Pull up a cushion. Kirkus Reviews weighed in — and so did a whole pack of early readers: some librarians, some journalists, some writers, some dog lovers who picked up the book ahead of launch, all talking in their own words. Rosie left a few margin notes of her own.
“The author imparts advice as a fellow traveler rather than an all-knowing expert.”
Larrikin effectively balances entertaining anecdotes, insightful observations, and practical exercises in this humorous guide. He explains more complex concepts in plain language.
To cut through overthinking noise, he offers strategies with memorable names like the “Guilt-Free Fifteen” and self-inquiry suggestions like “Would my dog care about this?”
“The lessons, for the lack of a better word, need remembering, not learning.”
At the time of writing this, I’ve just sat down and updated one of my spreadsheets where I keep a daily log of the steps I’ve walked, the number of pages I’ve read, the total minutes I’ve studied, or been otherwise “productive”, to determine whether I’ve finally earned that bowl of ramen I’ve been craving for the past week or so (spoiler alert: I haven’t). If that isn’t telling enough that I needed this book as a quiet acknowledgement of a sense of kinship in our shared epidemic of forced productivity, I don’t know what is.
The book takes the standard of the self-help genre and makes it better by the plain virtue of not conforming entirely to it.
It remains an incredibly readable, funny, and surprisingly warm book. It nudges you toward the realization that many of the epiphanies we now chase through apps and workshops were once instinctive. The lessons, for the lack of a better word, need remembering, not learning.
This book is equal parts hilarious, heartwarming, and oddly profound. Rosie, the rescue mutt, is basically a mindfulness master with zero effort, and watching her human fumble through life while she nails presence, joy, and forgiveness had me laughing out loud more times than I can count.
Each chapter is packed with laugh-out-loud moments — frisbee faceplants, zoomies, squeaky hedgehogs — but then sneaks in real lessons about letting go, being present, and finding joy in small moments. The exercises at the end are short, simple, and actually doable, which makes it more than just a funny read — it’s genuinely useful.
What hit me hardest, though, was how honest the book gets about loneliness, depression, and love. Rosie isn’t just cute comic relief; she’s the reason her human finds footing again. I teared up and laughed on the same page more than once.
“Good for book clubs? Yes. Good for gifting? Yes.”
From extolling the virtues of naps and walks to the importance of being vulnerable and of creating community, My Dog Is Better at This Than Me treats the reader to a well-balanced menu of puppy prose, self-reflection, expert information, and small moments that can have a big impact.
One of my favorite aspects is the accessibility and achievability of its life lessons. No luring the reader into purchasing pricey classes or equipment, no shaming for wherever you’re at in your journey, no Pinterest-perfect portraits of how your life will look after reading this book — just manageable suggestions and practical goals.
A great gift for those who love dogs (and even for those who don’t!).
At 200 pages, this is a quick read, but one that is packed with insight.
Written in a way that is both reflective and humorous, it shares ten lessons learned from Rosie, a composite of the dogs the author has shared life with. Each chapter blends storytelling, contemplation and suggestions for how we could apply these lessons ourselves. What makes this book stand out for me is that it doesn’t feel like a traditional self-help guide. Instead, it invites us in through the lived experience of Rosie.
It opens with a scene that feels almost uncomfortably familiar: scrolling through mindfulness tips… while ignoring a meditation app notification… holding onto the idea of a better version of ourselves we haven’t quite stepped into yet. And beside it all, Rosie, peacefully asleep.
As the author writes near the end:
Rosie didn’t teach me anything new. She reminded me of everything I’d forgotten.
It was only after I lost Franklin that I started thinking about who I was without him and all that I was because of him.
And then, in the epilogue — The Leash Is Shorter Than You Think — came the line that undid me:
Large mixed breeds live ten to thirteen years if the math is kind. Thirteen if you’re lucky.
Franklin died just shy of his 13th birthday. I’m now over 13 months without him, and still learning what that kind of love leaves behind.
I’m glad I didn’t let my grief stop me from reading it. I recommend it for anyone — whether you’ve loved and lost an animal companion, are walking alongside one now, or simply want to be reminded of what it means to be here, fully.
Thank you B.K., Rosie (and Franklin).
“Running in a circle until you fall down is play.”
Rosie doesn’t care what anyone else thinks. She is never self-conscious or hesitant about her actions or appearance. She has her way of doing things, is never embarrassed to do them, and has a totally positive outlook about life all day, every day. And she didn’t need years of therapy to come to that point.
The most valuable lesson is on play: play without rules, goals or winning. Running in a circle until you fall down is play. Play is just fun, laughing out loud, silly fun. “It is not a luxury. It is not a reward. It is maintenance.”
Life has become so complex and goal-oriented that businesses strip these attitudes away from us and sell them back to us as advice, therapy and apps — at a large markup.
It is nonetheless a decently entertaining book.
Yes, my dog is better at this life thing than me. I wish I had what I call Daisy’s zen. She doesn’t overthink things. She doesn’t keep rehashing old memories with “I should have…” Me? I tend to overthink. I rehash events of years ago. We humans keep mental spreadsheets of our past and current inadequacies. Dogs? Nope.
The author offers up stories with real, easy to do wellness activities — for the busy person who, unlike our dogs, has trouble focusing for more than a few moments at a time.
Who knew the most grounded, emotionally steady critter in our lives is our dogs.
“Now, I walk Max at his own pace, without rushing home.”
You don’t need to own a dog to enjoy this book. But if you are a dog owner, like I am, I truly believe the insights shared by the author will hit home even more deeply for you.
Mr. Larrikin has opened my eyes and mind to STOP and realize what is important and what can wait. Because of this wonderful book, I take time for what matters and give my full, genuine attention to Maxie, as well as to my friends and family.
This book is a quick, easy read. It’s enjoyable, funny, and eye-opening.
It’s funny. It’s clever. It’s eye-opening and perspective-shifting. The insights are brilliant in their simplicity versus their very real and very large impact. The reader can learn without realizing they’re learning.
Exactly what I didn’t know I needed — a quick, fun read filled with humor, warmth, and genuinely meaningful life lessons. The kind of book you’ll return to when you need a reminder to slow down.
A profound guru for life. I absolutely loved it.
I love that the author acknowledges people without a special dog as well — and tells them to imagine their cat, or a child, or the memory of a special pet. A beautiful homage to our special relationships with our pets.
Even as a cat person, I am welcome. My cat and I read this book, together. I love the funny anecdotes (my cat laughed, too), and, was touched by the heartfelt stories, too.
It’s sweet. It’s endearing. It’s insightful. It’s ACTUALLY helpful. Gave me a new perspective with my Pup Simi and how she sees the world. I’ve never had so much fun working on mindfulness.
A great, warm and humorous book that I’ll share with fellow dog lovers.
Part self help, part love letter, part humblebrag about a dog.
This was just a great reminder to relax and think more like a dog. And also take care of our mental healing when we need to.
Traditional self help books normally end up half finished on my shelf but this one has made me do more of a mindset change.
I love the illustrations of Rosie. This book is a gem and would make a great gift.
It feels cozy and easy, yet meaningful in a delightful way.
Post a photo of your dog being deeply, profoundly philosophical — napping on a pile of laundry, staring at a wall with the intensity of a chess grandmaster, judging you from the couch for checking your phone again.
Tag us @terrapagepress. We feature our favorites every week. Your dog has been waiting for this level of recognition.
Get the free Couch Cushion Philosopher Cheat Sheet, weekly dog wisdom, and be the first to know about new books, events, and community features.
