Rescued

For those who know me personally and for those who only know me virtually my love of dogs is apparent to all.  When I say I love dogs, I mean there has never been a human being as wonderful as any of my four dogs.  If I should meet a human who surpasses the pure generosity, compassion, loyalty, love and joy of a dog, then surely there is reincarnation.  A dog must have been sent back in the form of a human to show us how to better live our lives.

Even before I read the first page of the first chapter of Patricia MacLachlan's new title, the book found a permanent place in my heart.  Here is what I read:

Dogs speak words
But only poets
And children
Hear
---P. M.

If I never went on to read the rest of The Poet's Dog (Katherine Tegen Books, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers, September 13, 2016), I would have been satisfied with those four lines.  But I did read the book...again and again.

I found the boy at dusk.

The individual speaking to us is a dog.  The boy he found is lost in a blizzard; so is his younger sister.  They were left in a car by their mother who sought help.  Someone else told them the car would be towed for the plows.  Frightened they venture out looking for their parent.

The dog goes on to tell us about Sylvan, a poet, who saved him from a shelter.  Sylvan read to him and talked to him until he understood words.  Now it's the dog's turn to save the children.

Teddy, an Irish wolfhound, leads them from the pond, past a large rock and along a path to a cabin sitting in a clearing in the woods.  A light, always lit, shows them the way.  Flora and Nicholas, Nickel, understand words too.  They understand the words Teddy utters.  Now my friends you have the perfect setting for a book you will never forget; a blizzard, two lost children, a lone cabin in the woods and a dog who talks.  But remember only poets and children can hear him.

Over the course of several days as the wind howls, snow falls and the power flickers off and on, through the conversations between Flora, Nickel and Teddy, we come to understand how the relationship grew between Sylvan and Teddy.  We are intimately aware of the special qualities of each child.  We follow along as the three work to navigate this thing we call life.  And what of the poet Sylvan you ask?  You simply must read this book.


Every time I read this book I can feel the sheer beauty of every single line fill my soul with hope, a hope that stays.  (I have always believed everything in our futures depends on children.)  Chapter by chapter you can sense love growing; love between a poet and his dog, love between a poet and one particular student and love between two children and a dog who finds them.  Every word written by Patricia MacLachlan provides an exquisite connection to the next.

Her descriptions of the storm raging outside and the quiet haven created by the children and the dog take you deep into this story.  After a particularly poignant portion (more than one) you will find yourself stopping and thinking about relationships and what makes them endure.  You will also realize if you have not already done so, a single individual, dog or human, can make a difference.  Here are some passages.

"Poets and children" said Sylvan.  "We are the same really.  When you can't find a poet, find a child.  Remember that."

Or was it four days?  Being alone confuses the truth about time.

In the night I got up once to push up the door lever with my nose and go outside into the wind.
Nickel raised his head.
"Where are you going?"
His voice sounded frightened.
"I'm going to pee," I said.
I heard Flora's sleepy, comforting voice in the dark.
"He's a dog," Flora said softly.
"Oh, right," said Nickel.  "I keep forgetting that."
I came back to my red rug next to Nickel.
His arm went around me again.
"Sometimes I forget, too," I said to Nickel.

There was no silence in the cabin, even at night.  The wind was like a wild song that pushed away the quiet.


The Poet's Dog written by Newbery Medalist Patricia MacLachlan with dust jacket artwork by Kenard Pak is one of my favorite books of 2016.  It is a book I will read over and over.  I will read it aloud to anyone who will listen.  It is distinguished.

To learn more about Patricia MacLachlan enjoy this video interview released by the publisher three years ago.


At the publisher's website you can read and listen to an excerpt from the book.

For The Love Of A Dog #1

Sixteen years ago, nearly to the day, my husband and his youngest brother died in an automobile accident.  Month after month I barely existed.  On August 21, 2000 a small chocolate Labrador female puppy was born; the runt of the litter.  For us it was love at first sight.  I named her Xena after the television warrior princess realizing strength was essential for her survival.   She was so small it required feeding her three times a day.  I was allowed to have her at school in a crate in my office. (I let her out quite a bit thanks to my principal, Dick Swenor.) During story times she would sit on my lap as I read to the students.  She saved me; filling my life with joy.

Different breeds of dogs are known for particular traits.  One thing they have in common is their ability to know when they are needed. A dog guy to the core and author Michael J. Rosen (The Hound Dog's Haiku and Other Poems for Dog Lovers) has penned a remarkable story about a cattle dog who accomplished a feat out of the ordinary.  The Tale of Rescue (Candlewick, October 13, 2015) is a tribute to this dog, to all dogs, who do as they have always done.  They save us one heart at a time.

This is a tale about a cattle dog.  She had a name, but only one person knew it and usually he called her with herding words like cast and wait and by and that'll do.  Mostly he called her with whistles.

After reading about the life of the cattle dog and her farmer in the first few pages, we are introduced to a family of three.  This mother, father and their ten-year-old son are staying in a cabin which is part of a local lodge in this region of Ohio near the Appalachian Mountains.  Living in Florida they wanted to give their son a winter with snow.  Each day of their stay they experienced the beauty the season has to offer; cross-country skiing, hiking through a foot of snow, building snowmen, sledding and snowball fights.  On their last day a final morning walk before breakfast to the lodge quickly turned into all the makings for a tragic end.

As the weather is apt to do, a sunny day clouded over and within no time at all they found themselves in a whiteout.  Even though they were close to their destination, nothing was visible to them.  Retracing their steps back to their cabin was fruitless as the flakes were falling at a rapid rate filling in their tracks.  The drifts of heavy wet snow were soon at the height of the boy's waist.  Fatigue, the cold and lack of nourishment weighted their progress.  The helplessness of not being able to get your bearings in this kind of weather added to their growing panic.

By the time, hours later, when the snow subsided they were surrounded by four feet of it.  They trampled down a small circular den of sorts and huddled together.  Shouting would not help in the wild and wicked wind but the father every so often managed to thaw his lips enough to send out a piercing whistle.  This storm was not finished.  Freezing rain descended leaving a thick crust.

Back at the farm the wintry fury had sent the cattle dog working her hardest to herd the forty cows back to safety.  Now at rest her ears perked.  Had that been a whistle?  This was a new kind but it called to her.  It was a treacherous journey to find the source of the whistle.  Initially leery the parents soon followed their son's lead warming the frozen canine with their stiff chilly hands.  All too soon she left them.

She did awaken the farmer but all her attempts to make him understand failed.  It was now dark. The time for the trio with the dropping temperatures was shortening.  With the spirit of her kind and the work she had been trained to do, this cattle dog with a name only known by one got busy.  Eight years later this tale continued out of deep gratitude and affection...and

Yet stories do not always have the ending we imagine they will.  


Michael J. Rosen writes with the sure knowledge of dogs, setting and family.  His sensory descriptions of each are eloquent and brimming with emotion.  You are inside the story with every single page turn. Here are several sample passages.

The paired hearts of deer tracks stamped in the snow, stalactites of icicles along their cabin's timber eaves, snow angels, frost-crazed windowpanes---their snapshots captured every wintery thing they'd never encountered in Florida.  ... Out the cabin's windows the ground glistened like finely grated diamonds---the sand at the beach near their home did the same thing---when the sun pried a hole in the cloud cover. 

The family plodded ahead, single file:  The father shoved and tromped the snow to make the passage easier for his wife; she did the same for their son.  The wind's blasts slapped their faces; every tear and bead of sweat burned their skin.  They had to squint so that the snowflakes would melt on their lashes instead of stab at their eyes. 

Raced would have been the right word if the field were anything but four feet of compacted snow capped with ice.  A heeler's legs, remember, are twelve inches long; the snow was four times that...in its lowest spots.  Even the dog's nose reached no higher than thirty inches when she craned to sniff. This time, racing meant smacking hard into the crusted snow and slipping---one foot punching through the shell of ice, stumbling, and scrambling to get both feet repositioned.  

The boy rested his cheek on the dog's chilled and soaked coat.  When a tear spilled across his cheek, its warmth surprised him---the furnace inside him could still heat the water in his eyes.  A second later, it cooled on the dog's cold fur.  But as he held his face against her silver-black coat, her body's heat rose and eased the frost's rawness on that patch of his skin.  


The watercolor painting rendered by Stan Fellows spanning the front and back of the dust jacket is a lovely look and introduction to those interspersed throughout this title. Twenty-seven more images enhance the story beginning with the double-page picture of the farm on the title page as the cattle dog chases a cow home to the barn.  Most of the illustrations are on single pages but the one two-page wordless illustration clearly depicts the family's plight in the whiteout.

His use of light and shading are exquisite; not an easy task in snowy scenes.  His brush strokes capture the essence of every scene captivating the reader with the intensity of the moment.  With great skill he brings us into the image with his use of perspective.

One of my favorite illustrations is the one of the cattle dog opposite the first chapter page.  She is seated on a hill with the pastures, few clouds and rays of sunlight in the background.  Her gaze is shifted to the right of the page, neck turned as if listening.  Ears alert, tongue hanging out, she looks ready to spring into action.

The Tale of Rescue written by Michael J. Rosen with illustrations by Stan Fellows is a heart-pounding story of survival and a heartwarming story of a dog doing the work they love. You can't stop reading it once you begin.  It would make for an outstanding read aloud.  It has my highest recommendation.

To learn more about Michael J. Rosen and Stan Fellows and their work please follow the links attached to their names to access their websites.  A portion of the two-page picture I referenced earlier can be viewed at the publisher's website.  Enjoy the book trailer.




Yesterday afternoon my sweet Xena passed away.  To honor her I will be writing fifteen blog posts about fifteen dog books recently published.  For those of you interested here is an Animoto in tribute to her.


To further highlight her life I am giving away a copy of Michael J. Rosen's two books mentioned here.

Blow Winds Blow, Blow The Falling Snow

It's like living inside a snow globe someone is constantly shaking.  The landscape is laden with more than a foot of white fluff.  Soon the winds will begin to howl rattling the windows and singing down the chimney.

When the National Weather Service issues a gale and winter storm warning together, it's time to expect the unexpected especially when Thanksgiving is ten days away.  Back in February 1978 no one was prepared for the severity of the storm; no one was sure the meteorologists were correct.  Caldecott Honor winning author illustrator John Rocco (Blackout, Disney Hyperion, May 2011) writes and illustrates his version, Blizzard (Disney Hyperion) with all the childlike awe this spectacular event deserves.

One day, when I was a young boy,

nearly four feet of snow fell from the sky.

On a Monday morning when school was in session the flakes began falling.  When they were dismissed early; they were accumulating, getting deeper and deeper.  Even as bedtime approached, the snow kept coming down.

Leaving the house by the door was not an option the next morning.  Moving through the snow was nearly impossible.  Thankfully a working woodstove and hot chocolate warmed up John, his older sister, Mom and Dad.

For the next few days endless shoveling and digging in the snow were on the agenda.  By Thursday no snow plows had been through the neighborhood yet.  Having enough food was becoming a concern.

For a boy who had faithfully read the Arctic Survival guide, there was only one thing to do.  On Saturday, with a list and creative ingenuity on his feet he left the house.  Many stops in the neighborhood were made, delaying his arrival at the local market.  

With his goal accomplished, getting home before dark was necessary.  Many stops in the neighborhood were made, making his arrival home all the more welcome.  In 1978 memories were made.  In 2014 we lucky readers get to read a book recreating those meaningful moments and the incredible efforts of one ten-year-old boy.

It's like John Rocco has turned back the clock several decades, allowing his younger self to tell the story.  His sentences highlight those exact things which would capture the attention of a ten-year-old.  The revelation of a series of personal events by using specific word descriptions gives readers a sense of being side by side with John.  Here are a couple of examples.

We laughed as we sank deep in the frozen powder.  

But walking was hard---

it was like trying to move through white quicksand.

We made camp by the woodstove,

and our feet tingled as we sipped

hot cocoa made with milk.

How can you look at the front of the dust jacket and not smile?  The ten-year-old boy with outstretched arms standing in his windswept snowy neighborhood is feeling downright joyful.  On the back of the dust jacket a picture taken from the book's interior of him, his dog and sister struggling unsuccessfully in the snow gives readers a precise idea of its depth.  Underneath the book case a bird's eye view of the rows of houses, buried beneath the storm's drifts as flakes swirl around, leaves no doubt as to the extent of the blizzard.  The opening endpapers are in a pale steely blue with heavy snow falling into piles.  Nothing but pure white covers the closing endpapers except for a path of telltale prints extending from one corner to the top of the next page.

I burst out laughing at the page before the double title page spread.  Using a single page John Rocco has a series of six pictures of himself holding a measuring stick.  In each one the snow gets higher and higher until all you can see is the boy's hand at the top of the stick and the top of his ski hat with the white pom-pom. Breathtaking would be a word to define the title page.  Again it's as if we are looking from above through a break in the storm clouds at the neighborhood below before the snow begins to fall.  

Rendered in pencil, watercolor, and digital painting the illustrations vary in size according to the amount of white space framing each.  Several span from edge to edge on a single page or across two pages.  Rocco has cleverly inserted the name of each day into the images; as part of the message on the blackboard in the classroom, squirrel tracks over a snow-covered roof, snow-covered branches on a tree, or raisins spilled across the floor from a snack box. His four-page fold-out of the boy's trip to the neighborhood market is wonderful.  The labels of all the stops made couldn't be more perfect.  

Two of my many favorite illustrations follow one another.  The first is the scene from the boy's bedroom as he gazes out the window at the falling snow on Monday night.  The Arctic Survival book in tented to a remembered spot on his bed, his penguin lamp glowing.  On the wall hangs an Everest poster.  Lying next to the bed is his dog.  Outside a street light illuminates the Stop sign.  About a foot of the post is uncovered.  On the next page all readers see is blue, lots of falling snow and the Stop sign, now partially covered in snow.  

Blizzard written and illustrated by John Rocco marvelously documents seven days during the blizzard of 1978 as seen and experienced by a ten-year-old boy.  It is said you should write about what you know.  John Rocco does it brilliantly in text and illustrations working together in seamless harmony.  This title is on our Mock Caldecott list.  

To learn more about John Rocco, his books and illustrations please visit his website by following the link embedded in his name.  Follow this link to a recent review by author and blogger Julie Danielson at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast. (My two favorite pages are featured.) This links to a post at Kid Lit Frenzy as part of the blog tour for Blizzard. Several days remain on the tour.