The Book Nerd’s Guide to Canine Reading Habits

When I prepared to select a pooch from my local rescue three years ago, I did several things. I bought dog bowls and dog beds. I researched nearby vets. I lamented my choice of a suede sofa. In the days leading up to the adoption of the world’s grumpiest beagle, I stalked through the apartment, putting myself in a four-legged state of mind in order to dog-proof the place to the best of my ability—not that this stopped him from turning my toilet paper into confetti 24 hours into our living arrangement, mind you.
What I did not do was move my books to higher ground. (Not that this would have been possible, as there are books piled on every available surface ’round these parts.) Looking back, it was incredibly unwise to leave the objects I cherish most in such close range of the gaping maw of a new, unruly inhabitant.
Luckily, the fuzzbutt didn’t participate in too much wanton destruction of that valuable property. But he did take an interest in books, in a way that suggests to me our animal rescue facilities are really skimping on storytime. I do not believe my dog to be overly intellectual—crafty, maybe, as his Tupperware break-in skills demonstrate—but he has a serious habit of pulling books off the bookshelves when I’m not around, nonetheless.
I often come home to find three or four volumes scattered across the floor, almost always unbesmirched, which leads me to the only logical conclusion: my dog stays at home and reads books. Once his reading habit was established, my next step was to analyze his favorite novels. What do these books say about his state of mind? The conclusions are…concerning.
To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee
The ever-so-slight tooth marks dappling the cover indicate he’s still wrestling with the character of Atticus Finch in a post–Go Set a Watchman world. Either that, or Scout in that ham costume was just too hot to handle.
Crime and Punishment, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Should I be worried?
Never Let Me Go, by Kazuo Ishiguro
Does he identify with these clones? I mean, it’s fine if he’s only in it for Ishiguro’s typical lyricism, but I can’t help but think the swirling ideas of what makes a human human resonate with a dog who insists on sleeping with his head on the pillow.
11/22/63, by Stephen King
It’s tremendously unclear how he managed to safely yank all 850 pages of this off the shelf without bashing his brains in or losing a tooth, but the selection does give credence to my theory that he was sent from the future to devour the world’s supply of Crayons before it’s too late.
Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn
No, but really, should I be worried? I don’t think I need The Oatmeal to write up How to Tell If Your Dog Is Plotting to Kill You before I can start putting the pieces together.
Everything Is Illuminated, by Jonathan Safran Foer
This one’s pretty obvious. Sammy Davis Jr., Jr., is a seeing-eye lady dog who’s hard not to love. I can understand how her slightly unhinged personality might appeal to my staid, routine-dominated couch potato. There’s something romantic about someone who’s “deranged, but so, so playful.”
Don Quixote, by Miguel de Cervantes
So maybe my sad-sack attempts at Downward-Facing Dog look like tilting at windmills to him, but Sancho Panza was a heckuva lot more loyal than the four-legged traitor who falls over himself to abandon me for any other human he encounters.
In Cold Blood, by Truman Capote
Well, it was nice knowing y’all.