Olivia: Alright, Jackson, I'm going to say the title of today's book, and you give me your most brutally honest, one-sentence roast of what you think it's about. Ready? Jackson: Ready. Olivia: Some Dogs I Have Known. Jackson: Oh, that's easy. "My dog is a better therapist than my actual therapist, and also, here are 75 pictures." Olivia: You are not entirely wrong. But there's a layer of beautiful, hilarious chaos underneath that you're missing. We're talking about the book Some Dogs I Have Known by Julie Klam. And what's fascinating is that Klam isn't just a dog lover; she's a New York Times bestselling author and an Emmy-nominated writer for VH1's Pop-Up Video. Jackson: Hold on. Pop-Up Video? The show with the little trivia bubbles that was the backbone of my middle school existence? That's a wild credential for a heartfelt dog memoir. Olivia: Exactly! She brings this sharp, witty, pop-culture-savvy storytelling lens to the whole 'my dog is my guru' trope. And her story really begins when she felt her own life needed a major rewrite, a new narrative. She was feeling completely stuck. Jackson: And I'm guessing a dog was the plot twist she didn't see coming. Olivia: You have no idea. It started with a dream.

Olivia: So, picture Julie Klam in her thirties, living in Manhattan, working a part-time job she doesn't love, and feeling totally adrift. She's so desperate for direction that she's treating everything as a sign from the universe. Jackson: Oh, I've been there. The universe told me to order pizza three times last week. It's a very talkative universe. Olivia: Well, her universe sent her a dream about a very specific Boston terrier named Otto. She wakes up convinced this isn't just a dream; it's a directive. She needs to find this dog. She starts researching, calls a breeder who tells her about Boston terrier rescue, and finds a young male who needs a home. His name is Buddy, but she knows his real name is Otto. Jackson: So she just... drives to Pennsylvania and picks up a random dog based on a dream? That sounds both incredibly impulsive and deeply romantic. Olivia: It was! And she brings this dog, now officially Otto, back to her tiny New York apartment, thinking this will shake up her world. And it does, but not in the way she expects. She thought a dog would help her meet a guy. Instead, the dog becomes the relationship. He forces her to have a routine, to get out of her apartment, to be responsible for another living being. Jackson: Okay, but a dog making you meet Kevin Bacon, which I see in the notes here, feels like a New York City fever dream. For most people, doesn't a dog just mean more responsibility, less sleep, and a permanently fur-covered couch? Olivia: It does mean all of those things! And the Kevin Bacon encounter was just a funny side effect of walking her dog in a dog-friendly neighborhood. The real point was that Otto cracked her world open. She started talking to neighbors, she found a community at the dog run. She writes, "It was the best relationship I’d ever been in." And this is coming from a single woman in a city of millions. Jackson: That’s a powerful statement. But some readers have criticized her for being a bit too indulgent with her dogs. Is this where that starts? The dog can do no wrong? Olivia: I think it's less about indulgence and more about learning selflessness for the first time. She says her relationship with Otto taught her that if you love someone, you're willing to compromise. You'll skip a night out because they're scared of a TV show with a barking dog, or you'll make roast chicken more often than you'd like. For her, it wasn't about spoiling a dog; it was about rewiring her own brain to prioritize another's needs. It was a practice run for all the other big loves in her life. Jackson: Huh. So the dog wasn't the destination, it was the training ground. I can see that. But it sounds like she learned the lesson so well that she decided to scale up the difficulty. Dramatically.

Olivia: Oh, she scales up. She goes from being a dog owner to a volunteer for Northeast Boston Terrier Rescue. And this is where the book moves from a sweet story about one dog to a raw, unflinching look at the world of animal rescue. And it is messy. Jackson: So she learns to care for one dog, and like many of us, immediately thinks, 'I should do this professionally, but for hundreds of dogs!' right? How did that go? Olivia: It went as chaotically as you'd imagine. She decides to foster, and one of her first experiences is with a dog named Hank. The owner surrenders him, claiming he's a sweet, housebroken puppy. The reality? Hank is a tiny, demonic force of nature. He's not housebroken, he flies around the apartment like a pinball, and he bites. Hard. He bites her, her husband, even her young daughter. Jackson: Whoa, hold on. He bit her kid? That's where the story stops for a lot of people. You can't have a dog that bites a child. What did she do? Olivia: She was horrified. This is the gritty reality the book doesn't shy away from. She calls the head of the rescue, Sheryl, in a panic, describing the "Horrors of Hank." And Sheryl's response is just three words: "Welcome to rescue." Jackson: That's chilling. It implies this is just... normal. That owners lie, that dogs come with deep, sometimes dangerous, issues. That sounds less like volunteering and more like emotional warfare. Olivia: It is. And it gets even more complicated. She gets involved with a man named John who needs to surrender six Boston terriers. He's long-winded, emotional, and his life is a mess. Julie finds herself becoming his amateur therapist, listening to his problems for hours, just to get the dogs to safety. She realizes that the sweet little pups she wants to help are often attached to humans who need rescuing themselves. Jackson: That sounds completely draining. How do you not burn out? How do you set boundaries when you're dealing with a story that's designed to break your heart? Olivia: That's the core lesson of this part of the book. She learns that you have to set boundaries, or you'll go crazy. You can't solve all the humans' problems. But you also can't let their problems stop you from helping the animals who are caught in the middle. It's this constant, difficult balancing act. It’s not about finding a perfect, harmonious state; it’s about learning to function within the chaos. It’s about keeping the yin from strangling the yang, as one of the chapter titles puts it. Jackson: It’s a tough, thankless job. And I imagine that emotional toll gets tested in the most extreme ways possible. Because when you open your heart that much, you're also opening yourself up to incredible pain.

Olivia: Exactly. And that emotional toll gets tested in the most brutal way imaginable. Because with rescue, and with any dog, you're signing up for eventual heartbreak. The book confronts this head-on. After a while, she fosters a terrified little dog named Rascal, whom she renames Moses. Jackson: And let me guess, she falls completely in love with him. Olivia: Head over heels. He was so scared at first, he'd just hide and shake. But with patience and love, he blossoms into this confident, affectionate companion. She writes that she experienced a type of "dog love" for him that was a category all its own, separate from her love for her husband or her daughter. And then, the unthinkable happens. Right before she's supposed to leave for a book tour, the dog walker is out with Moses, his harness slips, and he bolts into the street. He's hit by a car. Jackson: Oh, no. That's just devastating. Olivia: It's gut-wrenching. And she has to manage her own crushing grief while trying to explain this sudden, violent loss to her young daughter, Violet. It speaks directly to that feeling so many pet owners have, that feeling a friend of hers voiced: "The hardest part is that most people don’t understand . . . it wasn’t just a dog." Jackson: Wow, that's so true. It's a unique kind of grief that society doesn't always make space for. How does she even come back from that? It would make me want to wall off my heart and never get another dog again. Olivia: And many people do. But the book's argument is that you do come back from it, because the love is worth the pain. And the proof comes in the form of another rescue, Dahlia. Dahlia is an ancient, sick-looking dog who is dumped at a shelter. Julie takes her in as a hospice foster, thinking she's just giving this old girl a comfortable place to die. Jackson: That’s incredibly kind, but also so sad. Olivia: But here's the twist. Dahlia starts acting strangely. She's nesting, she's hoarding food. The vet thinks it's a symptom of Cushing's disease. But one morning, Julie wakes up to find that Dahlia wasn't preparing to die. She was preparing to give birth. She has two tiny, perfect puppies in the middle of their New York City apartment. Jackson: Come on! That's a movie plot. An old dog on death's door brings new life. Olivia: It's an incredible, true story. And it becomes this beautiful symbol of resilience and hope. It shows that life can surprise you just when you think you have it all figured out. This experience solidifies the book's ultimate message about love and loss. Klam concludes with a quote from a wise "dog woman" who told her that dogs choose us, and in doing so, they give us the end of their lives. She writes, "I know I’d rather have any amount of time with a dog I love and suffer the mourning than not have the time at all."

Jackson: That’s a powerful way to frame it. It’s not a transaction; it’s a gift. A very temporary, very furry, very wonderful gift. Olivia: It really is. The whole book is a journey. Julie Klam starts out thinking a dog will fix her life, that Otto will be the key to her own happiness. But what she learns is that there are no easy fixes or secrets. The dogs don't offer a simple path to happiness. They offer a crash course in being human. Jackson: They drag you through the mud, literally and figuratively. They teach you about responsibility when you don't want it, about unconditional love when you feel unlovable, and about grief when you're not ready for it. Olivia: Exactly. The dogs are the catalysts, but the growth is all hers. She learns to be a partner, a mother, a giver, and a resilient person not by reading a self-help book, but by cleaning up messes, setting boundaries with difficult people, and holding a paw during the final moments. Jackson: It makes you look at your own pets differently. They're not just companions; they're these little, furry agents of chaos and growth. Olivia: They really are. And that makes us wonder, for everyone listening, what's the most profound or unexpected lesson a pet has ever taught you? We'd love to hear your stories. Find us on our socials and share. It’s a conversation worth having. Jackson: Absolutely. This was a fantastic look at a book that’s so much more than just cute dog stories. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.