I was watering my garden beds when I looked through Maria’s garden and saw the gravestone marker of Orson. It was high up on a hill on the first Bedlam Farm, where he is buried. I took the gravestone to the new Bedlam Farm to remember him and to keep anyone from disturbing the grave when I was gone.
I called Orson a “lifetime dog” before I learned it was possible to have more than one. Orson changed the trajectory of my life. I remember chasing him all over a Newark Airport Terminal when he arrived from Texas, and he busted out of the crate.
I loved him early; he drove me crazy almost every day of his life. He had a great spirit but something inside of him was badly broken.
Orson was hyper-aroused; he could be aggressive.
He tried to herd a school bus in New Jersey one afternoon by refusing to let anyone on or off the bus. Enraged mothers were calling the piece, I got him away from the bus and into hiding just in time – I could hear the sirens.
The book I wrote about him was my first best seller and the first and last book to inspire a movie. A Dog Year got me started on a career that focused on dogs and other animals. He transforsmed and shaped my life.
It was my first experience with the amazing world of border collies.
He was the first dog I learned to herd sheep with. He inspired me to work with a gifted trainer on a sheep farm, an experience which led me to buy a farm upstate, the first Bedlam Farm. Orson was the reason I purchased sheep to herd. I trained four different dogs to herd sheep, this was one of the most precious and valuable experiences of my life.
He was smart, loyal and full of love.
He and I had great fun tormenting the border collie snobs who were horrified when I write that he loved to chase trains along a track for exercise and I often let him.
He came with me upstate to the first Bedlam Farm; Rose came soon after.
He was also the first dog I had who was damaged in several ways. I spent thousands of dollars trying to calm him down, from holistic healers to Cornell behaviorists to a half dozen expensive animal trainers.
I couldn’t do it.
He was the first dog I ever had who was broken in a way I could not heal. Specialists at Cornell told me there was no way to heal him other than massive sedation.
When he bit three children, one seriously in the neck, I took him to the vet and had him euthanized. I will never forget the blood dripping down one of those boy’s necks. The child was a dog lover who leaned over a fence to say hello.
No dog of mine will ever do that again.
Orson was untrainable, at least by me, nor could specialists and vets calm him. This was not his first attack on a human being. From that point on, I could never say I didn’t know what could happen.
I did win a herding blue ribbon with him at a trial, a miracle. He would often attack the sheep. I had to stop herding with him.
As he grew older, Orson became erratically aggressive and unpredictable. The specialists I took him to said he was damaged through genetics or early trauma. They couldn’t know which. They couldn’t help him.
I loved Orson for all sorts of reasons. I often saw parts of me in him when we were together.
His death affected me on many levels. One was my first encounter with the extremists and ideologues who have taken over the movement that claims to be for animal rights.
After I write that I had put him down, I was attacked day and night for months and lied about almost hourly. There was a whole website devoted to the idea that I murdered puppies in my barn.
I became more aware of a movement that used the idea of animal welfare to raise millions of dollars from good and caring people and began a successful campaign to obscure its real interests – driving animals away from people and, in many cases, to their inevitable death.
They did this to elephants, ponies, to dogs, and they have been trying to do it to the New York Carriage Horses for years. They did manage to kill off dozens of them in other cities, and ponies in county fairs and elephants in circuses.
They heralded these campaigns as great victories, but for animals and many of the good people who loved and worked with them, they were and are slaughters and tragedies.
Like many of our modern politicians, the animal rights movement has mastered the art of dividing people to get them to send lots of money and claim the highest moral ground. They were a sad prophesy of what was to come in politics.
No negotiating, no compromise, no listening, little truth.
My wish is that one day there will be an animal rights movement that unites us around the idea that animals and people have a rich and unique history in our world. We don’t have one now.
I will always fight to keep the animsls here, not send them all away in the name of compassion.
Orson taught me that there are many good people in the animal rights world and many cruel, ignorant, and dishonest people. That’s a tragedy for animals and, very often, for those who love them and have worked with them for centuries.
Orson taught me a lot about myself, dogs, and responsibility.
He taught me about the pain of love. I promised that sunny day in the Fall when I decided I had to put him down that I would never again own a dog who harmed people, however unconsciously and without malice.
Orson had so much love to give me, it broke my heart to kill him, but I have never regretted it, not for a second.
I’m glad I paid some attention to Orson’s gravestone. I often forget it’s there.
Godspeed, great dog, I hope you have found your peace and place in our difficult world.
You have spoken of Orson over the years…… this book is one of the few (of yours) that I have not read and I will put it back on my reading list. Goodness knows you tried everything to help him…… but who can ever really know what can cause a dog to *snap* (and I mean that both literally and figuratively)….. ? I’m glad you have his grave marker with you so you can ponder his life at times……. they each hold a place in our hearts, that is for certain.
Susan M
I know right where I was when I read the end of Orson’s book. I shouted “No” and cried through the last pages. Over and over you demonstrated your love for him, changing his name, countless searches for help. I never doubted your decision and felt that you poured your emotions into those pages. I was hooked on your writing ! When you gave your dog to the family in New Jersey- I just blanked on his name!- I saw the powerful example of loving your dog so much that you chose the better life for him. Not for you. I have loved all of your dogs, even though I only met Izzy.
I’m glad you wrote about Orson today.
I had an aggressive Golden Retriever- got her as a puyfrom an awful place – she was a fear biter from an early age – like you I spent mkney on trainers, Vets, and medication to help her but after three years she attacked my wonderful Veterinarian who had helped me so much and I knew she needed to be euthanized- I wouldn’t let her hurt anyone else. Also broke my heart – am awful day! Until you have had to deal with such a dog no one should judge – and yes she could be so loving – but I never knew when she would snap- she got me once too. Bless you
I remember reading this book on a plane and sobbing. The hardest thing for me to ever do was put down a physically healthy dog. My dog was Samatha. We both did what was the kindest thing for our dogs.
I met you through Orson and “A Dog Year.” Decades ago, a friend handed me the book before I left on a business trip across the country. I never quite forgave him for not warning me about certain aspects of the book that had me balling like a colicky infant sitting next to my division manager, 30K feet in the air. But I also could never thank him enough. I fell in love with your non-romanticized incredibly patient loving approach to dealing with Orson’s peculiarities. Then I read Running to the Mountain to try to understand what moved the gal to so correctly discern that you not only were the perfect parent for this troubled child but to figure you might take her up on her offer. I was devastated to the point of keening when I read that Orson was gone … at least not on an airplane this time. But I knew that you had given him the most amazing chance at a fulfilling life, even if that life had to end when he could no longer be trusted despite all your efforts. You truly gave me a new line of thought to consider when dealing with the many animals in my life. After reading everything you ever published, I lost touch for a while, only to joyfully find your blog years later. And then came Saving Simon … in love all over again. Forgive the extremes of animal rights activists. Their hearts are pointed in the right direction. They just tend to be a bit beyond the reasonable expectations of the current world, but their spirit does move the needle closer to where it needs to be. You are the “boots on the ground” of saving and healing the most vulnerable of God’s creatures one spirit at a time, and for that I am forever your fan.
Orson changed and transformed MY life too -through your writing. Now I have a McNab collie ( cousin to the Barbie collie ;)) she’s MY Orson – heart dog! Love our herders!!!!
This was, by far, one of my favorite books about dogs. The reality of having aggression in a dog we love is a very hard problem to deal with. You wrote exactly what it is like and what a responsible person should do. I would refer this book to my clients who were facing this same problem. Thank God there were only a few. Great book, one of the best!
The book that introduced us. I’ve read it at least five times.
Reading your book about Orson took me through all of your rollercoaster feelings; it was so well-written. It’s hard to believe that a dog can be so broken, that it can’t be trusted or trained completely, and damn, you tried, far longer and harder than most would have tried.
I am shocked that people were upset with you for putting Orson down. I continue to have a lifetime of animals.
Our part coonhound frightened and was aggressive to our across the street neighbor when she walked out to
get her mail. Unacceptable. Two rescues started out okay but in time became increasingly jealous and protective of
us, and had to be re-homed. Now we adore a Westie puppy, and a Florida rescue, a 12 year old female, a Yorkie/
Daschund mix who is fantastic. There are both the loves of our lives.
And I don’t think Orson “snapped;” I think genetics and/or early trauma dictated his behavior. Good for you to let him go to heaven.
I read A Dog Year, the Dogs of Bedlam Farm, a Good Dog, Izzy and Lenore, Soul of a dog, and all of your subsequent dog books. I am pleased you wrote about Orson. I was impressed with how much you gave to help Orson, both of yourself and money. The story of Homer touched me deeply because Homer’s experience with you was the same as I experienced in my family. Your correlation between how your dad treated you and how you were treating Homer was eye opening for me and had a profound effect on my work in therapy. Huge breakthrough. I don’t know what happened to Izzy, or Lenore. Not sure if I missed a book, or you started your blog then. I loved your story of Simon. I don’t know about Fate. I wonder if you could do a synopsis of Fate in your blog. Or point me to a blog in the archive I can read.
As owner of a working border collie who has taught me SOoo much, given and give unconditional love often when I don’t deserve it. We as well have spent thousands of $ to keep Jesse healthy and doing the jobs he loves. I have a young mare that due to a injury caused by a freak accident at a trainers where she tried to jump a high gate panel and flipped herself . She became a terrible explosive bucker without what we thought was no cause. We finally figured it was pain but from where we didn’t know. We finally learned she had fractured her neck at the poll to the point that with the right movement it would touch the spinal cord and cause extreme pain. I decided that I would not sell her far to dangerous for someone to buy and become injured. I fear a rescue would “save” her and sell her to some one. I will not and cannot risk someone getting injuried knowing what she could do thru no fault of her own. If she does not work as a broodmare she will be put down with the greatest Amount of dignity I can give. As sometime a swift and painless death is far better than living in pain or fear.