PreS-Gr 2-The typical pet picture book is turned on its ear in this witty and charming story. This independent pooch proudly takes care of himself: "I curl up at my own feet. Sometimes, if I'm not comfortable, I tell myself to roll over." He scoffs at the pets who follow commands and demonstrates how he throws and fetches his own stick, "it's fun." His life is pretty perfect...except for the itch on his back that he just can't reach. When a friendly person scratches the itch for him, then follows him home, the little canine can't help but adopt him. Young readers will get a kick out of the reversed human-pet roles, which are cheerfully and animatedly illustrated in pen and "hacked" kids' marker and colored with watercolor and crayon. The cartoonlike drawings perfectly illuminate the life and attitudes of this canine character, from his contented chewing on a slipper to his joyful, bowlegged run during a game of fetch. Minimal text makes this a great read-aloud for listeners with short attention spans, while the humor will tickle older kids and grown-ups.-Marian McLeod, Convent of the Sacred Heart, Greenwich, CT (c) Copyright 2014. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

"I'm my own dog. Nobody owns me. I own myself." This independent, self-starter narrator looks down on ordinary pups, the ones owned by people. This dog will not sit for anyone, even if a bone is the reward. But one day, when his legs prove to be too short to reach an itchy spot in the middle of his back, our canine actually lets someone scratch it. That someone is a mustachioed man who scratches the dog's back and then follows him home. Soon the dog is taking his "good boy" on walks, teaching him about chasing squirrels, and showing him how to throw sticks. Stein's gestural watercolors are the perfect foil for the droll text. As the story unfolds, young readers will begin to understand the humorous tension between what the text says and what the pictures show (and what they know to be true about dogs and their owners). When the dog complains about having to "clean up after them," one can imagine a child laughing at the scene of spilled ice cream. Dog-loving parents will be reading this one over and over--and will never tire of it. robin l. smith (c) Copyright 2014. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

It's an oft-made joke: Who is the person in this relationship and who is the pet? Stein makes amusing, adorable hay from the idea of an independent doggie who doesn't need a person well, not at first. Nobody owns me, crows the confident canine. I own myself. Indeed, he rolls over when he wants to, throws his own stick to fetch, and greets himself in a mirror each day, saying, I AM A GOOD DOG. There's this itch on his back, though, that he can't quite reach, and so one day he lets a man scratch it. After the man follows the dog home, the dog goes ahead and gets a leash: How else am I supposed to lead him around? He then teaches the guy how to find squirrels, how to play the stick game, and more. Stein's pen, marker, and watercolor figures are endearingly slapdash and exude warmth; when the dog says, I've grown attached to the little fella, the duo's affection for each other is palpable. A fitting celebration of opinionated pups everywhere.--Kraus, Daniel Copyright 2010 Booklist

The cheery, two-fanged grin of Stein's bulldog testifies to his supreme confidence: "Nobody owns me. I own myself." In the first half of the book, Stein (Dinosaur Kisses) develops the idea of canine freedom as the bulldog relaxes alone on his rug, a well-chewed slipper beside him: "Sometimes, if I'm not comfortable, I tell myself to roll over. And I do." But when the bulldog finds a human who's willing to scratch the one place on his back he can't reach, he finds himself strangely affected: "The little guy followed me home. I felt sorry for him." Soon the bulldog and human come to an accommodation. "Between you and me," the bulldog confides, "I'm his best friend." As final, quiet proof of devotion, Stein draws the man with his arm around the bulldog, his tie loosened, his eyes closed contentedly, happy to wear the chewed-up slippers. Stein's role reversal is deliciously fun, and what makes it sing is the bulldog's confiding tone, and the way Stein telegraphs a range of emotions-exasperation, resignation, and pure joy-with a few bold lines. Ages 4-8. Agent: Rebecca Sherman, Writers House. (Aug.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

I HAD TROUBLE sitting down to write this review of three funny and appealing picture books about dogs because my cat refused to get off the keyboard. Even now she sits too close for comfort, flicking her tail resentfully across the screen. As a child I learned all sorts of things from picture books. I learned about family and friendship, losing a tooth, moving house, and of course, about cats and dogs. I learned that dogs are slobbery but loyal and can rescue children trapped in wells, and that if you somehow become separated from them they will cross thousands of miles on bleeding paws to reach you. Cats are prim, selfish and full of disdain, but soft to pet. Cats are clever, dogs are goofy. Cats eat mice. Dogs eat bones. Oh, and cats are girls and dogs are boys. Even when they're not. "Mrs. Poodle admired her new puppies," begins "Gaston," written by Kelly DiPucchio. "Fi-Fi, Foo-Foo, Ooh-La-La and Gaston. Would you like to see them again?" Yes, I would, and so will readers, surely, because they are adorable. Christian Robinson's seductive illustrations are painted in acrylic with a striking palette, visible brush strokes and retro details. The mostly white dogs have expressive features using minimal marks. Of the four puppies, Gaston stands out. Unlike his dainty teacup-size sisters, he keeps growing. As their mother teaches them how to be good poodles, "to sip. Never slobber! ... To yip. Never yap!" Gaston works hard to overcome his boisterous urges and is praised for his efforts. When spring arrives, proud Mrs. Poodle takes her puppies to the park, where they encounter another family: Mrs. Bulldog, with her own puppies, Rocky, Ricky, Bruno and ... Antoinette. Both families realize there's been a mix-up and the odd ones out switch places. Once back home, however, neither pup quite fits in with the new siblings. They look alike, but they feel different. The next morning everyone is eager to return to the park to trade back. The dogs all become friends and the dainty poodles learn how to be tough from the burly bulldogs, and in turn teach the bulldogs how to be tender. And in the end, years later, Gaston and Antoinette fall in love and teach their own endearingly mismatched puppies to be "whatever they wanted to be." As an adult, I'm mildly confused by the lessons to be learned from "Gaston." The book seems to be about belonging, and about love outweighing differences. And yet it's also about assimilation, about the power of nurture over nature. If you go looking for them, there are also gender and class stereotypes at issue. (I suspect the decision to set the period as midcentury was more than just an aesthetic one.) I don't think children will have any such reservations, though. The only thing they may scratch their collective heads over - as I did - was why, on the title spread, Mrs. Poodle is being wheeled in a pram by a human doctor while Mrs. Bulldog looks out from a cardboard box. Is this the scene of the puppy switch? Are the two mothers giving birth in separate but unequal, breed-assigned beds in a human hospital? Am I overthinking this? I LAUGHED SEVERAL times and tried not to overthink David Ezra Stein's "I'm My Own Dog." The dog in question is proudly independent. Nobody owns him, he tells us. He owns himself. "I work like a dog all day. When I get home, I fetch my own slippers. I curl up at my own feet. Sometimes, if I'm not comfortable, I tell myself to roll over. And I do." It's a good life, or so he seems bent on convincing himself, except for one itchy spot in the middle of his back that he just can't reach. One day he lets a man scratch it, and "the little guy" follows him home. Our dog feels sorry for him, and in a sweet and funny role reversal, he keeps the man as a pet, getting a leash that he uses to lead him around, teaching him the stick-throwing game, and in the process becoming his best friend. It's not all wonderful; there are compromises here as in any relationship, but ultimately it's an ode to the transformative joy of companionship. The illustrations appear hastily drawn, but in a final note Stein describes a rather complicated process involving "a kids' marker hacked to dispense India ink," a photocopier and liquid watercolor. THE BRIGHT, CARTOONY, colored-pencil drawings in Chris Gall's "Dog vs. Cat" are stuffed full of visual jokes. Dog and Cat do not get along but are forced to share a bedroom, and the next 20 pages are given over to odd-couple gags as the two assert their personalities and revel in antagonism. It's an incoming freshman's dorm room nightmare: Dog's side of the room is an unruly jumble of unwashed socks, empty cans, sporting paraphernalia and chewed bones, swilling around an enormous, hideous blue recliner. Cat's side is meticulously organized with identical black suits on hangers and neatly arranged grooming products. You just know his books are alphabetized. Cat and Dog try to approach the situation maturely, but before long they're at war. There are disgusting details involving hairballs and a litter box, which will please kids no end. A barricade is built, a truce is achieved and Cat and Dog actually begin to miss each other. Cat sends Dog a peace offering, a handwritten letter folded into a paper plane and sent over the barricade, and Dog's balled-up response comes flying back. (Which pretty much describes the respective letters from summer camp I just received from my daughter and son. My daughter enclosed a drawing. My son enclosed two used Q-Tips.) A final twist involves the arrival of a baby who throws their room into chaos. Dog and Cat bond over the common enemy, working together to build a suitably elaborate new house outdoors. The entire time I've been writing this, my cat has been glaring at me and now, as I reach to pet her, she stalks off indignantly. I'm thinking of getting a dog. SOPHIE BLACKALL is the author and illustrator, most recently, of "The Baby Tree."

An independent dog teaches his human a few tricks in this amusing role reversal.Told from the dog's self-assured point of view, the story makes it clear this canine bows to no one. He likes his life of fetching slippers (his own), playing catch by himself and licking the reflection in the mirror. But when his back has an itch that can't be reached and he lets a human scratch it, life changes. The human follows him home, and what can the pooch do but adopt him? Despite the hard work of training and cleaning up after a human, the canine secretly admits it's all worth it, as the two become best friends. Appealing pen, ink and watercolor illustrations, done in a primary pastel palette, convey the dog's sassy, ultimately warm personality. The artist's use of marker is reminiscent of a Chinese brush paintingwhere each stroke skillfully conveys an energy or intention about the character or setting. Fresh and lively, Stein infuses each spread with spontaneity.A charming person-as-pet story that will leave dog lovers chuckling. (Picture book. 2-4) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.