In Dog Days , Jon Katz, the squire of Bedlam Farm, allows us to live our dreams of leaving the city for the country, and shares the unpredictable adventure of farm life. The border collies, the sheep, the chickens, the cat, the ram, and one surprisingly sociable steer named Elvis all contribute to the hum (and occasional roar) of Bedlam. On timeless summer days and in punishing winter storms, Katz continues his meditation on what animals can selflessly teach us–and what we in turn owe to them. With good neighbors, a beautiful landscape, and tales of true love thrown in, Dog Days gives us not only marvelous animal stories but a rich portrait of the harmonious world that is Bedlam Farm. Praise for Dog Days : “Anyone who has ever loved an animal, who owns a farm or even dreams of it, will read Dog Days with appreciation and a cathartic lump in his or her throat.” –The Washington Post “Katz proves himself a Thoreau for modern times as he ponders the relationships between man and animals, humanity and nature, and the particularly smelly qualities of manure.” –Fort Worth Star-Telegram “Katz constructs the perfect blend between self-revelation and his subtle brand of humor.” –The Star-Ledger “City-dweller-turned-farmer Katz . . . returns with further adventures from his animal-filled upstate New York sheep farm. Charming.” –People “The perfect summer book . . . You will not be disappointed.” –The Philadelphia Inquirer “A new twist on the American dream.” –The Christian Science Monitor “Thoroughly enchanting.” –The Dallas Morning News Praise for Dog Days “Anyone who loves animals or country life, but maybe can’t have a pet or actually live in the country, will find Katz a perfect armchair companion.” –Publishers Weekly (starred review) “Despite the book’s title, there’s more here than dog stories. . . . An appealing text showing off an author who’s found his perfect genre. Readers can only hope these appealing and thoughtful dispatches will continue.” –Kirkus Reviews “A must-read for all animal lovers.” –Booklist Jon Katz has written sixteen books–six novels and ten works of nonfiction–including A Dog Year, The Dogs of Bedlam Farm, The New Work of Dogs, Katz on Dogs, and A Good Dog. A two-time finalist for the National Magazine Award, he writes columns about dogs and rural life for the online magazine Slate, and has written for The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, Rolling Stone, GQ, and the AKC Gazette. He co-hosts an award-winning show, Dog Talk, on Northeast Public Radio. Katz lives on Bedlam Farm in upstate New York with his wife, Paula Span, and his dogs, sheep, steers and cow, donkeys, barn cat, irritable rooster Winston, and three hens. Visit the author’s website at www.katz-dogs.com. He can be e-mailed at jdkat3@aol.com. Chapter 1 ONE Carol’s Time About that baby donkey. As I was heading down Route 30 a couple of weeks earlier, returning from the hardware store in town, my cell phone warbled. Anthony, working at the farm that day, was calling to say that there was a new donkey in the pasture. Knowing this had to be a joke, since I had no male donkeys and, to my knowledge, no pregnant ones either, I laughed, fired off some appropriately obscene macho banter—the staple of male conversation hereabouts—and hung up. It never really crossed my mind that it was true. When I pulled into the driveway, though, I nearly drove into a fencepost. There was a tiny new donkey, soaking wet from amniotic fluid, hugging close to Jeannette, my most recently acquired Sicilian donkey. The afterbirth was close by and fresh. And Jeannette was snorting like a bull and glowering at any interlopers. No way, I thought. Way. Obviously, donkeys have a very long gestation period. Jeannette must have got knocked up just before she arrived last spring. I phoned an SOS to the Granville Large Animal Veterinary Service and ran into the house for some towels. Jeannette and I are pretty tight, thanks to my daily offerings of carrots, apples, and oat cookies. She let me pick up her newborn—I named her Emma, after my own daughter—dry her off, and make sure her throat and eyes were clear. When I scratched her fuzzy little nose, she closed her eyes and went to sleep in my arms. I gave Jeannette some cookies for energy, checked to see that she had milk in her teats—she did, a lot of it—and brushed her down a bit to calm her. Then I knelt in front of her and she put her head on my shoulder. “Congratulations,” I said. “Who’s the father? You can tell me.” But she just went over to Emma and nosed her. There aren’t many donkeys born around here these days. Once, donkeys were the tractors and ATVs of country life, performing agricultural and mercantile tasks integral to farming and commerce. Now they’re generally considered useless—local farmers call them “hay suckers”—so they’re rare. So people from nearby farms soon began showing up to check out the newcomer, alerted by the mysterious rural news ne