Thank you, Trisha, your writing is so beautiful and makes me cry, with grief and joy and the fullness of life. What a wonderful discussion, AND how fabulous to have more educational materials and a DVD on the topic. Thank you for doing this. The one word I have not seen mentioned in much detail is “socialized.” To ask whether a therapy dog is born or made is almost like the question what is more important “nature or nurture.” It is a complex topic, one which has yet to be proven in any true fashion. However, regardless of the pet’s birthright gifts or trained skills, it remains ever true that in all cases proper socialization is imperative. I have lived and served with three therapy dogs and several that could have passed the test, but did not really have the nerve strength to pursue such a job. I find it very dissappointing that most of the organizations that allow people to instruct and evaluate do not really require those people who serve in this capacity to have a skill set of really knowing dog body language and/or experience in training dogs. On the flip side of th coin, there are a good number of “certified trainers” that do not really know much about therapy work and encourage their clients to pursue the field with their pets, only thinking about the skillset and not the socialibility of the dog. You are correct – it is a team and both ends of the leash are equally important. Best wishes as you develop this field into your programming. Here they are about two minutes later, wondering who that handsome man is sitting in the car. Thank you girls, it was nice to meet you. He doesn’t love either dogs or people that way-He’s generally interested, particularly in in new dogs, but he sniffs and usually gives the canine equivalent of a shrug, and ignores them afterwards. Only once in a while does he make a new dog friend, that he’ll run to greet and engage in play. People are much the same. If a stranger or casual acquaintance calls his name, he won’t even turn his head to look at them. He’s comfortable enough, and has no objection if they approach or touch him, but he won’t seek to engage.

In fact, as I write this, my regret lessens a little–there were so many people she met on our walks, little old ladies, reclusive old men, who she really connected with (and made them feel as if THEY were special!). I still miss her terribly, two years after she died. My current dog, a Golden/BC mix, is definitely a number Four. He’ll never be a therapy dog; he’s much too nervous around new people. But he adores me, and anyone else who is home with him, as if he’s learned to bond with the one who’s there. (Poor pup was neglected by a previous owner who was dying of cancer.)

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Now, the desire for another guide dog is transforming into need. We’re required to be on campus again two days a week, and I realized, just this past week, that I haven’t been on campus without a dog in 21 years. I confess, it’s scary. I can travel independently just fine, but do I like it? No! Taking him to the vet for his last visit was so heart wrenching because he knew, he started shaking and he never did that when visiting the vet. He most certainly read my emotions and knew it was goodbye.

Neither Skip or I can take any credit for this pen. The sheep are “school” sheep, used to train dogs, and are happy to go into the pen. Olive used to get very worried when I cried–she would whine and pace around and come to see if she could get me to stop. Now, she stays close, snuggles in, and gently snores. She is a constant reminder of courage and honesty and perseverance. She helps me keep my heart intact. Needless to say, I am doing less. But I still love doing this–some of you I include in the “dear friends” category mentioned above–and I will not give it up. You’ll note fewer links though, and fewer photos. At least, for now. I still can work on the novel, albeit not as much. I can still work the dogs, although not as much. (I will confess that Skip lying by the door, waiting to work sheep on the days that I can’t, still breaks my heart.) I cook less, even while trying to eat extra healthy. I cannot have my Friday night one or two Cosmos, which, if you want to feel sorry for me, feel sorry about that. Damn. Affiliative: This seems like a no-brainer, but the fact is that many dogs are presented for therapy work who really don’t like strangers all that much. They love their owners and good friends, but aren’t all that interested in other people. Good therapy dogs need to be the kind of dogs who ADORE people, all people, and want nothing more than to connect with them. It is, after all, the emotional connection that is often the therapeutic part of AAA and AAT. It seems to me that dogs sort into 4 categories: 1) adore people, care little for other dogs, 2) adore dogs, care little for unfamiliar people, 3) adore members of both species and are thrilled to meet new ones and 4) adore neither dogs or people, except maybe their owner. Needless to say, only categories 1 and 3 are good therapy prospects. I am reminded of the Buddhist mantra: Everyone suffers, everyone dies. You’d think that would be depressing, but it’s not to most of us. We are all human, we are all connected, we are not alone.So, I guess I would say that handler creativity and problem solving is an important element in animal assisted therapy work, in particular, where you have specific client outcomes as your goal.