Red at Cedar Lake
“And Adam gave names . . .”
Gen.2.20
Rabbi Leibowitz had spent many years in his quest
for the chronicles of the Nabusite people, stolen by the Romans during their destruction
of the Great Library of Haran IV. He had tracked the ancient records across Asia
to a monastery in Tibet, from here to the island now known as Taiwan, and eventually
to the marae (meeting house) in the tiny settlement of Te Rapehi in the North
Island of New Zealand.
The documents, revered as taonga (treasures) by the people of Te Rapehi, comprised
a number of iridescent discs resembling wafer-thin paua shell which, under high-resolution
image enhancement, proved to be minutely etched with the full text of the ancient
Chronicles, a technological feat unparalleled for its time. The transcriptions were
the work of Peniel, nephew of the great King Haran IV.
The first volume of the Nabusite Chronicles, translated by the Rabbi, had been published
by the Moule Foundation in England, to the astonishment of the scholarly world. Rabbi
Liebowitz was now engaged in the monumental task of translating the remaining volumes.
From time to time, the Rabbi would take a break from his scholarly labours and telephone
his friend, the world-renowned preacher, author, diplomat and spiritual advisor to
the White House, Dr Atherton Grainge.
The two men would load up the Rabbi’s ageing station wagon with fishing rods and
tackle, tents, groundsheets, sleeping bags, filleting knives, a frying pan, a fish
smoker, a fish steamer, a fish griller, mosquito nets, insect repellent and other
requisites for the outdoor life, and head off for a few days’ fishing at Cedar Lake.
Their faithful companion on such trips was Rabbi Leibowitz’s dog, Red, named for
the rusty colour of his coat. Te Kuri Whero, as he was known in Maori, had been given
as a puppy to the Rabbi by the people of Te Rapehi.
Back in New York, Red had rapidly become indispensable to Rabbi Leibowitz. He would
remind the Rabbi if he wore odd socks or shoes, left his overcoat on a subway, or
forgot to let the cat, Bathsheba, out of the house before retiring to bed. He acquired
a familiarity with ancient Semitic languages, which could save the Rabbi from having
to consult a dictionary when translating obscure passages from the old Nabusite Chronicles.
Red had once foiled an attempt on the Rabbi’s life by an Albanian Magonisti gunman.
No less bravely, he had rescued the Rabbi, who was a widower, from the clutches of
a retired movie actress who collected famous husbands.
Of Red’s noble canine lineage there was no doubt, but for those people encountering
Red for the first time, the problem was to decide just what breeds he represented.
Some would nominate permutations of Irish Wolfhound, English Setter, German Shepherd
and Rhodesian Ridgeback. Others would detect admixtures of Great Dane, St. Bernard,
Doberman and Rotweiller.
Rabbi Leibowitz was content to describe Red simply as a bitzer, a word with a good
Yiddish-sounding buzz to it.
It was on a balmy summer morning when Rabbi Leibowitz told Red to fetch his blanket,
as they were going to Cedar Lake. Of all the places on the face of the earth, there
was none more enchanting to Red than Cedar Lake. It was a place rich in the smells
of earth, trees, stones, and water, and of its animal, bird and fish life.
Between them, Rabbi Leibowitz and Dr Grainge knew a great many ways to cook fish.
As one might expect, the Rabbi specialised in middle-eastern and European cooking
techniques. Dr Grainge was an adept in American and Asian methods, which included
some interesting recipes acquired while he was a guest of the Viet Cong.
Red also adored fish in all its culinary incarnations, and the prospect of a weekend
at Cedar Lake with the two most wonderful human beings in the world filled his canine
heart with joy unspeakable and full of glory.
On this occasion, on their way to Cedar Lake, they detoured to the pleasant town
of Roseville, where Dr Grainge had grown up. They took in the clapboard church built
by Dr Grainge’s grandfather, the Baptist Church, the Episcopalian Church, the Catholic
Church, the Christian Centre and the Synagogue. They also took in Roseville High
School, from which Dr Grainge had been expelled at age fifteen, the town’s fine new
library, and the building referred to as the New Court House. At the small museum
run by the Roseville Historical Society, they were able to view a photograph of the
Old Court House prior to its destruction in an unfortunate act of arson. Rabbi Leibowitz
smiled to himself at the thought of the sky rockets swishing down the ventilation
shaft and setting light to the curtains in the judge’s chamber. Time magazine had
made great play of this incident in its cover story devoted to the life and times
of Dr Grainge.
Dr Coraline Lauder, who had published the best-selling book on the Rabbi’s discovery
of the Nabusite chronicles, was unfortunately on vacation in Hawaii when Rabbi Leibowitz
and Dr Grainge called at her house. However, the two men visited the Meadowglade
retirement home, where Dr Grainge paid his respects to Roseville’s oldest inhabitant,
the redoubtable Sylvander Leaf.
On their way out of town, they passed Lightfoot’s smallgoods factory, and Dr Grainge
related an interesting tale concerning the company’s founder, Clem Lightfoot.
From Roseville, it was a four-hour drive to Cedar Lake. Although it was after midnight
by the time they had pitched their tents at their favourite spot near the shoreline,
neither Rabbi Leibowitz nor Dr Grainge was ready to sleep. Both men knew with a deep
certainty that three of the largest and most succulent fish in Cedar Lake were at
that very minute awaiting impatiently for the baited hooks that would be dangled
before them.
“What would you say to a fish supper before we turn in, Red?” asked Rabbi Leibowitz.
“Fish supper? Dish me uppa!” said Red eagerly. “Grhhppff! Grhhppff!”
And, lo, in less time than it takes to tell, Dr Grainge and Rabbi Leibowitz had reeled
in the three fish, and while the Rabbi filleted them and dipped them into a batter
delicately seasoned with herbs and spices, prepared according to a secret recipe
handed down from his grandmother, Dr Grainge lit a campfire, tossed vinaigrette dressing
on to a fresh green salad, heated oil in the frypan, and opened a fine bottle of
chardonnay from Hawke’s Bay, New Zealand.
And as the fish spluttered gently in the pan, and the moonlight sparkled on the lake,
and the wood smoke rose to heaven like incense, Red looked on with delight, and the
love and admiration he felt for his human friends shone from his eyes.
The Rabbi pronounced a blessing and the feasting began.
Later, as they lay in their sleeping bags, Dr Grainge suggested that, to make the
evening perfect, the Rabbi should relate one of his “tales of long ago and far away”.
“I think Red’s probably in the mood for a story, too. That’s right, isn’t it Red?”
“Yyyrrrchch! Tell doggy tale to Red! Before he go to bed!”
“You want a doggy tale?” said Rabbi Leibowitz. “As it happens, I have translated
a story from the Nabusite Chronicles that you will enjoy. The Nabusites were great
dog lovers, and had their own rabbinic traditions associated with the Genesis account
of creation. What do you say to the story of Adam and Kalef, Doc?”
“That’s great by me, Rab,” said Dr Grainge.
And so the Rabbi related this story.
After the Lord had created Adam and Eve, and put then in the garden of Eden, He created
animals of every kind and brought them to Adam to name. Adam looked out on the animals,
great and small. Of all the animals he saw, the dog pleased him best. He named the
dog Kalef.
When Adam had finished naming them, the animals departed. Some, like the tiger and
elephant, went into the forest. Others, like the deer and horses went to the wide
plains. Small animals like the rabbit and mole found homes under the ground. The
birds flew into the sky and nested in trees.
Only one animal did not leave. Kalef sat at Adam’s feet and looked up into his face,
wagging his tail. “You will come with me, Kalef,” Adam said, “and keep me company
while I look after the garden.”
Kalef loved the sound of Adam’s voice, and wherever Adam went, he went also. At night,
Adam slept with Eve at his side. Kalef slept at Adam’s feet.
Now in those days, animals ate only grass and plants, fruits and berries. The animals
could eat whatever tasted best to them; there was food enough for all. But all the
animals knew they must not eat the fruit of a certain tree that grew in the middle
of the garden. None did: not even the monkeys, who liked fruit of all kinds and were
always up to some mischief.
The Lord had told Adam that he must not eat the fruit of that tree or he would die.
The fruit of the tree was called the Knowledge of Good and Evil.
Of all the animals in the garden, the serpent was the wisest. He was wise and proud
and crafty. But he wished to become wiser still, as wise as the Lord himself. So
he went to the tree and ate the fruit.
When he had tasted the fruit, he let Magon, the Prince of Darkness, take possession
of him. Then he was filled with hatred for every creature that the Lord had made.
He hated man the most because Adam was made in the image of the Lord, and the Lord
loved him.
So the serpent spoke in the man’s voice and persuaded Eve to eat the fruit. Eve gave
the fruit to Adam, who ate it also. A great fear came on them when they had eaten
the fruit. They feared the serpent and they feared the Lord because of what they
had done.
The serpent sneered when he saw they were afraid. “You have eaten the fruit of my
tree and now you will serve and worship me, for I am the lord of this garden and
every creature in it,” he said.
Although he was afraid, Adam was angry with the serpent for deceiving them.
“I will not worship you,” he said.
“Then you shall die, as God said you would,” the serpent said.
The serpent coiled itself round Adam, crushing the breath from his body.
Kalef bared his teeth and growled. He sprang upon the serpent. His jaws closed on
the serpent’s neck and he shook the snake until it let go of Adam.
For three hours they fought. The serpent writhed and lashed at Kalef. The sun sank
in the sky. On the ground Adam stirred, and life slowly came back into his body.
And now the serpent called upon Magon, the Prince of Darkness, for help. He grew
more powerful. Coiling himself around Kalef, he crushed him until his bones cracked
and blood poured from his mouth. The serpent broke free and reared up to strike.
“Stand aside, dog, or you will die with Adam,” hissed the serpent. “In my fangs there
is venom that is death to all living creatures.”
But Kalef stood guard over Adam, waiting for death to come.
But the serpent did not strike. The proud glitter in its eye became a look of fear.
It dropped to the ground and slithered off among the rocks.
Then Kalef heard his name spoken. The voice was like Adam’s voice but it was not
Adam’s voice, for there was no sound in the air. He knew then it was the voice of
the Lord.
“You have done well to defend the man from the serpent,” said the Lord. “I have seen
the evil that the serpent has done and I have cursed him. He will crawl on his belly
in the dust from this day on.
“I have also seen what Adam has done. He has brought great trouble into this world
for himself and all living creatures. Now the ground will not yield food for all,
and the strong will hunt and kill the weak.
“Man will not rule kindly over the animals. Because of this, I have put the fear
of man in their nostrils, and they will not serve man willingly. But you were not
afraid to lay down your life for the man, and I will remember this. I will give your
race a special destiny.
“You will play with man when he is young and cheer him in his old age. You will guard
his home from evil men and his flocks from beasts of prey.
“When he is in danger, you will come to his rescue. When he is lost, you will find
him. When he cannot hear, you will be his ears. When he cannot see, you will be his
eyes.
“Your joy will be in serving your master, as his joy will be in serving Me.”
When the Lord had spoken, a deep peace came on Kalef.
Adam rose from the ground. The Lord had spoken to him as well. He told Adam of the
sorrow and hardship man would have in his life. He told him of the serpent’s power
to crush and destroy. But he told him of a Man to be born in a far-off time who would
defeat that power for ever. And that gave Adam courage and hope, without which no
man can live.
Then Adam called Kalef. Kalef sat at Adam’s feet and looked into Adam’s face. Each
saw into the other’s heart.
The Lord had commanded all creatures to be fruitful and multiply. Adam and Eve had
many sons and daughters. Kalef had many offspring: dogs of every size and shape and
colour, and they were all good to look at. Ever since the days of Adam, dogs have
served men faithfully and well, as the Lord said they would.
“Those old Nabusites were certainly a spiritual people,” said Dr Grainge. “Their
story has some profound truths about the relationship between man and dog. Did you
enjoy it, Red?”
“Yyyyrrryyy! Great doggy story! Make Red proud!”
“That’s my boy,” said Rabbi Leibowitz. “Goodnight Red, goodnight Doc. Sleep well,
both of you. We’ll have a great day’s fishing tomorrow.”
