I originally read most of the first 30 or so Saddle Club books out of order, first in America in the early 1990s, then in England. Somehow, I never was able to get hold of a copy of this book.
Now, back in America, I found that between The Open Library and Books Read Free websites, I can finally read almost the whole series in order. I FINALLY got to read Dude Ranch.
And am kind of not sure if it was worth the wait.
This book is told almost entirely from Stevie's point of view. Usually, the point of view bounces back and forth from each of the main three Saddle Club members. This wasn't a bad idea, considering that Stevie' 13th birthday happens during the Club's trip to Kate's family's dude ranch. And, of course, everyone is planning a surprise party for Stevie.
This book starts off as a lot of fun, and poking holes into stereoypes like cowboys, what life in the average Western tourist-trap town is like, and Native Americans.
It really should've just stayed like that, and it would've been just fine. Peachy keen, even.
And then the mood suddenly turns when a beloved dog is killed by a rattlesnake.
And, within a few pages of burying the dog, the girls are laughing about something else.
What.
The.
Actual.
Fuck.
How disrespectful and how unlike grieving for a real pet is like. Pets are better than people at being your friends. In real life, those girls should be crying so hard, they vomit. They should take to their bunk beds and not come out until they have to catch the plane back home. This should be the worst vacation of their lives so far.
They should NOT be laughing.
It's not even described as nervous, bitter laughter. Or laughter to cover up the dog-shaped hole inside.
Just laughter ... as the Saddle Club did earlier in the book, when things were hunky-dory.
I know in a sense that this this whole series is a fantasy, because friends like these don't exist in real life, but COME ON.
Carole even has some good advice that the dog's owner needs time before she can even THINK about getting another dog.
And the very next day, the Club gives her a puppy.
That's not how it works, kids.
I've had more suicide attempts over my dead pets than I've had hot baths. And if you're sorry that the attempts failed, you're not the only one. It's having to care for my crippled Mom and two healthy pit bull mixes that keeps me going.
You just can't get over a death like that so quickly. And if you do, something is seriously wrong with you.
I recommend that you read Sam Westcott's review about a Native American naming her horse narrow and dog Tomahawk.