What I spend a huge amount of my time on is Darcy, not just in training and competition, but also in three kinds of animal assisted activities and therapy work. We're visiting a small post-intensive care hospital weekly. There it no longer surprises me to hear the social worker exclaim, "That's the first significant response we've seen from her since she was admitted". It is not because Darcy is such a great visiting dog (He's not), but because of the power of a totally accepting, cute, live, warm, furry soul, who doesn't need words to communicate. We regularly visit with deaf patients or stroke victims, who can't speak. These are often the patients happiest to see us.

In addition to visiting a hospital we are actually working with a physical therapist (PT) in a rehab hospital treating patients. (Liz started this program several years ago.) Our first session was so striking that I think it will give you an idea of what is possible. We worked with a 7-year-old Spanish-speaking girl with a brain tumor, no trunk or neck control, and no voice due to a tracheotomy tube, but she had some control of her arms. When she arrived in the PT gym at 9 a.m., she had already been to radiation and was visibly tired. Two PT assistants held her sitting on the edge of a low bed. Darcy was on a soft mat on a narrow hospital bed table in front of her, with me right there. The PT running the session was facing her and another PT was next to her, while her parents were hovering in the background. So the scene was; one 14-pound dog on a narrow table surrounded by 7 adults and a very sick child. The PT's goal was to get her to optimize the arm movement that she had. So she asked her simply to pet, then brush, Darcy all the way from head to tail. The she asked her to touch various parts of Darcy's body, including his 2-inch tail, which the girl was quite willing to do! The girl responded to Darcy's warm and accepting face and body in two ways. First, I think most importantly, she smiled almost the entire half-hour (as did her parents), and second, it was obvious that she was willing to exert a major effort to do the tasks. However, at one point she unintentionally grabbed a handful of Darcy's hair, and then later a paw, quite firmly, but she was unable to let go. My awesome dog, who in the agility competition ring has a voice that can shatter glass, simply looked at me with a plea for help (which, of course, I did), but he never let anyone else know there was a problem. By the end of the session, we had all seen a dying child spend thirty happier minutes than any she had spent in recent weeks. It is not every day we are privileged to witness miracles, even small ones. It makes the effort it takes to get the dog ready-bath, nails, teeth, travel time-worth it.