I read a lot of nonfiction about animals and their people, especially memoir.
A while back, I read the book Wesley the Owl about how a biologist gave over her life to adopt an owl. I loved it except that in so many ways, I knew I'd never be as patient or forgiving and that I should never bring a intractable raptor into my house no matter how much Nick begged to have his own Hedwig.
I read Dewey the Library Cat except that I wondered, seriously, how anyone in town with allergies managed to go into the library to borrow books before anaphylaxis set upon their throats. The nice thing was that Dewey seemed like an ordinary cat and I still loved him.
Marley and Me was the best story about the world's worst dog except that I hated how he died in the end of the story. It's killer how dog and cat books so often end with their deaths and then the author spends the next year or two writing about how much they were loved to hold onto them longer. I get that. I do. I write about the pets that I've lost too, just to remember this story or that, and hold onto them longer. But it's hard when you read about the life of a great friend and they always die in the end of the book.
I read Ravens in Winter and wondered at the dedication of a scientist who would spend Christmas night in bitter cold in a blind in the forest to get good results on the kindness of ravens. I wanted to hear his wife's story of his dedication. Did she pack him hot soup? I hope so.
In Homer's Odyssey, I loved how a kitten fighting against such odds turns fierce in his love and loyalty. Plus, we all want to read the good stories about the bombing of the Twin Towers because it was such a critical time in history. Where were you when the Twin Towers fell? I knew I could never live in New York City, not even if I had a cat to keep me company.
Not long ago, I picked up a copy of A Street Cat Named Bob from the Choice Reads shelf at the library. I loved it, but it had recently spent significant time with a homeless person because whenever I opened it up, that smell of homeless drug addict wafted up to my nose. I never was a fan of smellovision. This was similarly unpleasant but it faded to a reasonable foulness by the time the book aired out on my nightstand and I finished reading it. I liked the book, but I have a hard place in my heart for people who keep pets despite their inability to properly feed them. I know that Bob thrived in the end, but did he suffer in that beginning?
I keep telling my librarians about Finding Gobi and how that little dog ran 250km with the ultramarathoner for three days in the desert. I'm telling you, they're probably still getting money in the GoFundMe account intended to bring him home. Ah, I see they've closed it, but I guarantee that you'll want to make some kind of donation anyway after looking at the photos of that little dog running with his guy. The Humane Society still needs donations if you're interested. Last fall when I read about Gobi, it wasn't yet available except as an ebook and since my ereader had expired software, I read the whole thing on my computer in two days when I was supposed to be getting my work done.
There are the classics: All Creatures Great and Small and Travels with Charley.
But I sat down to tell you about Dog Medicine by Julie Barton. I have trouble walking past that Choice Reads table at my library and Dog Medicine just leaped into my hands. I'm in the middle of Fire and Fury but I get aggravated at the corruption and ineptitude in the White House and need to take breaks while reading sections of it aloud to Mike in a strident tone.
The beginning of Dog Medicine is so incredibly hard to read, but I think it's important because we need to drop the stigma of mental illness from our culture. We're on our way, but we're not there yet. I wonder if Barton has read Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson. I hope so because Lawson is so incredibly funny and really helps to break that old judgmental mold. I wonder if Lawson has read Dog Medicine. Oh, I hope so.
So, I've spent the last two days reading Dog Medicine when I was supposed to be editing. I'm totally hooked and I want to sit down now and read until the end. And I don't want it to end. It's that kind of book, the ones that cast a spell on you, like J.K. Rowling wrote in Harry Potter, so that you walk around reading that book forever, walking into to light poles, reading while you burn the gravy, and furiously reading at stop lights that seem suddenly too short.
Go get a copy of Dog Medicine. I hope you'll love it as much as I do.
Thank you for listening, jb
A while back, I read the book Wesley the Owl about how a biologist gave over her life to adopt an owl. I loved it except that in so many ways, I knew I'd never be as patient or forgiving and that I should never bring a intractable raptor into my house no matter how much Nick begged to have his own Hedwig.
I read Dewey the Library Cat except that I wondered, seriously, how anyone in town with allergies managed to go into the library to borrow books before anaphylaxis set upon their throats. The nice thing was that Dewey seemed like an ordinary cat and I still loved him.
Marley and Me was the best story about the world's worst dog except that I hated how he died in the end of the story. It's killer how dog and cat books so often end with their deaths and then the author spends the next year or two writing about how much they were loved to hold onto them longer. I get that. I do. I write about the pets that I've lost too, just to remember this story or that, and hold onto them longer. But it's hard when you read about the life of a great friend and they always die in the end of the book.
I read Ravens in Winter and wondered at the dedication of a scientist who would spend Christmas night in bitter cold in a blind in the forest to get good results on the kindness of ravens. I wanted to hear his wife's story of his dedication. Did she pack him hot soup? I hope so.
In Homer's Odyssey, I loved how a kitten fighting against such odds turns fierce in his love and loyalty. Plus, we all want to read the good stories about the bombing of the Twin Towers because it was such a critical time in history. Where were you when the Twin Towers fell? I knew I could never live in New York City, not even if I had a cat to keep me company.
Not long ago, I picked up a copy of A Street Cat Named Bob from the Choice Reads shelf at the library. I loved it, but it had recently spent significant time with a homeless person because whenever I opened it up, that smell of homeless drug addict wafted up to my nose. I never was a fan of smellovision. This was similarly unpleasant but it faded to a reasonable foulness by the time the book aired out on my nightstand and I finished reading it. I liked the book, but I have a hard place in my heart for people who keep pets despite their inability to properly feed them. I know that Bob thrived in the end, but did he suffer in that beginning?
I keep telling my librarians about Finding Gobi and how that little dog ran 250km with the ultramarathoner for three days in the desert. I'm telling you, they're probably still getting money in the GoFundMe account intended to bring him home. Ah, I see they've closed it, but I guarantee that you'll want to make some kind of donation anyway after looking at the photos of that little dog running with his guy. The Humane Society still needs donations if you're interested. Last fall when I read about Gobi, it wasn't yet available except as an ebook and since my ereader had expired software, I read the whole thing on my computer in two days when I was supposed to be getting my work done.
There are the classics: All Creatures Great and Small and Travels with Charley.
But I sat down to tell you about Dog Medicine by Julie Barton. I have trouble walking past that Choice Reads table at my library and Dog Medicine just leaped into my hands. I'm in the middle of Fire and Fury but I get aggravated at the corruption and ineptitude in the White House and need to take breaks while reading sections of it aloud to Mike in a strident tone.
The beginning of Dog Medicine is so incredibly hard to read, but I think it's important because we need to drop the stigma of mental illness from our culture. We're on our way, but we're not there yet. I wonder if Barton has read Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson. I hope so because Lawson is so incredibly funny and really helps to break that old judgmental mold. I wonder if Lawson has read Dog Medicine. Oh, I hope so.
So, I've spent the last two days reading Dog Medicine when I was supposed to be editing. I'm totally hooked and I want to sit down now and read until the end. And I don't want it to end. It's that kind of book, the ones that cast a spell on you, like J.K. Rowling wrote in Harry Potter, so that you walk around reading that book forever, walking into to light poles, reading while you burn the gravy, and furiously reading at stop lights that seem suddenly too short.
Go get a copy of Dog Medicine. I hope you'll love it as much as I do.
Thank you for listening, jb
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