The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein****

If you've ever had a pet that you wished could talk, this is the book for you. Told by Denny's dog, Enzo, this book is a wonderful exercise in endurance, will, and the magic that happens when you get just the right amount of help you need when you need it the most. Now, keep in mind, Enzo is a smart dog - a sage, wise grandfather of a dog. And, he's also a perfect dog. Completely in tune with his owners' needs, moods, bodies, and internal rhythms, always well-behaved, can understand full sentences of English, as well as more abstract concepts like reincarnation, etc. If this had been a book written by my dog, it would have read something like this:

"Outside today I dug a hole. I dug and I dug and I dug. And you know what I found?? A stick! I gnawed on the stick and gnawed on the stick and then ... that dog on the other side of the fence is out of his cage again!! I will bark as loud as I can to let him know this is my neighborhood, but if I cou... a BIRD! I'll get him ..."

But, I digress. It was a quick read that gets you right where it means something. SPOILER ALERT:

... SERIOUSLY ... if you don't want to know what happens, stop reading!

...

Okay ... last chance to turn around ... spoiler begins ... N-N-N-N-NOW! (Yoshimi Battles the Robots, anyone?)

I've been trying to understand why every great story about every great dog ends with the dog dying. That doesn't seem great at all! And, while this one does try to buck that trend (you realize the end is near in the first few lines of the book, and the end is not what you would call "final" at the end), I think I've figured out why death is such a staple in dog books. Because to love a dog is to understand that you will, in all likelihood, outlive the dog. And you'll have to figure out how to cope with this loss that feels like a member of your family, even if they've never spoken a word to you. Finn is my first dog ever ... in fact, my first pet that has ever shown anything more than an passing interest and regular disdain for me (my family had a cat growing up ... need I say more?). And, while I love my dog more than I think should be normal, I also try to remind myself on a semi-regular basis that this love, however genuine and good, is temporary. That one day, he won't be there barking like a maniac when I come home from work, or snuggle between my legs while I'm watching TV, or help me mop the kitchen floor by licking off all the food bits I sponge off the counter tops when I do the dishes. And until you can comprehend the loss of a pet, you haven't experienced the full range of what it means to be a pet owner. And, for that, right now, I'm grateful to call myself a novice and still "in training."