No. IWhy I wrote it
"I Was Only Reading the Tail"
My dad got a yellow Lab named Biscuit the year he turned 66. That dog got him out of bed, out of the house and out of his own head for eleven years.
But for a long time, Dad didn't really understand him. He thought a wagging tail meant a happy dog. He thought a dog who stopped coming upstairs had gotten independent. He wrapped the leash around his hand.
The tail was hiding a scared dog. The stairs were his hips. And the leash put Dad on the sidewalk one wet October morning.
Every one of those lessons came the hard way. None of them had to.
This guide is everything I wish someone had handed my dad the day Biscuit came home.

