When I saw this book on the library’s Peak Picks shelf (comprised of new books that are in such demand that you can take them out only for two weeks with no renewals) and perused its introductory material, I immediately thought of one of my sons. Not long ago, he decided to get a dog. He had worked with large dogs before as part of a veteran’s program at Stanford University, and when he went to the rescue facility he didn’t go for a sweet, well-mannered lap dog; instead, he chose an adolescent Malinois shepherd. This breed is similar to the German shepherd; they are often used as police dogs, guard dogs, and search and rescue dogs. My son’s dog has behavior issues and needs extensive training, but at the same time, he is handsome (jet-black with a white patch on the stomach), affectionate, and a lot of fun.

Three Wild Dogs tells the stories of three different rescue dogs. Like my son, Zusak’s family has a penchant for adopting large, rowdy dogs with big personalities. He declares that “someone has to take the mongrels, the rejected, the unloved…none of that makes us special; we just can’t seem to help ourselves.” As explanation he says: “After all, what do you get a dog for if not for the chaos itself – to ask anarchy straight to your door? We all seem to covet control of our lives, but we unravel it with reckless abandon.” And: “They were a mirror, I suspect, to my own hidden turmoils – my wilderness within.”

Regardless of their initial motivations, though, the author and his family did not take in these dogs merely out of a sense of obligation; they loved them fiercely and were loved in return. This book is full of funny, touching, and often shocking stories of rambunctious beasts and their often befuddled owners. But what comes through more than anything is a sense of the deep love and affection between dogs and their owners. Often on my twice-daily walks around the suburban neighborhood where I live I see people walking their dogs, which vary from tiny little poodles to a massive Great Dane that makes his owner appear diminutive. At this point in my life, having recently become an empty-nester after raising kids for decades, I’m thankful that I don’t have the responsibility, not to mention the mess, of a pet, and I’ve sometimes wondered how my neighbors manage to put up with taking their walks at their dogs’ pace instead of their own, not to mention the disgusting task of picking up their poops. However, this memoir offers insight into the mindset of pet owners (Zusak also writes of the family’s two cats); as the story progressed, I found myself empathizing more and more with owners who develop profound bonds with their pets. It also made me consider Jack London’s fondness for dogs; his two most famous books, The Call of the Wild and White Fang, are both about relationships between traumatized dogs and the humans who take them in and love and care for them.

The relationships are often complex and perplexing. Zusak writes: “We take these animals in, often grudgingly, and all they do is love us (and, you know, all that other terrible stuff, like destroying book deliveries, attacking people, killing other animals, threatening your friends) – but that’s also why they get under our skin.” He adds that “a pet is totally ours. They stay. Only we knew them best. Only we really understood them. Only we could forgive them.”

I’m still not sure I would want to undertake the responsibility of owning a large rescue dog (especially in my present situation, living in a small apartment), but after reading Three Wild Dogs, I understand the mindset and fully sympathize with those that do. If you have pets, you’ll recognize a kindred spirit in the author; if you don’t, you’ll be more tolerant the next time you hear the seemingly endless barking and bickering coming from your neighbor’s house.

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