Barking at Prozac
by Buck Beagle as told to Tom McNichol
reviewed by Frankie Calvert
Published by Random House

The "Great Secret" of dog society is out. Dogs are capable of verbal communication. Buck the Beagle recently broke with canine tradition and let human author, Tom McNichol, transcribe and publish the hound's journal; thereby revealing what has long been suspected, dogs have words, and that can only mean dogs have opinions.

The first of its kind, this journal provides shocking new insight into a hound's tragic spiral into depression.

"Feeling even more weighed down by depression, the malady Churchill perceptively called My Black Dog....I was chasing the mail truck...I stopped and listened to my own bark. It sounded hollow."

We follow Buck's brave struggle through his darkest days: "Right now my depression feels like I'm carrying around a really old tennis ball. The ball is in my mouth all the time and it tastes terrible. I know I should drop it, but I can't."

But with the help of a little "prozac and bologna sandwich" (or is it?), the beagle finds the buried bone in life's garden once again.

"These are moist, meaty times."

He's back again hanging out at the dumpster with his friends, chewing over life's weighty questions like: "Where's the milk in milk bones?" And "Which are the Kibbles and which are the Bits? "Why Sit! Come! Stay!? Why not Saunter! Dance! Dream!?" Why not indeed.

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