Just a very sweet book, full of pictures of dogs, to help anyone with a pet perhaps realize what a special place they play in our lives. Quindlen has a special way of describing scenes and situations and it comes through beautifully in this heart touching story of Beau. As she so beautifull , in essence,, you need to live in the present, appreciate the moments as they happen. ( )

Shallow. ( )

short, okay ( )

Reading a book by this author is always a delight. She captures so much with a small amount of words.

Naturally when finding a book about a special dog, logically, I know that somewhere in the pages, the dog dies. I've loved and lost a number of very uniquely wonderful pets, and each one holds a special place, and I can easily cry when thinking of them.

My idea of heaven is that all those furry pets who sustained me through love and life, grief and sadness, joy and sorrow, will be there when I cross over. They will be different sized, but all will be healthy. With shining coats, and eyes of love, I'll cry at the sheer delight of one more chance to embrace and thank them.

Quindlen's book is heart warming as she tells the story of Beau, her very special black Labrador retriever. The book begins with Beau in his final stages of life. The eyes that no longer see, the fur that is peppered with grey, the medications needed, are all visible signs that the days are quickening faster toward the inevitability of parting.

Rather than elicit tears, the author provided a framework of celebration, of Beau .... of all wonderful companions.

Beau lived longer than the statistical charts. Each day was a blessing.

The true testimony that pets impart is that while we cannot replace one with another, the special bond of manifold blessings is that despite the limitation of their days, we embrace a new pet, knowing the gain outweighs the pain.

As Quindlen notes, "The life of a good dog is like the life of a good person, only shorter and more compressed."

Highly recommended. ( )

This was a very brief unabridged audiobook (45 minutes) that was an extended eulogy for Quindlen's beloved black Labrador retriever, Beau, and an essay on mortality. I especially liked the end, where Quindlen summarizes (with some quavering in her voice) the lessons she learned from Beau's long life: "to roll with the punches, ...to take things as they come, to measure myself not in terms of the past or the future but of the present." Otherwise, though, the shortness of this book probably makes it most appropriate for someone grieving the loss of a dog. ( )