Emotional baggage, psychological landmines and a package of unknowns are just a few of descriptive labels tagged to shelter dogs. 

All of these are deftly addressed in Miller’s sharply focused glimpse into the elongated history of second-chance dogs. Using vignettes for emphasis, the author cites fear, neglect and abuse in previous homes as the seeds for owner release and a target priority for shelter behaviorists.

Those problems originate from private homes to crowded puppy mills and hoarding scenarios, the latter of which place dozens of animals in a tiny one- or two-bedroom home filled with feces and a pungent odor scent.

The emotion surrounding pet adoption is high-stakes drama, the bulk of which is played out in the home. The key, however, is for the adopter to identify potential problem behaviors, and here is where Miller is at her best, outlining a 13-step, get-acquainted protocol to help you determine if a particular dog is right for you.

That assessment will help you evaluate the dog’s level of socialization and confidence; provide information of how the animal accepts routine touch handling; training and husbandry procedures; determine how easy – or difficult – it might be to interrupt the dog if he’s doing something inappropriate; how a dog responds when a human is near his cherished play toy or food; how a dog reacts to an approaching stranger.

Not all shelters have the luxury of a staff veterinarian on-site, but Miller emphasizes that some adoption candidates may be suffering from a pain-causing condition that will affect their behavior.

Some of us thrive on challenge and believe we can turn around the life of a beleaguered pound or rescue pooch. For those who do, Miller offers an eight-point reality check, two of which emphasize that love is not enough and be prepared for heartache.

One of the volume’s highlights comes when the author lists 10 of her favorite behavior myths, with an explanation as to why each should not be used as the justification for a training or behavior-modification technique.

Here’s an example: Myth 1, Puppies should not go to puppy classes/the mall/friends’ houses until they have had all their vaccinations at 16 weeks/6 months of age.

This falls “squarely at the top of the ‘dangerous myth’ category,” she argues. “Many neophobic dogs are in the Do-Over category, she emphasizes, “because their humans believed this. It’s generally perceived as creditable by new puppy owners because it’s offered by the pup’s veterinarian or some other canine professional.”

While it appears scientifically sound, she adds, puppies that aren’t properly socialized are at a much greater risk for developing behavior problems, including aggression, which may shorten their lives.  She notes that the dog should receive its puppy shots and subsequent boosters, but the lack of socialization poses a greater challenge to its survival and entry into Do-Over status later.

Seasoned heavily with anecdotes, “Do-Over Dogs” is an evenly-paced, must-read for anyone considering a shelter or rescue dog. One minute it feels like a sobering reminder that good intentions aren’t always enough. The next, infused with insight and confidence, it supplies the tools for you to move forward, make a difference . . . and save a life in the process. 

(Editor’s note: This book is scheduled to be published in July, but the release date was uncertain at the time this review was posted. Check www.dogwise.com for updated information. )

Ten seconds one way or another and this book would never have been written. And Seattle author Steve Duno would never have had 16 incredible years with at Rottweiler-German Shepherd he came to recognize as a dog of a lifetime.

That quick time split while driving in Northern California was the difference between spotting a female and her litter off Highway 101 near the small Mendocino County town of Willits, and at the urging of his girlfriend, rescues one of the mangy 6-month-old waifs that probably would not have survived the high-speed freeway and nearby thick forests much longer. 

Duno writes breezily and pointedly of his life with Lou, a dog that battles coyotes in a Seattle neighborhood one day and entertains war veterans and Alzheimer’s patients the next. Lou is a memorable figure to all who meet him, and as Duno’s self-appointed assistant at the Academy of Canine Behavior in Bothell, he is savior for hundreds of four-legged misfits who are there for a last-chance, shape-up-or-ship-out course at the behest of their owners.

“Last Dog,” a must-read memoir for every owner, ranks as the best offerings yet by the talented author with 17 previous book credits.  It has Hollywood film potential written all over it, but finding a new Lou would be the toughest casting call of all.

It is Lou who eventually helps instill a confidence in Duno, a Los Angeles tutor, that he might have a future as trainer and pet behaviorist.  Duno describes their relationship: “We clearly had a crush on each other. He would literally jump through fire for me (and did on one occasion). And I had fallen for a damn dog.

“For most of my career, I derided owners for elevating their dogs to cult status. A dog shouldn’t be the center of attention but rather just another member of the family, with unique rules and responsibilities to attend to. Treat them like rock stars and they’ll trash your world every time.

“For Lou and me, the rapport was different. He knew exactly who he was, very quickly. . . . In Lou’s mind, he wasn’t the center of my attention, I was the center of his, and that made all the difference in the world.”

Lou gives new meaning to the expression, “Mutts Matter,” but much of this spirited pair’s special relationship points to the author’s ability to coax the best out of a dog that longs to please and thrives on challenge. In another’s hands, Lou would likely never recognize his full potential and probably lived a lifetime of boredom.

Duno’s work radiates warmly between sensitivity and swagger and is plunged with energy from remote hiking trails to urban sidewalks and from the academy’s training quarters to school classrooms.  Lou’s incredible ability to read others – humans and animals – opens many doors for Duno in the process, prompting the author to claim, “He is my portfolio.”

Using smooth, broad brushstrokes, the author paints this unvarnished portrayal of spiritual soul mates with passionate intensity and celebratory energy. And for Duno, Lou lives on as the touchstone by which everything dog is measured.   

After finishing this insightful read, I envisioned the California veterinarian/author positioned at the intersection of Help Ave. and Hope Road directing oncoming traffic toward his busy hospital. 

Few practitioners embrace both Eastern and Western veterinary treatment methods as openly as Fuchino. Most are in one camp or another, and some even view the other with deep reservations. 

From chi to sha, Fuchino emphasizes that neither modality should be viewed as a cure-all, but taken together with commitment by the owner, they offer optimism and a course via which the patient’s health can be altered positively. Yet another key is willingness of your principal veterinarian to refer you to an area veterinarian practicing Eastern treatment.

Fuchino has treated animals for arthritis, allergies, kidney disease, heart and lung problems, cancer, behavioral problems, skin condition and other ailments, citing dozens of case histories throughout this 248-page volume, which includes an empowering appendix of alternative veterinary practitioners in the United States and Canada, plus web sites of interest.

A graduate of the University of Pennsylvania School of Veterinary Medicine, Fuchino began focusing on Eastern medicine because he “hit a wall,” recognizing that too many patients “had chronic problems that stubbornly evaded diagnosis by veterinarians trained in Western techniques.”  The author emphasizes he has not abandoned Western medicine, only complemented it with Eastern principles.

In treating patients, Fuchino’s emphasis is on the big picture, i.e. owner lifestyle, which he illustrates is sometimes the trigger mechanism for the pets’ woes. These can include sedentary lifestyle, obesity (of owner and pet), changes in relationships, jobs or moves to a new area.

Here’s where chi, the life energy that you need to begin healing yourself and your pet, fits in. But most people fail to take advantage of it, he says, simply because they don’t understand this energy, which he details thoroughly. Conversely, sha, negative energy, draws plenty of emphasis, too, and how to combat it.

There may be more detail here of the Eastern approach to veterinary care than you’re up for, but this is the type of volume you can take slowly. In fact, you may recognize yourself or your pet in the process, opening up an entirely new pathway for its care.

This primer is a balanced reminder that good intentions aren’t always enough. Be proactive on your pet’s behalf, Fuchino emphasizes, and don’t wait for late intervention that places the animal at the doorsteps of euthanasia.

The author approaches his subject with refreshing pragmatism and philosophical elasticity that should inspire owners with new options and resolve.

From Eastern to Western culture and from a black bear to a feisty rabbit, Ptolemy Tompkins leaves no stone unturned in a quest to give new meaning to the spiritual role pets play in our everyday lives. In the process, he offers hope we may see them again in heaven and on earth in a dream state. 

The author probes and interprets the published views of religious authorities, philosophers and animal behaviorists, seasoning those with warm, moving anecdotes involving himself and others, surrounding the animal soul.

You’ll meet Angus, a Netherlands dwarf bunny, which a 24-year-old Tompkins adopted “on a whim,” and eventually, upon its death, prompted him to ask: Do animals have souls? Are animal and human souls the same, or are they different?

And he summarizes the special bonding of a black bear called Little Bit with the authors of “Summers With Bears,” Jack Becklund and his wife Patti, at their house in Minnesota woods. 

“She (Little Bit) became one of those remarkable dual creatures that one so often reads about in animal books: one that, while completely retaining her membership in the wild world out beyond the human community, becomes an honorable member of the human world as well,” says Tompkins.

A profound passage from “Bears” is featured, after Patti received word her father had died of cancer in California, minutes before Jack returned from a walk to see her sobbing with her arms wrapped around Little Bit’s neck. “She sat quietly with the bear for another half minute, then Little Bit leaned her massive head against Patti’s. I knew she understood nothing what was going on, but she felt something and responded. It was a magic moment in a time of grief and one I will never forget.”

Tompkins seasons special modern-day anecdotal accounts while examining historical writings in a deep-rooted attempt to determine how man has viewed the animal soul through the ages. This far-ranging kaleidoscope ranges from Judeo-Christian perspectives to Greek philosophy, Islam and Far East religions. 

A warning: Through the process, the reader must stay clearly focused, for Tompkins’ refreshing narrative moves quickly while deftly dissecting others’ mindsets if animals have souls.

Animals need us, just as we need them, Tompkins believes, and those needs have been altered dramatically by cultural change. “The more estranged people became,” he says, “from the natural world beyond the borders of civilization, the more important pets became for them. Animal companions were no longer diverting or comforting. They were necessary.”

Will we meet the special four-legged friends from our earth’s journey some day again across that celestial Rainbow Bridge? Tompkins’ skillfully balanced work offers plenty of hope we just might

Seasoned heavily with anecdotes, statistics and a vast array of experts’ opinions, “Nation” offers a unique lens on the diverse role of dogs in America’s economic landscape while grappling with the whys and wherefores.

A thorough primer in a business sense, it focuses on the psychological role the dog plays in our everyday lives and why Americans have made pets a $43 billion a year industry, the bulk of the growth coming in the last 50 years.

Schaffer examines pet politics, fashion, food, veterinary medicine and the emergence of start-up enterprises from dog walking to dog law and from puppy mills to dog cemeteries.  It’s all there in one engrossing package of the wide-ranging scenario.

One of the most compelling observations comes from Dr. James Serpell, University of Pennsylvania veterinarian, who studies interactions between humans and animals. He argues that the explosive growth in U.S. pet ownership is linked to the crumbling of other social support structures, tracing acceleration in the pet population to the mid-1960s.

“Social networks fragmented over 40 years – there’s more living alone, more divorce, more childless people, fewer people living in close geographic range of their families and less community involvement,” Serpell says. “And there has been a dramatic increase in pets.  . . . As we lose social support, as our relations become fragmented, we are using dogs to fill the gap.”

In a 2008 article, University of Chicago professor Nicholas Epley and three colleagues noted that those who were less socially connected were more likely to attribute humans’ characteristics such as thoughtfulness, consideration and sympathy, none of which are within the cane skills set – to pets. This anthropomorphizing consequently helps support those manufacturing doggie sweater and pants to birthday bashes to lavish portraits.

Schaffer will leave you laughing, puzzling and saying, “no, never, not me,” in the process.  But after you’ve read the final page, you very well will be saying, “there’s a part of me in that book,” along with millions of other Americans.

This incredible team tracks and showcases the paths of the predecessors of our domestic dog through 40 million years, carefully analyzing earlier studies while detailing the gritty effects of worldwide climate and terrain on the species.

Wang has spent the past two decades examining the evolutionary history of the family Canidae, while Tedford has focused on the modern framework for the evolutionary relationship of canids. Anton’s vivid reconstructive illustrations complement the authors’ works beautifully in the valuable scientific presentation. 

Combining fossil finds, known behavioral tendencies, climate and topography, the authors craft an ever-changing portrait of the incredible evolutionary history of that dog sitting alongside you.

But nothing is totally cast in stone, the pair concedes, since new discoveries of domestic dogs in Israel and Germany 14,000 years ago alter the fossil record and serve up “tantalizing evidence of initial interactions between early humans and their first domestic animal.”

 However, molecular studies point to China, not Europe or the Middle East, as possibly the area of the first domestication.

Be prepared, this is a challenging read. The scholarly work requires the total focus of the reader through an outpouring of historical data and a shifting view of the origin of canids and other doglike carnivorous mammals. To put that in perspective, there have been 214 species of canids through the family’s 40-million-year history; 37 of those are still with us today, with the others reconstructed through fossil records.

It is well established that the family originated in North America and spent the majority of its history on that continent. Best fossilized deposits have been found in the Great Plains, extending east from the Rocky Mountains across Texas, Colorado, Nebraska, Wyoming and South Dakota.

Eventually, two key geological events – the roughly 1,000-miles-long Beringian land bridge (now the Bering Sea) uniting present-day Alaska and Eastern Siberia during the Pleistocene Ice Age and the uplift of middle America that formed the Isthmus of Panama 3 million years later, linking the Americas – enabled canids to scatter to new continents with new environments and new challenges.

Eventually, the authors ask: Is the domestic dog a distinct species? Then note, “By and large, domestic dogs have been treated either as species of their own (Canis familiaris) or a subspecies of the gray wolf (C. lupus familiaris).” In 1758, a Swedish scientist, Carol Linnaeus, founding father of modern biological classification, made that distinction and it has remained. But does that imply he did not see any connection between the two except for their morphological similarities?

Wang and Tedford argue that with a few exceptions the modern dog is generally smaller than the wolf, but in archaeological sites distinguishing factors break down, making the distinction between the two highly challenging. 

Behavioral scientists Raymond Coppinger and Lorna Coppinger contend that ecological separation among wolves, coyotes, jackals and dogs is the key determinant. Dogs, they emphasize, have an “obligatory symbiotic relationship” with man that the others don’t. 

This ambitious overview of dogs’ sprawling timeline unleashes a wealth of new insight delivered with a piercing realism and plain-spoken naturalism that will leave you looking at Fido with a new-found amazement.

Powerful, insightful and compelling are just a few of the adjectives characterizing this emotional roller coaster ride inside the horrific world of American puppy mills.

The central figures are Gracie, a once beleaguered Cavalier King Charles Spaniel; owners of the filthy and over-run Mike-Mar Kennel in Pennsylvania; legal authorities and animal-welfare staffs of nearby shelters; Pennsylvania state legislators and the commitment of Gov. Ed Rendell to strengthen laws discouraging puppy-mill operations; and Gracie’s eventual owner, Linda Jackson.
 
Puppy mills operate everywhere: How many raids have you read about in Washington state alone the past year?  While Bradley’s focus is on one raid that rescued 337 victims, she seamlessly transitions to the bigger nationwide problem, noting it is at its worst in the Midwest.
 
Unless you’ve seen it, you really can’t grasp the filth, stench and unimaginable challenges facing an animal to survive, the author emphasizes. But the vivid literary picture she paints with a splash of black here and a splash of white there is damning and provocative.  Each breeding animal and its offspring are viewed simply with dollar signs and without consideration for any incurred physical or emotional baggage.
 
The American puppy-mill undercurrent cannot be stopped overnight, Bradley re-emphasizes, but this runaway business train can be slowed by stiffer legislation, committed legal staffers and Americans eschewing the emotion of buying a puppy from a pet shop.
 
Initially, Gracie (estimated to be 6 years old) is identified as Dog 132 (all animals were numbered as they are removed from Mike-Mar Kennel and carefully documented for ailments) then later assumes a  name as she slowly develops a personality and trust with humans around her. Consider, she has been virtually a crate creature only, never having set foot on grass and seldom on solid ground.

The neglected dogs removed in the raid are found with skin, eye and ear infections, decayed teeth and are shy and skittish around humans. For some, it takes weeks of bathing and grooming to clean them and remove the urine and feces odor.
 

Skyrocketing care costs in area shelters and litigation extend the frustration for all and delay the opportunity for these once woeful animals to find new homes. But when that day finally comes, Jackson heads to the shelter hoping to find that promised Cavalier for her children.
 
But shortly before arriving, she receives a phone call all nine have been adopted. Resolved to not returning home empty, she confers with a shelter official who heads to a back graveled kennel run and brings forth a bewildered Wilma (her given kennel name).
 
Soon it appears to be one giant mismatch, as Gracie clings to Linda and quickly loses appeal for the three children.  But here’s where Bradley’s poignant work takes a new twist. Gracie gradually blossoms into Linda’s Velcro soul mate, prompting her into a lifetime commitment of campaigning for the rights of animals.

In summation, Bradley, characterizing Gracie, says, “ . . . she had accomplished something. She had survived a puppy mill. She had learned to trust in people, to love and be loved. And in her own humble way, she had helped focus attention on the plight of the hundreds of thousands of dogs like her.

“At the end of a workday, when Linda walked through the door and announced, ‘Hi girls, I’m home,’ Gracie ran toward her with absolute joy. That alone seemed like a small miracle.”

While packed with large doses of sentiment, “Gracie” is also heaped with a rich tapestry of bluntness and candor to inspire and empower anyone gripped by her story.

“A Dog For All Seasons,” by Patti Sherlock. Thomas Dunne Books/ St. Martin’s Press. $24.99.

I have never owned a border collie, but after grabbing Duncan’s leash and following his spirited lifestyle through four seasons, I have a new appreciation its tenderness, savvy and infectious enthusiasm. And plenty of respect for Patti Sherlock’s ability to weave special meaning into an unforgettable memoir.
 
Upon finishing this powerful narrative, I paused for a moment, looked over at our two aging rescue dogs, Andy, an 11-year-old German Shepherd, and Trudy, a 9-year-old Pembroke Welsh Corgi, and thanked them for being the lights of our family’s life.

From puppyhood to his final days at 16 years of age, Duncan is a catalyst for Sherlock and her three children on a working sheep farm in Idaho. Duncan is not only a super sheep herder but  a best friend for this author through a divorce, the children growing up and eventually leaving home, troubled times when one of them gets into trouble with alcohol and drugs and the author’s tearful decision to stop raising sheep.

Throughout, the resilient Duncan elicits almost every reaction imaginable from tears and laughs to awe and anguish. This is a dog that cringes from storms and suitcases yet knows the perfect time to reach out with tenderness to those around him, from family to total strangers.
 
While he is in his element on the sheep farm throughout most of his life, an aging Duncan hardly misses a beat in Las Vegas for several months, where Sherlock finds much needed work to pay the bills at home. Engagingly written with zippy anecdotes that make for a breezy yet poignant read, Sherlock is at her best when capturing the role of the dog is our lives.
 
“. . .  dogs show us how to live big. They do everything with gusto, whether it’s drinking from the  toilet or heading down the driveway for a walk they’ve taken a thousand times before. Every day is new, every activity is the best. In their company, we’re lifted out of human concerns and remember what it’s like to be excited.
 
“But here’s what strikes me as the most important. And it’s not about what they give us, but about something we give ourselves. We get to love a dog full out.
 
“. . .  Dogs live in such a way that we forget their mortality. We can’t imagine the day when the dog’s exuberant spirit will be extinguished. So we open our hearts to them and discover our hearts hold an extravagant amount of love. We let it flow out. Think what this does for us as people. Think how that enlarges us.”
 
So if you’re looking for an earthy wake-up call with a dose of inspiration, a “Dog For All Seasons” delivers with vivid, ragged slices of life to savor.
      

“Scent of the Missing,” by Susannah Charleson. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. $26.

Charleson, a member of the Metro Area Rescue K9 Unit, it Dallas, is at her best when describing the special bonding between handler and animal, not only in searches but in the maturation process at home.  And she really shines when taking the reader through the rigorous three-staged timed certification testing process in a building, urban and wilderness settings in search of volunteer victims, challenges where an estimated 80 per cent of the dogs fail.
 
Having been told by another trainer that high wash-out figure is chiefly due to handlers’ inadequacies, Charleson admits, that “in the latter stages of our training together, I’m first aware that I could be the weak link between us. This is not the job for the merely well-intentioned. I have the training, the head skills and the physical and emotional stamina for this, but Puzzle provokes my vulnerabilities.”

It’s not until late in this moving narrative that Charleson reveals a serious physical ailment of her own that impacts her ability to perform. Here, she serves up nuggets of insight and wisdom on the handler’s role in this deep-rooted partnership, pinpointing required attributes as self-control, physical and emotional stamina and intellect.
 
Traversing a broad path of emotional terrain, the author’s can-do spirit resonates throughout with a flavorful mix of passionate intensity, celebratory energy and sobering realism.  There’s no MapQuest or GPS tracking devices here. Conversely, it’s gritty, well-trained dog-handler teams venturing beyond today’s modern technology with basic old-fashioned senses and savvy trying to save lives. 

For more than three years, I have been searching for closure following the sudden and unexpected death of my Hurricane Katrina rescue Abbe, a corgi/sheltie.

“Love is the Best Medicine” was the perfect prescription. And this passionate volume may likely be the same for others still faced with that same emptiness.      

 My gritty little Abbe was a survivor, having been plucked from infested, dirty waters of Slidell, La., immediately following Hurricane Katrina with ear mites, a tightly matted coat and skin infections.  A few weeks later she was diagnosed with heartworm disease.  After being treated with two rounds of arsenic-based heartworm medications, she was finally given a clean bill of health, and my wife Mary and I breathed a collective sigh of relief. But several months later on a cold, clear November morning, she curled up beneath her favorite bush and died of congestive heart failure without any sign something might be wrong.

Time doesn’t always heal wounds. The loss of Abbe has continued to gnaw at both of us. But Trout’s engaging work about life’s lessons he learned from two incredible dogs and their owners is the perfect self-help, motivational message I have been seeking.

Trout’s empowering tale of two dogs features:

Helen, a 10-year-old cocker spaniel, found abandoned in a restaurant parking lot on a rainy night. Within minutes, a special bond is struck between her and her rescuers, Ben and Eileen. As weeks progress, this bedraggled street dog settles into a new loving home and faces one veterinary test after another, ultimately being diagnosed with cancer and facing short-term survival, after surgery by Trout.

Conversely, a vibrant, 14-year-old Miniature Pinscher named Cleo, suffering from several leg fractures, undergoes what Trout refers to as routine surgery, dies on the operating table from anesthesia problems, leaving her owner Sandi, her daughter, Sonja, and Trout devastated.

The aftermath of the two surgeries inexorably links both sets of owners with the troubled Trout in a powerful hybrid of sadness, sentiment and commitment.

Trout’s vivid characterizations deliver a torrent of emotions throughout, focusing on Sandi’s parting commitment to Cleo, via Trout, urging him to promise “to take Cleo’s spirit on a journey, to realize all the wonderful qualities she embodied and to pour all the skill, effort and talent you had intended for Cleo into the lives and health of other unfortunate animals.”

With Cleo as his self-described “clinical touchstone,” it becomes abundantly clear that if any animal needed divine guidance, it was Helen, your consummate underdog.

Trout feels a roll of optimism after removing Helen’s lung tumor, only to discover later in a pathology report a microscopic tumor had not been removed, prompting an oncologist to estimate     Helen ‘s life span to range from 4 months to a year.  (You’ll need to read this book to find out if Helen beat these odds.)

Did the overriding spirit of a deceased dog play a role in another’s extended survival? Was a secret benefactor working her magic from afar, Trout was left to wonder.

“Two women, two dogs, one life ending as another was allowed to begin. A painful symmetry between strangers whose lives unwittingly entwined to become a testament to the power of letting go and the possibility of a better future,” the author summarizes.  

 A philosophical Sandi adds, “So you see everything happens for a reason. Everything is connected. Cleo lived a wonderful life and even in death she reached out and changed lives.”

 And now I can let go of Abbe’s emotional leash, recognizing she, too, changed lives, and as Sandi says, “loss is a part of life, not an end of life.”