Dancing Dogs: Stories [NOOK Book]

Overview

No one brings to life the remarkable bond between humans and their dogs like New York Times bestselling author Jon Katz. He has warmed our spirits with enchanting tales and keen observations of his animal menagerie—the dogs, sheep, chickens, and other residents of Bedlam Farm. Now, Katz is back with what he does best in his first collection of short stories, Dancing Dogs.

With his signature insight and gift for storytelling, Katz shares ...
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Dancing Dogs: Stories

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Overview

No one brings to life the remarkable bond between humans and their dogs like New York Times bestselling author Jon Katz. He has warmed our spirits with enchanting tales and keen observations of his animal menagerie—the dogs, sheep, chickens, and other residents of Bedlam Farm. Now, Katz is back with what he does best in his first collection of short stories, Dancing Dogs.

With his signature insight and gift for storytelling, Katz shares sixteen stories about one of life’s most unique relationships: In the title story, a housekeeper loses her job, but discovers her four-legged “children” have some toe-tapping talents that just may get the whole family back on its feet. In “Puppy Commando,” a shy grade-school outcast forges an instant connection with a beagle puppy she meets at a shelter—and risks everything to keep him. “Gracie’s Last Walk” features a woman who must find a way to say goodbye to her beloved golden retriever—but ends up saying hello to someone unexpected. “The Dog Who Kept Men Away” shows that not all humans pass the “sniff” test when it comes to canines, who possess an excellent judge of character. And in “Guardian Angel,” a widower going through a painful transition finds the greatest comfort in the unlikeliest of sources—a funny-looking pug named Gus.

Whether sitting, staying, and rolling over, in the barnyard, shelters, or home, sweet, home, the creatures in Dancing Dogs are genuinely inspiring and utterly memorable.

Praise for Dancing Dogs
 
“Funny, keenly observed short stories illuminating the bond between man and his best friend.”—People
 
“Jon Katz writes with passion and humor about the connections between animals and humans. . . . Animal lovers are sure to want to add this book to their collection.”—Examiner.com
 
“Katz’s stories, sometimes warm and sometimes funny, are smooth, light reads that are easy to pick up and enjoy and will appeal to dog lovers everywhere.”—Booklist
 
“Insightful, moving . . . a tissue-box-worthy collection of animal tales.”—Kirkus Reviews
 
“[A] heartwarming book.”—The Dallas Morning News

From the Hardcover edition.

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Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
Praise for Dancing Dogs
 
“Funny, keenly observed short stories illuminating the bond between man and his best friend.”—People
 
“Jon Katz writes with passion and humor about the connections between animals and humans. . . . Animal lovers are sure to want to add this book to their collection.”—Examiner.com
 
“Katz’s stories, sometimes warm and sometimes funny, are smooth, light reads that are easy to pick up and enjoy and will appeal to dog lovers everywhere.”—Booklist
 
“Insightful, moving . . . a tissue-box-worthy collection of animal tales.”—Kirkus Reviews
 
“[A] heartwarming book.”—The Dallas Morning News
Library Journal
In this first collection of short stories from best-selling author Katz (The Dogs of Bedlam Farm), a barn cat bonds with a farmyard rooster, a socially awkward seventh grader on a class field trip falls in love with an injured puppy, and a woman struggles to bring her deceased golden retriever to the vet via city streets and subway. Clearly, as our pets accompany us through the most difficult of human trials—coming-of-age, divorce, death—they support us while sometimes complicating matters. This is not a lighthearted romp with mischievous puppies—most of the selections here concern heart-wrenching loss and dilemma, with loneliness and isolation the common themes. The stories are hard to read but honestly done, and the most effective selections approach the world from the animal's perspective (e.g., "Lucky's Day"; "Barn Cat"). VERDICT For fans of animal stories who have recovered enough from John Grogan's Marley and Me to have another good cry (or several).—Jenn B. Stidham, Houston Community Coll.
Kirkus Reviews
For fans of man's best friend, a collection of insightful, moving and often unforgiving stories about dogs, cats and their people. There are lots of good books about animals, usually written for children, and a rash of bad books about dogs in particular, written to wring out the widest possible audience. But it's unusual to unearth a collection of great stories about dogs written for adults. Former journalist and mystery novelist Katz (Lenore Finds a Friend, 2012, etc.) settled comfortably into a gold mine of a niche with his 2002 memoir A Dog Year. With this book, the author brings together 16 stories about pets and people and how they keep each other company. The opener, "Gracie's Last Walk," carries on the theme of Katz' book Going Home (2011), about dealing with the loss of a pet. Another heart-rending story, "The Surrender Bay," chronicles the day-to-day courage of Emma, a part-time employee of a local animal shelter. One of the best, "Lucky's Day," deals virtually not at all with people, but follows the daily schedule of a small brown mutt who is unusually self-aware about The Deal: "It was a trade-off, Lucky cautioned. You got food and shelter and attention, but you gave up much of your natural life as a dog. Most of the time, it was a good deal." The collection runs the gamut, from a sappy story about a young girl on a mission to connect with a stray, to a gravely elegant piece about a barn cat. A tissue-box-worthy collection of animal tales.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780345536167
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 9/25/2012
  • Sold by: Random House
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 256
  • Sales rank: 115,555
  • File size: 2 MB

Meet the Author

Jon Katz
Jon Katz has written twenty-five books, including works of nonfiction, novels, short stories, and books for children; he is also a photographer. He has written for The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, Slate, Rolling Stone, and the AKC Gazette and has worked for CBS News, The Boston Globe, The Washington Post, and The Philadelphia Inquirer. He lives on Bedlam Farm, in upstate New York, with his wife, the artist Maria Wulf, and their dogs, donkeys, barn cats, sheep, and chickens.

From the Hardcover edition.

Biography

"I really don't know anyone in media who's been given the freedom I've had to spout off on a wide range of subjects," Jon Katz wrote in his 1998 farewell column for HotWired. As a writer for web venues such as HotWired and Slashdot, Katz has waxed enthusiastic about Internet culture and championed "geek life." As a contributor to Wired and Rolling Stone, he's written articles on technology, politics and culture. And as a book author, he's penned mystery novels, memoirs and more, at the rate of nearly one per year since 1990.

Katz began his career in traditional media, as a reporter and editor for the Boston Globe and Washington Post and as a producer for the CBS Morning News. His experiences in television became fodder for fiction in his first novel, Sign Off, which Publishers Weekly called "an absorbing, well-paced debut" about the corporate takeover of a television network.

Disenchanted with the world of old media, Katz signed on to the cyber-revolution as a contributor to Wired magazine and its then-online counterpart, HotWired. As pundit and media critic, Katz became a prominent voice of the libertarian, countercultural, freewheeling spirit that prevailed on the Web in its early years. After HotWired underwent a corporate transformation, Katz moved to Slashdot, a free-for-all e-zine that allowed him to continue spouting off on a wide range of subjects (for Katz, "open source" is not just a method of software development, it's a metaphor for free expression).

Meanwhile, Katz began a series of "suburban detective" books featuring private investigator and family man Kit DeLeeuw, who operates out of a New Jersey mall. The intricately plotted mysteries serve as "a framework for the author's musings on suburban fatherhood, a subject on which he is wise and witty and honestly touching," wrote Marilyn Stasio in The New York Times.

In 1997, Katz's digital-age pontifications took book form in Virtuous Reality, which tackled censorship, online privacy and the shortcomings of the media. Katz struck a more personal chord with Geeks (2000), a work of gonzo ethnography that follows two computer-obsessed teenagers and their struggle to escape the Idaho boonies. "Katz's obvious empathy and love for his 'lost boys,' his ability to see shades of his own troubled youth in their tough lives, gives his narrative a rich taste that makes it unlike other Net books," said Salon writer Andrew Leonard.

Katz turned to himself as the subject for a meditation on middle age, Running to the Mountain (2000) which chronicles the three months he spent alone in a dilapidated cabin in upstate New York. The result is "a funny, moving and triumphant voyage of the soul," according to The Boston Globe.

Then there's Katz's other pet subject: dogs. In A Dog Year , Katz writes about a high-strung border collie -- a canine "lost boy" he adopted and gradually bonded with. "Dogs make me a better human," said Katz in an interview. Given his recent contributions to The Bark magazine, dogs may make Katz an even more versatile and prolific writer, if that's possible.

Good To Know

Katz is so persuaded of the power of interactivity that he's refused to have his work printed by publishers unless they'll run his e-mail address with it. His published e-mail addresses include jonkatz@slashdot.org, jonkatz@bellatlantic.net and jonkatz3@comcast.net.

After a Slate writer made a disparaging comment about Katz's basement, Katz wrote a column describing the basement office where he works. Its accoutrements include a wooden cherub, portraits of Thomas Paine and Abraham Lincoln, and a collection of gargoyles. A Haitian voodoo "frame thingy" (in Katz's words) graces his computer.

In our interview, Katz told us more fun facts: "I see every movie that comes out, usually alone in a megaplex. I love the New York Yankees because they win a lot. My one brilliant move in life was marrying my wife Paula."

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    1. Hometown:
      Montclair, New Jersey
    1. Date of Birth:
      August 8, 1947
    2. Place of Birth:
      Providence, Rhode Island
    1. Education:
      Attended George Washington University and The New School for Social Research

Read an Excerpt

Gracie’s Last Walk

Carolyn pulled the battered old black Samsonite suitcase her father had given her down the stairs at the Eastern Parkway subway entrance, the wheels bumping loudly as she went. The suitcase weighed as much as she did. The contents shifted suddenly, threatening to send her tumbling down the long concrete stairway. Safely at the bottom, she was immersed in a great din—­the roar of trains, footsteps echoing on concrete, garbled voices on loudspeakers. She wrestled the suitcase past the crowd and through the special gate for people with strollers or large packages that wouldn’t fit through the turnstile, and then down the long ramp and onto the platform for the Number 2, headed farther downtown in Brooklyn and then under the East River to Manhattan. When a train pulled in a few moments later, the car was packed with commuters on their way home from work, but several passengers stepped back from the door to make room for Carolyn and her luggage.

As the doors started to close, Carolyn was startled when she turned to see two police officers with a formidable-­looking German shepherd come into the car. Her palms began to sweat despite the cold, causing her hands to slip momentarily from the suitcase’s handle. It wasn’t unusual for the police to make a quick scan of a subway car before stepping back off, but this time they stayed on.

The train rumbled out of the station. The officers began looking around, talking to each other. The train made one stop, then headed out again.

The officers walked to the far end of the car, then turned and headed back toward Carolyn. The shepherd was staring at her suitcase, one of the officers holding the dog as it strained against its leash, its nose down, its tail straight out. The dog began to whine.

“Oh, my God,” Carolyn said to no one in particular.

“Miss,” said one of the officers, a beefy young man in a standard-­issue dark blue NYPD jacket, one thick hand on the dog’s collar. The train pulled into the next station and the doors opened. “Would you please step out of the car?”

Carolyn had known Gracie was dead as soon as she had opened the gray metal apartment door. If Gracie were still alive, she would have been at the door, tail going like a rotor blade, barking and squirming with joy. Every now and then, she would greet Carolyn with the leash in her mouth, her eyes closed in that familiar golden retriever grin that said, Let’s walk! Carolyn would drop her shoulder bag and briefcase, and head back out the door with her.

The afternoon light had been streaming through the soot-­stained window, the subway grumbling far below the cramped two-­room apartment. Carolyn could see her beloved dog—­the graying snout, the honey blond body—­curled up, as if sleeping, on her blue Orvis bed, a Christmas gift from her devoted owner two years earlier.

Though she had been expecting it, Carolyn was still paralyzed by the wrenching tableau. She had never loved anything, or anyone, the way she had loved that dog. Nor had anything ever loved her that much.

She looked around the small apartment, already a different space, like some kind of still life. The sounds outside seemed more distinct now—­sirens, horns, truck engines, clanging pipes, coughing, a TV show seeping through the thin walls. Gracie’s water dish was full, kibble still in her food bowl, the day’s ration of rawhide chews and peanut butter–­stuffed bones untouched.

So she had died in the morning.

Gracie’s balls and toys were in a circle near her bed. One was near her mouth; the yellow one, her favorite.

Gracie had always been obsessive about chasing and retrieving, her eyes wide and tail wagging as she brought each of her toys over to Carolyn and deposited them at her feet. Whether Carolyn was on her cell, online, or reading, she would pick up the toys and simply hand them back. There was no room to throw them, and, in any case, the neighbors would have complained about the noise they would have made. But it didn’t matter to the dog. Gracie never tired of this ritual. When Carolyn got sick of it, she’d pick up all the toys and balls and stuff them in the closet, or else the poor dog would have run back and forth until she collapsed.

Carolyn had first encountered Gracie running loose in a vacant lot near Prospect Park. When the limping, emaciated dog trotted over with a rolled-­up newspaper in her mouth, Carolyn knew all she needed to know. She and the dog had walked straight to a nearby vet, Gracie carry­ing the two-­day-­old New York Times all the way. The vet said she had been starved and neglected. Six-­hundred­-­ dollars-­that-­Carolyn­-­didn’t­-have later, Gracie was shiny, happy, and healthy. Carolyn put up Lost Dog posters in the neighborhood, but weeks went by, and nobody came to claim her.

From that first day on, they became constant companions. They rode out blizzards together, went to the beach, visited the dog run every day. When Carolyn worked at her computer, Gracie offered herself as a warm footrest. And like a proud mother, Carolyn put Gracie’s photo up on her Facebook page.

Whenever Carolyn went to the corner café for coffee, Gracie sat outside and waited, never taking her eyes off the door. She had many more friends in the neighborhood than Carolyn did, and their walks were punctuated by greetings from neighbors, doormen, cops on patrol, delivery people. Gracie was just one of those dogs that made people smile. She connected Carolyn to the world in a way she had never really been able to do herself.

But Gracie had been diagnosed with congestive heart failure more than a year earlier. “It could have been something much worse,” Dr. Meyer had told her, pointing to a gray shadow over the dog’s ribs on the X-­ray. “She’s had nine years, a good life for a golden,” he said. Five of those years had been with Carolyn. “She’ll probably die in her sleep. There’s not much we can do.” The last-­alternative surgery was invasive, painful, expensive, and doubtful. Carolyn had said no.

Now here she was, down on the floor, her face buried in Gracie’s gray cold muzzle.

Outside, the sun had already moved past the enormous buildings across the street, and the apartment was now cloaked in the late-­afternoon November gloom.

It was a long time before she got up. Carolyn remembered how Gracie got her through her mother’s death, and later, Keith’s walking out on their five-­year relationship. Gracie was there when Carolyn got laid off, when her sister got sick, when a date went sour, when the nights got lonely. It was Gracie who kept love alive for her whenever it was like a flickering candle, always threatening to go out.

Carolyn sat quietly on the floor, stroking the dog, as it approached dinnertime. Only then did it occur to her to wonder about Gracie’s body, what she would do with it. She was in the middle of Brooklyn, not on some farm upstate where dogs could be buried in the woods. She had no idea what people did with the bodies of dogs. The thought panicked her a little. She called Dr. Meyer’s office. He was still there, the receptionist said, and after a few minutes, he came on the phone.

“Gracie is dead,” she said, her voice unsteady but clear.

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and Carolyn thought for a second that they’d been disconnected.

The doctor sounded concerned, but also distracted. Carolyn could hear phones warbling and nervous dogs barking in the background. She wondered how many times he had to do this in a week.

“I don’t know what to do now.” She imagined putting Gracie in a garbage bag and leaving her on the curb. Did people really do that?

The vet cleared his throat. “Bring her in here if you can.”

Carolyn was startled.

“Do you have a large suitcase?” asked Dr. Meyer. “We’ll have her cremated and return the ashes to you. There’s no other way to do it in New York. No taxi will touch a dead dog. There’s an animal hearse from an animal undertaker in Queens, but it costs a lot—­four or five hundred dollars.”

Carolyn took a deep breath. She thought of the vet bills, the special food and medicines. She had piled up nearly $4,000 on her VISA, most of it for Gracie. She couldn’t do another $500. It just wasn’t there. These days, Carolyn had started to feel like a character in one of O. Henry’s shop-girl stories. Some weeks, she had just enough for bread and milk.

Dr. Meyer said he had an emergency, and asked her to hold for Carmen, the bossy Venezuelan woman who ran his office. Carmen had big hair and an even bigger heart. Dripping in gold jewelry, she dressed more for a nightclub than a veterinary clinic, but Gracie had adored her, in part for the biscuits she kept in jars on her desk. Carmen knew the name of every pet the clinic saw, and ruled the anteroom with an iron fist.

“Bring her here,” Carmen echoed. “Get her into a suitcase and on the subway. Just look out for the transit cops. It’s not illegal, really, but it’s not exactly legal either. You know how they are these days with bringing things onto the trains.”

Carolyn really didn’t know how they were. She never brought anything strange onto the trains.

“I’m here till eight tonight,” said Carmen, and then she was gone.

Carolyn went to the cabinet, but the garbage bags she had were too small. She left Gracie and walked two blocks to the convenience mart. They had some fifty-­gallon extra-­ply bags, so she bought a box of twelve.
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Table of Contents

Gracie's Last Walk 3

Yankee Dog 18

Instinct Test 29

Old Dogs 53

Luther and Minnie in Heaven 68

Day in the Life of Pearl and Joan 83

The Surrender Bay 90

Away to Me 103

Guardian Angel 114

Dancing Dogs 127

Lucky's Day 144

Puppy Commando 158

Laura Passerby 179

The Dog Who Kept Men Away 193

Barn Cat 205

Ernie and the Bottled-Water Contest 221

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 9 )
Rating Distribution

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Sort by: Showing all of 9 Customer Reviews
  • Posted November 2, 2012

    more from this reviewer

    Absolutely enchanting. A joy to read.

    What a breath of fresh air. This is a real mood lifter and a joy to read.

    2 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted November 2, 2013

    The first couple of stories were good but then they went quickly

    The first couple of stories were good but then they went quickly downhill - pointless and horrible endings (and I don't mean the dogs, I mean the stories). I decided not to finish it.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted February 2, 2013

    Awesome!!!!!!!

    I love this book!!!!!!!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 19, 2013

    Dancing dogs

    I love this book because just to see a dog dancing is funny:)

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted November 15, 2012

    LIVING ROOM

    KAT two couches and one lounge chair face toward the glat screen tv and fireplace. There is a coffee table with coasters coffee stuff and teabags plus sugar and cream and honey. Also some books are on the table.

    1 out of 6 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 24, 2013

    Female slave need mster anyone

    Ram 1st r

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 24, 2013

    Molly

    *Facepalms* party at the other book. Not in private, Sweety.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted December 29, 2012

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted October 19, 2013

    No text was provided for this review.

Sort by: Showing all of 9 Customer Reviews

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