Sherm's Just a Dog Who Can't Say No

I'm just a girl who can't say no. That's not to say that, like Oklahoma's Ado Annie, I'm helpless to resist the advances of overeager suitors - though I've never really been tested in that regard so it's hard to say. You see, I suffer from an almost crippling lack of gumption, so when someone makes a request of me, it's hard for me to refuse, even if complying doesn't make much sense. I'm forever in need of some powder milk biscuits, which Garrison Keillor promises "gives shy persons the courage to get up and do what needs to be done." Seems I have something in common with the affable canine protagonist of Laura Numeroff and Nate Evans' Sherman Crunchley.

Sherman is a police officer in Biscuit City, a town entirely populated by dogs. But he's not just any cop. He's the son of the chief of police. And the grandson. And the great-grandson. Yes, this line of police chiefs extends back for generations, so he knows his future is laid out for him, and he's going to have to come to terms with it soon, since his father is retiring in a month. Many pooches would be excited about taking on such a prestigious position. But Sherman, much as he loves his father, hates being a cop. He's so non-confrontational, he lets parking violators slide, he breaks up fights by distracting dueling dogs with free doughnuts, and he always gets stuck with the paperwork because he's the only one on the force who hasn't the nerve to refuse, even once in a while. So if he's unhappy (and often ineffective) in his current position, he's sure he'll be even more miserable as the chief. But how can he share those misgivings with his dad?

Not only does Sherman not have a passion for policing, he does have a passion for a particular pursuit: making and collecting hats. As in Miss Fannie's Hat, we are treated to a wide range of headgear, from Sherman's own snazzy police hat and the silly chicken hat he wears while ordering an instructional video called Must Say No to the even sillier birdhouse hat on his head when he reads about a hypnotist and the turban the hypnotist wears while attempting to put Sherman into a trance in which he will be able to refuse his father.

Tim Bowers's richly detailed illustrations are gorgeous, full of vibrant color and humor. Sherman is a brown and white hound dog whose hesitation and kindness Bowers conveys beautifully. We meet other dogs as well: the Chihuahua hypnotist with half-circle spectacles, the Poodle who serves as administrative assistant at the police station, the vast array of Collies, Labs, German Shepherds, Huskies and others that show up for his father's retirement dinner. Bowers is a fantastic artist who reminds me of C. F. Payne, who provides the back-cover illustration for Reader's Digest and collaborated with John Lithgow on the enchanting Micawber and amusing The Remarkable Farkle McBride, and I'm eager to check out the other books he has worked on.

Sherman Crunchley is an affirming book that emboldens those of us who suffer from a surfeit of shyness to speak up when being led into an uncomfortable situation. Sherman's solution is marvelously creative without being cruel, and the ending is satisfying for all concerned. If a timid dog can pluck up that kind of nerve, maybe a lass in sore need of powder milk biscuits can as well.