My Dog's a Chicken

November 9, 2015
Lula Mae wants a dog, but “these are hard times,” and Mama says, “You’ve got to make do.” So Lula Mae picks out the most promising hen in her farmyard—the one that “strutted around like it owned the place”—and names it Pookie. “Now that’s my kind of dog!” she says. Wilsdorf’s (Sophie’s Squash) Pookie is a terrific creation: goggle-eyed and self-possessed in that inimitably chicken way, and Montanari loads up this very funny debut with countrified lilts and refrains (Mama’s response to everything is “Call it anything you like, but it’s not coming in my house”). But the real comedy emerges from the epistemological ambiguity at the story’s core: Does Pookie know she has been singled out for canine greatness? Montanari and Wilsdorf hedge their bets. Much of the time, it seems like the chicken’s natural behavior just happens to coincide with what her eagerly imaginative owner thinks a dog should do. “She’s a show dog, a shepherd dog, a guard dog, and search-and rescue dog, too!” Lula Mae declares. Ages 4–8. Author’s agent: Erzsi Deàk, Hen & Ink Literary Studio. Illustrator’s agency: Studio Goodwin Sturges.

November 1, 2015
A young girl finds an imaginative way to satisfy her desire for a pet dog despite her parents' objections. Lula Mae lives on a farm with her family. She wants a puppy, but her mother points out "Dog's just another mouth to feed. These are hard times, Lula Mae." Her mother's admonition, repeated by her baby brother, to "make do" inspires her to consider adopting one of the family's chickens as her canine companion. So she clips a big red bow onto the comb of a spunky, black-and-white spotted chicken that she christens Pookie and commences to crow about her talents. Lula Mae's parents are unimpressed by Pookie's performance as a show dog, sheepdog, and guard dog, but the whole family appreciates her efforts at search and rescue when Baby Berry goes missing. Debut author Montanari's text has an engagingly twangy conversational tone though some may find the family's irregular, down-home grammar more annoying than endearing. Wilsdorf's cheerful ink-and-watercolor art focuses on the fun in energetic single-page, double-page, and spot illustrations balanced by plenty of white space. Her depiction of the unflappable Lula Mae, a smiling round-headed white tot, is pleasingly reminiscent of the work of William Steig. While pet tales abound, this lively look at making the best of a bad situation highlights humor and encourages creativity, enriching the somewhat predictable plot. (Picture book. 3-6)

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December 1, 2015

PreS-Gr 1-Lula Mae desperately wants a dog, but Mama tells her that times are hard and she'll have to "make do." Without missing a beat, the girl decides that one of the many chickens roaming their yard could make a suitable dog-especially the black-and-white speckled hen who struts around like she owns the place. Blithely ignoring her squawks of protest, Lula Mae calls her new pet Pookie, plops a bright red bow atop the hen's head, and declares her a fine show dog. When she sees the other chickens running frantically in the opposite direction from the bow-wearing hen, Lula Mae decides that Pookie's also a terrific shepherd dog. Later, when Cousin Tater tries to scare Lula Mae with a garter snake and Pookie responds with a loud "BAWK! BAWK!" Lula Mae decides that she is a fine guard dog as well. With each declaration, Mama deadpans, "Call it anything you like, but it's not coming in my house." When little Baby Berry suddenly goes missing, it's Pookie who unintentionally saves the day. Wilsdorf's watercolor and China ink illustrations extend the humor of Montanari's text through the characters' comical expressions and some well-placed speech bubbles. Though picture books set in the country featuring traditional nuclear families are in no short supply, it's the irrepressible optimism of Lula Mae, Mama's droll responses, and Papa's befuddled exasperation ("Lula Mae, what are you doing to that chicken!") that set this story apart and make for an ideal read-aloud that will have kids and adults chuckling. Careful readers will spot clues to Baby Berry's whereabouts, and keen observers will enjoy the chicken antics on the endpapers. VERDICT A lively choice for storytimes, and a great addition to most picture book collections.-Kiera Parrott, School Library Journal

Copyright 2015 School Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

January 1, 2016
Preschool-G Lulu Mae lives on a farm with her family, and all she wants is a dog. But times are hard, and Mama says that Lulu is just going to have to do without. But Lulu is not giving up. Maybe a chicken could be a dog, she thinks. One black-and-white chicken stands out, strutting its stuff through the barnyard, and Lulu knows immediately that it's the dog for her. Lulu names her Pookie, ties a ribbon to her head, and sets off to prove that Pookie is the best dog ever. But when Lulu's baby brother, inspired by Lulu's chicken chasing, wanders off, it'll take a true search-and-rescue dog to save the day. The glossy watercolor-and-ink illustrations, alternating between wide shots of chaotic life on the farm and close-ups of Lulu trying to bond with her new pet, are silly and entertaining, and the tale is charming. This is a fun twist on the wacky new-pet story, with an enthusiastic heroine and a sassy chicken to boot.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2016, American Library Association.)

January 1, 2016
Lula Mae longs for a dog. Her parents, a hardscrabble farming couple, are adamant: it's not happening. Like many literary forebears facing this particular frustration, Lula Mae approaches her dilemma with determination and creativity. In an innovative workaround, she not only designates a chicken as her pet dog but sets out to show said chicken's worthiness for the role. She proves to her parents that Pookie is a show dog, a shepherd dog, a guard dog, and a search-and-rescue dog, and at the joyous denouement Pookie earns the ultimate privilege: a place at the foot of Lula Mae's bed. In Wilsdorf's illustrations Lula Mae bounces with brio and her baby brother has a satisfying, blobby heft, but it is Pookie and the other chickens, with their personalities and anarchic demented energy, who steal the show. No genteel clucks here. These fowl give it their all in seventy-two-point type: BAWK! BAWK! BAWK! This energetic celebration of making-do begs for an unrestrained read-aloud. sarah ellis

(Copyright 2016 by The Horn Book, Incorporated, Boston. All rights reserved.)