Sergeant Rex

This book was fine, despite the obvious advertising ploys, which almost upset me to the point of putting it down. I enjoyed the stories shared and I appreciate the portion of this man's life. I am even grateful he shared them with the world, for that, I commend him. That being said, from time to time I wondered who had edited this in pre-production? It felt like a vanity project from time to time, an effort to preserve his experiences for his future family, rather than an attempt at national-level distribution. Often self-serving, I felt this achieved its original intent. Attempts to convey humility felt forced, which could have been polished to greater effect. Each time the author gave his dog the credit, he purposefully avoided assigning credit to himself, which would be fine if it did not feel fake. The biggest issue I took, came in the final pages. Dowling discusses his dog's pending retirement from military working dog life. It is Dowling's great desire to adopt Rex. However, the handler who assumed responsibility of Rex, following Dowling's service, was hit by an IED (with Rex) in Iraq. Both Rex and the new handler survived, and all is well. Dowling uses this as a pedestal upon which he firmly raises himself. I believe he justified his having let the other handler adopt Rex “because it was the right thing to do, though [he] would rather it had been him” on nearly every paragraph; sometimes twice in the same paragraph.

Was he among the first to pioneer MWDs into combat since Viet Nam?Did he do great things as an MWD handler? Is that history worth sharing with the world? Yes to all. But Dowling has now presented himself as a self-serving clown, victimized by his compulsion for justice, and unable to afford an editor to polish his journal entries upon which he placed a great photograph of what used to be his dog.