Do Book Dogs Really Exist?

I just finished a book about a dog, The Art of Racing in the Rain. Or really a book about a man and his family told from the perspective of a dog. Actually it is about death, a demonic stuffed zebra, a child molestation accusation, a custody battle, and race car drivers. It needed more dog-ish-ness. The dog narrator spent a large portion of the time obsessed with a documentary he saw that said some dogs will be reincarnated as men, and trying to prepare for that eventuality.

It was the second dog book I read this year, the first was The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, which came to me via Thomas, in a box of garage sale books. It was more about breeding and training dogs. Also it was about murder and ghosts.

Thomas longs to read fun books, but he doesn't have the time or attention to do it, so he brings books home for me to read and summarize for him. I don't complain about this system, even if it does result in the occasional odd book.

Back to the dog books. I wonder if these authors had magical dogs who really listened to them with understanding, and had magical powers of empathy and love. Because book dogs seem rife with these characteristics.

I had a dog when I was a kid. Her name was Diamond. She was pretty, a Black Lab and German Shepherd mix, with perky ears, all black except for a white diamond on her chest. When she first came to us, I imagined in my only-child-book-loving-heart that she would be like a book dog. My new best friend, content to sit for hours listening to my every word, knowing exactly when to bring a toy to distract me with play, and knowing when to lay her head understandingly on my knee.

She did none of those things. Mostly she worked out new ways to jump our fence. And she chewed through several Nancy Drew books, a couch, an entire set of lawn furniture (not the plastic kind), a few pool cues, and everything else that would stay still long enough for her to get her teeth on it.

When she wasn't chewing on things, she was sweet. Not much of a cuddler, though, and not seemingly in possession of all those super book dog traits. Is it mean to say I was disappointed at first? As time passed, I loved her for who she was, all book dog failings aside. I'm sure she spent less time philosophizing about humans, and more time wondering why we kept taking our fur off and replacing it with new fur (none of which is particularly furry) from the cabinet in the wall we call a closet.

Dog book authors - did they have magical childhood pets, are they big fans of anthropomorphism, or just people looking for an interesting hook for a worn out story?

Do you have a dog with book dog traits?

*Best dog book ever: Where The Red Fern Grows. Actually about dogs and love. Not so much about gardening, no matter what the title indicates. 

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