Little Black Dog

I listened to *Little Black Dog* in three sittings, and by the end, I was furiously texting my dog-owning friends to beg for their own Max stories—because if you’ve ever shared your life with a tiny dictator in fur, this audiobook will feel less like storytelling and more like a time capsule of shared suffering. Luke Welland doesn’t just narrate; he performs. His delivery of Max’s most audacious heists—like the time he somehow unlocked a cabinet to steal an entire roast chicken—is so physically expressive you’ll swear you can see the dog’s self-satisfied grin. Welland also nails the quieter beats, like Murray’s wry observations about how a 5-pound ball of chaos can reduce a grown adult to a babbling fool, his voice softening just enough to sell the sentiment without veering into Hallmark territory. The only hiccup? Murray’s habit of summarizing Max’s antics in broad strokes sometimes makes the narrative feel a tad rushed, as if he’s trying to cram seven years of mischief into too few pages. And while Welland’s performance is stellar, a handful of the sound effects—like Max’s dramatic sighs or the crinkle of stolen plastic wrap—land more like cartoonish punctuation than organic ambiance. But these are minor complaints in an otherwise delightful listen. If you need proof that joy isn’t found in grand gestures but in the absurd, petty triumphs of a creature who couldn’t care less about your dignity, *Little Black Dog* delivers the goods. 10/10 for pure, unapologetic fun.