Bedlam Farm Blog Journal by Jon Katz

3 December

Dog Love And Cat Love Are Different. How? (Flower Included, Color And Light.)

by Jon Katz

Since my love affair with Zip, I’ve considered the difference between dog and cat love. Although they seem to trigger the same emotions in us, they are two very different animals. I am working to learn as much about cats as I know about dogs.

I thought Karla’s post below (she is a cat lover and longtime blog reader) was interesting.

My experience with dog love is not as contained as hers – my dogs do not always need worship and acknowledgment; I think of Red And Rose and Zinnia, who never bothered me or demanded attention and have lots of things they love to do rather than sit with me.

But I think her point about cats is interesting. I see that cats choose people and do so often on their terms.

If they are well trained, dogs generally try to please human beings; they have lived closely with them for thousands of years and are smart enough, unlike raccoons and squirrels, to have learned how to please us so we will treat them well, better than we treat almost any animals on the earth.

Cats are only partly domesticated. They do not exist to please human beings.

This is what Karla wrote in response to a piece I wrote about loving Zip:

This is why cat love can be so good – when they choose you, you know you’re chosen, and they don’t tend to smother, unlike dogs, who seem to need to be worshipped or acknowledged. There are exceptions, of course, in both the cat world and dog world to these behaviors. We’ve had 12 cats over the 23 years of our marriage, and only 2 of them “chose” me over my husband. I am the practical of the two of us, and I prefer that cats not sleep on me, walk over me in bed, etc. They all knew to stay off of me if uninvited and give me my space. My husband had no such boundaries and would wake up twisted like a pretzel with cats all over him. The two who chose me would simply come to me and politely “ask” for attention. I much preferred it that way. Perhaps I was a cat in a previous life.

I enjoy and appreciate the many messages I’m receiving about cats and what they are like. As with dogs, most experiences and conclusions differ. Generally, people tell me cats “choose” their humans and are more independent than Zip. Zip is very fond of Maria, but he does seem to have “chosen” me in specific ways.

My dogs are also independent and will also veer off to pursue interests other than mine. So does Zip. Every dog is different, and I suspect every cat is too.

I notice that Zip is very much like a dog in the attention he pays me, the way he follows me around, and the affection he seeks and offers. I also notice that after a few minutes, he feels pretty free (and is) to wander off and look for something to kill. I hope it’s most often a rat.

Other differences I noticed:

Dogs are pack animals who usually closely follow human orders and training. Cats rarely share that level of obedience.

Cats’ memories also last much longer than dogs’, and training sessions with a cat must be consistent, continuous, and short. I have trained Zip to meet me on the used garden beds when I come outside and yell, “Hay, Zip.” Zip is more intelligent than most dogs I have known. He does much more on his own.

As I write this, Zinnia is lying at my feet, as she often does when I’m working. I can’t imagine Zip doing that, and I wouldn’t want him around when I’m writing.

Cats are solitary hunters. They are very independent creatures and often don’t rely on humans for much beyond their basic food needs and a clean litter box or an outdoor place to eliminate. They are content being alone for hours at a time. I think they insist on it.

I felt I needed to take the first steps to connect with Zip. He seemed to need someone like me, who is prone to scratches and rubbing and wants to be left alone most of the time. It took him a week or so to fully trust and accept me. When he was satisfied, he changed.

I should also add that cats seem generally more vicious to other life than the dogs I have known. Zinnia and Fate have no interest in killing things (Bud accepted); I’ve already seen Zip playing with and torturing mice, chipmunks, and moles. I know him as a sweetie, but mice know him as a kind of human Dracula.

Dogs and cats enjoy eating. However, cats need to ingest smaller and more frequent meals than dogs.

I think independence is the most significant difference.

Zip cares about me, but nowhere near worship or obsession. He has a lot of interests out there. I like that. I also find that I relish the affection and trust he shows me. But I wouldn’t enjoy it all day or all night. I’m like a cat in that way; perhaps that’s one reason he and I connect.

I see we have each ignited something substantial in the other. We give each other something we both need, something I didn’t quite realize that I needed. Zip did notice.

I’ll be writing more about the difference between dog and cat love as I experience it and read about it; thanks, Karla and others, for your thoughts, ideas, and insights about cats; they are helping me understand Zip and learn something I didn’t know. I’ll share what I learn.

3 December

Christmas Comes To The Farmer’s Market. So Does Lobster Rolls And Christmas, Thanks To Casey Face

by Jon Katz

The Cambridge Farmer’s Market is taking off, even on a cold and rainy day, inside their winter headquarters in the former town fire company building.

There is a new energy to the market,  a deepening sense of community, with new vendors and energized old ones. Many of you have been reading about Casey working day and night to get her renovated horse wagon into shape and selling coffee, tea, baked cooks, and sandwiches.

New vendors are signing up all the time, even in the off-season of winter. And Casey is getting closer and closer to her dream of a classy food cart in town every day.

Casey’s mother has worked for years at the Adirondack Seafood Company in Glens Falls,  an Adirondack city north of Cambridge.

She and he mother got Adirondack to experiment with being a vendor at the rapidly growing farmer’s market. Thanks, Casey. I don’t think you know that Lobster Rolls are my favorite food; I’ve driven hours to get one.  Casey plans to open her refurbished horse trailer over the next couple of weeks.

She plans to open up the car in February.

Casey is expanding all of the time. Last year, it was coffee and cider. Now it’s coffee, cider, tea, bread, scones, muffins, winter hats, and more. Thanks for the Lobster Rolls, Casey; you made my day. She’s found a location for her cart and is asking for permission to bring her food wagon there.

Every time I see her table, there are more and more good things to eat.

Emlyenne is a regular at the farmer’s market; she sleeps happily in the infant sleeping bag Casey keeps. The baby is four months old and I have the sense she will be an integral part of Canteen/ Coffee, Inc. I love seeing her almost everywhere Casey goes.

Two workers from the Adirondack Fish Company showed up at the Farmer’s Market today. It was too noisy for me to pick up on their names. We did shake hands and I begged them to return.

Lobster rolls, joy, joy. We had a great lunch today. I hope the Adirondack Fish Company comes every week forever.

Christmas music at the market

Cindy’s goats are not milking this time of year, so no goat cheese, but she has many other things to sell, including her top-rated soap. She has an open house and sale at her CAZ  Acres Farm next Saturday, and we’ll be there. It’s her third open house.

We’ve become friends with Cindy; watching her soap business take off is a pleasure.

It’s the best soap I have ever used, and I’m excited for Cindy and proud of her. She is focused and hard-working, a dreamer who walked the walk and didn’t just whine about her hard life.

She’s also a lovely human being. She and Maria (and me) love to catch up with her at the market. Her e-mail is [email protected]. Have a great holiday season, Cindy; you deserve it.

3 December

Manners Live: In Appreciation Of Clay Terry, Who Reminds Me To Never Forget That There Are Kind And Honest People In The World

by Jon Katz
I underestimated Clay Perry. I wish I had a medal to give him.
Unlike so many people online, somebody taught him manners and helped him to understand that actual rudeness comes from calling a stranger an “asshole” for speaking up for themselves (I do know I sometimes come across as angrier than I feel) or disagreeing with someone, and for being honest.
Here is his message: he is a rare and precious thing in modern-day America:
“Jon, I was so happy to see the coat I sent being worm by a Mansion resident! My pug died Thursday & I sure needed something to lift my spirits. Your post and picture did that, and I understand your request to check with you before sending things your way. I am sorry that you were “chastised” by a reader who thought you were rude.”
I don’t know Clay Perry, but I like him already. I get insulted and demeaned every time I make this request, which I have done many times in the past few years. Maybe Clay will consider a run for Congress.
Clay is one of those people who should be commended for showing us how we all need to learn to listen and communicate online.

Social media has a lot of excellent and worthy things to offer, including my blog. Sadly, it is also becoming a cesspool of angry, intolerant, and cruel people (Thanks,  Donald, you’re a jewel of a human.)

People always tell me they are afraid to post anything real online for fear of being ridiculed or insulted.

Last week, I wrote a post asking people to stop sending me packages without my knowledge or agreement.

We get many boxes we didn’t ask for here at Bedlam Farm, which has become a problem. I hate giving away, throwing away, or destroying other people’s things when I have no need, use, or interest in them.

And we live in a small farmhouse. We don’t have a lot of room. It’s a housekeeping problem.

The post was triggered by Clay, who told me he was sending two oversized jackets and a book from the 1950s about homelessness that he thought I might be interested in.

I grimaced. That’s not the way I work. I am told of or identify a need and either take care of it myself or ask for support. Otherwise, the boxes pile up, and I threw them away so we could move through the house. When people contacted me, I ensured the Mansion, Sue Silverstein, or someone else wanted or needed them.

Then I ask that they be sent to the recipients, not me.

The book was about homelessness in New York City in the 1950s.

People in need don’t need everything, and I don’t relish hauling boxes all over time to try and pass them to people who might or might not want them. I like to buy my own books.

To me, there is nothing complicated or hostile in making that request of people, even though it is shocking and threatening to many people online.

I don’t think anyone reading this would like to get boxes of used or old (and sometimes dirty) things without asking for them or knowing about them.

I don’t want to be a Goodwill Reception Center. People I work with tell me what I need, not what I ask them to need.

I wrote a polite message to Clay telling him I would try to find a place for the “large box” he was sending me and asked him to please communicate with me beforehand next time. I’ve asked this a least a  dozen times over the years, and every time I do – every single time –  and no matter what I say,  people from the vigilante  Social Media Police assault team come after me for being an ingrate, rude, obnoxious, or in this case, “an asshole” (this would be Vivian for speaking up.

People like Vivian hate honesty and sincerity because they love feeling free to attack people they don’t know about for things they know nothing about.

People hate to lose power, no matter how illegitimate or temporary. Before I grew up, I reveled in challenging them. It is, of course, a waste of time.

Claudia, one of my Meditation students at the Mansion, loved one of the jackets and is wearing it proudly. I wrote about this on the blog and posted a photo (above).

I braced myself for Clay and for, Vivian and the other members of her unit. I’m learning almost daily how few people were taught anything about good manners.

I would be stunned if my daughter ever wrote a message like that to people; I hope she was taught better.

In my e-mail to him, I thanked Clay two or three times for his generosity.

As it happened (I don’t quit easily), I brought the box to the Mansion and found at least one taker for one of the jackets he sent (see Claudia above).

I wasn’t so lucky on the second one or the book; if I can’t find takers,  they both go to the American Legion Donation Box, and the book goes to the library if they want it (they often don’t; they don’t have much room either.)

I apologized for sending that message and I will do it again when the next unwanted box arrives.

Clay was the first one who not only understood and sincerely agreed to let me know before sending me another package. I almost didn’t believe it, which is a sad commentary on how we communicate with one another, and how cynical I might be getting. I’ll work on that.

I told him the apology was due from me, not him, for losing faith in the ability of people online to be civil and to listen rather than condemn. Social media is killing off civility in our culture. Clay is a good person, polite, understanding, and generous. I hope he stays in touch. He belongs here. Vivian doesn’t.

I look forward to getting any packages from Clay that can be useful. He understood how it worked and was graceful enough to respond politely and warmly.

Thanks, Clay; once again, I am reminded by you and your message that most people are good and wish to do good in a medium and culture that has almost obliterated listening and speaking respectfully to each other. Good for you. Send me anything you want. Just ask first…:)

It would be wrong to forget that many people like Clay are in the world. I won’t forget it again.

3 December

Bedlam Farm Journal, 3/12/2023: A Rich Sunday Morning, Beautiful Sky, Rain. Kissing A Sheep, Meeting Bud, Cleaning Out Closets, Getting Lobster Rolls At The Farmer’s Market (YES!), Shoveling Manure

by Jon Katz

 

It was a beautiful fall morning, cloudy, then rainy; I loved the mist on the hills. I’m giving up naked photo taking; the Amish bought the property across the road and often came walking in the morning. I don’t want to scare or shock anybody. I ordered a new flannel bathrobe online, and it’s coming in a couple of days. I’ll keep it hanging downstairs for when I rush outside to catch the sun. An era ends, I guess. It was undoubtedly a bracing way to start the day.

The big news (photos later) is that the Adirondack Seafood Company sold lobster rolls at the Farmer’s Market, my all-time favorite food, thanks to Casey.  I hope they come all year. I bought two and some shrimp; we’re eating them for lunch. The local farmer’s market is rolling. Cindy, our friend, the Crazy Goat Lady, is having an open house at her farm on Saturday. We’re going.

I have some lovely photos from the market I’ll put up later. The market is taking off; it’s cold and wet, but the indoor market was jammed—lots of new and exciting food, wool, scones, and caps. More later.

(Above photo: Maria kissing Asher. I’ve never kissed a sheep, but I often kiss donkeys on the nose.)

The mist on the Green Mountains is lovely.

Zip came over to say hello; he was startled by my bathrobe but got over it. Maria kissed him on the nose.

The sky suddenly turned dark, the sun vanished, and the rain began. It was beautiful.

The sun was out for a few minutes, and Maria, the dogs, and some sheep kept her company.

Hens In The Rain. In bad weather, they huddle up (under the bird feeder.)

Maria calls it Blue Baling Twine art; she adds twine to the piece daily. She has always been an artist, morning, noon, and night. I asked her if she minded shoveling manure in the morning. “I love it,” she said. She was meant to live on a farm with animals.

2 December

Me And Zip: Our Afternoon Meeting, In The Usual Place. This Kind Of Love…

by Jon Katz

Every afternoon, around 4 p.m., I go outside to the chairs out back, no matter how cold, and sit in our oversized blue Amish Adirondack Chair. In seconds, a small black figure appears out of nowhere and jumps into my lap.

It’s Zip; he hops up, puts his head near or under my chin, and then curls up in a ball on my shoulder, where he fits comfortably.

Zip curls up and begins to purr. And most afternoons, he goes to sleep. He is a restless creature and is never still for long, but lying on my shoulders or stomach, he feels soft and warm. Zip is good for me for reasons I don’t understand and may never understand, but I am feeling and appreciating.

I love it when he purrs and closes his eyes in bliss. I’ve figured out his sweet spots – under the neck and chest.

Zip is hyper-vigilant and notices every moment around the farm. Only when he sleeps on my shoulder is he really at ease. But the meetings are important to both of us, and we make sure to be there when we can.

(Photo by Maria)

This kind of cat love is new to me, and it still is surprising and sometimes strange. Our meeting was over after 10 to 20 minutes when I got freezing, and he saw or sniffed something he wanted to investigate. I won’t see him again until tomorrow, and some days he is off in the marsh and I don’t get to see him at all.

I miss him on those days, but I’m glad he doesn’t get obsessive. That would bother me. He looks for me but is happy to run off when something newer or better appears. This is a good thing.

But those days are unusual. He’s doing a great job as a Barn Cat. Only two pigeons are left in the barn, and they stay out of the way. I find bits of dead rats around the barn, and we’ve only seen one in the past couple of weeks and killed it in a trap.

He is getting it done in the best traditions of the Barn Cat. I’ve never had regular meetings with a cat or dog before. I do like it.

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