In the Introduction, Herriot recalls dutifully learning the accepted pecking order for treating animals based on utility and value as a veterinary student: “Horse, ox, sheep, pig, dog.” Herriot learns that in terms of usefulness, dogs were a low priority for veterinarians. Save for guard dogs who protected property and sheepdogs who guarded valuable flocks, dogs were impractical, and their value was impossible to define quantitatively.

Why, then, have a dog? Herriot’s experience as a veterinarian and a lifelong dog owner taught him what schooling did not teach him: the priceless bond between people and their dogs that is at once “delightful but inexplicable.” Herriot cannot account for that emotional bond but understands that it is real, if not quantifiable, then certainly qualifiable. It cannot be measured, but it certainly can be described. Herriot himself describes that bond as “magical,” “spiritual,” “therapeutic,” and even “miraculous.”

The stories show that dogs may be less than humans, but they are more than animals and certainly more than pets. They become family members in ways that other domestic pets never do. Herriot presents evidence of emotional qualities that promote this unique bond. Dogs are loyal, brave, funny, dependable, grateful, playful, forgiving, and naughty, certainly, but never mean unless driven to such extreme emotions by neglect and abuse.

Herriot, however, is not Aesop, nor is he a Disney animator. Dogs are not people. Rather, Herriot identifies himself first and foremost as a doctor and a scientist. This gives his analysis of the mysterious bond between owners and their dogs its unsuspected depth. As a scientist, Herriot is trained to observe, document, and draw inevitable and defendable conclusions. His celebrations of canine “friendship”—and Herriot often uses that term--might seem naïve, even sentimental, save that Herriot’s stories are grounded in his own experiences and observations.

In critical ways, the stories of James Herriot shape a kind of job description for veterinarians. Indeed, his longtime publisher, St. Martin’s, points out on its website that veterinary schools have adopted Herriot’s books as required reading.

Certainly, the stories here reflect Herriot’s training. Each story is grounded in the realities of veterinary best practices. Herriot details surgical procedures. He explains the rationale behind his diagnosis of a variety of canine illnesses. He often reflects on the advances in the field over the fifty years of his practice that have made treatments more efficient, effective, and humane.

Although that sort of careful job description is an important theme in Herriot’s stories, what defines his perception of his work is exactly what he cannot entirely define, much less control.

For instance, luck and chance can impact his diagnosis because dogs cannot tell him their symptoms. There is also the power of compassion in treating dogs, whether for a tummy ache, a broken bone, or testicular cancer.

Caring, Herriot suggests, actually heals. In several stories, dogs respond to the energy field of love from both their owners and Herriot himself. Herriot never divorces himself entirely from his love of dogs, even as he dispassionately treats his canine patients.

Ultimately, however, Herriot credits the most inspirational stories of treatment and recovery to a kind of magic. Herriot admits that in areas of theology, he is a “big foggy.” Save for his notions that heaven allows dogs, Herriot never introduces the superstructures of Christianity: God, the soul, or even prayer.

But as a veterinarian, he testifies to what he calls “miracles,” case studies in which dogs, against all odds and medical logic, survive, recover, and thrive. For Herriot, that stunning intrusion of magic defines the soul of the veterinarian profession.