For the record, I’m not sure why every dog thinks they have all the right stuff to be a therapy dog. It takes more than looking the part or making a fashion statement. We are not accessories. For one, you’ll never catch me wearing a turtle neck sweater or hiding in someone’s handbag. Where is the dignity in that? How can a therapy dog spring into action if he or she has their legs tangled up in a rhinestone and sequin-covered leash?
A therapy dog needs the poise of a flight attendant, the patience of a Disney theme park character, and the tenacity of a Conservative on the View. I’ve read about a training program that certifies dogs. It was a good program, that is until the lawyers got involved, and miniature horses and lizards were allowed to join. Now it’s a free-for-all.
Don’t get me wrong, I like bearded dragons, some of my best friends are reptiles, but I wouldn’t put the safety of a room full of pre-schoolers in the care of a chameleon. When things get dicey, no one will be able to find it. Don’t get me started on the boa’s; they’re snakes. On some days, they are all hugs, and the next thing you know, they are lying on the floor trying to size you up. Never trust a snake.
Back to the question, what makes for a great therapy dog? It helps if you can identify the things that can harm your person and be able to act decisively to neutralize the threat. For example, I can hear a box of ice cream opening from three rooms away. If I don’t intervene, who will? I certainly can’t trust him to exercise moderation. If I leave it up to him, he will polish off that box of ice cream before sun-rise.
The same can goes for those juicy steaks. He doesn’t know when to say when. He even tried to buy a half of a cow and put it in the freezer. So what happens to the other half? I had to play hardball on that one. There isn’t room on the couch for the two of us.
It’s not just about depriving him of those things where he has a weakness or lacks self-control. First and foremost, my job is to make sure that he is taking care of himself. That means, exercise, taking his meds when he is supposed to and avoiding unnecessary stress. And when he can’t avoid it, my job is to absorb and deflect it. The best thing I can do for him is to make him scratch me behind my ears for at least ten minutes, three times a day. It may seem like a sacrifice, but it’s worth it.
What I gave you is just the shortlist; there is so much more. Soon enough, you’ll figure out what your person needs to help them cope with whatever ever life throws there way. Lucky you if it includes anything from the frozen dairy section; that’s where a lot of people lose their way.
Good luck, and stay clear of the sloths. You will spend all day just trying to get them to return a text message.
Thanks for reading,
Ivy the Wonder Pup — a friend to many, a sidekick to one.
Hey Daddio, Stay away from the freezer door. Don’t make me bring a spoon.