I am not a dog person. My family did not have pets when I was growing up, so I never got into the rhythm of having a furry creature around. And then there was the time when I was five years old or so and Targa, the German Shepard that belonged to the family who lived behind us, bit me on the ass. I didn’t require stitches or anything, but the experience left a mark. From that moment on, I nurtured a healthy fear of dogs, big and small. I wanted nothing to do with them, their barking, their panting devotion, having to pick up their poo, or having my face licked. And then I met my wife, Debbie, who is an ardent animal lover. Like many people during the pandemic, we got a puppy, Maximus Toretto Blueberry Millman Gay. He is now a three-year-old Maltipoo who allows us to attend to his every want, whim, and need. I find myself taking dozens of pictures of him every day. I am obsessed with his eating habits. I love dressing him in cute shirts and sweaters, every day. I am not a dog person but, I suppose also, I am.
Elaine Castillo, the author of Good Girls: Notes on Dog Rescue, also wasn’t a dog person, and then, in her mid-thirties, she was. She is the author of the novel America Is Not the Heart, a generational saga about a displaced Filipino family, and the essay collection How to Read Now, which tackles the politics of reading in the present day. Her writing has also appeared in The Boston Globe, San Francisco Chronicle, Kirkus Reviews, and elsewhere. She is an incisive cultural critic whose intellectual work is deeply researched and brilliantly written, as evidenced by this essay and all of her writing.
In Good Girls, Elaine chronicles how she met what she terms her soul dog, Xena, a German Shepherd rescue she and her partner welcomed into their home. This essay is, in part, a fascinating cultural history of German Shepherds, how the breed is (mis)understood, and modes of dog training and what they reflect about how we think of power and dominion over other living creatures. It is also a beautiful, personal narrative about becoming a dog person when you least expect it. Castillo writes with her characteristic rigor about what it means to help rescue dogs find their way back to emotional and physical wellness.
This is one of those essays where the author’s curiosity introduces you to subjects you didn’t yet know you wanted to learn about. Good Girls expanded my understanding of what it means to share your life with a dog and what it means to do it the right way. Whether you are a dog person or not, you will love the journey.
The relationships we make with pets is so interesting with a rich history. Can’t wait to read more.