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Summary
Summary
It is the first annual meeting of the WOOF Society. Dogs of all different backgrounds and breeds have gathered together to listen to the diaries of twelve dogs from around the world and throughout history. Abu is the ruler of ancient Egypt, but Miu, the Royal Cat, continues to challenge him, except at night. Tidbit, born the runt of the litter, becomes a star singer at the Grand Ole Opry. Jip leads his blinded master back home from the Civil War. Mimi, a dog living in Paris, shares her tips on bathroom protocol and dinnertime etiquette. And eight more!
Betsy Byars and her daughters, Laurie Myers and Betsy Duffey, the trio who brought you MY DOG, MY HERO and THE SOS FILE, have pooled their talents once again to write on a subject they love. DOG DIARIES is a collection of humorous and touching stories, complemented by Erik Brooks' black-and-white illustrations, that will appeal to dog lovers of all ages.
Author Notes
Betsy Cromer Byars was born in1928. She graduated from Queens College in Charlotte, North Carolina. While she was in graduate school, she began writing articles for The Saturday Evening Post and Look.
Byars writes novels for young people. She is an expert at tapping in to the pain of adolescence, using bits of her own experience to flavor her characters. She is author of more than 60 books and has won numerous awards. Her book about a 14-year-old girl and her mentally retarded brother, The Summer of the Swans (1970), won the Newberry Award as the most distinguished contribution to children's literature that year. Other books include The 18th Emergency (1973), The TV Kid (1976), and After the Goat Man (1995).
Betsy Byars died on February 26,2020 at the age of 91. (Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (4)
Horn Book Review
Dogs from all over gather for the first annual meeting of the WOOF (Words of Our Friends) Society. Each of the book's thirteen short chapters offers a story of doggy derring-do, some purportedly from history (""Abu: The Dog Who Ruled Egypt,"" 2000 BCE) and others personal anecdotes from WOOF members. Black-and-white sketches illustrate the sometimes humorous, sometimes touching tales. (c) Copyright 2010. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted. All rights reserved.
Booklist Review
From the trio who gave readers The SOS File (2004), this collection of short stories combines the bedrocks of mass appeal: dogs, humor, and short chapters brimming with illustrations. The stories include a mix of contemporary and historical, ranging from the Egyptian pharaohs to the Grand Ole Opry. Most pack a strong dose of laughs, such as Mimi's Guide to Life, which includes tips on good places to hide after bathroom indiscretion. Others are poignant, like the one about the dog that serves as a makeshift guide dog after a Civil War battle leaves his owner limping and blind. As a whole, the collection is slightly uneven. Weaker elements, such as an overlong introduction to the book's premise, are balanced by stronger ones, like the thrilling account of a dog that unwittingly captures a bank robber. Expressive, energetic pencil illustrations adorn nearly every page, breaking up the text for struggling or reluctant readers.--Harold, Suzanne Copyright 2007 Booklist
School Library Journal Review
Gr 3-4-The canine members of the WOOF (Words of Our Friends) Society gather together to hear stories that have been collected from dogs all over the world throughout history. The goal: to prove that dogs are accomplished storytellers who have larger vocabularies than merely "sit" and "fetch." The 11 tales that follow cover many aspects of the animals' lives and are by turns touching, funny, and sad. In "Abu: The Dog Who Ruled Egypt," Abu is catered to by everyone in the Egyptian court, except for Miu, the Royal Cat. However, at night, when it is cold in the kennel, he welcomes the warm presence of the feline curled against his back. In other stories, a garbage disposal is pooch's invisible enemy; Tidbit appears at the Grand Ole Opry with Johnny Cash; a dog learns the importance of a moniker; and a mother dog nurses abandoned kittens. At the end of the evening, the members of WOOF disband, satisfied that they are literate, and look forward to next year when they will be joined by the cats of MEOW. The stories average four to five pages, a length that allows readers to cover one or two in a sitting. Black-and-white pencil-and-ink drawings appear on almost every page, revealing the personalities of each animal and illustrating the setting of their stories. Readers will enjoy seeing the world from a canine's perspective.-Terrie Dorio, Santa Monica Public Library, CA. (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Kirkus Review
Newbery Medalist Byars and her two daughters join forces for their third collaborative effort using a short-story format. An introductory chapter sets the stage for the first annual meeting of the WOOF Society, a group of literate dogs compiling "Words of Our Friends." Eleven short narratives follow, told in first person by a variety of dogs from different eras and locations, from ancient times to the modern world. The historical settings include ancient Egypt, Pompeii during the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius, the Gold Rush-era and the Civil War. Some of the stories are touching while others are humorous, including one from a dog who foils a bank robber and another about a dog who learns to "sing" at the Grand Ole Opry with Johnny Cash. The writing styles of the three authors and the length of stories vary widely, although this is in line with the supposed diversity of canine authors. Engaging illustrations in soft gray pencil endow each dog with additional personality, from Abu the hound in Egypt to Mimi the poodle in Paris. (Fiction. 9-11) Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Excerpts
Excerpts
Chapter 6 Tidbit: A Star Is Born Nashville, Tennessee, 1957 I was born the smallest of the litter. Even as a pup I had to fight to survive. While my brothers and sisters grew up to be fast and strong and to jump high, I grew up to be a beggar. While my brothers and sisters grew up handsome and sleek, I grew up ugly. I was a pitiful young thing, but even pitiful young things can have remarkable experiences in life--moments that change a life from pitiful to significant. This is one. I took to the streets young, living beside Dumpsters or hanging out at the back doors of restaurants. I lived hand-to-mouth. I made the rounds in Nashville each morning, hoping the trash had been carelessly emptied behind the restaurants or that someone had not finished a Big Mac. I had no home. I lived a dangerous life, avoiding kicks and yells. One day as I made my usual rounds, I heard a noise coming from the back door of a building. It was a wonderful sound. A rhythmic boom boom . A soft gliding sound. A plunking and a twanging, all harmoniously rolled together. A sound that for the first time made me feel like I was home. I parked myself at that door, the back door to the Grand Ole Opry. People coming in and out of the Opry are good people. They began to notice me, but instead of kicking and yelling at me, they were kind. They brought me snacks and patted my head. I watched every night as a parade of boots went through that door. Lizard-skin boots, ostrich, elephant-skin--every color of the rainbow. There were amazing costumes in shiny patterns, tall wide hats. They were fancy people, but they were kind. Someone gave me a blanket one day. Once, I got a whole pork chop. Then one day I got something I thought I never would have in this world. A woman in a sequined dress with light blue boots bent down to give me a napkin full of small pieces of steak. But that wasn't it. She patted my head and said, "Here you go, Tidbit." Tidbit! I had a name. I had a home. I longed for a master, and above all I longed to go inside. I wondered would she take me inside? "Come on, Dolly," someone called. And she was gone. I listened every day to the music. The boom boom was a bass. The gliding sound, a fiddle. The plunk, a banjo; the twang, a guitar. Best of all were the voices. When I listened to the voices, my tail would thump. Then my body would twitch, then my nose would begin to rise up, and if the music was just right and just wonderful enough: AOOOOOOOO! A sound worked up from the back of my throat to the bottom of my belly and let loose a long, mournful howl. Alone behind the Opry, I learned to sing. Sometimes the people would gather at the back door with their instruments. They would play together, working out a little piece of music to perfection, or just making the music for the joy of it. I sat quietly on my blanket and listened. A man named Charles made the fiddle sing. The banjo jumped in the hands of Scruggs. A man named Porter had the glitteriest coat of all. One time a different man came. A man with the blackest boots and tallest hat that I had ever seen. A man with the lowest, smoothest voice that I had ever heard. A man dressed all in black. He sang about trains and prisons and someone called Mama. He sang in the voice of pain and sorrow and too many nights out on the blanket. And my tail began to thump, my body to twitch, my nose to point up, up, and AOOOOOOOO . I joined his song. "Hey, Johnny, you got some company," the fiddle player said. Everyone laughed, but the music went on. Johnny and I sang one song after another. Then the fiddle player looked at me and said the words that would change my life, "Let's take Tidbit on the Opry." Everyone stopped and looked down at me. I waited until I could stand it no more, then AOOOOOOOO . That did it. They all laughed, and the man in black picked me up. "Ten minutes!" someone called from the door, and in we went. I had never been inside before. It was beautiful and warm. Then the fiddle player tied a red bandanna around my neck, and we walked onto the stage. I sat beside the black boots and looked out. I had never seen so many people before. Cameras flashed, people clapped. I got so nervous I almost wet the stage, but I stood tight and-- boom boom --the bass began. The gliding fiddle joined in. Plunk and twang, and Johnny was singing about Mama. I listened at first, too stunned to do anything. But then I was swept away by the sounds. My tail did not move at first, but as he sang on, my tail started thumping, my body started twitching, and my nose rose. AOOOOOOOO . I no longer saw the crowds or the cameras. I was lost in the music, singing with Johnny. I was home. When the music ended, there was quiet at first, then it all broke loose. I looked out and saw the people. They were cheering, and clapping, and jumping up and down. For that moment and forever after, my life was different. If you saw me now, you might think that my life hadn't changed much. I'm still pretty sad to look at, but I am not so hopeless after all. I wear my bandanna and ride in the bus with Johnny, right up in the front seat. Every once in a while, when it's a slow night on stage, Johnny picks me up and says, "Sing one, Tidbit," and my tail begins to thump, then my body begins to twitch, and I lift up my nose and join right in, AOOOOOOOO ! Excerpted from Dog Diaries: Secret Writings of the Woof Society by Betsy Byars, Betsy Duffey, Laurie Myers All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
