The Catskill Chronicle

By Jude Waterston

Over a decade ago, on a bright and brisk winter morning, I accompanied my friend David to a local animal shelter to help him choose a dog. First, we were shown a pile of pups, piggy-looking Labrador newbies in pale shades of brown and cream. They were adorable, nearly irresistible, but David knew they would easily find homes, and he wanted to rescue a dog badly in need of a loving environment.

The concrete building housing the animals was cacophonously loud inside, making it difficult to concentrate on individual dogs as they vied for attention or angrily barked and howled at us. Their “rooms” led to outdoor cages, so we ventured back outside, as snow began to lightly fall, to consider them in peace. Many of the dogs got the picture immediately and bounded out into their fenced-in areas to meet us.

I fancied a quiet, soulful-eyed black Labrador-hound mix named Dykker (for the road on which he’d been found wandering) and persuaded David to give him consideration. This process began with the shelter director guiding David in attaching a leash to the dog’s collar and then instructing him to hold the strap in such a way as to have a fair amount of control. We walked slowly up and down the road, chatting and asking questions regarding Dykker’s history, age and personality traits. I would’ve packed his bowl and ball into the back seat of the car right then and there, but David found him too mellow, and we returned to the pack to spend time with a dog to which David had originally been drawn.

I don’t recall the name the shelter had given the dog who David would eventually christen Kumba, a name that suited her well. As David affixed the leash to her collar, her short pointed tail wagged vigorously, and she attempted to lick David’s wrists as he worked at the clasp. I didn’t find her particularly attractive. She was of medium build, her thick coat a mixture of black and brown, and her head just the slightest bit small for the rest of her body. Her ears were of medium size and hung down slightly when she was in repose but flipped up and pointed out when she was excited, which was most of the time. She was a real mutt, a mixture of more than a couple of breeds of dog.

At the director’s suggestion, we left Kumba at the shelter, so David would have a chance to contemplate bringing her home for good. A week later we returned to the shelter to pile her into the back seat where I sat beside her, gently fending off her attempts to lick my face and hands. She was enthusiastic and ready for whatever lay ahead.

It was immediately clear she was a human’s dog, not a dog’s dog. She much preferred the company of people; she was extremely devoted to David, and they showered each other with affection. David spoiled her, and she had the run of the house. She was not trained in any manner, as David was a most lenient “parent,” so one could find the dog perched on the dining room table or picking through the trash for bits of food. She shed copiously and strands of her pelt could be found on every surface of all the rooms of the house. She was given raw marrow bones to suck upon and doggie treats of every variety. And she did not mind helping herself to David’s plateful of food or that of anyone else in the vicinity.

I like to entertain in my home upstate that I share with my sister, Janet, and we have a small group of friends who we’ve had over for cocktails and hor’ devoures on many occasions. With the exception of one, they are all dog owners and are welcome (and encouraged) to bring their pets. Often, the animals out-number the human guests. Upon arrival, the beasts are given treats to keep them busy, and the rest of us huddle around the coffee table in the living room to eat, drink and chat.

From her very first visit to our house through the years to come, Kumba would gobble down whatever she’d been given to gnaw on and then insinuate herself into our company, moving from person to person for attention. The other dogs in attendance occupied themselves on the grounds of the house, but Kumba wanted to be stroked, and she wanted to lick the hands that pet her. And there was another motive at play. She would surreptitiously scoop into her mouth anything whatsoever that sat in a little decorative bowl or plate on the coffee table. That included entire chunks of brie or any other proffered cheese, smoked salmon, stuffed mushrooms, plain or seasoned crackers, deviled eggs, roasted peppers, sweet and sour meatballs (a particular favorite), and most odd of all, an entire platter of canned smoked oysters.

If not under constant surveillance, I’m sure she would’ve polished off the contents of all our appetizers and perhaps had a swig or two of vodka with which to wash it all down. As it was, her constant tail wagging often sent wine glasses flying, and we all grabbed protectively at our drinks as she approached. Finally, she’d be sent from the room or let outside for a few minutes so we could resume our cocktail hour.

Over the past few years, Kumba began to suffer from arthritis. It became increasingly challenging for her to rise from a seated or prone position, and she walked with difficulty. David took her to the vet and was advised to start her on supplements to ease the pain  and stiffness. The pills helped at first, but eventually the condition worsened and her bones were weakened and deteriorating, her movements compromised to the point where she could move only with tremendous effort.

Her spirit remained intact, though, and it was hard to watch this still animated and ebullient pup lose the ability to walk. It was getting to the point where she was unable to get down the short flight of stairs from the front porch to relieve herself, and she squirmed away when David attempted to carry her outside. After a difficult recent consult with the vet, it was decided that Kumba should be put to sleep. Janet and I, along with our friend Marci, drove to David’s house to have some final moments with Kumba. When we arrived, two other close friends of David’s were there, taking photos and feeding Kumba doggie bones. As we approached, she wagged her tail with gusto, but was unable to make her way to greet us.

David’s friends departed and the three of us took turns hugging and kissing  Kumba as David stood by, tears sliding down all our cheeks. Then David rallied and asked for pictures to be taken and treats to be doled out to his most devoted companion. We said our goodbyes and walked slowly back to our car, turning again and again to wave to David and Kumba. It was the last time I would see her. I could’ve kicked myself for not bringing a tin of smoked oysters.

Sweet and Sour Meatballs

Serves 6 as an appetizer or 4 as a main course

These make a wonderful appetizer, but can be used as a main course, served over rice or wide egg noodles.

For meatballs:

1 – 1 ¼ pounds mixture of ground beef and pork (or you can use ground turkey, if you prefer)

1 egg, beaten

¼ teaspoon ground allspice

¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg

¼ teaspoon ground cumin

¼ teaspoon ground coriander

½ teaspoon salt

Pinch of cayenne pepper

½ cup bread crumbs (preferably homemade by pulsing a couple of slices of day-old good-quality bread in a food processor)

1 tablespoon fresh parsley, finely chopped

For sauce:

1 large onion, (about 1 cup) finely chopped

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1 large garlic clove, minced

1-28 ounce can crushed tomatoes

2 tablespoons brown sugar

1/3 cup raisins

½ cup Madeira, Sherry or Marsala wine

¼ teaspoon ground ginger

Juice of one large lemon

Salt and freshly ground pepper

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. In a large bowl, combine all meatball ingredients and combine well with hands or a wooden spoon. Do not over mix. Roll into tiny meatballs, the size of large marbles. You should get about 50 meatballs out of the mixture. Place them on a lightly oiled cookie sheet or baking pan and bake for about 15 – 20 minutes, or until just cooked through. Remove from oven and set aside. Meanwhile, heat butter and oil together in a large saucepan or Dutch oven. Add onions and garlic and sauté, stirring occasionally, for five minutes. Add tomatoes, sugar, raisins, Madeira, ginger, lemon juice, and salt and pepper. Simmer for 10 – 12 minutes. Add meatballs and simmer an additional 8 minutes. Serve hot or at room temperature.