MY DOG IS BETTER AT THIS THAN ME

Larrikin shares self-improvement advice gleaned from dogs in this delightful guide.

At the center of the book is Rosie, a composite of the author’s pups, who have taught him how to live well. The first chapter finds the author doomscrolling when Rosie has an attack of the zoomies, prompting him to embrace the philosophy, “Be where you are. All the way.” Larrikin shares the details of a terrible workday and contrasts his negative inner monologue with the unconditional positive regard he receives from Rosie upon his arrival home. In another chapter, the author marvels at how Rosie can shake off a face-plant during a Frisbee session, while he, in contrast, spirals after an awkward handshake at a networking event, noting that humans are at the mercy of “The Archive,” a storage center where the brain saves and replays mistakes. Following an anecdote about a forced podcast-free walk, Larrikin introduces the concept of “savoring,” or appreciating the good. A story about Rosie going “belly up” at a dinner party prompts reflection on the power of vulnerability. Other lessons include embracing play and accepting compliments. The final chapter focuses on connection, the loneliness epidemic, and the ways in which dogs create “social infrastructure” for their humans. The book concludes with the realization that “The teacher has been asleep on your couch this whole time. She’s ready whenever you are.” Larrikin effectively balances entertaining anecdotes, insightful observations, and practical exercises in this humorous guide. By sharing his personal and professional foibles, the author imparts advice as a fellow traveler rather than an all-knowing expert. He explains more complex concepts in plain language, observing, for example, “the brain’s tendency to evaluate experiences through the lens of ‘What does this say about me?’” To cut through overthinking noise, he offers strategies with memorable names like the “Guilt-Free Fifteen” (a brief period of rest) and self-inquiry suggestions like “Would my dog care about this?” At times, the book stretches the dog-as-teacher metaphor a bit too far, as in “Every fire hydrant is an art gallery.”

A charming self-help guide that occasionally overstates its central conceit.