by Dean Koontz
Well, darn. I so wanted to love this book...and I so did not. I guess I can forgive it in him, a successful novelist, to use his publishing credits to put out a memoir that read more like a sermon. Is sermon the right word? No--it implies religion. More like an endless diatribe of shoulds and oughts and rhapsodies on why dogs are so great and we all ought to have one or twenty because they're so great and you just don't know how a dog can change your life until it does and then it does some more and....
Yeah, you get the idea? This so-called "memoir" consisted of a few funny and touching episodes glued haphazardly together with a lot of sticky moralizing. I finished it, and I didn't hate it, but I have to confess I read very quickly at times. You might even say I was skimming.
There! I admit it. I had to skim through a lot of moral and maudlin lectures, to get to the gems of truth and dog wisdom that I longed for.
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