I didn’t want to read this book. The truth is, I’m the kind of dog love that Grogan complains about. You know—the kind that looks down her nose, with a maddeningly superior air, every time your dog misbehaves. The kind that’s sure that if she owned your dog, he’d be much better trained.

Of course I realize that was a terribly hypocritical attitude for me to bring to this book, especially considering that I don’t even have a dog. Just a few episodes of The Dog Whisperer on TiVo, and the prideful conviction that I’d be great with dogs, if I ever tried.

But even though I harbored some prejudice at our first meeting, I soon found that I couldn’t resist Marley. I was drawn in against my will. Deep down, I still suspect that Marley would have behaved beautifully if given proper training (and a daily eight-hour run). But despite the hair-raising stories of Marley’s behavior, all the characteristics that make people love dogs—the loyalty, the enthusiasm, the joyful exuberance—shine through every page. He might have been the world’s worst dog, but he’s the kind of dog you never forget. Marley was the kind of dog that makes you glad to be a pet owner—or makes you want to become one.

Grogan reminisces through the pages of his dog’s life, from a puppy hood of stealing food off plates to an old age of crawling up the stairs, despite a painful limp, just for the pleasure of sleeping on the floor by his master’s bed. You don’t have to be a dog lover to fall in love with Marley; he’s as rambunctious and disobedient as a two-year-old, and every bit as lovable. He leaps through the pages of Grogan’s book with all the delicacy of a freight train. There were times, reading this book, when I couldn’t resist a wince, envisioning my own garage being torn apart the way the Grogan’s was by Marley’s antics. I shuddered at the thought of coming home to not-so-fragrant presents from my pet scattered all over the floor (and I was reminded of a few times I was blessed with that experience, thanks to my old roommate’s overly territorial lab). But despite Marley’s bad habits and many untreatable flaws, by the time I finished the book, I was blinking back tears. He may have been the world’s worst dog, and I certainly hope that I never have a dog like him. But despite all that (and despite the fact that I only ever met him through the pages of Grogan’s book), I’m going to miss Marley.

For those of us who live in the suburbs or the city, those of us who don’t have pets, and those of us whose only regular interaction with nature is an occasional walk in the park, it’s easy to ignore the part of our humanity that longs to connect with the rest of creation. But the longing is still there, the ache of the bruising we got from the fall. We weren’t meant to be so alone, so separate from the rest of creation. Stories from The Chronicles of Narnia to Dr. Doolittle remind us of our hunger to communicate with animals. For dog owners, there are moments that give a glimpse of what it would feel like to have that hunger satisfied. There are moments when a pet seems almost human, when you feel that he’s talking to you, and you’re sure he understands every word you say. Moments like that are a little taste of the day when the animals will talk again, when the lion will lie down with the lamb—and with the man.

For those who do have dogs, that taste of heaven is a part of daily life—along with picking up dog poop and rescuing half-eaten cakes. But if you’re not quite ready for that level of responsibility, there’s a chance to vicariously experience the miraculous relationship between a dog and his owner in Marley & Me.