When a troubled and aggressive young border collie named Will enters Dr. Patricia McConnell’s life, she is confronted with a problem that she has never faced in her decades working as a world-renowned animal behaviorist. Her special connection with Will triggers memories of harrowing traumas in Patricia’s own life and unearths a secret she had long repressed. In order to save Will from his dangerous behavior, Patricia must summon the courage to address her own buried emotional pain. On her journey to healing, with Will as her trusted companion, she transforms fear into compassion, confusion into insight, and isolation into empathy.

Beautifully written, interweaving enlightening accounts of other dogs she has helped with tales of her deepening bond with Will, The Education of Will chronicles Patricia’s fight to reclaim her life—and relieve Will’s fears in the process. Hopeful and inspiring, their story reminds us that, while trauma from the past casts a long shadow, healing is possible—for both people and dogs.

That night I sat on the couch and worried about this bundle of behavioral problems that I had brought into the house. I turned to see Willie watching me, his face baby-soft and expectant, his body wagging from the shoulders back. I moved off the couch and lay down beside him. He nuzzled into me, the side of his head pressing against my neck. I inhaled the scent from the top of his head, as a girlfriend had told me she’d breathe in the smell of her son’s hair, savor it, and yearn for it when they were apart.

Even as a tiny puppy, Willie wanted nothing more than to be with me, to cuddle against me with his face pressed against my neck or chest. Willie’s love of people was as extreme as his fear of dogs outside of his own pack. He loved everyone on two legs and appeared to be overjoyed that the world contained an infinite number of us. When friends came over to meet Willie, he’d stop for a second as he watched them get out of their cars, seemingly stunned by the appearance of yet another person. He’d quickly glance at me as if in amazement—“Look! There’s another one! I’ve found ANOTHER ONE!”—and then he’d charge forward, tail thumping, body soft and loose as he transported us into puppy rapture. . .

Something had sent Willie out into the world set on HIGH, like a blender with its last button pushed. Raising him was both wonderful and horrible. Underneath his craziness—his extreme reactions to unfamiliar dogs, his phobias about noises, his disastrous digestive system—I was sure there lived the dog we all want, brimming with love and loyalty, with a face that sparkles when you come home. But Willie desperately needed to feel safe and secure.

The thing was, so did I.