Woodrow on the Bench: Life Lessons from a Wise Old Dog by Jenna Blum

 

Bonney Teti from my beloved Pop Mom! podcast recommends many books that I end up loving, including Convenience Store Woman, which is a book I think about all the time, but would never have stumbled upon if not for her. She recommend Woodrow on the Bench by Jenna Blum and oh, boy, was it exactly what I needed.

Blum has had Woodrow, an adorable black Labrador retriever, since he was a puppy. He starts slowing down as he turns thirteen, then fourteen, then fifteen. Blum writes about what it's like to be the caretaker for a senior dog, how hard it is to know exactly when the moment is that you should call the vet, and how much she had come to depend on her dog as a companion and as a way to interact with the world.

Hannah is not a senior dog, but she is a special needs dog whose needs I did not anticipate when we first adopted her. But this book was reassuring to me. There's a quality of life calculator in the book. The scale is 8 (your dog is very sick) to 80 (what a healthy, happy dog you have) and when I did an honest assessment of Hannah, it was 59 (Zelda, for her part, is an 80).  That made me think that Hannah's not in the worst place ever. Sure, things could (and should) be better, but she's hanging in there. 

It was also reassuring for me to read about someone who is as obsessed with their dog as I am with mine. Blum basically did nothing but care for her dog for months at a time. And it was reassuring to me that Blum herself was in denial about just how very sick her dog was until the very last moment. People frequently tell me that "you'll just know" when it's time for you to decide to put your pet down, but I honestly don't 100% believe that and it was good to read Blum, who loved her dog very much, write honestly about how she probably waited too long.

Yes, this was a sad read. When Woodrow died, there were tears on my part. But I was happy to read this book to help me prepare for a future that I hope is many years away, but, if it's not, at least I will feel somewhat prepared. Maybe prepared is not the right word, but rather forewarned about the emotional devastation.  

It's not for everybody, but if you and your pet are codependent, it's probably worth a read.

5/5 stars

Lines I Read Out Loud to My Husband:

And although we had agreed not to let Woodrow on any of the furniture! Never! Ever! Especially on the bed!, one afternoon Andy came home from work and caught me napping with Woodrow next to me, the dog's head on my pillow. The look Andy gave us could not have been more gravely disappointed if he had caught me with another man. (page 7)

Just brilliant. I love how you have big plans when you bring home pets (or babies, I would imagine), but those plans go out the window so quickly. We were going to split Hannah duties and I'll leave you to imagine who does most of the Hannah caretaking in our home.

Like most Labs, Woodrow had his share of near-death experiences. His first came before he was a year old: we were visiting Andy's parents in New Hampshire. I'd warned them before we left Boston to put away anything that was food, looked like food, or could be mistaken for food, but since they had a Newfoundland and a German shepherd, dogs with normal appetites, they didn't take me seriously. (page 24)

Don't I wish my dog wanted to eat?  Ha. But I love how stereotypical Woodrow was in this book. He was not a Lab who acted like anything other than a Lab.