For parents with younger children the dream of relaxing with a book during the holidays may seem too unlikely to indulge. Never fear; seasoned journalist Edward Stourton has written a book that allows you to do just this. Diary of a Dog Walker: timespent following a lead is a collection of his short and jolly writings for the Daily Telegraph. His subjects range widely from explosive sniffer dogs in Helmund Province to Patrick Bateson's pedigree breeding inquiry for the Kennel Club. Stourton even brings glamour to dog walking — rubbing shoulders with the likes of Maggie Thatcher in Battersea Park. I am indebted to him for introducing me to the term ‘furkid’ — the term for ‘pet-as-child-substitute’. And I unreservedly join him in his horror of dogs ‘who have become monomaniac in their devotion to tennis balls: they show almost no interest in anything but fetching…’
While Ed Stourton sensationalizes life with his dog, in Talk to the Tail: adventures in cat ownership and beyond journalist Tom Cox describes a life shared with animals to which many can relate. At first I was ambivalent about this man who seems to live so much of his life through his cats, all six of them. But an extraordinary picture emerges. His youth was spent with a father whose enthusiasm for the natural world shines from the pages. Badgers in the freezer and antics with a stuffed dog were unexceptional in Tom's childhood. Cox openly admits his neuroses and candidly explores his own feelings as the drama of his own life unfolds amidst his adventures with animals; and at his best he deftly avoids sentimentality. I suppose I should have seen the twist at the end of the tail (oops — tale) coming, but I didn't.
I confess a strong aversion to people calling themselves ‘Mummy’ or more rarely ‘Daddy’ in relation to their pets. A habit to which a veterinary nurse must either subscribe or have hardened themselves against. Tom Cox narrowly avoids this one by admitting that ‘I do not think of myself as my cats’ ‘father’, but since these are the only two cats that didn't get time to be significantly moulded by another owner before coming into my care, I find it hard not to view their behaviour as a sign of my parental shortcomings.’ Poet and novelist Alice Walker, on the other hand, unashamedly swamps us with ‘mommy’ throughout her book The Chicken Chronicles: a memoir. It is, however, a must for anyone with an affection for poultry. How can a book be delightful, funny and educational all at once? I have no idea, but this is just what Alice Walker pulls off. Her keen eye and guttural enjoyment of her brood combine with vignettes from her extraordinary life including an audience with the Dalai Lama and vegetarianism. Walker is a superb writer who has somehow written an enlightening light read on chickens.
Each of these well-seasoned authors allows themselves to expose a sentimental streak while writing about animals. Even the best of them at times sounds twee. Henry Nicholls' The Way of the Panda: the curious history of China's political animal, on the other hand, is not guilty of sentimentality. This journalist recounts the short but intense history of man's interaction with Asia's giant panda. Over 160 years the giant panda progressed from being a reclusive bamboo-munching member of the bear family unknown to human civilization via a hunter's trophy and then sought-after zoo specimen to being a Panda brand, more caricature than reality. Along the way Nicholl's story skims vast swathes of modern history and he suggests that the plight of the panda parallels the emergence of the conservation movement. Human's relationship with this animal has evolved from recreational brutality and political self-serving to responsible conservation; Nicholl's covers highs and lows of human nature and remains cautiously optimistic. Fascinating.
But if you want any chance of reading these books uninterrupted then don't forget to buy the children Eva Ibbotson's rollicking adventure One Dog and his Boy. My family ridiculed me as I sat gripped by this fable for our times. A child who has everything money can buy, but lacks the one thing he wants — something to love. Who can resist an 8 to 12-year-old reader being totally absorbed for hours on end? Happy reading.