Jon Katz

Dogs mirror the people we are and the people we want to be.

To me, there has always been something darkly beautiful about loving a dog. Dark because they don't live as long as we do, because they're so completely dependent on us, so vulnerable to abuse and misunderstanding, and so hard to part from.

Choosing, training, and living with dogs is not, ultimately, only a pragmatic process but a spiritual one. How much are we willing to step out of ourselves? How hard are we willing to work to show these simple but wonderful creatures how to share our lives? How much will our patience be tested and to what degree can we rise above that impatience, find the better parts of ourselves, and have the dogs we want, with the lives they deserve?

Thomas Merton, the late Trappist monk and honored writer, and significant influence on my life, wrote that it is impossible for a human being to live without some sort of faith. Getting a dog is an act of faith for me. I am accountable for the creature I bring under my roof. I assume the awesome but inspiring responsibility of guiding this animal so it can live in our world. Acquiring a dog is awfully easy, teaching one well is hard. But the pairing of a human and a dog is a journey of two souls, a powerful act of connection in a culture where connection is often difficult. What makes our relationship unique in all the world is the degree to which our two species are willing, eager, to attach to each other.

There is no single best way to pair up with a dog, or to train, love, or live with one. As Merton wrote in another context, this journey is in many ways a solitary one, like walking in the woods after the sun has set. We can bring along a flashlight to see a few feet ahead, but the hard truth is that we mostly feel our way in the dark.

Jon Katz, Katz on Dogs, page 216