This book is about a middle aged woman whose writing career has taken a nosedive. She and her husband are estranged but still living in the same house (they can’t afford to divorce yet), her teenage son barely talks to her anymore, her finances are in trouble, she’s still recovering from the loss of her parents while her best friend is battling cancer. It’s a lot. Fraught with a sense of loss and unease, she starts carrying around the family dog in a baby sling, finding comfort and reassurance in its constant presence. People comment on this- when they find out the dog isn’t injured or suffering itself from anxiety, they turn judgmental (one group at a dog park even accuses her of animal abuse). It’s all written in a very lighthearted, wry style. I read the first few chapters with interest and amusement, but then found I didn’t care much to pick it up again. Skipped and skimmed through several more chapters before giving up. I just didn’t find the characters relatable, although their circumstances certainly could happen to anyone. The strangeness of the Montessori school (surely it’s exaggerated?) and the weird houseguests who dress up as large puppets all the time, baffled me. I also puzzled over conversations constantly: do people actually talk like this to each other? Am I the one struggling to make a connection here? Feels like it, but I have to shrug and move on. This one’s obviously not for me. Not sure why, as it certainly resonated with plenty other readers.