A Big Little Life: A Memoir of a Joyful Dog

　　By Dean Koontz

　　(Hyperion, 288 pages, $24.99)

　　A Big Little Life is more than just a funny and poignant memoir of a couple's joyful experience with an exceptional dog, though it's a delightful read on this level alone. It's also an exploration of how a serious and successful writer came to better understand the gift and meaning of life, and had his sense of wonder restored, with the help of a golden retriever named Trixie. Little Life, Dean Koontz's first nonfiction book, is an unusually effective brief for the joy that dogs bring us, though many TAS readers, including me, need no convincing on this point. For dog people there will be pleasurable jolts of recognition as Koontz describes how Trixie always knew what the destination was on car rides, how she was an excellent judge of character, how she learned the meaning of a host of words (a favorite being "nacho"), and how a fundamentally gentle dog faced down a much larger Rottweiler who, it turns out, was all bark and growl. Trixie never warned that Timmy had fallen down a well, but she did warn of a fire in the Koontz oven before it got out of hand. Koontz identifies for us many of the reasons dogs charm us: their innocence, their ability to live in the present, and their unfailing love for us, even when we don't deserve it. Too many of us die without knowing transcendent joy, in part because we pursue one form or another of materialism. We seek meaning in possessions, in pursuit of cosmic justice for earthly grievances, in the acquisition of power over others. On the other hand, dogs eat with gusto, play with exuberance, work happily when given the opportunity, surrender themselves to the wonder and mystery of their world, and love extravagantly. What's not to like about that? Dean and Gerda Koontz, high school sweethearts who married in college, were enjoying successful and orderly lives in Southern California before they decided to risk their somewhat neat-nik home and workaholic schedules by adding a dog to their lives. Both had always liked dogs, and Dean had included dogs in some of his novels. Midnight, the first Koontz thriller to hit number one on the bestseller list in 1989 featured a helper dog named Moose. The popular Watchers of 1987 featured Einstein, the smartest dog any of us are likely to encounter. But chez Koontz had been dog-free until Trixie entered the picture in 1998. Trixie, three years old at the time of her adoption, was a rescue dog, but with a difference. She had been trained by Canine Companions for Independence, a worthy non-profit that trains dogs to help disabled people with a host of life's difficulties. Dean stumbled across CCI while doing research for Midnight, and has been a supporter of the organization ever since. After the long and rigorous CCI training, Trixie worked with a young woman named Jenna who had lost her legs in an auto accident. But because of an elbow injury (who knew dogs had elbows?), Trixie was forced into early retirement and pethood. From 1998 until Trixie's premature death in 2007 due to cancer at age 12 (a portion of the book some readers may wish to negotiate with the aid of Kleenex), Trixie taught Koontz a number of things. He became convinced that because of her intelligence and her unblemished innocence that Trixie (and by extension other dogs) not only had a soul, but probably one unblemished in comparison to that of most people. (Theologians may dispute this, but having recently had to put our aged and beloved German short-haired pointer, Easy, to sleep, Koontz will get no argument from my wife or me.) She also taught Koontz to be more attuned to available joy, and "to be filled with gratitude for every grace we receive." Through this tribute to his dog, readers will learn more about Dean Koontz the writer, and why, thanks at least partly to Trixie, his recent novels are more full of humor and wonder and assurance that life indeed has meaning than his work had been before (not that he had previously been a Grinch). Trixie even fortified Koontz in his faith. I believe that Trixie, in addition to being a dog and a child and an inspiration and a revelation, was also a quiet theophany, a subtle manifestation of God, for by her innocent joy and by her actions in my life, she lifted me from all doubts of the sacred nature of our existence. Koontz is one of the few writers of popular fiction today who tells his stories from a conservative point of view. (And he's very popular -- his 400 million in book sales put him in a sales league with J.K. Rowling, Agatha Christie, Louis L'Amour, and other publishing giants.) There are no sermons or political speeches in Koontz's novels, but it's clear enough in his stories that life has meaning as well as important choices between good and evil. In Koontz's fictional world there are things worth fighting for, things worth loving, and a lot worth laughing about. Clearly a sixty-pound golden retriever played a role in lightening the heart and sharpening the view of an already acute observer of the human parade. Readers of A Big Little Life will see how this took place, and will learn a good deal about two people and a dog well worth knowing. Letter to the Editor drudge ette obama| 8.25.09 @ 6:15AM

　　Obama takes a far back seat today, along with the Emanuels, the Podestas, and Pelosies. I am looking at my own beautiful fox terrier, lying in his bed while he watches me. I am waiting for the vet to open so that I can say goodbye to this wonderful dog. Today will be a very sad day. I hope I have more courage in a few hours than I do now. All I have are tears of love for my great dog. Thank you for the story. melvin| 8.25.09 @ 7:53AM

　　Damn, the memories of having to take the final ride to the vet with our angel Fuzzball still brings tears to this old Jar Head's eyes.

　　drudge ette obama, you'll have the strength because the love that you have for your dog will make it so.

　　But, one day out of the blue, you will be blessed with another fuzzy companion that will chew up your slippers, hide your garden shoes, refuse to cross the threshold of your front-door because he or she is scared of the screen door.

　　After losing our beloved Fuzzball, Weiner the Wonder dog came into my wife and I's lives. He was supposed to be a Beagle but turned out to be a Walker Hound. He has the paws the size of a bear, clumsy as a drunken sailor, eats bugs, and wakes me up at 2:00 in the morning wanting to play, and Weiner is the newest member of the family that God blessed us with.

　　I have never forgotten in my entire life the names of all the dogs that I have had. Their alive in my memory and when it is my time to go, their wagging tails will greet me again and lead me to the Elysian Fields where we will be together till time immortal.

　　Druge ette our prayers go with you and your Fox Terrier R Martin| 8.25.09 @ 8:49AM

　　Dear Ms. drudge ette obama, I have taken the trip you have done today, and my thoughts are with you. It is a sad journey but one most loving and compassionate pet owners must take at some point. The passage of time will help heal the wound somewhat. I am not a particularly spiritual person and have never given much thought to afterlife or the supernatural. However, when my golden passed (just before his eighth birthday) I awoke that night and saw him at the foot of my bed, head raised and tail wagging. It was probably just a dream, albeit a very vivid one, but it made me feel that, at least with Tucker, things were OK. All the best to you. Northern Rebel| 8.25.09 @ 8:57AM

　　I love Dean Koontz, not just for his great novels, but also because I share his love for dogs. The first time I had to send a dog to heaven, I had to wear sunglasses, so nobody would see my tears. I've had the pleasure of having the mother, father, and so far, the 8yr old pup, that I pray gives me 10 more years. It's like your children, in that you can see the similarities in the dogs as they grow older. I have established a pet cemetary, that includes 5 puppies (they are always puppies forever to me) and I know my present doggie will reside there. I think God would approve If my final resting place was right beside them. Stammon| 8.25.09 @ 10:40AM

　　As I sit her, 10 feet from me is our golden, Ginger, with her first puppies. My children are learning of the world through their birth and growth. I have always had goldens, but this time we dared to try goldendoodles, a perfect mix they say, and we hope it to be. I have always thought there was a reason dog is God backwards. Vsatt| 8.25.09 @ 3:06PM

　　Drudge Ette, I'm very sorry for your loss. This past spring we had to say goodbye to our beloved jack russell, Rosie. A few months later I gave birth to our fourth child -- the only one of our kids who will never have been in a tug of war with her over a ball, nor woken up from a nap because someone dared to walk down our street. But my oldest daughter said just the other day she'll make sure he knows who Rosie was. This story also reminded me of a cartoon that ran when humorist Lewis Grizzard died. It depicted Grizzard entering the pearly gates and being greeted by his beloved lab Catfish who had died a few months before. Angel| 8.25.09 @ 4:38PM

　　Drudge ette, my prayers are with you today. It's been 14 months since I had to say good bye to my beloved Black Lab, Mack; and I still tear up when I think of him. But my sadness pales in comparison to the memories of 14 years of love, laughter and joy I had with my special pup. Mack and my children grew up together and I will always be grateful to God that we had a chance to know that beautiful, jet-black dog. Take care. BJ| 8.25.09 @ 5:56PM

　　dear drudgette, my heart goes out to you today here are some words of comfort from the Rainbow Bridge When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food and water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing: they miss someone very special to them; who had to be left behind. They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. The bright eyes are intent; the eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to break away from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. YOU have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart. Kristi S.| 8.25.09 @ 7:27PM

　　Thank you for recognizing the deep and lyrical works of Dean Koontz. He is a master storyteller. Dogs. Those of us lucky enough to have a dog in childhood receive great love and companionship, but they also give us an additional lesson when they die; the first realization that love can transcend death and that sorrow deepens the heart. Thank you dearest Rusty and Sam. drudge ette obama| 8.25.09 @ 7:33PM

　　Stephanie,

　　Melvin,

　　TennesseeVolunteer,

　　Kitty,

　　RMartin

　　Northern Rebel,

　　Anthony,

　　Doug,

　　Tim,

　　Stammon,

　　Vsatt,

　　Angel, and

　　BJ I have read, and re-read, each of your expressions of love for the wonderful dog creatures that you have nurtured, played with and loved. And ultimately lost to life's inevitability, an inevitability we also share. Your personal stories have greatly touched me. I thank you. And I have felt sweet joy to imagine how wonderfully you and your dogs spent life together. I also know that your generous and kind gestures towards me also have been shared with each other. And this morning, your sweet memories of these wondrous creatures, our dogs, brought some tears as you remember your own time spent in my shoes. At times, well, all times, we fight on this blog for this country with ferocity and a little brine, but today you chose to be just the human kind that we are. Thank you so much. chuck| 8.25.09 @ 9:33PM

　　drudge, My deepest sorrows for your loss. Its tough, we lost 4 dogs in 4 years, 3 goldens and a chesapeke bay retriever. But they all had long, love-filled lives. We now have 3 mastiffs. I know its true that all dogs go to heaven, because it surely wouldn't be heaven without them.

　　Take care, and we are praying for you and your puppy. Hula's mom| 8.26.09 @ 4:01PM

　　I had so send my 12 y/o Catahoula to her rewards a few years ago. She had gone to work with me nearly every day. We traveled all over USA and into Canada to Alaska and down the pacific coast of Mexico. It tooks 3 trips to the vet, because the vet couldn't deal with me. I still cry thinking of that wonderful dog, but we have so many happy memories...You, too, will get to that point of thinking of all the happy times. instead of the few sad ones at the end. Nelwyn (Hula's Mom) Bob| 8.26.09 @ 10:52PM

　　This is to the memory of my beautiful Golden, Maggie, who died 3 months ago today. She certainly was one of God's creations. She was so full of love: could play ball 24/7 if you'd let her; find her way into a canoe; chase rabbits and birds; she lived her life to the fullest and I will never forget her. Friday, I'm bringing home an 8-week old Golden pup named Sport and letting the love start all over again.

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