All dog memoirs make me cry. It probably has something to do with the relatively short life span of the animals that nestle a deep place in our hearts.
This book is no different. Author Leigh Brill tells the story of how her service dog, Slugger, helps her overcome obstacles that Cerebral Palsy has put in her way. These amazing animals—although originally bred for specific tasks—are so versatile that they have evolved to serve other human needs. Slugger's Lab instincts may be telling him to retrieve game, but he is just as happy to retrieve Leigh's keys or to steady her balance as she walks.
Woven within the story of their lives together is valuable information about the placement and training of service dogs. Leigh's story reminds me of the wonderful people in the dog world who help both people and animals in need. Sadly, it also serves as a wake-up call about the prejudices that people with disabilities and their service animals face on a daily basis.
As inspiring as Leigh's story is, I did not find it to be extraordinarily well written. It reads a bit slow and much of the dialogue is really canned. I might recommend watching/reading Through a Dog's Eyes first if you're looking to learn about service dogs. I have only seen the documentary (and it is FABULOUS—more tears), but I hope to read (and review) the book soon.
So yes, A Dog Named Slugger is inspiring and a tear-jerker. It's got a cute lab on the cover AND all proceeds go to the St. Francis Service Dogs organization. In short, I can't tell you not to read it, but the English major in me needs to tell you it's not one of the best dogs books ever written.
This is the book I hoped to write one day. But it’s better. Read it.
Full-length review:
Several people told me I just had to read You Had Me at Woof. With a jam-packed schedule, I didn’t think I’d have time. Needless to say, I made time and finished it in a few sittings.
Author Julie Klam recounts her experiences as a volunteer and foster with the Northeast Boston Terrier Rescue. She begins with the story of the adoption of her first rescue, Otto. (It’s one of those “Who rescued whom?” situations—like those car magnets say.)
With a humorous tone throughout, Julie details how she has saved numerous Boston Terriers from New York City shelters and otherwise inadequate living situations. From her first foster experience to her failed foster experiences, her stories validate what I’ve come to understand in animal rescue. There are no predictable endings.
Julie writes about meeting transports at a rest stop on the New Jersey Turnpike. She writes about the heartbreak of fostering a dog you really want to keep, but know you can’t. She writes about the lessons these amazing creatures have taught her. When I put the book down, I knew I had met a kindred spirit.
In writing the book, she has let people into the world of rescue and shared what it means to fight for the literal underdog.
I have referred to The Lost Dogs in this blog before, but I haven't done it nearly enough justice. Written by Sports Illustrated writer Jim Gorant, The Lost Dogs documents the recovery and rehabilitation of the dogs from the Michael Vick dogfighting case.
This is not a canned "Marley and Me" tale.
This is not a mindless, beach read.
This is not an easy read by any means. In fact, I had to put it down one night because I was literally nauseous.
Above all else, this is a MUST read. It's one that will likely make you question our celebrity-worshipping culture, our justice system, and the stereotypes against pit bulls. More over, it will make you believe in the resilient spirit of animals and the people who work to save their lives on a daily basis.
Within this book you'll find layers and layers of stories—from the details of Vick's dogfighting operation to the heart-wrencing tales of the dogs and their progress. For an overview of some of these stories, watch this PBS segment called, "The Dogs Are Alright."
The story that struck me the most was that of Cris Cohen, featured in the above video, who fostered a number of the Vick dogs.
Cohen devoted himself wholeheartedly to rehabilitating one dog aptly named Jonny Justice. Jonny made a lot of progress in Cohen’s care and was moved on to another foster family so that Cohen could work with a more troubled dog from the Vick case. But Cohen struggled when Jonny left.
“Every time he [Cohen] took on a foster he gave a piece of himself away. It was impossible to do what he did without forming a close bond with the dog. The animal itself was less accepting of training if it didn’t feel a certain closeness and eagerness to please the trainer. In the past, that bond had always faded over time for Cohen. He figured the same thing would happen with Jonny, but it wasn’t. Just the opposite. He felt like he missed Jonny more and more as time went by…
He knew that taking in a second dog full-time meant the end of fostering… He would say, 'Every one I keep is one more that ends up dying in the shelter.' In other words, giving up one gave him the opportunity to save another. Giving up those opportunities to help was itself hard for him to accept.”
Luckily, Cohen found a way to adopt Jonny and still foster another dog simultaneously. In my opinion, it's people like him who deserve the NFL's MVP award this year.
On the day that I finished this book, I did two things. First, I went to the local rescue group and signed up to foster. I knew that, like Cohen said, it would mean giving away a piece of myself. And I liked that idea.
Second, I emailed the author to thank him for sharing this story and to ask for some additional information. I know that the teens who read magazines I write for need to hear this story. They literally NEED to hear it. Some of them may be thinking about dogfighting or, worse yet, may have been involved in dogfighting. Equally as important, some of them are our next generation of Cris Cohens. They need to know that this work matters. It really matters.
If you haven’t read this book yet, please go buy yourself a copy, download the Kindle edition, listen to the audio book, or find it in your local library. Hell, I'll even lend you my own copy. But I want it back, because it's one of those staples that will remain on my bookshelf for a long, long time.
