The Patron Saint of Lost Dogs may be the story of a small town veterinarian but it is less about the animals and the funny tales a veterinarian can tell than it is about redemption and forgiveness. I enjoyed it even though the ending was just a little too neat and sweet for the tone of the rest of the book. The only parts I really didn’t care for were when Cyrus described in just a little too much detail for me the procedures he was doing on the animals. But I’m squeamish so that’s probably just me. There were some funny moments and I wish there could have been more of those but the heavy stuff as Cyrus comes to grips with the truth about his parents and his own faults was important.
Books, as well as filling the recesses of every shelf and table top in my home, fill my heart and my mind. I am passionate about the power of the written word and I’m not shy about sharing that passion. Which is just about the only thing I’m not shy about. So I’m going to be sharing my reading experiences with you. Let me start with one of the books I’m currently reading (I’m always reading at least two books at any given time).
I started Nick Trout’s novel, The Patron Saint of Lost Dogs, a few days ago. I’ll admit I’m a little worried. I’m not much of a crier. I don’t like to cry and not many books have made me cry but there is one thing sure to choke me up – a touching pet story. It doesn’t matter whether it’s heartwarming or heartbreaking, tears always spring into my eyes when I hear or read a story of the unconditional love between an animal and its person. That’s why I have yet to get up the nerve to watch or read Old Yeller or Marley and Me. I can barely get through an episode of Dogs 101 without feeling that tell-tale tightness in my throat. And already in my reading of The Patron Saint of Lost Dogs, I got choked up when Cyrus Mills, the veterinary pathologist turned reluctant clinician at the center of the novel visits an elderly pet owner. The older man talks about how very much his lab mix (a female named Clint, after Clint Eastwood, of course) has meant to him as old age and infirmity take hold of his life. And here comes the lump in my throat. Thankfully, the heart wrenching is countered with what is turning out to be a delightful cast of quirky, small-town characters. I’m looking forward to finding out what happens next. As long as there aren’t too many tears along the way.