We read books about dogs for the same reason we have dogs in our lives: we just can’t get enough of them. (At least I can’t.) And in this touching and memorable collection of dog essays, “The Best Dog in the World,” those of us with dogs might just think that our beloved dogs belong in there as well, because the best dog in the world is usually our own dog. The essays are expertly edited by Alice Hoffman, who in the Introduction, shares her touching story about Houdini, her beloved dog. And she writes what all dog parents know, “I still don’t think I was worthy of him.”

Be warned: some of the essays deal with the loss of our beloved companions. Some authors’ grief at the passing of their much-loved dog served to magnify my own heartbreak at the loss of so many of my own cherished dogs, and especially the two dogs dearest to my heart. The first essay by Emily Henry starts with: “The dog dies in this.” Thanks, Emily. Thanks for making me feel all over again that heartrending grief that overcomes us when we lose the creature who loved us best of all. I cried. “Dottie” was not only a beautiful (inside, not outside) dog, Henry’s essay about her will keep that sweet dog alive in our minds forever.

The next essay is by Bonnie Garmus, and this dog, like the dog in her fabulous novel “Lessons in Chemistry” has a numeric name. Ninety-nine was not what she had expected to rescue. The whole essay will make you laugh and cry in equal measure. It’s a beautiful tribute to Ninety-nine and to the love that Garmus shared with this quirky, amazing creature. (The only greyhound we fostered hated my husband when he was dressed in a tuxedo and would growl at him when he came home from his job as a bandleader. She was the one and only greyhound we fostered.) But Ninety-nine? She found the perfect home and they found a dog to cherish. I dare ANYONE to read this magnificent essay and not be moved.

There are essays about show dogs, about German shepherds (several), about big dogs and small. What they all have in common is that the authors share experiences about dogs who changed their lives. And that’s the magic of having a dog. When you love them, when they love you back, it’s perhaps the purest form of love ever. When you love another human, there is always some friction because, let’s face it, none of us is perfect and we do things that sometimes (or often) irritate others.

But dogs? Even when they make a mess, even when they are miserable, even when they leave poop all over the floor, we forgive them. Their job is to love us unconditionally. When they also make us laugh, make us cry, and make us feel safe and loved; that’s the bonus. Our job is to take care of them, keep them safe, and forgive them their messes.

Elizabeth Strout describes the emptiness of a home after a dog passes, “the silence within” with no dog running to the door in welcome, “…we had to encounter a horrifying emptiness that reverberated for months.” Until they got another dog, and filled their house with love again. Chris Bohjalian admits, “And, yes, I had no idea how deeply and profoundly I was destined to fall in love with a rescue with one blue eye and one brown, a girl who helped keep me together when, it seemed, the world was falling apart.” Jodi Picoult writes about her “rebound” rescue, and she writes so lovingly about how ugly he was, how difficult, and how splendidly intelligent. We fall in love with Isabel Allende’s dog, Olivia. Paul Yoon shares what many of us have experienced, “I grow to want to be near his smell. His fur.” So many times, I would lean into my beloved dog and put my nose on his head, breathing in his smell. Yoon captures that need perfectly.

In this set of essays we meet dogs who became the perfect sibling, who provided love, humor, affection — and even, in one case, trophies. Am I a terrible person if I admit that I especially loved the stories about the rescue dogs? Because I rescue myself and right now, lying across my lap is one of my fosters who was abandoned in Mexico with two other dogs when the owners moved. Left the dogs locked in the house. For three months the neighbors threw food over the fence, and finally a rescuer broke in to take the dogs. Two came to Chicago when a friend flew here for a trip. My rescue took them in. And adorable Baxter and Dexter will find forever homes where they will be safe and loved always. We have another foster, Archie, and a pit bull mix dumped in the Everglades a decade ago, and finally a 10-year-old Shepherd mix who was confiscated from a home where the dogs were being abused. After two days of fostering him, my husband, for the first time in the 42 years of our marriage, said the magic words, “We are keeping him. He’s my dog.” Rescue dogs are, as we read in these magnificently written, emotion-filled essays, amazing.

But there’s nothing really about a dog’s pedigree, or lack thereof, that changes the basic fact that dogs truly are man’s best friend (women’s, too). What’s heartbreaking is that man is too often not a dog’s best friend. So read these fabulous, heartrending stories and experience vicariously the joys (and sorrow) of loving a dog. The true tragedy is that we outlive them. But then again, that means we get the chance to love so many of them, as the writers of these essays have. And for those who don’t have dogs? Adriana Trigiani sums it up perfectly, “All these years, I never had a dog and I didn’t know what I was missing exactly.”

You don’t know what you are missing.

This review was first posted on Bookreporter.com.