Ann Hodgman's basement is home to three guinea pigs, a cage full of birds, a big gray rabbit, a prairie dog, a bulbul (look it up), two little rabbits, a hamster, and twenty-six pygmy mice. And that's just the basement. Would your parents ever let you have that many pets at once?
If Ann Hodgman were your parents, she'd let you.
The House of a Million Pets, with illustrations by award-winning illustrator Eugene Yelchin, is the true story of what it's like to live in her barnyarder, housewith more animals than you'll be able to keep track of.
Any kid (or adult) who has ever owned or wanted a pet will love these furry, feathered, slimy, and scaly stories.
The House of a Million Pets is a 2008 Bank Street - Best Children's Book of the Year.
“Hodgman may not have had a dragon like Hagrid, but her tales are equally engaging, truthful and funny to readers of all ages. She's a James Herriot for the 21st century.” Kirkus Reviews
“Through careful observation [Hodgman's] able to create a distinct personality for most of her pets, and Eugene Yelchin's black-and-white illustrations add a note of whimsy.... By the end of the book, you realize Hodgman is one Crazy Pet Lady. 'Good' crazy, though.” The New York Times
Related collections and offers
About the Author
EUGENE YELCHIN is a Newbery Honor-winning author (Breaking Stalin's Nose) and illustrator who studied art and theater design at the Leningrad Institute of Theater Arts. He lives in California.
Read an Excerpt
I put the owl into a cardboard box and brought him into the kitchen. Then the kids and I bent over to look at him more closely.
If a bird can't "clench" its toes, that often means its leg or its back are broken. To test the owl's reflexes, I stuck my finger under his foot. To my surprise, his clawsvery thick, strong talons for such a small guycurled tightly around my finger. I tried the other footsame thing. Encouraged, I stretched out each of his wings, which still had their baby feathers. Pecky tucked them back neatly against his sides as soon as I let go. So his wings were okay, too.
I scratched the top of his head a little, and he opened his eyes and stared up at me. His eyes were round and yellow and blind-looking. He blinked a few times. Then he clumsily struggled to his feet.
What was I supposed to do now?