11 - Katalin Noveczki

30 minutes reading

It's been half a year since I had to let her go. I haven’t been myself since then. Everything feels a bit… different. Harder. Emptier. While she was still here, it wasn’t easy either, especially the first year. But now that she’s gone, I just look at her photos and reminisce. Even the bad moments feel golden now; every single second with her was of high value. A massive learning experience. And now that she’s no longer here, it hurts. It hurts immensely.

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who have a Hungarian Vizsla and those who don’t. Those who have one know that a Vizsla is not just a dog—it’s a Vizsla. And those who don’t have one should know this too. Without delving into scientific details, while dogs generally have the intellectual capacity of a 3-year-old child, a Vizsla is said to have that of a 5-year-old. With all the advantages and disadvantages that come with it. They are extremely affectionate, almost as if they could talk, so eager are they to express their love. They snuggle, nudge your hand off the keyboard with their nose, and sneakily tuck their head under your palm, as if you had planned to pet them all along. Their curiosity knows no bounds, and their need for activity can seem insatiable (making them excellent running partners, even over long distances). In simpler terms, you need to exhaust a Vizsla. Oh, they’ll keep themselves busy if you’re unavailable, make no mistake. But you might not want to be buying a new couch every month as part of their free-time activities—or a new TV, for that matter.

Diccso Marcipan Magor “Marcika” @Szi-Benedek Photography

Yes, I’m a Vizsla person. My beloved Gyomber [Ginger], adopted through breed rescue and burdened with all the bad habits one could pick up due to neglect by their previous owner, naturally moved with me to the United States.  A tough cookie, especially in the first couple of years. Maybe the only thing I didn’t try, in my attempts to turn her into a “city Vizsla,” was a lobotomy (for her—or myself). And yes, I had to buy a new TV. Then came the tip: try this…

So, I tried it. I tried Katika’s Sunday Vizsla mass. From then on, with newly came daith, I religiously attended the fields in Szod every Sunday to watch my hopeless protégé transform into a vibrant hunting dog. I watched this boyishly-hairstyled, delicate woman in her Aigle boots and full khaki green gear stride through the grass, with the dogs hanging on her every wish. She barely spoke, communicated with hand signals, and went about her work quietly and modestly, while the dogs performed their tasks with reverence. I watched her and couldn’t believe such a thing existed.

Katalin Noveczki is November’s Attagirl. She’s a game management engineer, a canine specialist, president of the Hungarian Wirehaired Vizsla Breeders Association, head of the Hunting Dog Performance Judges Committee of MEOESz [National Association of Hungarian Dog Breeders], Golden Wreath Master Hunting Dog Trainer, Golden Wreath Master Breeder, and the heart and soul of the Csovarberki Kennel, which breeds both Short- and Wirehaired Hungarian Vizslas. A dog whisperer, dog enthusiast, and an extraordinary person. A role model. I’m bringing you her story now.

Created with love – read with delight.

Katika, welcome to the world of Attagirl!. I’m so happy you accepted my invitation.
Hi, Kami, thank you for inviting me; it’s a real pleasure.

Tell us a bit about how your extraordinary career began. Where do you come from, and what kind of family do you have?
Well, to be honest, I come from a completely average family. My life began in the 13th District of Budapest, on Gogol Street, living with my grandparents. Later, when I was in preschool, we moved to Pesterzsebet, to an apartment building. Despite this, my brother and I spent a lot of time with our grandparents, especially during school breaks when they took care of us while our parents worked.

Quite a typical setup. What was life like in Pesterzsebet? Do you remember it?
By that time, my mom wasn’t working anymore; she was the one who wanted a dog, so we got a Hungarian Vizsla. Unfortunately, the dog had a heart condition, and after spending all our money on treatments, we had to return it to the breeder. Our next dog was Gerda, a German Shepherd. I spent a lot of time with her, attending guard and protection training courses, which I enjoyed a lot. It was amazing to see how quickly she learned and how much she loved working. Then Linda, another Hungarian Vizsla, came into our lives.

An apartment building, right? Two large, active dogs in a small apartment? (Not that I wasn’t in a similar situation, living in a fifth-floor flat in Angyalföld with my Hungarian Vizsla and Wirehaired German Pointer before moving to America…)
Easily. Let me tell you, if a dog gets the mental and physical exercise it needs for its breed, the apartment becomes just a resting place for them. We regularly took both dogs to obedience school, where they got worn out, so it wasn’t a problem that we lived in an apartment building. We soon found a hunting dog school near Godollo, in Babatpuszta, led by Agoston Pomazi, where Linda could really thrive.

Did you have time left for school?
I managed, and I enjoyed studying. I did well in school. However, I had no idea what I wanted to do when I grew up. I ended up in a chemistry program in high school, which I didn’t regret. I earned some pocket money tutoring math to younger students. In the summers, I worked alongside my grandmother with pharmaceutical materials. After high school, I went to the Budapest University of Technology and Engineering to study chemical engineering, but I only spent two years there. University exams weren’t for me, so I became a chemical technician instead.

Wow, I didn’t know that about you!
Well, we’ve never talked about it. But that’s part of me, too. I worked as a chemical technician, a microbiologist, but I was still drifting. Before graduation, my family moved to Csovar, where my mom could focus more seriously on working with dogs. She didn’t really see the point in me attending university, which played a role in me letting go of it early. I started working at Vodafone, which led to a career in phone retail, eventually landing at Pannon GSM, where I spent eight years. It wasn’t truly my world, but it paid well, and that was all that mattered at the time. I was trying to find my footing.

And the dogs during this time…?
They were always there. To backtrack a bit, Linda achieved great results, winning multiple competitions. In 1994, we got our first Wirehaired Vizsla, Mano, whom I trained entirely myself. Our dog Csuzli, bred by us, won the European Cup in 2001. 

Csovarberki Csuzli

Meanwhile, my father fell ill, and my mom had to go back to work. Then, one day she left and… never came back. It was just me and my dad. My brother had long since moved out and was living his own life. Suddenly, I was responsible for taking care of my father, maintaining the house in Csovar, and looking after the dogs. Although I was already 25, that’s when I truly grew up—and very quickly.

That’s a big change, mentally and emotionally, for sure. How did it affect you?
To be honest, I didn’t have much time to dwell on my wounds. When your mom walks out on you, it can leave you with a “you’re not good enough” mentality. If I hadn’t had responsibilities, if I’d had time to wonder what I did wrong, this kind of thinking could have consumed me. But I tried to keep a clear head and look at things realistically. I already knew my mom well, and this step of hers, in a way, wasn’t unexpected. It wasn’t about me, nor did it define my father or me. But it’s also true that I didn’t have time to analyze it too much. I worked from sunup to sundown. My day began with the dogs, continued with caring for my father, then I’d head to the train station, commute to Budapest—of course, I didn’t have a car back then—and work a 12-hour shift. The upside was I didn’t have to go to work every day. I worked 15 days a month, but each was a 12-hour shift. Then back to the station, commuting home, spending time with my dad, and attending to the dogs. I worked like this for eight years at in the phone industry, and then moved on to Raiffeisen Bank.

That sounds intense, Katika. That couldn’t have been easy.
It wasn’t. But people are built from strong stuff, and you survive what life throws at you. I did too. During this time, I had dogs to train, held weekend hunting dog schools, and ran the Csovarberki Kennel. Let’s just say I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself or dwell on how hard life was. I accepted that this was my life and adapted to it.

As I listen to you, one question keeps coming to mind: how did you become a hunter? When did you become a hunter?
There are two paths to becoming a hunter. One is when hunting interests you, or you’re born into it, so you get your license as soon as you can and dive in. The other path is when hunting doesn’t interest you at all, but then you get a hunting dog, and you realize that to truly make your dog happy, you must head in that direction. You need to gain knowledge about hunting and the environment where your dog truly shines. I took the latter path when I started working with Vizslas. I taught them and their owners, but at some point, I felt the need to grow personally—I was missing something. It also bothered me that I hadn’t finished university. I had already decided I would study again, but I made it a condition for myself that I would only attend a school where I could write my thesis on the Wirehaired Hungarian Vizsla. After some searching I found a course in Gyongyos, where the conditions suited my lifestyle, and I graduated as a game management engineer. Then I continued my studies at Godollo, where I earned a master’s degree in game management engineering and a canine specialist engineer qualification at the same time. Naturally, I eventually obtained my hunting license and felt like a complete hunting dog expert. I gained a wealth of new knowledge, which I’m still grateful for today.

@Szi-Benedek Photography

Meanwhile, your usual routine continued: your dad, the dogs, commuting, work, repeat.
That’s right. It was a very stressful and packed period, but I believe it was worth it.

At this point, you were still doing what you had to do to secure income, enough to cover all your expenses, while your passion had already become an integral part of your life.
Exactly. It was becoming increasingly clear that my ultimate path lay with dogs, but I wasn’t yet in a position to fully focus on them. My father, who was at home, could fortunately help with some things and enjoyed doing so—it gave his days purpose, which was undoubtedly a positive. Initially, I didn’t dare charge for teaching; I helped anyone who needed it. But over time, I noticed people were happy to pay for the help they received from me, and that’s how my side income began. Breeding didn’t bring in much money at first. Our first litter wasn’t even registered under our name, and we weren’t experienced with selling puppies. We relied on the person who named the litter to handle things, which moved quite slowly. Later, the puppies were registered under the Csovarberki name, and things started picking up.

Tell me a bit about this breeding thing. What do we, outsiders, need to know? How should we imagine the job of a breeder? Or, put another way, how is a good Hungarian Vizsla made?
Haha, good question! In simple terms, the breeder’s goal is to ensure that the offspring inherit the best qualities characteristic of the breed from both the father’s and the mother’s lines. In the case of Vizslas, second- and third-generation close relations are permissible without any issues. Appearance is important, but the Csovarberki Kennel has always prioritized work ability and skill.

How do you select breeding candidates?
As a judge, trainer and handler, I’m fortunate to know and see the most significant Hungarian Vizslas in action, making it easy to decide which dogs I want to include in my breeding program. As for appearance, I prefer dogs that are neither too dark nor too light in color, have beautiful head shapes, and, for me, the eyes are crucial. Those iconic brown Vizsla eyes, intelligent and expressive - they are highly important to me.

How do you price your puppies?
I primarily consider market conditions, as well as the quality of the puppies, if I may say so. I hand over the puppies to new owners fully socialized, vaccinated, and with pedigree documents. I traditionally choose their names by flipping through a dictionary and selecting from words that start with the letter assigned to their litter.

How often are your puppies born?
I’m not a fan of mass production. I like my dogs to rest, and when puppies are born, I want them to be of excellent quality. I believe in one or two litters a year, which is what you can expect from the Csovarberki Kennel.

If I’m not mistaken, you also worked as a breeder professionally. What can you tell us about that?
Yes, that’s correct. I bred police dogs at the Dunakeszi Police Department at a time. It was interesting; they called me back a year after I had submitted my application. Just when I received a pay raise at Raiffeisen as a reward for my good work. I liked the Raiffeisen team; it was a good, cohesive team, but the work itself wasn’t my world. Dog breeding, now that was it—I didn’t think too much before making the switch. The work environment, though, was pretty toxic. Nothing can be perfect, right?

And that was my last job. When I left there, I became my own boss. By that time, I had already built connections through attending many competitions, the dog school was booming, breeding was going well, and I was standing on multiple solid legs, so I dared to take this big step. I could finally leave behind the “necessity is the master” mentality and live off what I was passionate about. Of course, even though all of this is work, I believe that any job for which I receive money is just that—work. And I put my heart and soul into every task, striving to provide the best quality. But it feels really good to have been doing only what I love for the past seven years, and to be my own boss.

It seems like my work is appreciated, too: in 2008 I was elected as the president of the Hungarian Wirehaired Vizsla Breeders Association, and since then I’ve been re-elected every term. It’s a great honor, and I feel it’s feedback for everything I’ve done and continue to do for the breed.

I was also elected president of the Performance Judges Committee of MEOESz, which is a big deal for me. The countless hours of work, the energy, and the time I’ve dedicated, despite all the difficulties in my personal life, has paid off, and that makes me really happy.

How much of a “man’s world” is the dog-breeding world? How much can a woman succeed in this field?
I don’t think it’s a man’s world at all! Hunting, as a sport, perhaps yes, but maybe that’s why women receive even more respect when they endure the snow, frost, mud, rain, and wind just like their male counterparts and perform just as well in hunting. As for breeding and competition, it’s completely co-ed. Women play important roles and achieve success. I believe that women’s voices have nuances that dogs can sense and distinguish, so women are able to soothe, reward, or even discipline a dog with their voice, which is crucial in dog training.

Katika, just like with the other Attagirls, your life journey hasn’t been easy. Getting where you are today was preceded by significant soul-searching, a lot of stress, unexpected situations, and tough decisions. Now you are finally where you should be, doing what you love, and you are able to give to others, to set an example. Your days are clearly not easy, the physical demands are significant, considering you spend almost all day outdoors, regardless of weather or day, including weekends and holidays. What helps you get through the difficulties, how do you gather strength and energy on a daily basis?
I always look forward to the end of the day. After each day, returning to Vac, where I’ve lived with my partner, Laci, for the past six years. Csovar is partly my home and also my workplace and if I think of it like that, the daily 20-km-commute doesn’t feel so exhausting. So, when I return from a competition, or from my part-home-part-workplace Csovar, to my full-home in Vac, after a hard day of work, nothing feels better.

I enjoy watching series, and just the other day I finished a show I’d been watching for the umpteenth time, this time with Laci, called Slow Horses, with Gary Oldman. It’s huge. I also have favorite phone games, logic games, which can completely switch off my mind when it’s racing. And I really enjoy baking and cooking, although I’m not yet a master at it. It bothers me when I’m so busy that I can’t fit in cooking for Laci and my dad. When that happens, they have to eat something from a cafeteria, and they loudly miss my cooking, which feels bad. I want to cook for them, but unfortunately it doesn’t always work out. And when I do have time for it, and they say, “It was good!” I know it was worth it.

And then there’s hunting. The way I work in harmony with my dog in nature. How we understand each other without words, how we breathe together, how our hearts beat in unison as we move toward one goal. Only those who lead a lifestyle like this themselves can truly understand it. Or when people around me care so much about the dog that they change their lifestyle for it and, say, take up hunting. People for whom what I offer brings about a complete transformation, a shift in perspective, a change in thinking. Watching this process unfold fills me with such pride and happiness, which makes me feel that it’s worth getting up early every day, worth spending my weekends outdoors, worth enduring any weather conditions or physical discomforts. At times like this I feel like the world gets just a little bit better.

@Rado Ratic

Is there anything you wanted to achieve but haven’t succeeded in yet?
At one point I really wanted to earn a doctorate, but the master's program in game management engineering, alongside my canine studies, was too much. Those two years were incredibly tough, and I realized that the sacrifice required for a PhD title wouldn’t be worth it, it wouldn't give me as much as it would take. So, I let go of that. It bothered me back then that I didn’t stick with the chemical engineering faculty, but now I have two degrees, and with that I was able to say goodbye to studying.

One of my big dreams that’s not urgent, but if I had a bucket list, it would be the only item on it: is a road trip across America. One day – but for now, there’s still a lot to do. Maybe when my days aren’t so packed, and there’s more time to spare…

How would you sum up who Katalin Noveczki is today?
I’ve learned to truly appreciate what I’ve achieved, what I have. I can genuinely celebrate even the small successes, and I take great care of everything I’ve created together with Laci and my dad. I approach every task with maximum dedication, with heart and soul, and even though I get paid for them and they appear as work in my life, they are also my passions. There’s no happier life than when you can say this. I don’t long for big things, I never chased unreachable dreams, I can honestly say that I live a very simple life, where it’s not hard to notice and appreciate everything that is good. I am happy, I’m in the right place, nature is an organic part of my life, and I believe that it has a healing power in itself. I work with animals who calm me, are predictable, and if I do my job well, they perform excellently. I think that what can be achieved today in dog-related circles, I have achieved. I have European and world champion dogs, my kennel brings me joy, and it makes me happy when I can recognize my own dogs in other people’s dogs. I wouldn’t change anything about who I am today.

Katika, thank you so much for these few hours I could spend with you. It was incredibly valuable to me. I know that I personally owe you a lot, and it's an honor to have gotten a glimpse into everything we've discussed here over the years. I'm happy that now the readers also have the chance to get to know you (a little better), and I believe that many will recognize themselves in your story on some level.
If you're right, it was already worth it. Thank you for letting me be a part of the Attagirl! movement, and I wish that more and more people recognize what their true desire is and dare to dive in and believe in themselves that they can make it happen. If I succeeded, they will too, I’m sure of it!

If you want to learn more about Katika, click the links.

LinkedIn
Facebook
Kennel Contact
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It's been half a year since I had to let my pup, Gyomber, go. Only the memories remain, and the valuable connections she brought. Just like Katika. Thank you, my beloved Vizsla.

Gyomber @Szi-Benedek Photography