When Martin McKenna was growing up in Garryowen, Ireland, in the 1970s, he felt the whole world knew him as just “that stupid boy.” Badly misunderstood by his family and teachers, Martin escaped from endless bullying by running away from home and eventually adopting—or being adopted by—six street dogs. Camping out in barns, escaping from farmers, and learning to fend for himself by caring for his new friends, Martin discovered a different kind of language, strict laws of behavior, and strange customs that defined the world of dogs. More importantly, his canine companions helped him understand the vital importance of family, courage, and self-respect—and that he wasn’t stupid after all. Their lessons helped Martin make a name for himself as the “Dog Man” in Australia, where he now lives and dispenses his hard-earned wisdom to dog owners who are sometimes baffled by what their four-legged friends are trying to tell them. An emotional and poignant story seasoned with plenty of Frank McCourt–style humor, The Boy Who Talked to Dogs is an inspiration to anyone who’s ever been told he or she won’t amount to anything. It’s also a unique, fascinating look into canine behavior. In these pages, Martin shows how modern life has conditioned dogs to act around humans, in some ways helpful, but in other ways unnatural to their true instincts, and how he has benefited enormously from learning to “talk dog.” “Martin leaves a dysfunctional home at the age of thirteen. Bullied, beaten, and humiliated, he establishes his own family composed entirely of dogs. He learns their language and finds the way of the dog to be his path to self-knowledge. This is an astonishing, well-told story filled with humor and pathos that gives us humans a rare insight into the workings of the canine mind. I will not look down on a dog ever again after reading this book.” —Malachy McCourt, author of A Monk Swimming ". . . those looking for a well-told tale of personal struggle and inspiration will be very satisfied." — Booklist Martin McKenna is known in Australia as the “Dog Man.” He has been a guest on more than 450 radio shows and is the author of What’s Your Dog Telling You? and What’s Your Dog Teaching You? published by HarperCollins Australia. He lives in Nimbin, Australia. The Boy Who Talked to Dogs A Memoir By Martin McKenna Skyhorse Publishing Copyright © 2014 Martin McKenna All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-62914-433-7 Contents Prologue, Chapter 1 Two Dogs and Ten Humans, Chapter 2 Irish Weather, Chapter 3 Always at the Bottom, Chapter 4 The Railway Culvert, Chapter 5 Stupid Boy, Chapter 6 Padraig O'Rourke's Barn, Chapter 7 Outsiders, Chapter 8 The Garryowen Horse Fair, Chapter 9 Tige's Enchantment, Chapter 10 Supreme Boss of All the Dogs, Chapter 11 Fight Back or Give In Forever, Chapter 12 My Patch, Chapter 13 Dirty War, Chapter 14 Sterner Stuff, Chapter 15 Getting Wilder, Chapter 16 Joining the Human World Again, CHAPTER 1 Two Dogs and Ten Humans Irish families could get very big in the 1970s, and ours was no exception. There were a lot of us in the Faul family — two dogs and ten humans, in fact. Back then, I went by the name of Martin Faul. There was Sigrid, our mammy, Mick, our dad, Major and Rex, our two German Shepherds, and eight of us kids. We lived in a small semi-detached house on the Garryowen estate. Not in the pretty old village part, mind you, but in the new housing development nailed to the countryside next door. If you're ever looking for it, Garryowen lies just outside Limerick in the southwest of Ireland. To me it was the center of the universe. We were such a big family, it was sometimes difficult squeezing all of us into our small house, especially on bad-weather days. Whenever it rained our poor house shrank a few sizes like a woolen sweater put accidentally through the washing machine. It also got much noisier. Of us eight kids, four were girls and four were boys. And just to confuse things, three of us boys were identical triplets — John, Andrew, and me. This might sound like a lot of kids, but the McManuses down the road had sixteen, and so did the Maloneys and the McNamaras. Some families even had more. Major and Rex, our German Shepherds, were just as much part of the family as us kids. They were huge and shaggy, with massive bushy tails. Their enormous ears flicked around missing nothing, while their paws were nearly as big as bread plates. They looked more like wild wolves than pet dogs and it became their job to babysit us. Major and Rex went everywhere with us triplets during the day except to school. Even when we took them for a walk, we couldn't take them off their leashes once we left our yard. It was one of Dad's strictest rules. "They're not bloody toys," he said. "So keep them on their leashes. The first one of you to let them run free will get his backside flogged raw." He grabbed me by the hair to check which triplet I was, looking for the tel