My close relationship with dogs began early as I spent my childhood living at the Seeing Eye Breeding Division in Mendham, NJ where my father served as the program's first director. The Seeing Eye is a non-profit organization devoted to raising and training guide dogs to serve the blind. These highly trained, beautiful animals become teammates with their human partner. They provide companionship and enable their owner to enjoy freedoms they did not dream possible before uniting with their guide dog. I share many wonderful personal memories spent with family dogs from childhood and later as an adult. In addition to numerous enjoyable and humorous pet adventure stories, I share amusing stories from veterinary offices. There are chapters about fascinating research on dog intelligence and their ability to love their human companions. I also include stories about hero service dogs and dogs who were family pets of Presidents. There are useful recommendations to help select the right puppy for your family as well as practical training tips. Finally, I address the experience all dog owners dread, saying goodbye to their beloved family member. Insightful and helpful suggestions to help work through the grief process are offered.
My close relationship with dogs began early as I spent my childhood living at the Seeing Eye Breeding Division in Mendham, NJ where my father served as the program's first director. The Seeing Eye is a non-profit organization devoted to raising and training guide dogs to serve the blind. These highly trained, beautiful animals become teammates with their human partner. They provide companionship and enable their owner to enjoy freedoms they did not dream possible before uniting with their guide dog. I share many wonderful personal memories spent with family dogs from childhood and later as an adult. In addition to numerous enjoyable and humorous pet adventure stories, I share amusing stories from veterinary offices. There are chapters about fascinating research on dog intelligence and their ability to love their human companions. I also include stories about hero service dogs and dogs who were family pets of Presidents. There are useful recommendations to help select the right puppy for your family as well as practical training tips. Finally, I address the experience all dog owners dread, saying goodbye to their beloved family member. Insightful and helpful suggestions to help work through the grief process are offered.
I Love Dogs!
A Tribute to Man’s Best Friend
Chapter 1- Magical
“Jimmy, Jerry!,” “Jimmy, Jerry!”, they called out, but we didn’t answer. Even though it was decades ago, and I was quite young, I remember it like it just happened. I also recall it being a beautiful, lazy summer afternoon- the kind of day that was ideal for an adventure. I am not sure the adventure had a definite destination but when you are a child, that is not particularly important. Off we went behind the house, across the backyard, trudging up the hill through a field of tall grass. We hiked up the moderate incline to the top. Not a particularly challenging feat, but I was still a little guy, so we needed to rest. We paused in the pleasant shade near the edge of the woods.
We watched the activity unfold below us and it looked like there were quite a few people gathering. We didn’t move; we just sat and watched. “Jimmy, Jerry!", "Jimmy, Jerry!,” they cried out over and over again. We knew who they were calling and why they were calling but decided to venture a little deeper into the woods anyway. We sat and watched them scurry about. I was a precocious child of three, intent on enjoying my freedom and completing the adventure with my best friend. I do not think Jerry was as committed to the adventure as I was. He was likely more intent on making sure I was being supervised and would be safe. I sat perched on a log with Jerry next to me as the voices continued to call. We heard them desperately yelling as they continued to frantically search about. Still, we sat and watched. I was intent on exercising my newfound independence a bit longer.
In time, the figures came closer and grew larger. The voices became louder as they reached the crest of the hill. We continued to sit and watch. Shortly after, we saw some people approach the woods. Still, we didn't move. I remember the event as if it were frozen in time. The two of us sitting there enjoying the thrill of this moment. It probably wasn't more than an hour but as a child, time was lengthened.
I sat, stroking Jerry’s head and neck. Eventually, Jerry grew restless and decided my safety was more important than the adventure. He bounced out of the woods and led them back to me. I do not remember who found us, but I do remember my tearful and relieved mother hugging me. After the short-lived joy of reuniting, my parents disciplined me. I did not complete my adventure and recall it was an extraordinarily long time before I was permitted to travel again anywhere by myself or with Jerry.
This is one of my earliest memories and it is fitting it involves a dog. I don’t remember what kind of dog Jerry was. He was medium- sized and had a thick black fur coat. What I do remember is that he like so many dogs that followed him, was a devoted and trusted friend. All of these dogs were unique in every way and each of them has an enduring place in my memory and heart.
I was blessed to have a fantastic childhood. It was nothing short of magical. I grew up in the wilds of northern New Jersey in a loving home with my parents, John, and Marion, two older brothers, John and Jeff, and a younger sister, Joanne. And, I did say “The wilds of northern New Jersey” and yes there were and still are genuinely nice, rural areas in New Jersey. Poor New Jersey is often the brunt of jokes. I have even heard it referred to as the “Armpit of the Country.” That is a bit harsh! For those whose experience has been limited to driving along the rather drab landscape of the New Jersey Turnpike, I can understand why you might not have the most favorable impression of the "Garden State". However, there are plenty of rolling hills, forests, and open spaces in the northern tier of the state. The beach area in the eastern and southern parts of the state is beautiful as well. We and our dogs spent many wonderful summer vacations at the New Jersey beach. Our family still loves to vacation in Cape May, a charming Victorian ocean town resort.
I love dogs and the seeds for this affection were planted early.I had the good fortune to grow up on the property of the Seeing Eye Breeding Division, which was affectionately referred to as the "Puppy Farm" by most of our community. The Seeing Eye’s mission statement; is to “Enhance the independence, dignity,and self-confidence of people who are blind, through the use of specially trained Seeing Eye dogs.” At that time, the Seeing Eye Breeding Division was located just outside the quaint little town of Mendham, NJ. This picturesque village is small town Americana at its finest.The Seeing Eye Facility has since changed location to Chester, which is a town immediately northwest of Mendham. Adjoining our house, we had over one 100 acres of woods, fields, hills, streams, and waterfalls to explore. We had ample space for baseball, softball, kickball, and football, which meant our house was the gathering place for the neighborhood kids. When winter arrived,we had epic hills for sledding. The place really was “Kid Heaven.”
My father had the privilege of being the first director of the Seeing Eye Breeding Division. My parents told us the first dogs used for training were military dogs that served in World War II. I am sure there were physical characteristics that made these dogs a perfect choice, but after having served in a war of that magnitude; I imagine the transition to living and training with civilians was difficult for them. Suffice it to say some of the early years were a bit challenging and frightening. My mom told us about a time when her kerchief was all that saved her when an aggressive dog latched onto her throat. By the time I was born and old enough to spend time in the kennels, most of the dogs were well domesticated and friendly. We used to love going into the “Puppy Barn” to visit the young pups who had just been weaned from their mom’s. There would typically be about 12-15 energetic, roly-poly balls of fur waiting and ready to play when we arrived.As you can imagine, we were swarmed when we entered their pen. It was a great chance for them to socialize with humans and of course we loved being there with them and becoming part of the chaotic puppy play that ensued!
Mr. Morris Frank, who was blind, and his guide dog Buddy were the famed duo who really started the Seeing Eye. A movie, entitled “Love Leads the Way,” was their story. Mr. Frank had read an article about guide dogs being employed by blind World War I veterans. After completing training in Switzerland, Mr. Frank arrived in New York City to demonstrate the ability of his guide dog. As a skilled team working together, he and Buddy safely navigated a dangerous city street crossing to the amazement of a large group of media gathered to record the event. From this humble beginning, the Seeing Eye was born. From that time until now, thousands of blind people have gained independence after being paired with a well-trained canine companion.
Much of a Disney movie featuring the Seeing Eye was filmed where we lived. It was great fun. The movie, called “Atta Girl, Kelly", was released in 1967.It was about a German Shepherd pup being trained to become a Seeing Eye dog and the positive impact she had on each of her three masters. I even got a small part in the movie as a stand-in. Disney did not want to bring the boy who played Kelly’s 4-H owner across the country to shoot the scenes that were being filmed at the Seeing Eye, so I got to do those. My total screen time probably amounted to less than 30 seconds and the filming was done from so far away you couldn’t possibly tell it was me. But, of course, I thought I was kind of a big deal!
You may have noticed each child in our family has a first name that begins with “J.” Giving an entire litter of puppy’s names that all began with the same letter was customary for tracking purposes. So, we became my mom and dad’s “J” litter.
As kids, we knew that some very important service was being provided where we lived, but mostly, we knew we had an ample supply of soft, furry, friendly puppies waiting for us anytime we wanted to visit the kennels.
During the time we lived at the Seeing Eye, which was 20 years for me, we had quite a few pet dogs. There were two German Shepherds, Juan and Justin, (the J thing again) Jinny, the beagle; JiJi (pronounced Gee Gee), the Toy Poodle; and Napoleon, the Basset Hound. I am not sure why he did not have a name that began with a “J.” He was the only dog whose name did not begin with J. It could be because his behavior did not justify this prestigious honor. He was small and mischievous, just like his namesake.
Let me tell you a little bit about each of our pet dogs. Juan was a large male German Shepherd weighing over 120 pounds as a full-grown adult. He was the epitome of a gentle giant. I remember him being very friendly and loving. The one exception to this was when he encountered motorcycles. It may have been the loud noise, but they would drive him into a frenzy. Because we lived in the country and there was so much open land, our pets were able to roam freely. I remember one day we were outside, and Juan heard a motorcycle coming down the road. He sprinted across the yard, through the hedge and launched himself at the motorcycle rider. The force of the collision sent the rider, motorcycle, and Juan flying into an adjacent field. Fortunately, Juan was fine, the rider was uninjured and the bike undamaged. Believe it or not, from what I recall,the rider was not terribly upset or angry either! It may have been, he was just happy to be alive! Obviously, we were extremely lucky.
I used to practice my baseball swing by going out to the field behind our house, tossing stones up in the air and hitting them. Although I didn’t ask or encourage him; Juan would serve as my fielder. This meant he would position himself to catch the stones I hit. As you can imagine, some of them were hit and bounced at a high rate of speed. The stones that were hit in the air flew especially fast, just like a “line drive” in real baseball. It didn’t matter to Juan. With the skill of a “gold glove” caliber infielder he would deftly position himself in front of the stone and catch it. The poor guy would be panting heavily from exhaustion and bleeding from the mouth but never quit. I would go inside for a cool drink while Juan would go to his water bowl, rinse blood from his mouth and out we would go again to play some more. I feel horrible now when I look back and think about how much this must have hurt him, but of course as a child I never even gave it a thought. I guess the chance for him to play a game with his buddy and the fun he had playing this game was more important to him than the pain he felt. A dog's loyalty knows no bounds.
I mentioned we had a waterfall on our property. It was called “Buttermilk Falls” and my friends and I enjoyed many great times swimming there. We would also camp there quite often. Juan would accompany us, and I can remember on more than one night,he served as my pillow for the entire night. Yes, he was that gentle and calm!
As I said earlier, our dogs would go on vacation with us. Juan made several trips to the New Jersey beach. This was before the days of minivans and air-conditioned vehicles. Seat belts were also not required by law at that time. Yup, I’m that old! All seven of us would pile into the family station wagon. My cousin, Kevin, sister Joanne and I would climb into the cargo area. We spread out blankets and played our favorite games. We loved it and really thought we were traveling in style. We would drive about halfway to our destination, then stop for a picnic lunch and rest. By the time we got to the beach we were all a bit sore from our cramped riding accommodation and usually thirsty and hungry.During Juan’s first trip to the beach, as soon as the door opened upon our arrival, he bolted straight for the water. We screamed his name and chased after him, but it was too late. The appeal of the water was too enticing. He was that thirsty and the opportunity to quench his thirst from this huge water supply was just too tempting. He dove into the surf and took a big gulp of water. I have never seen such a look of shock and disappointment on a dog’s face. He gagged and convulsed from the taste of the saltwater. We grabbed him and led him back to the car where we filled his water bowl. He gulped and gulped the freshwater as he attempted to rid his palate of the horrible salty taste.
Juan accompanied us on numerous beach vacations to Brielle, New Jersey. My father was a customer of a gentleman who owned a feed store, and he was kind enough to let us use his beach home. The owner had a rather colorful caretaker named Dewey Skelton (this may or may not have been his real name) who graciously shared his time and stories with us. Dewey had a fondness for drink, and a propensity for exaggeration. As a young child, I recall being quite spellbound when Dewey began “spinning a yarn”. Dewey revealed having served as a Navy Admiral and once pitching for the New York Yankees. His professional baseball career ended abruptly when during the middle of an inning he decided he was tired of baseball; tossed his glove aside and walked off the mound. He would also tell a tale of a marauding orange cat named “Tiger” who terrorized the local community. The legend of Tiger had reached near mythical proportion when after several summer vacations, there had still been no visual confirmation of him. Then one summer, Juan began sniffing intently and darting back and forth by the edge of the driveway in a frenzied state. He had picked up Tiger’s scent and proceeded to venture into a wetlands area. Our view obscured by the tall thick aquatic grasses; we could only hear the sound of it being trampled as the chase unfolded. In my child’s mind, I was convinced our dog was about to be consumed by a large jungle cat. Juan barked as he chased in pursuit and Tiger screamed and hissed defiantly as he gained ground. Eventually, Juan emerged from the grassy swamp; exhausted, soaking wet and caked with mud; but victorious. It was the last we heard of Tiger.
We had an interesting tradition for celebrating Juan's birthday. We would make a pancake large enough to fill a cast iron skillet and then top it with all his favorite foods. Of course, it had syrup and butter, but we wanted to make it special for him, so we added whip cream, pickles and "Chicken in a Biskit" crackers.I can't remember for sure,but I think we might have included ice cream as well.We loved making it and he eagerly devoured it. It was a "win- win." It was definitely not the healthiest meal he ever ate; so, it's a good thing birthdays are only once a year!
Our neighbor’s German Shepherd, Lady and Juan were good buddies. They would often enjoy their days leisurely hiking about and exploring. I can remember one time when Juan and Lady took off on an adventure and didn’t return. They were missing for a couple of days and eventually days became weeks. We were devastated. I don’t know how many of you have ever had a pet get lost, but the heartache is pretty intense. Weeks had passed and we had given up all hope of Juan and Lady returning. I was away at a youth basketball tournament, and I can vividly remember the tears of joy when my mom called me and said they had come back. They were both skin and bones, but somehow, they managed to find their way back and that is all we cared about.
Jinny is the next dog our family had. My mom worked briefly as an overnight switchboard operator for a hospital in a nearby town. "A what?" some of you are probably saying. This job involved connecting phone calls, something that today is done automatically. She was on her way home from work one morning and saw a Beagle puppy that had been abandoned on the side of the road. As every person is an individual, each dog is unique as well. Jinny was, well she was Jinny. She really did not have a big personality. She wasn’t playful or loving, nor was she mean or aggressive. She was just there. What I remember most about Jinny is that she was with us at the same time as Whiskers, our pet raccoon (more about him coming up). Jinny wasn’t playful, but Whiskers was playful enough for both of them. Whiskers would chase and tackle her to wrestle, and he would also perform dental exams on her! (see the picture at the end of the chapter)For some reason,he liked to take his hands (as you may know, raccoons have fingers with opposable thumbs) and examine her teeth and mouth. Fortunately, Jinny’s personality was perfectly suited to being a patient. She stood quietly and let him practice dentistry.
I mentioned Napoleon earlier. My mom always had a fascination and affection for Basset Hounds. They are oddly lovable dogs. At some point she contacted a shelter that just happened to have a Basset Hound. She went to see him and the shelter produced documents showing that his official AKC registered name was Happy Jack. And his father's name was listed as Beacon's Tik Tok. Impressive, right? Those two names alone probably should have provided sufficient indication that we should stay away, but we didn't.Napoleon was an adult male when we got him. He (aka Happy Jack) lived with us for what turned out to be a brief period of time but seemed like much longer. I will preface my story about him by saying that if you have read the best-selling book, “Marley and Me” then you already know Napoleon! The animal was simply demonic!
My cousin Kevin and I spent a great deal of our summer vacation playing baseball in some form or another. We had to put Napoleon in the house when we played because if he was outside, he would take the baseball. We had other dogs who did this because they wanted to play; and eventually they returned the ball. Not Napoleon. He would run, look back to make sure we were chasing him, and just keep going. He might even let us get close enough to think we were going to get the ball back but: then he would accelerate into another gear and elude us. The few times we did manage to get the ball back; it was essentially unusable.It was soaked with dog slobber and torn up from his teeth.
I remember a dinner disaster when my mom had spent quite a bit of time preparing a meal for guests. She set a tray of meatballs on the counter and yeah, you guessed it. Napoleon ate the meatballs-all 36 of them. Another time, our family had gone away to visit friends for the day and upon our return discovered that Napoleon had been very busy. There was not a room in the house he did not redecorate! Contents from the trash cans and wastepaper baskets were strewn throughout the house. Clothes baskets were dumped with many clothes torn or half eaten and scattered about the house. I vividly recall seeing a half-eaten hose hanging from the vacuum cleaner and marveling at how it was possible for any dog to accomplish such a thing. The house resembled the streets of New York's Times Square after New Year's Eve!
On another occasion, Napoleon crossed the street to visit the neighbor’s prized flower garden. Apparently, much to the dismay of our gardening enthusiast neighbor,Napoleon bit the flowers off his prized gardenias and ate many of them. I only managed to see the end of this unfold when my father was disciplining Napoleon.My father was yelling at him and Napoleon appeared to be very remorseful. He recoiled in fear, lowered his ears, and tucked his tail between his legs. However, the minute my dad turned his back, Napoleon dramatically and boldly changed his posture and attitude. Remorse now turned into redemption. He raised up, barked and growled at my dad and then ran off! That was Napoleon! As if the previous events I have described were not enough, Napoleon took his next and final act of mischief to an even more outrageous level. We had a crew up on scaffolds painting the back of our house. Napoleon decided it would be great fun to grab the rope hanging from one of the ladders and run. Apparently, the ladder and scaffolding began to shake, and the painters began screaming hysterically at him, but Napoleon was undeterred. He had to be physically removed by my dad before pulling the entire structure and painting crew to the ground. He was gone shortly after that incident.Oh, by the way, we found out later that Napoleon was left at the shelter by his family because he was uncontrollable! Sounds like the poor dog had not been trained at all.
Jiji followed Napoleon. Jiji was a toy poodle and although she arrived as our family dog, she really became my sister’s dog. She and Joanne adored each other and were inseparable. She was a sweet little dog but definitely had a bit of the “Little Dog Syndrome”. By that, I mean she attempted to overcompensate for her small size by trying to be big, tough, and loud. She yapped constantly at noises;birds, bunnies or whatever else she deemed worthy. What I remember most about JiJi was the challenge I had as a teenager coming into the house late at night and somehow trying to elude her detection. I can recall many times getting to the top of the stairs or even into my bedroom thinking I had managed to sneak past her. Then, I would hear her loudly announce my late arrival. Inevitably, my mom or dad would wake up and I would be disciplined for violating curfew. Of course, my relationship with JiJi suffered because of this. There were several times this happened, and l expressed my displeasure by yelling at her. Big mistake! A day or two after I yelled at her, I found she had strategically placed a gift on my pillow (yes, that!). Fortunately, I always found these presents before I laid my head down on the pillow. Jiji was actually a cute little dog, and I now realize she was just trying to do her job. On the other hand, I was an overly sensitive, curfew breaking teenager who was being justly punished.
Now about Justin. As big and imposing as Juan was, Justin was tiny and cute. I think it is fair to say most people don’t think of adult male German Shepherds as tiny and cute, but even as an adult, Justin weighed only about 60 pounds. He was a beautiful shepherd with very distinctive markings. That dog was model quality! He was also very affectionate and lovable. He was smart and quickly learned a number of tricks. His most impressive one was being able to “sit-up.” From a sitting position, he could raise his front legs completely in the air and balance on his bottom. Justin could actually maintain this position for quite some time. The thing I remember best about Justin was his complete devotion to fetching. Growing up, fetching was introduced to all my family dogs, and as an adult, I have shown this to all our dogs. Most of our dogs have been relatively passive about it or only somewhat interested. Not Justin. He took this pastime and turned into a full-time obsession. Every time you saw him and everywhere he went, he had a tennis ball with him. Justin attended my college graduation. I remember him being quite the gentleman at the ceremony and thoroughly enjoying all the people who were willing and happy to indulge in his game of fetch once the ceremony had ended.
We have had a number of dogs over the years. Each one was unique in their own way and each completely valued and loved by our family (okay, maybe not Napoleon so much). We also had some other pets I would like to tell you about.We had a goat named Bambie and Whiskers, the raccoon I mentioned earlier. Bambie was my brother Jeff's goat. He spent quite a bit of time with her and took good care of her.
My cousin Tom was on his way to visit us one day and saw a baby raccoon on the side of the road, having been separated from his family. Tom picked him up, tucked him safely in his coat pocket, and delivered him to my mom. My mother never met a baby animal she didn’t want to rescue, so she bottle-fed and nurtured Whiskers until he became a healthy, young raccoon. Whiskers,of course, recognizing a good thing when he had it, decided to stay with us. Living with children who were more than ready to play with him and feed him treats, he grew strong and healthy, achieving a weight of about 50 pounds.He was a rather large raccoon, perhaps just a bit on the chubby side from all the treats. He was definitely a fun pet. I remember my grandmother, Nan, told me she would take my sister for walks in a stroller and of course, Whiskers went too. More than one concerned person stopped their car to let her know she was being stalked by a potentially rabid raccoon!
As you may know, raccoons put their food in water prior to eating. We loved to prank Whiskers by giving him sugar cubes with a bowl of water to make sure he washed them first. Our poor confused raccoon simply could not comprehend where his treat had disappeared to. He frantically searched for the sugar cube after it had dissolved. He would continue to search the bowl with his eyes and paws long after it was gone.
Whiskers loved to wrestle with me. He also used to enjoy climbing on my shoulders and running his fingers through my hair and rubbing my head. To the best of my knowledge, he never found anything of any significance up there, but it kept him entertained. Once he reached adulthood this form of recreation became unmanageable. He would start his climb, and I would collapse unable to support his weight.
Raccoons do not hibernate, but they do enter a state of torpor where their body temperature and metabolism drop considerably for a short period of time. This state lasts for weeks instead of the months that hibernation lasts. I remember Whiskers doing this. He went into the storage area above our garage and squeezed himself into the comfort and warmth of the mattress of a folding cot. When he did this during his first winter with us, we had no idea where he went and just assumed he had returned to the wild. You can imagine our excitement when we managed to find his hiding spot at the end of winter. He was quite dopey from his slumber and dramatically thinner. We brought him some lollipops which were his favorite treat and then carried him back into the house. He was a great pet. We loved him and are left with many great memories of the time he lived with us. After about four years, Whiskers left to find his rightful place in the woods.
I should also tell you we had a couple of cats as well when we were growing up. Yes, although this is a dog book, I am talking about cats. I do like cats and obviously they are very popular pets. I just prefer dogs and since this is a dog book, they are getting all the attention. We had a gray Tabby Cat named Sam, who was my brother Jeff's cat and Baba Looey, who was my cat. I do not recall much about Sam and think that perhaps he was not with us for very long. Baba Looey, which a very small group of you may remember, was Sheriff Quick Draw McGraw's deputy. They were a crime fighting cartoon duo when I was 4 - 5 years old. Through the wondrous power of the internet, they are still available for viewing today! My Baba Looey was a very attractive gray, black and white Persian cat. I remember being quite fond of her and we spent many hours playing together. I can recall playing a game where I would place her at the top of the stairs right where the steps and railing curved to my bedroom.I would give her a sock, run back down the steps and stand below her in the hallway. On command she would drop the sock, and I would catch it. Okay, not that amazing, but it was a fun game for a young child and a cat!
Although I do not remember this particular event, my oldest brother, John told me about a time Baba Looey and I escaped supervision and went missing. Apparently, we hid out in my tree house which was on the edge of the woods behind the house. Once again, it appears I was reluctant to be found and created a bit of anxiety for my family before they managed to locate us. I had escape adventures with Jerry and Baba Looey. It does seem that in hindsight I may have enjoyed the attention and drama created by running away.
Our entire group of pets enjoyed or at least tolerated each other. They willingly joined us in all our activities and had the run of the house. In the afternoon, as our school bus approached our stop, we would see the whole band of animals patiently waiting at the bottom of the driveway for us. When we got off the bus, we were mobbed by this enthusiastic group who were more than ready to begin whatever after-school excitement might be in store for them.
I am an animal lover. They have always had a special place in my life. They have been devoted companions and more to me. I know they are not human but honestly, in some ways they are superior. They are loyal and trusting and if you have been fortunate enough to experience the love of a pet, then you know what unconditional love is.
As children we really did have an idyllic existence. When we were not behaving, I can remember my dad would remind us how “spoiled” we were, tell us how good we had it and how fortunate we were. Of course, he was right, but as young children we certainly didn’t know it. All of us do now! A very large part of our special childhood involved the pets we had. You read the stories about my pets as I grew up. Later in the book I will share the stories of pets I have owned as an adult.
I have long felt that you can judge a person by whether or not a dog likes them. I feel like you can also judge a person on whether or not they like dogs. It seems as if the relationship works and has yet to prove me wrong. I highly enjoyed this memoir and nonfiction work by Weagley. It is challenging to categorize the true genre, as it seems to blend elements of several. However, that does not detract from its glorious nature.
From the outset you can tell that Weagley does not simply like dogs, but rather he loves them. It does not matter if it is reminiscing about canine companions from decades ago or more recent ones, you know the man cares for the animal. I loved that he included photographs of certain dogs as every book needs more dog photographs. Plus, it helps to truly visualize some of the paragraphs, especially the autobiographical ones.
This would have been a great ode to canines with only the stories of Weagley's mind but the fact that he incorporates science and history makes it even better. He hits on some of the high points of just how extraordinary these animals are from a scientific perspective. And then he covers the dogs that have made their dwelling in the White House as part of the first family. Dare I say that these are much more interesting than any feline that may have roamed those sacred halls.
Overall, this is a great work and I only wish it were longer. It seemed as if there was enough there to keep my eyes and mind occupied, but I enjoy listening to stories about dogs and would have enjoyed a few more, if only for my sake. If you get an opportunity, do not pass on this wonderful creation about one of the best animals. After all, I have lived with one in the house for over twenty-five years now.