by John Grogan
Still, as a family, we were not quite whole.
One morning in late summer I came down for breakfast, and Jenny handed me a section of the newspaper folded over to expose an inside page. “You’re not going to believe this,” she said.
Once a week, our local paper featured a dog from a rescue shelter that needed a home. The profile always featured a photograph of the dog, its name, and a brief description, written as if the dog were speaking in the first person, making its own best case. It was a gimmick the shelter people used to make the animals seem charming and adorable. We always found the doggie résumés amusing, if for no other reason than the effort made to put the best shine on unwanted animals that had already struck out at least once.
On this day, staring up from the page at me was a face I instantly recognized. Our Marley. Or at least a dog that could have been his identical twin. He was a big male yellow Lab with an anvil head, furrowed brow, and floppy ears cocked back at a comical angle. He stared directly into the camera lens with a quivering intensity that made you just know that seconds after the picture was snapped he had knocked the photographer to the ground and tried to swallow the camera. Beneath the photo was the name: Lucky. I read his sales pitch aloud. This is what Lucky had to say about himself: “Full of zip! I would do well in a home that is quiet while I am learning how to control my energy level. I have not had an easy life so my new family will need to be patient with me and continue to teach me my doggie manners.”
“My God,” I exclaimed. “It’s him. He’s back from the dead.”
“Reincarnation,” Jenny said.
It was uncanny how much Lucky looked like Marley and how much the description fit him, too. Full of zip? Problem controlling energy? Working on doggie manners? Patience required? We were well familiar with those euphemisms, having used them ourselves. Our mentally unbalanced dog was back, young and strong again, and wilder than ever. We both stood there, staring at the newspaper, not saying anything.
“I guess we could go look at him,” I finally said.
“Just for the fun of it,” Jenny added.
“Right. Just out of curiosity.”
“What’s the harm of looking?”
“No harm at all,” I agreed.
“Well then,” she said, “why not?”
“What do we have to lose?”
Acknowledgments
N o man is an island, authors included, and I would like to thank the many people whose support helped me bring this book to fruition. At the top of the list, let me start by expressing my deep appreciation to my agent, the talented and indefatigable Laurie Abkemeier of DeFiore and Company, who believed in this story and my ability to tell it even before I fully did myself. I am convinced that without her unflagging enthusiasm and coaching, this book would still be locked in my head. Thank you, Laurie, for being my confidante, my advocate, my friend.
My heartfelt thanks to my wonderful editor, Mauro DiPreta, whose judicious and intelligent editing made this a better book, and to the always cheerful Joelle Yudin, who kept track of all the details. Thanks also to Michael Morrison, Lisa Gallagher, Seale Ballenger, Ana Maria Allessi, Christine Tanigawa, Richard Aquan, and everyone in the HarperCollins group for falling in love with Marley and his story, and making my dream a reality.
I owe a debt to my editors at the Philadelphia Inquirer for rescuing me from my self-imposed exile from the newspaper business that I love so much, and for giving me the priceless gift of my own column in one of America’s greatest newspapers.
I am beyond grateful to Anna Quindlen whose early enthusiasm and encouragement meant more to me than she will ever know.
A hearty thank-you to Jon Katz, who gave me valuable advice and feedback, and whose books, especially A Dog Year: Twelve Months, Four Dogs, and Me, inspired me.
To Jim Tolpin, a busy lawyer who always found the time to give me free and sage advice. To Pete and Maureen Kelly, whose companionship—and cottage overlooking Lake Huron—was the tonic I needed. To Ray and JoAnn Smith for being there when I needed them most, and to Timothy R. Smith for the beautiful music that made me cry. To Digger Dan for the steady supply of smoked meats, and to my siblings, Marijo, Timothy, and Michael Grogan, for the cheerleading. To Maria Rodale for trusting me with a beloved family heirloom and helping me find my balance. To all those friends and colleagues too numerous to mention for their kindness, support, and good wishes…thank you all.
I could not have even contemplated this project without my mother, Ruth Marie Howard Grogan, who taught me early on the joy of a good tale well told and shared her gift for storytelling with me. With sadness, I remember and honor my biggest fan of all, my father Richard Frank Grogan, who died on December 23, 2004, as this book was going into production. He did not get the chance to read it, but I was able to sit with him one night as his health failed and read the few opening chapters aloud, even making him laugh. That smile, I will remember forever.
I owe a huge debt to my lovely and patient wife, Jenny, and my children, Patrick, Conor, and Colleen, for allowing me to trot them out into the public spotlight, sharing the most intimate of details. You guys are good sports, and I love you beyond words.
Finally (yes, last once again), I need to thank that pain-in-the-ass four-legged friend of mine, without whom there would be no Marley & Me. He’d be happy to know that his debt for all the shredded mattresses, gouged drywall, and swallowed valuables is now officially satisfied in full.
About the Author
J ohn Grogan is the Pennsylvania columnist for the Philadelphia Inquirer and the former editor in chief of Rodale’s Organic Gardening magazine. Previously he worked as a reporter, bureau chief, and columnist at newspapers in Michigan and Florida. His work has won numerous awards, including the National Press Club’s Consumer Journalism Award. He lives on a wooded hillside in Pennsylvania with his wife, Jenny, three children, and a surprisingly calm Labrador retriever named Gracie.
Credits
Jacket design by Chika Azuma
Copyright
MARLEY & ME. COPYRIGHT © 2005 by John Grogan. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of PerfectBound™.
PerfectBound™ and the PerfectBound™ logo are trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.
Microsoft Reader October 2005 ISBN 0-06-082705-X
Grogan, John, 1957–
Marley & me: life and love with the world’s worst dog / John Grogan. 1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN-13: 978-0-06-081708-4
ISBN-10: 0-06-081708-9
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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