by McCall Hoyle, Author of Nando

Countless studies show that having a dog can improve a child’s emotional and physical health.  I know this was true for me as a child. By the time I was eight years old, I had lived in Ohio, Florida, and two different parts of Georgia. I often felt frightened and alone on the first days at a new school, but I never felt alone once I stepped off the school bus at the end of the day because there was always a dog waiting for me at home. In fact, I have never lived a day without a dog or cat or horse in my life. Each of my pets has taught me something about myself and about what it means to love and be loved.  

There was Willie, the black and tan dachshund of my childhood. She was a part of my family before I was. What she lacked in obedience, she made up for in sass. Her place in our family was formative in my understanding of what responsible pet ownership could and should be and in what it means to make a lifelong commitment to a pet. We loved Willie unconditionally and never gave up on her even when she chewed, dug, and caused more than the occasional chaos.  

There was Patti, the three-legged Lab mix of my young adulthood, pictured here, and Shadow, the German Shepherd Mix of my young adulthood, not pictured here. They were dogs, especially attuned to humans and skilled problem solvers. Patti knew what family member was coming or going based on the sound of the car pulling in or out of the driveway. Shadow brought home gifts, like stuffed animals and toys from other neighbors’ yards and houses, and delivered them to me and my siblings. She would also carefully carry a bowlful of dog food from a slippery spot on the kitchen hardwoods to the carpeted living room so that her bowl wouldn’t slide as she ate. She was so intelligent and so emotionally in sync with my family. I feel certain she’ll make her way into a book someday.  

There was Jack, the eighteen-year-old Quarter Horse of my young adult life. He was one of several horses who helped me through the challenges of adolescence. He inspired my fascination with animal training. He taught me to communicate through body language and positioning. He taught me what it means to be part of a team. He let me believe that I was the leader and in control at a time in my life when I very much needed to feel like I was in control of something, even though he easily outweighed me by a thousand pounds and could have crushed me with a single kick. Jack—sweet, amiable, biddable, Jack—was and always will be the horse of my heart.  

And then, there was always a cat or two around as well. I spent many an afternoon curled up on the bed or the couch, reading a Nancy Drew book with Scruffy, our family cat. But of all the cats of my life, Jim, pictured here with Sophie, the beagle, who was the family dog of my children’s childhood, taught me and the entire family how love and trust can transform a life.  

Jim was injured and feral the first time we spotted him in the woods near our house. We originally started putting out food in hopes of luring him close enough to the house to get him to the vet. When luring him with food didn’t work, we tried to humanely trap him because we were afraid he was going to die from his injuries. We never did trap Jim. He was too smart for that, but after many weeks, he healed himself and began to spend more time near our house. Eventually, we were finally able to handle him and get him to the vet. By then, skin and fur had mostly grown over the place where there should have been the rest of a front leg and paw. Jim became my husband’s best friend, but he never fully adapted to indoor life. He preferred to come and go as he pleased, and he used his nubby front leg to knock on the door when he wanted in or out—so loudly that he sometimes frightened house guests late at night who were concerned by knocking at the front door.  

Apple and Gordon, the two golden retrievers of my heart, taught me totally different lessons and too many to list here. Gordon is the ultimate couch potato, who taught me that it’s okay to slow down and smell the roses and to not worry too much about achieving goals and accomplishing tasks. He loved spending time with me but hated going to dog shows and participating in all the dog sports I was interested in. When I decided to let him just be Gordon and do what he wanted, he passed the therapy dog test with flying colors and was a calming presence to anyone he interacted with—young or old. Apple, on the other hand, is my go-go-go girl, who has never met an activity or a person that she doesn’t like. She greets every new day with joy and an exuberant heart and greets every new activity whether it’s dock diving, agility, barn hunt, or just a good game of fetch with a zest for life. She’s a terrible guard dog. She would wag and lick the scariest of intruders, but she is a joyful presence in my home, in my heart, and in the lives of every human she meets.  

Looking back, I’m so thankful to have had parents who fostered my love of animals. I’m thankful for the animals themselves, and thankful to Shadow Mountain Publishing for helping me to share the stories about the real and imagined animals that I love with the world.  

My new book, Nando, is especially near and dear to my heart—not just because Nando is such a good boy with such a big border collie heart but also because I can so relate to Levi, the twelve-year-old boy in the book. Like me, Levi spent his childhood moving from one place to another. Feeling lonely and afraid in a small rural town where he doesn’t know anyone, he could really benefit from the friendship of a good dog. Maybe if the two can survive the tropical storm that threw them together in the first place, Nando might be able to do just that for Levi.  

My great hope is that you will enjoy reading Nando’s and Levi’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it and that you will have time in the coming days to sit with a good dog and appreciate the physical and emotional benefits that come from caring for and living with a four-legged best friend.   

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