Happy New Year!
The first book I read this year is a memoir about how a puppy changes everything in their human’s life.
Helen Humphreys’s And a Dog Called Fig: Solitude, Connection, the Writing Life is the glorious result of her decision to get a puppy. Humphreys was 59 at the time and had other dogs in her life. She knew she wouldn’t get much writing done with a puppy, so she started keeping a diary about life with Fig and figured she could turn that into a book.
She did, and I didn’t take long. Fig was seven weeks old when Humphreys brought her home, and she’s just over twelve weeks old when the book ends. It was a joy to read. The book is 272 pages, but it felt more like 100 pages. I read a digital copy and was surprised to see the page count when I added the book to my tracking app.
“The puppy doesn’t seem to be related to anything I know of as “dog,” but is instead a wild, unknownable demon” — Helen Humphreys
This book resonated with me because I am 59 years old and recently adopted an 8-week-old puppy. I nodded along to all the biting and bleeding caused by razor-sharp puppy teeth, and not being able to get anything done. As noted, Humphreys knew she wouldn’t get much writing accomplished in the early days with Fig, but she was under the delusion that she would get a lot of reading done. So was I. I envisioned long stretches of reading on the couch, with the puppy curled next to me and our older dog sleeping at the other end.
Haha, hahaha.
Robie, my puppy, just turned 8 months old. I am happy to report that cuddling on the couch while reading does now happen.
Developing trust
I appreciate that Humphreys is not the sort of person who wants to dominate or harshly discipline her dog. From what I’ve read and trainers I’ve spoken with, that sort of behavior often turns dogs aggressive or creates other problems. Instead, she wants to work with the dog. She strives to create structure and routine that will develop trust.
She writes, “I believe that a dog needs to have good manners, as people do, because this makes it easier for them to negotiate the world and for the world to tolerate them, but I don’t want to dominate a dog. I want instead to work with who they are.”
One area where we disagree is that I am not an advocate of dogs being off-leash in public spaces or unfenced property. I’ve seen and heard too many stories about dogs who were well-trained or never hurt a fly, who one day didn’t listen when it mattered most, or died in a dog fight. The off-leash issue is the only quibble I have with what is otherwise a delightful read.
Dogs and their writers
Humphreys shares stories of other dogs in her life, especially her beloved Charlotte, as well as those of other writers. There are stories about Virginia Woolf and Grizzle, Thomas Hardy and Wessex, Zora Neale Hurston’s two dogs, Shag and Spot, and others. There are mentions of more than a few dogs who had bitten people within these pages, and one content warning: Emily Brontë once “savagely” beat her dog, Keeper. Allegedly, they got along well after she tended his wounds. She’s the sister who wrote Wuthering Heights. I can only imagine Anne Brontë’s horror if she witnessed the attack.
And speaking of writers, let me go back and point out the subtitle: Solitude, Connection, the Writing Life. Humphreys writes about her experience with Fig as a writer, and shares parts of her life from her younger years to lessons learned after decades of practicing the craft and publishing many books.
Here’s a random example:
“This morning, when I struggled Fig into her coat, she grabbed one of my shoes and held it in her mouth while I dressed her. And because she had something in her mouth, she was compliant and didn’t bite. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before and have been fighting her this whole time when instead I could have just let her hold something in her mouth and make the whole enterprise much easier. Another example of the way a dog tells us what to do with them, and if we’re paying attention and not fixated on having our way, by listening to what they’re trying to communicate, we could get along with them better. This is not dissimilar to writing, where it is more effective to listen to intuition instead of trying to force your will upon a piece of work.”
I checked this book out of the library early last summer, but it didn’t grab me back then. That was pre-Robie. When a friend recently talked about it as one of her top reads of the year, I knew I had to give it another try, and I’m so happy I did. It was the perfect book with which to usher in the new year. If you’re looking for a heartfelt, reflective memoir about the human-dog relationship and living a creative life, you won’t want to miss this one.
And a Dog Called Fig fits nicely with Shelleyrae’s 2026 Nonfiction Reader Challenge that I’m participating in this year. I’m committed to reading and reviewing 12 nonfiction books. One down, eleven to go!