This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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Next year, when Dog Show time comes round, we would like to see a wholly new brand of showmanship introduced into the Garden... A dog should be made to work for his ribbon, each breed in his own wise. Pointers should have to point, Shepherds should be required to herd a band of sheep from the east goal to the west goal. Poodles should be required to jump through a paper hoop, not just follow Mrs. Sherman Hoyt around the ring. English bull terriers should be made to count up to ten, retrievers retrieve rubber ducks, Scotties chew up old shoes. Greyhounds should be put over the high hurdles. St. Bernards carry brandy to anyone in the audience who feels weak, preferably us. Beagles would jolly well have to bealge, or shut up. How about it, dogs—are you dogs or mice?

WHAT'S E.B. WHITE ON DOGS ABOUT?
This is a collection of essays, articles, letters, and other brief notes written by E.B. White about dogs. In other words, it's what the title says. Most of the entries are very short—1-2 pages, some are a paragraph long—but (especially toward the end), we get some longer letters and essays.

Most are about White's dogs—particularly Fred, a beloved dachshund. But there are pieces about dog shows and other dogs, too.

A FEW HIGHLIGHTS
This is going to be tough, there are just too many options. Something about Dog Shows brought out the best and/or snarkiest in White, and are possibly my favorite moments.

There's a point where he describes how a dachshund climbs up and down stairs and the optimum height for said stairs. I don't know about the height, but he described perfectly how our pug uses the stairs and it's something I'm going to borrow. He had, over the course of his life, multiple dachshunds and his affection for the breed is evident. But you can tell that Fred had a big impact on White—both during and after his death. The piece White wrote after his death is possibly the highlight of the book.

There's a long (for this book, anyway) piece about taking a dog on its first coon hunting trip—it's just wonderful. It's tonally different from most of the book, which probably helps it stand out—but it didn't need much help.

SOME NON-DOG MOMENTS
Not everything in this book is focused on dogs but involves them tangentially. The best of these pieces are about contemporary politics—I knew some of the names, but not all of them, but that didn't change things really.

There's an essay from The New Yorker that I'd probably have paid half the purchase price of the book for—it's called "Khrushchev and I (A Study in Similarities)." Some newspaper published a feature on the Soviet premier, and from what I can tell, it was the puffiest puff piece around. White takes some parts of that feature to show how much he and Khrushchev are alike—they're devoted to their families, like walking in the woods, and so on. The last paragraph points out some important differences, too—size, amount of hair left on their heads, the fact that White has never threatened to bury America...the usual differences. And just as he has you chuckling in a different way than he has for a few pages, the last line or two are somber and sober. Fantastic stuff.

SO, WHAT DID I THINK ABOUT E.B. WHITE ON DOGS?
Overall, this was a great collection. It does feel like Martha White hit "Ctrl-F" on an electronic version of everything her grandfather had written and pasted the entire contents of that search into this book. Some of the letters contain one sentence about a dog—not always that cleverly written or interesting—and I had to wonder why she bothered, outside of a drive for thoroughness.

I don't recommend reading too much of this at once—but maybe that's just me, my attention waned after too many entries. But if you're familiar with White's non-children's writing, or have the desire to be, and enjoy reading about dogs (and a couple of cats, and a squirrel or two)—you'll enjoy this.

Speaking of his non-children's writing—in her note to the reader describing the impetus for the book, and their approach to editing, keeping the pieces "largely as they appeared originally, not attempting to mesh the inconsistencies." (including some phrasing I don't think you'd get away with today). Martha White says,

The letters...are more casual in style and my Tillbury House editor was surprised to find that the co-author of The Elements of Style did not always get his that and which correct, especially in the early years. Our hands-off policy nearly killed her.

I feel for that editor and can't help but chuckle about E.B. White's divergence from his own book.

All in all, this book delivers what the title promises, and if that's up your alley, you'll enjoy it. I sure did. ( )

This isn't a novel, just a collection of the authors notes on dogs: his personal letters, articles, basically anything that mentioned his dogs. It's cute, and he has a witty writing style, but nothing worth writing home about. It's interesting in a historical sense, seeing how people took care of their dogs in mid 20th century life, but wow, I'm glad I didn't know them personally. what passed for "good dog care" doesn't cut it in the 21st century. ( )

White's granddaughter Martha has combed through her grandfather's oeuvre for the 'best of' his writing on dogs. It's an assortment, therefore, of letters and the occasional essay which might be nominally about something else (say Khrushchev) but includes portraits of one of his dogs. Usually Fred. Fred was a larger than life dachsund who ruled supreme for thirteen or so years in the White menage and was, in that inexplicable way, sorely missed, even though in life he was usually "up to something"--meaning, causing trouble. Most dogs learn after one or maybe two bouts with a porcupine to let it be. Not Fred. What comes across though is that White reveled in studying, explaining, and mythologizing his dogs. It makes you realize that "having character" means "being difficult". To any lover of E.B.W.'s prose and to dogs, this book is a win/win. A pleasure. ****1/2 ( )

Lovely. White's wry, tolerant observations of his dogs and their vagaries, of the events on his farm and in the world, are amusing and thought-provoking. As the title indicates, this is E.B. White, writing about his dogs (also pigs, children, politicians, etc.), mostly in letters to various people and in pieces for the New Yorker, from 1929 to 1984. What could be better? A few of my favorites are “A Week in November,” “Death of a Pig,” “Letter to the Collector of Internal Revenue, Maine,” “Bedfellows,” and “Khrushchev and I (A Study in Similarities).” Some of these pieces I've seen before, in other collections, but they're worth rereading, especially newly set among letters and scattered photos. A new favorite. ( )