Bedlam Farm Blog Journal by Jon Katz

Tuesday was my day to read to the Mansion residents, I went there about 1 p.m. They LOVED the story of Maud, the sweet 88-year-old lady who has a tendency to murder people she doesn’t like or who are bad. They love poems and short stories too.

But I had another mission. Red was with me, making the rounds, offering his usual comfort and grace, and then he lay down next to me to sleep. I knew I had to tell the residents about Red’s sickness, and the truth: that he was failing, and could live a good while, or have his spine fracture deteriorate again, and have to be put down.

The vet was pretty clear that the prognosis was not good,  his heart is weakening, he is moving less and less. They needed to know, there are few people to whom Red is as important as these people, they have been loving him and awaiting him for several years now. He means a lot to them.

I told them everything, his injuries, his paralysis, the diagnosis, the prospects. There was absolute silence. No tears no questions,, no change in expression, except they were alert and focused, and listening to every word.

Red’s relationship with these people was extraordinarily, meaningful, beautiful and deep. They would feel his loss in a very personal and deep way. But I didn’t want them to find out about Red’s troubles in any other way than from me. And I didn’t want them to be shocked by any sudden or unexpected news. They get enough of that.

Sickness and death are no strangers at the Mansion, the residents see it, feel it and live it almost every day. They know how to process bad news.

I finished my report on Red and just sat in silence for a moment. Only one person, spoke, Alice, who had been listening closely, she loves Red dearly.

“Of course,” she said.

And that was the end of our discussion about Red.

Today, the farm is an ice scape, ice and snow frozen almost into a rink, hard ice over everything, it is difficult even to walk a few steps. The roads are clear, and I’ll have no trouble getting to my radio show “Talking To Animals,” on WBTNAM1370 today, Wednesday, from one to three p.m.  You can live stream the program here or download a free app like Simple Radio.

Another snowstorm to follow the broadcast, of course.

The broadcast will also be re-aired tonight between 8 and 10 p.m.

Today, I plan to begin a long-running dialogue on the minds of dogs, covering topics I’ve been thinking about and writing about for years. What do we know about how dogs think? What do we know about what they think?

Do dogs have consciousness, and how can we learn about their consciousness, given that they are alien beings and can’t tell us what they are thinking and feeling. How do dogs communicate with one another? How can we best communicate with them?

I’ll also discuss whether the smartest dog always makes the best pet, and what trainers suggest about training the not-so-smart dogs, and the smart ones.

I’ve been poring through books and research studies this week in the hope I can add some light to these questions. I don’t pretend to have the answers – some of these things are not yet knowable to the human mind.

I will be exploring these subjects on my blog as well, as I have already begun to do. I very much want to hear from you, dog and animal lovers and readers of the blog: 866 – 406 – 9286 or 802 442 1010. The program works only insofar as you participate. It is your show, you make or break it. That’s what community radio is all about.

But we have learned a lot and we do know a lot. I am open to spiritual interpretations of dogs lives but I also respect science and the protocols of research. I give science a lot of weight in these discussions, even though many people are busy re-making dogs into the companions they need and want, into soul mates and mystics. I can’t say there is no truth to many of these theories – how could I know that? – but I want the program to be useful and to reflect what the best minds in the field know about dogs, not just what I know. I try not to talk out of my butt.

Lots of good stuff to talk about, we hope to be both thoughtful and useful. And civil, always civil. This is not the place for angry screamers and rigid ideologues.

So tune in, I think it will be an interesting broadcast, we will talk about things very few animal programs discuss. Call 802 442 1010 or 866 406 9286. Or e-mail me, [email protected], before during or after the show.

The last session of my acting class was Tuesday night, I will miss meeting in this way with Christine Decker, an accomplished actor and a great teacher. The class surprised me in a number of ways, and challenged me in others, as good classes should.

The class sparked a change in agents for me, and a recommitment to my book writing. It taught me that I am not an actor, but had important things to learn about speaking and presenting myself (she doesn’t mind the lip-smacking at all.)

I abandoned my T.S. Eliot monologue – it was never very good – and discovered the power of the Story Of Red, right under my nose, of course.

I am speaking more slowly, projecting my words, “tasting” each word and appreciating my gifts as a story teller rather than an actor. Writing is so different than acting, but there are points were the two converge, each trade asks us to find the love and beauty in ourselves.

If Christine offers another class, I will be right there to sign up, if she’ll have me. I met several people in the class I want to get to know better, I feel they could be friends. The class embraced Red, which was great for him and touching for me. They just showered him with love and attention.

I had this idea that I would love to write a play with or for Christine, if she wanted to do that. I’ll ask her.

I think we really connect to one another creatively. She performed beautifully in a piece about farming I wrote for Hubbard Hall, my local theater company.

I’d love to work with her again. Red remembered her from the Hubbard Hall performance. Christine played the part of a farmer’s wife (the farm was going under) and at one point, she cried, and Red came rushing over to her to comfort her.

Every class, Christine has pulled out a red carpet for him to rest on. So Red and I will kick off the Showcase show Friday night, this class has  reminded me to keep opening up, keep learning, and keep growing.

Three of the class students rehearsing their “Bingo” skit.

We had the final class of Christine Decker’s Acting 101 class Tuesday night, the class was held in the main theater of the Oldcastle Theater Company in Bennington, Vt., a vibrant theater that focuses on community theater and  education as well as plays.

The last class was also a final rehearsal for the free Showcase Friday night, in which almost all of the people in the class are performing monologues, skits or scenes. Some are original works.

I’m opening the show with Red, I’m doing a monologue on The Story Of Red, I am excited to be honoring Red and telling his story.

I’ve only run through the monologue once, I don’t want to repeat it too much or try telling the story from a script or memorized text.

I’ll just tell it the way it happened, the story of Red was – is – a story of life, death, love, God, mercy, it is another in the powerful series of stories about how a dog can change the life of a man, and many others as well.

Red led me into my therapy work with hospice and the Mansion, even the refugees. He guided me towards my goal of wanting to do good. He accompanied me every step of the way.

This remarkable animal began life in Northern Ireland and then Virginia, and then to me. I am proud and happy to be telling his story as he struggles with severe severe health problems, including a fractured spine.

The show is Friday night at 7 p.m. in the Oldcastle Theater on Main Street in Bennington,Vt.  Me and Red, we’re ready.

(Photo: My favorite Ed Gulley wind chime, Spoons, on the back porch, Thanks, Ed)

I call them Identity Troughs, periods or events I see as landmarks, building blocks to my identity, always at peril in a world without boundaries. Tonight, the last Acting Class in what has been an important growing and earning experience for me.

And also, my new weekly radio show, Talking To Animals, tomorrow, Wednesday from one to three, an impossible mission that might, in fact, still be possible. The challenge of life, to try things, stretch myself, grow and learn. And improve, always improve.

Tonight will be the last and only rehearsal for “The Story Of Red,” my personal monologue, a story that grew in my life and took focus in my class. I’m not really presenting the story as an actor would, or as acting.

I’m no actor.

But as a writer and story-teller, the class has reaffirmed that identity for me in unexpected ways.

Many thanks to Christine Decker and to Red and to  T.S. Eliot, who inspired me as always with his beautiful poems, but who also helped me to see what I am and what I am not.

I am not usually afraid of talking in public, but I am somewhat nervous about this one, I want to do honor to Red, and I am determined to improvise rather than memorize and prepare, I want the story to be real and from the heart.

Sometimes, when I talk about Red, I do cry, but I don’t see the story as sad but quite joyous and affirming.  you don’t lament great gifts. It is hard for me to know he is dying, but I am committed to respecting life rather than denying it or emotionalizing it.

So I hope I do it well, for his sake as well as mine.

Both of these things are identity troughs, against a backdrop of getting older, sometimes feeling frail and vulnerable, as older people often do. I grow old, I grow old, said the Eliot monologue, that part touched my heart, yet I revel in the chance to read out, push my own boundaries, and take a fresh look at who I am and who I want to be.

Until the last breath, for me, for Red, I will live my life fully.

This week, I continue to pursue the very spiritual idea of being the beloved.  I am faced with the call to become who I am meant to be, a lifelong quest.

Becoming the Beloved is the great spiritual journey we have to make if we seek the richness of  a spiritual life. St. Augustine wrote “My soul is restless until it rests in you, O’God.”

For some, the search is for God, for me, I seek my own idea of God, I am always struggling in my erratic way  to discover the fullness of Love, always yearning for the truth, for a taste of the divine.

I think trying to act has helped me to find a kind of truth, I can only look for something I have or know, something that is already inside of me. I think that is where the writer and the actor come together as one. How can I search for beauty and truth unless beauty and truth live somewhere inside of me?

Red in his own way is always looking out for me, and he has helped me to see more clearly and more honestly were I am in life. I felt that in the acting class.

Paul Tillich writes that it is our destiny and the destiny of everything in our world that we must come to an end. Every end that we experience in nature and mankind speaks to us with a loud voice: you will also come to an end.

Thanks for the class.