Reviewed By Terri Schlichenmeyer
Pet lovers — people who’ve shared their lives with a
particularly special dog, cat, or other similarly furry critter
— would agree: the harder and fiercer an animal is
loved, the longer it should stick around. Pets have lives
that are altogether too short.
But then again, there is something about an old dog that
makes pet lovers melt. Maybe it’s the wisdom in those
eyes or the patience in that grizzled old face. Perhaps it’s
the thump of his tail even when he can barely see or
hear you. In the new book Dog Years by Mark Doty, you’ll
read the story of how one dog marked the milestones in
the life of the man who loved him.
In the twilight of his years, Arden still showed some of the spark he had a decade and a
half ago. He loved to go to the beach near the Cape and breathe in the smell of salty
water. On his good days, he spent his time basking in the sun, greeting passersby on
the sidewalk in front of his apartment building. His joints creaked and his eyes were
cloudy with cataracts, but there was still some youth in him. Every now and then, one
could glimpse the self-assured black retriever puppy that Mark Doty retrieved from an
animal shelter in Vermont some fifteen years before.
At first, Arden was Wally’s dog. Wally, Doty’s partner, had been Arden’s primary caretaker
because Wally worked from home. Wally fed Arden and took him for walks. It was natural,
then, that Arden loved Wally just a little bit more, just like it was natural that Arden set up
watch at the end of the bed as Wally was dying of AIDS.
Was it insanity or love that made Doty fall for an emaciated golden retriever at the same
time that Wally was sick? Either way, Doty brought Beau, the manic youngster, into the
household. The golden retriever became Wally’s friend and Doty’s balm when Wally died.
How does one convince oneself — and one’s dogs — to move past mourning and heal?
For Doty, it was done with long walks and memories, canine silliness and, eventually, a
new love.
But as time repairs grief and patches holes in a heart, it also ages dogs way too soon.
Do people carry hankies anymore? If they don’t, they should when reading this book. Dog
Years is poetic and haphazard, funny
and sad, heartfelt and goofy, and an almost-guaranteed four-hankie kind of book. I liked
author Mark Doty’s willingness to tell stories on himself and I truly enjoyed his quiet voice
as he did what comes natural to anyone who loves dogs: he shared dozens of stories.
Reading his memories, in fact, is like visiting with a newly-grieving old friend in the dog
park and swapping tales of The Best I Dog Ever Had.
Marley fans, anyone with a favorite good-dog movie, or anybody who’s ever been loved by
a big lug of a mutt will want to read Dog Years.
Fetch it. Sit. Enjoy.
half ago. He loved to go to the beach near the Cape and breathe in the smell of salty
water. On his good days, he spent his time basking in the sun, greeting passersby on
the sidewalk in front of his apartment building. His joints creaked and his eyes were
cloudy with cataracts, but there was still some youth in him. Every now and then, one
could glimpse the self-assured black retriever puppy that Mark Doty retrieved from an
animal shelter in Vermont some fifteen years before.
At first, Arden was Wally’s dog. Wally, Doty’s partner, had been Arden’s primary caretaker
because Wally worked from home. Wally fed Arden and took him for walks. It was natural,
then, that Arden loved Wally just a little bit more, just like it was natural that Arden set up
watch at the end of the bed as Wally was dying of AIDS.
Was it insanity or love that made Doty fall for an emaciated golden retriever at the same
time that Wally was sick? Either way, Doty brought Beau, the manic youngster, into the
household. The golden retriever became Wally’s friend and Doty’s balm when Wally died.
How does one convince oneself — and one’s dogs — to move past mourning and heal?
For Doty, it was done with long walks and memories, canine silliness and, eventually, a
new love.
But as time repairs grief and patches holes in a heart, it also ages dogs way too soon.
Do people carry hankies anymore? If they don’t, they should when reading this book. Dog
Years is poetic and haphazard, funny
and sad, heartfelt and goofy, and an almost-guaranteed four-hankie kind of book. I liked
author Mark Doty’s willingness to tell stories on himself and I truly enjoyed his quiet voice
as he did what comes natural to anyone who loves dogs: he shared dozens of stories.
Reading his memories, in fact, is like visiting with a newly-grieving old friend in the dog
park and swapping tales of The Best I Dog Ever Had.
Marley fans, anyone with a favorite good-dog movie, or anybody who’s ever been loved by
a big lug of a mutt will want to read Dog Years.
Fetch it. Sit. Enjoy.
| Dog Years: Milestones For A Man |
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