Featured Animal Assisted Therapy Dog

Please Note: The dog in the accompanying photograph is the subject of the story, but any persons shown are probably not those in the story.

Humans are such an interesting breed. I mean, they claim to have superior brain function, but then they make themselves crazy with it, filling their heads with fears and worries and plans and desires and stresses. And they laugh at us for chasing our tails.

Before I came along, my human was very serious most of the time. She’s a really deep thinker. She didn’t want to give in to having a four-legged companion because she said she didn’t have time for one, but the truth is she didn’t want to open her heart that much. When she fell, she fell hard, and for months after my arrival, her chest burned as I took up a growing space inside it.

My human experienced this amazing phenomenon. Before me, she’d walk down the street, and very few people would acknowledge her. But then, when she walked down the street with me, everyone would smile or nod or stop to talk in a high-pitched voice as they pet me. In fact, the entire neighborhood came over to catch a glimpse of me in all my Cottonelle-commercial cuteness. Embarrassing as it is to admit, early on I couldn’t go out in public without literally stopping traffic.

Deep thinker that she is, my human started contemplating my career options since the day she brought me home. At first, we were going to do search and rescue because she likes to be outdoors and thought that would be fun for us. Then she discovered that search and rescue dogs work about 30 hours a month and have to be on call most of the time. We tried agility, and she learned that I’m not competitive. I actually excelled at dock diving, but, for me, it was never about jumping the farthest. It was just about getting wet.

In the meantime I began to develop my own interests. For instance, I’m the Chief Gutter Inspector. I’m also in charge of locating sanitation issues along the sidewalks. And I never met a wet tree trunk I didn’t sniff.

Oh, and I also monitor the schedules of the deliverymen. Mark, the FedEx man carries chicken strips. No one else does. And frankly, when I see Mark, you’d be hard-pressed to detect a shred of obedience training in me, the way I carry on.

Sometimes my human is my mommy, sometimes she’s my buddy, sometimes she’s my teacher, and sometimes I’m hers. We decided that being a therapy dog team was perfect for us because it’s not like working at all. We get to go into these environments where humans tend to be thinking too much—about their pain, about their loss, about the seriousness of their situation—and with just a tilt of my head, a tail wag, a frenzied wiggle, a face lick, a soft ear on their cheek, or the focus of my sweet brown eyes, I instantly remind them that life is to be enjoyed and that playing is required.

I’m not alone in this sleight of paw. All my four-legged compatriots have this same incredible ability. You see, every dog is a therapy dog for someone. I just have special certification.

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