If this book tempts you because you love big goofy dogs, but you suspect it may be 289 pages of mush-brained goo, here's my advice: Trust your instincts.First, Marley is by far not the world's worst dog. He's well within one standard deviation of the norm for male American Labs.The author, on the other hand, is a columnist for a regional (read "not major") Florida newspaper. Three times a week, he has to troll his trivial life for 250 words, and viola! We have "Marley and Me". You get intimate details of his marriage and efforts at home decor along with his rabid recounting of every time his dog ate poop. Trust me. If you found yourself trapped in a corner with this guy at a cocktail party, you'd suddenly realize you need to run out and check whether you rolled your car windows up.Marley was a nice and worthy dog. There are lots of nice dogs. Fortunately, most of their owners are not provincial hacks.