For All the Unofficial Therapy Dogs

Here’s to you, Unofficial Therapy Dogs. To the dogs who endure toddler kisses and are willing to be used as a pillow by sleepy preschoolers. To the dogs who have been dressed up in baby clothes and carried around in strollers and never held a grudge. To the dogs who don’t know the words “sensory processing disorder” but have a special tolerance for the kids who are extra grabby or loud or rough or nervous. To the dogs who sense when somebody is scared or lonely or feeling shame and know just how to wordlessly offer support.

Rebecca Tredway Photography

Sometimes I look at you, snoozing in the sun, recovering from being used as part of a Hot Wheels obstacle course and I envy your patience. You don’t run from these kids, even when common sense would say you should. You CHOOSE them and the adventures they take you on even when hiding under the bed might be the safer option.

You couldn’t take top honors at a dog show. You’ll never have the shiniest coat because it is often covered in sidewalk chalk or spaghetti sauce somebody dropped on you from their highchair. You don’t know many tricks because training tiny humans has taken precedence. But you know who loves you. You know where home is. You know who drops the most food under the table and you know who gives the best belly scratches.

I remember once running away from home when I was feeling like a failure. I managed to cram my preteen body into the dog house with my dog and I poured out my heart to him. He listened without judgement and never told my parents all the mean things I said about life in our house. . . things the dog and I both knew weren’t really true, but it helped to hear how silly they sounded when I said them out loud.

Now my kids can share their struggles with their own furry companion. As much as I want to claim we got you for the kids, we all know you’re my dog. I decided we needed a new addition to the family right around the time the latest round of doctors and testing confirmed what we already knew- pregnancy without medical intervention (expensive, invasive, ethically questionable medical intervention) would be impossible. I had lots of good reasons why I thought a dog would be good for the kids, but your first therapeutic job was for me.

You brought me comfort during a sad time and helped heal my wounded heart with your curly fur and puppy barks. Then just a few weeks later we found out the impossible wasn’t quite as impossible as we thought– I was pregnant. I don’t know why the timing all worked out the way it did, I’m just glad we got you when we did because of all the joy you brought to the family.

You have been the first friend for each of our little ones since you entered our family. You have been a gentle introduction to the world of animals and wildlife. You have eaten an immeasurable amount of Cheerios thrown on the floor that I didn’t have to sweep. You function as a doorbell whenever a neighbor kid drops by. You require little and you give back so much.

So here’s to you, Barkley, and all the other pets that function as therapists and friends for the little people (and big ones) that need you. Thank you for showing us the value of silently listening when someone needs to talk. Thank you for taking on some of the empathy burden that can sometimes feel overwhelming. You are the unsung heroes of therapeutic families and today we offer our gratitude.