writing more books when my plate is so full and rewarding.
Sometimes yes is what makes life interesting and rewarding.
Sometimes it’s no.
I will think about Richard’s idea (there is no guarantee anyone will want to publish it) and will, of course, share my decision.
Richard is a red hot and powerful agent. If he loves a book, he will almost certainly sell it. I told him I wouldn’t work on any idea he wasn’t excited about, and he said he is excited about this book.
I respect him, and I will think about it.
Jon, you and I do not see eye to eye on everything but I respect you, as a writer, as an honest and generous man, and as a dog owner. I am one of those animal rescuers you might deem a bit too sappy for your taste but I have a reasonable side as well. I know I won’t save them all, not even close. What I try to do is show compassion to every living being that crosses my path. Sometimes, that means just being present and offering soothing words and a gentle hand while they pass. If I were a writer I could share so many stories about some of the finest animals, dogs and cats, that most people wouldn’t have given a dime for at first look. With animals, as with people, what I see is their heart. As far as dogs, there is no more genuine or honest creature on this earth. The one that I believe will be my last rescue may be the most amazing of all. She truly deserves to have a book written about her, as many who learn her story have told me. I have personal copies of several of your books and cherish each one. You are an honest writer and one not prone to a lot of sentiment. I need to be reminded that it is possible to love a dog deeply and yet know when enough is enough. I learned that from you while reading about Orson. I shed a few tears over that one but respected the great strength and compassion it took for you to let him go. As a rescuer, I have learned to accept that some things cannot be fixed. If you decide to write a book about each of your dogs, their deaths, and what you learned from them, I would be the first to pre- order. I think it would be a learning experience for many of us who have second guessed our final decisions or wondered if we should have done more. A book like that would also honor the lives of some amazing dogs. I am thinking about Rose here. I can see her now out in that blizzard doing what she was born to do as only she could. I never knew how she died and would be interested to see it through your eyes. If, however, you decide that your blog is enough to express your writing passion I can respect that, too. At almost 69 I still have people who think they know what I should and should not be doing and like to tell me so. After working hard most of my life in public education and having way too many bosses directing my every move I prefer to ignore most of the suggestions and make my own decisions. I imagine you will, too. Thank you for sharing the wonderful dogs in your life with your readers. Your blog is like a little mini book every day. I enjoy that…
Nice post, Sandi, thanks..
Hi Jon,
I would cherish a book like that. I am struggling right now, as my good dog is near her end. A book like that would help me and countless others. Your words are always sincere, honest, and from your soul. That helps me a lot.
“Going Home..” was one of my favorites of your books. I still carry things I learned from it in my heart and refer back to it whenever I have to send one of my animals ‘home’. I would love to read this proposed book should you decide to write it. I also totally understand your reluctance given the state of publishing these days and the wonderful fullness of your current life. Thanks for sharing so much of your process. Whatever you decide, I’ll be reading! Another lovely photo by the way?
-Jeane
A subtitle immediately popped into my head: “And what it teaches us about death and dying.”
Jon, when your life is full and the energy is directed towards that, writing a book will take a huge amount of mental and emotional energy as you well know. I would like to think that your book-writing days are not over but it’s a very big commitment for you to make…but then, you have a wealth of information from your blog readers who, like me, have loved and lost dogs and who hopes to see my present two Aussies into old age, along with me. The devastation felt is always there, diminishing over time but your writing and your words have helped me in recent years to face what almost all pet owners never find easy, the death of a beloved pet. I truly believe that my present girl, Meg, has been a gift to me for the comfort she gives me in her awareness of my own state of health. And Annie, well, my first barker, she’s a daily challenge.
Sandy Proudfoot, Canada
I like this idea a lot.
Jon,
What an interesting subject this morning as I read this. I am dealing with a dying dog. I just had two huge mast cell tumors removed from her chest/belly area. Being a Boston Terrier that is not a large area. Yesterday we got the staples removed and I was told that the large bulge on her side which after surgery I was told was swelling and fluid is not that. It is the spread of a tumor the Vet felt deep inside her chest, which he could not get to in the original surgery 2 weeks ago. I was told she has 1-6 months. I lost my other Boston this past January from mouth cancer. I am not ready to do this again. I am sincerely struggling with how do you watch your lovable little dog slip away? Yet that is what I will do. Enjoying all the time I can with her. Spoiling her where I can. This as you know.. is never easy. I am sure I will look around for your Going Home.. book that I have around here. I could not get through it the last time. As I said. It was interesting to find this post on such a day for me. Thank you for letting me vent.. I have enjoyed many of your books and look forward to your daily blog.
Let me add my encouragement for this potential book idea too.
As I age I find the topic of death – not exactly fascinating – but certainly more on my mind.
Talking about each of your own dogs would make the sometimes uncomfortable topic so much more personal.
My dog is 13 years old, going deaf, but still eager to walk in the morning and chow down his breakfast.
I so hope I can give him the death that is deserving of all his years of companionship to me. After my husband died. He and I took long solitary walks together. I use to say “that dog walked me right out of grief and back into life again.”
Having now obtained all and read most of your dog books, I love the idea of a book about the deaths of all your beloved dogs. I’m almost 79 now but would hope I would be around to buy and read it. I understand your reluctance, and respect your decision, but I think it would be a wonderful book.
I like your idea for a potential new book!