Jon Katz is equally adept whether he's writing about animals or people. He imbues them all with personality and the spark that brings them to life for readers: goats, sheep, donkeys, cats, chickens, cows, pigs, and, most especially, dogs.
In this memoir, he introduces us to two of his canine companions: Izzy, a rescued border collie who becomes a gifted hospice volunteer, and Lenore, a black Lab puppy who is the embodiment of unconditional love, warm light, and boundless joy. Both came into Katz's life despite the author's initial reluctance because, as he tells us, each of them chose to be his, or more correctly, they both chose to make him their human.
This book often made me go pet my own current dogs, immensely grateful for their presence in my life. It also reminded me of guide dogs past, dogs who joined me because of what they'd been trained to do but who became so much more than just my guides. Ecko, a ninety-pound black Lab who could be scared by eight-pound Chihuahuas or sleeping bags on chairs or open-backed metal stairs, never met a hurting person he didn't want to help. Quiet and steady like Izzy, he intuitively knew what people needed and gave it to them without fanfare but also without restraint.
Stardust, my current partner, is my Lenore. She has shown me what a joy it is to see a well-trained, well-behaved dog doing her job with quiet competence. Her endless affection for me and her nurturing, maternal, compassionate spirit blesses my household, everyone in it, and everyone I encounter outside it. Even so, there is no doubt that Stardust is my dog, or should I say that I'm her person. She'll obey anyone and show them kindness, but it is me she returns to, me she looks to wherever we are, whatever we're doing, and whoever we're with. Blind people talk about falling in love instantly with their guide dogs. I don't love so easily, and after a few heartbreaks, I'm a little slow to open up sometimes. With Stardust, though, I think I felt something like that immediate pull, that instant connection. When she was first presented to me, she was joyful, affectionate, and immediately attached herself to me. Her trainers and puppy raisers commented on this, and I knew there was something special happening between us that had nothing to do with the pouch of kibble I carried for rewarding good work.
But as is true of any deep bond, the one between Stardust and me has blossomed over the years as we work, play, and live together. She is intimately attuned to me and my emotions, and I'm keenly aware of hers. She isn't exuberant or mischievous like Lenore. Her light is the soft, steady kind, her presence quiet and gentle yet magnificent. Even people who have only known and observed her working for a short time remark on her beautiful spirit. This is more than a cute puppy, even if her small, refined physique will forever make passersby think she's a guide dog in training. One only needs to watch her navigating with me in the city for a few minutes, to see her studying and analyzing and planning as we walk together, to know that she is confident, loves her work, and cares about me deeply.
I am indebted to Katz for this beautiful book and its wonderful reminder to savor every moment possible with the dogs who choose us. They will all leave us, long before we're ready to let them go.