Bedlam Farm Blog Journal by Jon Katz

5 August

Rescue World: A Dog For Everyone Who Wants To Love One

by Jon Katz

In 1960, according to the U.S. Humane Society, there were about 12 million owned dogs in the United States. Today there are more than 70 million owned dogs, as many or more cats.

My mother fed our dogs  table scraps and never heard of store-bought dog food, pets rarely saw a vet.  Our dogs slept in the basement.

Today, Americans spend more than $50 billion on care for their pets. Animal health care has run out of control cost wise, just as human health care has. In 208, it is estimated that Americans will spent more than $72 billion on their pets.

Dogs have moved from the periphery of our lives to the center, from sleeping in the garage to sleeping in bed, from dying quick and natural deaths to having their lives prolonged at all costs by any means – just like people. Their main work now is providing emotional support to needy humans.

In that time, we have also seen the rise of one of the most compelling and intense social movements in American history, the animal rescue movement. This is a movement that has saved, re-homed and helped heal countless millions of dogs. It has also in places become strident, out of touch, exclusive and increasingly resented.

For a movement that depends so heavily on public support and good will, this is deeply troubling.

In the animal world, as in the political world, we seem to be losing the ability to talk to each other, and use our own common sense and judgement about each other. We resort to paranoid, legalistic and bureaucratic procedures to try to judge people and gauge their humanity.

Do any of us really think this works? Just look at the news. It is a cruel society that assumes everyone we deal with are liars or worse.

I have rescued more than 100 animals in my time on the farm, including sheep, donkeys, chickens, dogs and barn cats. But I have not done enough on my blog and in my writing to help this movement save the lives of dogs and find good homes for them.

I am controversial on my feelings about this issue, but not in the way many people think.

I believe there is a dog in America for anyone willing to love them and care for them, whether, they are old or not, have a fence or not, have kids at home or not, or go to work, as almost all able-bodied Americans do.

I believe the process by which the rescue culture has come to define eligible adopters has become irrational, cruel and self-defeating, to the detriment of dogs and people.

I completely understand the reasons for caution and vigilance when it comes to finding new  homes for dogs – many people are not honest or careful in their choice of dogs –  but I am weary of hearing every day from good people with big hearts who are rejected and frustrated and hurt by the arbitrary, unthinking and often completely unjustified terms and restrictions place on dog adoption.

Ethel, who is 68, tried a dozen times to adopt an older dog who can’t or won’t run or walk for great distances, just as she can’t. Because she had severe arthritis, she was rejected again and again.

I am in the process of adopting a Boston Terrier name Bud who really needs a good home, and I have found a rescue group – Friends Of Homeless Animals/RI – that seems to love animals and people, and wants to find good homes for their dogs as much as they want to stop people from getting them. It is a tricky balance, but FOHA/RI could be, in my mind a role model for animal rescue.

They focus on dogs with heartworm and other diseases, but they are available to talk to people and make informed judgements about them. I jumped through a bunch of hoops, which I was happy to do, but I got the feeling they were on my side as well as Bud’s and wanted the two of us to come together.

When someone adopts a dog, we can never know for sure that they are wonderful, honest and loving people. There are no guarantees, rescue workers are not detectives or social workers or psychologists. Circumstances change, people change, people sometimes lie.

But the answer is not to shut out the elderly, the working, the poor, and the young from adoption, not while millions of dogs are looking for a home. Animal abuse is a horrible thing, but so is human abuse.

Sometimes we just have to take risks for the many dogs in urgent need of homes. For me, the first question any rescue person asks a prospective adopter is: “how can we make this happen?”

If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work, but it seems harsh to me to presume that people seeking dogs are all liars and abusers because some of them are.

The animal rights movement made a profound mistake in using animals to assault and harass people who live and work with them, and to drive animals away from people.

This spectacular misstep will  forever limit a movement that could really have helped animals and the people who care for them. As it is, the movement is despised by millions of pet and animal lovers..

I will not ever assume that every person without a big fence and a job is an animal abuser, unworthy of adopting a sick dog recovering from heartworm or brutality or starvation, or an old and orphaned dog that just needs a place to live.

Or that anyone who works is unfit.

I have spent a lot of time working in the past year or two to help vulnerable people – refugees, the elderly. It’s time I also worked to help the most vulnerable animals. Bud has heartworm and was abandoned and cruelly mistreated. I am eager to give him the home he deserves.

In searching for a dog to replace our dog Gus, who died earlier this year from the dread disease megaesophagus, I realized just how difficult it is for many dog lovers to adopt a dog now.

Apart from the cost, which now ranges from $400 to $600 in many cases, I saw that I could not adopt a dog unless I had a tall and expensive fence, unless I worked at home, unless I  had no young or small children, unless I listed and explained every dog I ever had that died, unless I provide veterinary and personal references.

I am not suggesting all of these conditions are unnecessary, just that the 12 million dogs languishing in shelters or foster care deserve better than this. So do the people who are eager to love a dog, and are stung by being rejected by animal rescue groups.

I personally know too many wonderful people who have been rejected and are heartbroken and wounded by the process. They would make wonderful and conscientious dog owners.

The goal should be that anyone who really wants to adopt a dog and can provide references and has no history of cruelty should be able to get one, regardless of their age or employment or yard fencing. A small child is an important consideration in dog adoption, too many are injured by dog bites in the face, but it ought not be an automatic disqualifier.

One rescue group I contacted asked me to sign a waiver agreeing that a representative of the group could enter my home unannounced at any time and for any reason for the life of the dog. I can’t imagine agreeing to let the government do that, why would I let a rescue group? The request is fascistic.

Should people who work really be banned from having  dog?

There is no respectable behaviorist who would seriously argue it is cruel for a dog to be alone at home for the eight to ten hours people are away working. Dogs in the wild sleep for up to 15 hours a day in their dens, it is not even healthy for dogs to be busy and stimulated all day, this idea is a consequence of the over-emotionalizing of animals that has become an epidemic in recent years.

Dogs are not children, and children are not dogs. They should never be seen as the same thing.

The dog world has unthinkingly embraced the idea of the “no-kill” shelter without comprehending there is no crueler fate for a dog than to be confined to a crate for years or a lifetime. This makes us feel good, not them. It is the worst kind of animal abuse.

Dogs are adaptable, they want to be loved and fed and sheltered, there are no fixed time requirements for those things.

Just think of the many Katrina dogs who have been happily re-homed all over the country, I don’t know of a single one who died because their people worked or didn’t have a five-foot high wire mesh fence or a good job.

Most communities in urban and suburban American now require dogs to be walked on leashes, the dogs do fine.

Most dog lovers spent $10,000 a year on health care along for their pets. Do we really want the joy of dog ownership to only go to rich people who don’t need to work and can afford thousands of dollars worth of fencing?

There is not a day when I do not receive messages like this:

Alison: Thank you, Jon for your comments and thoughts on this. I’m a long time reader first time commenter. I am someone who has been declined from rescue groups repeatedly and for years. I am single, I live alone, I have a full-time job (with flex hours and work from home option 2 days a week), I don’t have a family, I don’t own property (despite landlords approval for a dog), I don’t have a fence, my car isn’t big enough, please forgive me as I live with two cats, as a distance runner I may run too many miles for a dog (I think this was my favorite reason to be declined for a young border collie cross – mind you the advertisement stated they were seeking someone who was “athletic”) and the list goes on – so much so that I have bigger battles to fight and have decided to explore other avenues of dog ownership. Which while it sort of breaks my heart, I believe everything happens for a reason, but I still look and still make futile attempts and one day I’ll find my dog – but a lot of things in the universe have to be in alignment for it to happen. I began to feel like every application was an apology of sorts – sorry I’m a good person, trying to do a good thing but yeah not married, fully employed, no kids, no fenced yard and cats. It’s like a bad online dating profile. And yet my shortcomings for the rescue groups aren’t shortcomings in my eyes at all. Doesn’t matter if I’ve volunteered with rescues and shelters, doesn’t matter past experience or future desire – my most recent conclusion is: in this country it has become easier to obtain a firearm than rescue a dog. Each group could learn something from the other. I’m looking forward to your stewardship in the community! Keep us posted if there is anything we can do along your journey! Keep writing! Thank you!

This is just wrong.

And from Susan:

The fenced yard is huge, my mother and I both had to let go of our buddies do to cancer, seizures, lung issues at 12 years and 14. We miss them terribly. We live in a park that does not allow fences, but we also are not allowed to tie a dog out, we have to be with our pet on leash at all times, I would do this anyway because it is to easy for them to disappear or get injured. We absolutely love a rescue but unfortunately are auto excluded due to non fence.
Too many animals out there  have not been treated well, and need people who want to love and care for them, but as society goes only the very wealthy with big yards are able to be considered worthy. I do understand fully rescues want to be positive they are not putting them back into to same or worse situation and I am so thankful they do, but not every person without a fence is horrible, not everyone without a fence is incapable of loving them.

These messages make me heartsick. Something is wrong with a system that treats people like this. There are so many more dogs needing homes than people asking to adopt them.

So I’m going to be working hard to support a rescue group like FOHA/RI, they seem worthy and empathetic to me, not only on behalf of dogs but people as well. They charge only $200, pay for the dog’s medical care and transportation to the adopter.

They wanted to work with me from the beginning, even as they vetted me thoroughly and appropriately.

The most meaning references in my mind were from my vet and her staff. They know better than anyone how I treat my dogs. They matter the most in my mind. Any other name I provide is almost certain to be a friend.

FOHA takes lots of precautions to see that their dogs go to safe and loving homes. But they also treat people with dignity and compassion. I have great respect for Carol Johnson, who is fostering Bud and provides me with continuous updates about his condition and offers to help me in any way.

And she is tough as nails, she would never let Bud go to a dubious owner.

Carol wanted references, but we also took the measure of one another, and came to trust each other. That was important to me, to her, and to Bud. That is what made it happen.

I look forward to bringing the work of this group to the attention of the Army Of Good, and broadening my “good” campaign to include dogs as well as people. It seems a natural and even overdue fit. Hope you can come along.

5 August

What Matters Most: When Love Is Secure

by Jon Katz
What Matters Most: When Love Is Secure

I realized this morning that for the first time in my life, I know a love that is secure. I have never had that before, and did not know what it was.

It is profound, transforming.

I trust Maria in a way I have never trusted anyone, family, friends, lovers.

She knows me in a way no one has ever known me.

When we argue or get angry with one another, I know we will talk it through and work it out, not seethe and fester and brood or hide or run.

We have our battles, we have no grudges, we carry nothing over.

We have seen deeply into the souls of one another, and we know the reality of each other. Love is not about perfection, but openness, trust and a willingness to do the hard work of listening and compromise and feeling.

I let Maria see me in a way no one has ever seen me, and in a way I have never shown to anyone else.

Every day, I rediscover my love for her and wonder at this idea of secure love, of trust, it opens up so many possibilities, it frees me in so many ways, it supports and nourished me and affirmsmy life and makes it possible.

This is one of the things that matters most – a secure love.

It happened when I finally became open to it, and I do not lament how long it took, I celebrate that I had the good fortune – and the will – to have it in my life.

People will read this and message me that I am very lucky, but Maria and I both know luck has little to do with it. We have both worked very hard to find and keep our love, we work at it every single day of our lives.

What a relief it is to trust love, it is the path to freedom.

And while I never tell other people what to do, I will share this: if I can have it, you can have it, if you do not already have it.

5 August

Good Morning Sunday

by Jon Katz
Good Morning Sunday

Good morning Sunday. I’m in a writing, photo-taking mood today, we have absolutely nothing planned, and we are very happy about that.

First, we’re going to Vermont to our favorite Sunday breakfast restaurant. It’s a beautiful  drive, and I hope to take some photos with my  14mm wide angle lens.

I have some new books to put into our Little Free Library.

I want to blog a bit about animal rescue, something I am thinking about.

We have to add some new plants to the fish tank and clean it out a bit, Maria will love figuring out where the plants will go.

I want to write about secure love, and the power it has.

I want to go see Carol and Ed Gulley.

I want to do some reading.

That’s as far as I’ve gotten with my Sunday, I hope to share it with you people, who are kind enough to share my life with me, good and bad.

I understand that some days you get the good Katz, and somedays the bad. I have no pretensions about that. I appreciate your sticking it out. More later.

4 August

Healing Is Not A Straight Line: The Path To Freedom

by Jon Katz
Healing Is Not A Straight Line

Healing was the path to freedom for me.

I learned later in life that healing is not a straight line. It doesn’t happen in a flash, it is never really done.

I worked hard to get better and suddenly I would feel as if I had lost all that I had gained, or as if the gains were not real. I could never and can never escape myself. But I could heal.

We all live with ghosts of pain and trauma, and healing does not erase their scars or voices, it  only pushes them aside with louder and more affirming and healthier voices. They pop up at will, especially when there are setbacks and  transgressions.

Those of who were wounded along the line are often doubtful of our ability to heal, to get better, to be better. So many people want help and need help. So few people get help. We are so vulnerable to the judgements and anger of others.

I learned that I could not be around people who refused to heal, I couldn’t be friends with them, it is true that healthy people cannot be close to unhealthy people. If it doesn’t feel right, it isn’t right, and I stopped blaming myself, I just got away, people who wanted pieces of me, people to whom I gave pieces of myself away.

I was so empty and needed that I nearly gave all of myself away, and that was one of life’s most terrifying and scarring experiences.

I had a lot of healing to do. I did a lot of healing.

The path to freedom is lined with setbacks – exhaustion, a cruel remark, an inability to be heard by people who ought to hear you, real or imagined rejection, the surprises and disappointments and intrusions of life.

When these things happened to me, I always felt that I was right back where I started, where I deserved to be, where I ought to be. But over time I learned that if I got back on the road, I started out at the place where I left it, not the place where I began. One step at a time, one day at a time. I put many of the pieces back slowly, as if building a very personal kind of foundation.

Some of us seem to get our souls and hearts broken when we are young, our egos shattered. People who mean no harm can do as much harm as people who mean to hurt. And they can do plenty of harm. We have a lot of work to do.

What I learned and will pass along is this. Not to dwell or get stuck on the small moments of hurt and doubt and fear. Not to let other people wound or define me.

I found that there was a quiet and solid place at the center of me, somewhere below my heart, above my stomach, and near my soul.

I found people who loved and believed in me, and I loved and believed in them.

Nobody could reach me in this safe and sold place, I constructed this place bit by bit, day by day. There is a bright light in there, it shines day and night.

I trust it now, I know it is there when I need it, it is like an ego in some ways, bloody but unbowed, scarred but strong. Outside of my center, these painful moments find other painful moments, together they are powerful, they often pushed me right off the road.

Mostly, what I learned is to trust and respect myself, no matter what the outside world might say or think of me, I have discovered many companions on my hero journey, i came to understand that healing is not a straight line, it had so many curves bumps and hills and holes and turns in it.

All of my life, the people around me told me not to be me, but to be someone else, something else. I have learned to just be me.

I never gave up on healing myself, I never stopped getting help until I got help that helped, I always saw healing as the road to freedom, a road I kept returning to and never really got off. I will always have work to do, I am flawed in so many ways.

But then, one day, I was free. I was not without pain or suffering, I was not perfect and did not have a perfect life. But I leaned that the path to freedom leads to freedom, and that is a precious gift beyond words.

4 August

The Old Farmer’s Corn Stand

by Jon Katz
The Old Farmer’s Corn Stand

The old farmer sold corn out of his stand for as long as anyone could remember. He had his own system for stacking and bagging the corn, and in his later years, his wife, who he called “mother,” came out to help him when he could no longer figure out the money and change.

The stand closed down two years ago – I often took photos of it – and we passed it by today and I wanted to capture the old stand, overgrown now with weeds and grass, as a storm passed the the sky turned a beautiful blue and yellow.

I wanted to remember the old farmer, he hated being photographed but he relented after I asked him a dozen times over a couple of years. I don’t know where the photos might be but I think of him sitting there in his straw hat, selling his corn all through the month of July and a bit through August.

I can see him sitting there with his signs and bags.

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