John Grogan - Marley: A Dog Like No Other

The Perfect Dog

And Puppy Makes Three

Homeward Bound

Mr. Wiggles

Master and Beast

A Battle of Wills

The Great Escape

The Things He Ate

The Dogs Got to Go

The Final Round

The Audition

Take Two

Jail Break

Dinnertime!

Lightning Strikes

Dog Beach

A Northbound Plane

In the Land of Pencils

Poultry on Parade

The Potty Room

Beating the Odds

Borrowed Time

The Big Meadow

Beneath the Cherry Trees

Lucky

When I was ten years old, my father caved in to my pleas and took me to get my own dog. Together we drove in the family station wagon far into the Michigan countryside.

We stopped at a farm run by a woman and her ancient mother. The farm didnt grow wheat or corn. It didnt even have cows or horses. It had just one thingdogs. Dogs of every size and shape and age and temperament. They had only two things in common: Each was a mongrel, and each was free to a good home. We were at a mutt ranch.

Now, take your time, son, Dad said. Your decision today is going to be with you for many years to come.

I quickly decided the older dogs were not for me and raced to the puppy cage. You want to pick one thats not timid, my father coached. Try rattling the cage and see which ones arent afraid.

I grabbed the chain-link gate and yanked on it with a loud clang. There were about a dozen puppies. They reeled backward, collapsing on top of one another in a squiggling heap of fur. Just one remained. He was gold with a white blaze on his chest, and he charged the gate, yapping fearlessly. He jumped up and excitedly licked my fingers through the fencing. It was love at first sight.

I brought him home in a cardboard box and named him Shaun. He was one of those dogs that give dogs a good name. He mastered every command I taught him and was naturally well behaved. I could drop a crust on the floor and he would not touch it until I said it was okay. When I called, he came. When I told him to stay, he stayed. We could let him out by himself at night, knowing he would be back after making his rounds. We could leave him alone in the house for hours, confident that he wouldnt have an accident or disturb a thing. He raced cars without chasing them and walked beside me without a leash. He could dive to the bottom of our lake and emerge with rocks so big they sometimes got stuck in his jaws. He loved riding in the car. Hed sit quietly in the backseat beside me on family road trips, happy to gaze out the window as the world zoomed by.

Best of all, I trained Shaun to pull me through the neighborhood dogsled-style as I sat on my bicycle. My friends jealously watched as he carefully guided me down the street, never leading me into trouble.

Shaun even had the good manners to back himself into the bushes before squatting to poop. With his rear end hidden away, only his head peered out. Our lawn was safe for bare feet.

Relatives would visit for the weekend and return home determined to buy a dog of their own. They were that impressed with Shaun. Actually, I called him Saint Shaun. The saint part was a family joke, but we almost believed it.

Shaun had been born with a curseno one knew who his parents were. Because his breeding was unknown, he was one of the tens of thousands of unwanted dogs in America. Yet by some stroke of good luck, he became wanted. He came into my life and I came into his. And he gave me the childhood every kid deserves.

Saint Shaun of my childhood. He was a perfect dog. At least that is how I will always remember him. It was Shaun who set the standard by which I would judge all other dogs to come.

Slow down, dingo, or youre going to miss it, Jenny scolded. It should be coming up any second. Jenny was my wife. That January evening in 1991, we were driving through inky blackness across what had once been Florida swampland. We had been married for a little over a year and decided it was time for another family member. A dog, to be exact. We were on our way to look at a litter of Labrador retrievers.

Our headlights shined on a mailbox. The numbers on the side reflected back at us. This was the place. I turned up a gravel drive that led into a large wooded property. There was a pond in front of the house and a small barn out back. At the door, a woman named Lori greeted us, with a big, calm yellow Labrador retriever by her side.

This is Lily, the proud mama, Lori said. Lilys stomach was still swollen even though shed given birth five weeks before.

Jenny and I got on our knees, and Lily happily accepted our affection. She was just what we pictured a Lab would besweet natured, affectionate, calm, and beautiful.

Wheres the father? I asked.

Oh, the woman said, hesitating for just a fraction of a second. Sammy Boy? Hes around here somewhere. She quickly added, I imagine youre dying to see the puppies.

Lori led us through the kitchen into a utility room. The puppies stumbled all over one another as they rushed to check out the strangers.

Jenny gasped. I dont think Ive ever seen anything so cute in my life, she said.

The litter consisted of five females and four males. Lori was asking $400 for the females and $375 for the males. One of the males seemed particularly smitten with us. He was the goofiest of the group and charged into us. Somersaulting into our laps, he clawed his way up our shirts to lick our faces. He gnawed on our fingers with surprisingly sharp baby teeth and stomped clumsy circles around us on giant paws that were way too big for the rest of his body.

That one there you can have for three hundred fifty dollars, Lori said.

Aw, honey, Jenny cooed. The little guys on clearance!

I had to admit he was pretty darn adorable. Frisky, too. Before I realized what he was up to, the rascal had chewed off half my watchband.

We have to do the scare test, I said. I had told Jenny the story many times of picking out Saint Shaun when I was a boy. Sitting in this heap of pups, she rolled her eyes at me. Seriously, I said. It works.

I stood up and turned away from the puppies. Then I swung quickly back around, taking a sudden step toward them. I stomped my foot and barked out, Hey!

I didnt seem to scare any of them. But only one plunged forward to meet the assault head-on. It was Clearance Dog. He plowed full steam into me, throwing a cross-body block across my ankles. Then he pounced at my shoelaces as though he was convinced they were dangerous enemies that needed to be destroyed.

I think its fate, Jenny said.

Ya think? I said. I scooped him up and held him in one hand in front of my face, studying his mug. He looked at me with heart-melting brown eyes and then nibbled my nose. I plopped him into Jennys arms, where he did the same to her. He certainly seems to like us, I said.

Clearance Dog was ours. We wrote Lori a check, and she told us we could return to take the dog home with us in three weeks, when he was eight weeks old. We thanked her, gave Lily one last pat, and said good-bye.

Walking to the car, I threw my arm around Jennys shoulder and pulled her tight to me. Can you believe it? I said. We actually got our dog!

Just as we were reaching the car, we heard a commotion coming from the woods. Something was crashing through the brushand breathing very heavily. It sounded like a creature from a horror film. And it was coming our way. We froze, staring into the darkness. The sound grew louder and closer. Then in a flash the thing burst into the clearing and came charging in our direction, a yellow blur. A very big yellow blur. As it galloped past, without stopping or noticing us, we could see it was a large Labrador retriever. But it was nothing like sweet Lily. This one was soaking wet and covered up to its belly in mud and burrs. Its tongue hung out wildly to one side. Froth flew off its jowls as it barreled past. I detected an odd, slightly crazed, yet somehow joyous gaze in its eyes. It was as though this animal had just seen a ghostand couldnt possibly be more thrilled about it.