Timbuktu tells the tragically heartwarming story of Mr. Bones, a sweet and characterful dog who loses his owner, Willy G. Christmas, when the man collapses suddenly on the street. Mr Bones leads a hard life after that and he finds himself in the care of various different people as he continues his search for the mysterious and elusive ‘Timbuktu’, an abstract idea about the afterlife that Willy came up with; an idea that Mr Bones thinks of incessantly as he reminiscences and laments the loss of his human, Willy.

I went into this book not knowing what to expect at all but I quickly grew to really like both Mr. Bones and Willy, and found them both incredibly lovable characters. In particular because of the earliest pages of the book, when we learn that Mr. Bones is having a rather hard time coming to terms with the brutal fact that Willy is dying. He’s in denial and, as the story is being told from his perspective, I also found that I was right beside him in feeling that very same same denial about Willy’s steady decline. I felt so much hope for the outcome that there were a fair few times where I truly believed that Willy was going to make a good recovery, and that maybe his dramatics about death and the way he talked about it, were merely aspects of his rather peculiar and extravagant personality.

As the story progressed, I would begin to feel resigned and helpless at some parts in the book: feeling powerless at how things were playing out in Mr. Bones’s story. I wanted to help, and yet I couldn’t. This lack of ability to act came coupled with an unwavering optimism that things were still going to turn out all right in the end for Mr. Bones; and that the situations that this sweet dog found himself in would lead to a lighter and more positive ending. This story was such an emotional read that I became filled with an earnest desperation to help Mr. Bones somehow, even though there was obviously no way that I could.

I think that the emotion that this book pulled from me is in large helped by the fact that Paul Auster really manages to capture a supposed likeness to how dogs think. The childish innocence and simplicity of Mr. Bones’s thoughts and reasonings, how he reacted to things in the environment around him and his entire existence – it all seemed very believable. I definitely felt an ache in my heart for Mr. Bones and for his path through life, especially because he was just so sincerely sweet.

Auster really managed to spin such a gorgeously organic – but also remarkably magical – tale about familial bonds that aren’t restricted by blood, or even limited by species. The ‘found-family’ trope is a favourite of mine, and how better to represent it than with ‘humankind’s best friend’? If you’re a dog lover, and just love our canine companions, then this book will no doubt incite a raw emotional reaction within you as it did within me. I certainly found myself misty eyed towards the end when Mr. Bones found himself reflecting on his unwavering loyalty to Willy and what their shared existence and subsequent separation meant to him.

This novella only made me ponder about the bond between a dog and their human more, and helped me to understand just how incredible and priceless it is to have the love of a dog to return home to after a long day: I may have hugged our Sam and Merlin a little bit more tightly before bed on the evening that I finished this book. This short story, I felt, was a very cathartic read: so grab your dog, grab something nice to drink, and settle down on a warm afternoon to join Mr. Bones on his earnest journey to find Timbuktu.