Scrappy Badger

Review

Rating: 9

A funny thing happens when I read a really good book, and oddly enough, it has nothing to do with my head. No, it isn’t at all cerebral or intellectual. I get a feeling in my stomach. It is a physical reaction much like hunger or fear — the kinds of things that you experience through unexplainable gut reactions. I suppose it has something to do with connecting with the story on an emotional level. Whatever the reason and though it is slightly different for each book, the feeling is always there with the really good ones.

The Dogs Who Found Me, as you’ve no doubt guessed by now, produced such a reaction. And at the risk of gushing, I absolutely loved this book. Then why a 9 out of 10 rating you ask? Because it wasn’t long enough. Because I didn’t want it to end, and I’m mad that it is over. Because I will never meet Brando, Zephyr, Sula, and all of the other dogs that found Ken Foster.

That’s why it took me so long to read such a short book. I only allowed myself one or two chapters at a time (except for that one weekend where I devoured 70 pages and could barely stop myself there) because I wanted the experience to last longer. The book reads easily and quickly, though. Foster avoids fussy, pretentious prose, and by doing so, makes the dogs the very center of his writing. They are what you see and hear in his writing and he moves aside, happy to serve simply as a vehicle for their stories.

I love reading a book by someone who loves dogs so much — someone who recognizes as many people do (but so many more don’t) how special they are and how lucky we are that they hang out with us. And in the process of telling the story of his dogs, of strays, and of dog pals from New York to Florida to New Orleans, he manages to say a lot about people too and the ways we deal with loss, happiness, change, and uncertainty.

Most important to me, his stories reminded me to be smarter — to be as smart as my dog. To work to understand her the way she can understand me. Humans rely so heavily on language that we don’t see as much as we otherwise could, so when it comes to animals we usually just guess. In the process we often get it wrong, avoiding the small clues that tell us exactly what they want and need. I’ll never see even a fraction of those subtle hints, but I’m trying harder than I was before.

And as I type this and Luna winks, lays her head on my lap, and then swings her head toward one of her treat boxes, I remember how glad I am to have this dog.