This felt like a modern-day Girls or Sex and the City — but with characters you actually root for. I always wanted to live in NYC in my 20s and never got to. Isabel let me experience that life vicariously, even if a decade late.
I started crying on page 91 — the moment Sweet Poutine was mentioned. I felt so sad for her, even knowing a happy ending was coming. It’s funny how grief works like that. How has it already been two years?
Fostering is something I’ve thought about myself, but housing restrictions make it impossible right now. It’s one of those quiet injustices that affects so many renters, and I hope it’s something Isabel uses her platform to speak to.
The book is sweet, warm, and genuinely appreciative of the people and animals in her life — a complete tonal shift from the last memoir I read (Strangers). It makes total sense that even the most skittish dogs do a 180 around Isabel. Her patience and kindness come through on every page. The one thing that made me smile: she spent years drawn to bad boys, right up until Mr. Isabel — aka Jacob — came along.
Overall, this was a cozy, easy read. My only critique is that the post-2020, post-COVID half felt a little rushed — though I suspect Isabel may have wanted to keep that chapter of her life more private. Understandably so.
Klee, Isabel. Dogs, Boys, and Other Things I’ve Cried About. HarperCollins, 2026. · This post contains affiliate links. I may earn a small commission at no cost to you.
Marin Robinson 