Pure Joy: The Dogs We Love
Danielle Steel
Language: English
Pages: 176
ISBN: 0345543750
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER
In this moving memoir, Danielle Steel tells the story of how she met a dog the size of a mouse with a personality that could light up an entire room. From Minnie’s arrival at home in San Francisco to clothes-shopping jaunts in Paris, her adventures provide the perfect backdrop for a heartfelt look at the magic that dogs bring to our lives, and how they become part of the family, making indelible memories.
We meet Steel’s childhood pug, James; and Elmer, the basset hound who was steadfastly at her side in her struggling days as a young writer; Sweet Pea—unveiled in a Tiffany box for a dog-loving husband—and all those lucky dogs who shared a household of nine children, other canines, and one potbellied pig. As she reflects on the beloved pets who have brought joy, and sometimes chaos, to her home through the years, Steel also shares her thoughts on the trials and tribulations of bringing a new dog into a household, the challenges of housebreaking and compatibility, the losses we feel forever.
Filled with colorful characters (human and otherwise), delightful photographs, practical wisdom drawn from long experience, and brimming with warmth and insight on every page, Pure Joy is a love letter to this special relationship—and one of the most charming books yet from the incomparable Danielle Steel.
Praise for Pure Joy
“The mega-selling [Danielle Steel] shares happy memories of her numerous dogs. . . . Steel brings readers into her life, recounting delightful moments with her many dogs, the dogs her children have owned, and her newest friend, Minnie, her tiny Chihuahua. . . . Plainly told with honesty and affection, these stories are an affirmation of the timeless connection between humans and their canine companions.”—Kirkus Reviews
“Steel doesn’t just love to write blockbusters; she loves dogs. Here’s her valentine to all the dogs she’s raised (looking to be mostly of the small sort), with lots of black-and-white photos throughout. A heady commercial combo.”—Library Journal
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it to my assistant, who loves her and she loves him, and he had noticed the spots too. But since Minnie was hanging out in the kitchen, having something spill on her could happen. We were puzzled. But the day after, the café au lait spots were darker, and there were more of them, and over the next few weeks, suddenly Miss Minnie had acquired a whole bunch of small beige spots, dusted across her side and part of her back. They still looked like pale coffee spots, but now we knew that they weren’t
opened my refrigerator. I would come home from work (as an advertising copywriter) to find Elmer sprawled out in the kitchen, exhausted after eating everything in the fridge. I finally had to put a gate on the kitchen, or he would have eaten me out of house and home, but I loved him. Bassets are basically hunting dogs, so the minute you open a door, they take off like a shot. He ran away dozens of times, and I would find him halfway across town. Another not-so-charming trait is that they “bay,”
princess, happily getting spoiled, with her Paris wardrobe and everyone doting on her. Maybe I will get another Chihuahua one day, but not now. And if I did, just like with Minnie, I would have to fall in love. (It was a sign of major maturity and restraint that I turned down the puppy I was offered yesterday.) I never expected to, but I find I really like this breed. They’re tiny, but they’re hardy and spunky and have wonderful personalities. And they’re very smart. I suspect some may be barky,
we’re at the hotel in New York, or even at home. And she pulled a disappearing act on me one time, when I looked everywhere in the hotel room for her and couldn’t find her, and thought she’d run away when someone opened the door, and I found her happily asleep in her bag. As much as we travel, it’s now a familiar world for her. And I have discovered that Chihuahuas like small spaces. Years ago my daughter Victoria called me from New York in a panic. Her teacup Chihuahua had vanished. She had
hits. I had the same feeling I’d had about Greta all those years before, when she’d arrived uninvited from Ohio, with her funny face and class-three malocclusion underbite. I was in love, which was what I had said I wanted, regardless of breed. If I wanted to fall in love, this was it. And how could I fall in love with a dog? Don’t ask me how, but I did. My daughter Victoria was with me, who encouraged me to get her, and at least two of my other daughters had warned me that I didn’t need another