Mr. Mickey is my pet therapy dog. We try, every Tuesday, to visit patients doing rehab work at a local hospital. He is completely another dog up there than he is here at home. People don't believe what a dufus he is in "real" life. But they see what a trooper he is at the hospital.
We have seen a certain patient three weeks in a row now. She is recovering from surgery and is a complete dog lover. My kind of people. Each time we have seen her she has been reduced to tears. Not just misty eyed, like I get when watching a movie, but a bawling, sobbing sort of release. Face it, we need moments of release. Too often we don't allow ourselves that. So I admire her for her ability, and I am amazed at Mick's presence to her.
He was a sponge for her pain, a valve for her stress, a salve for her heart. Is that not the ultimate gift? Today he sat next to her. She put her arms around his neck and bawled on his shoulder. I cannot fathom the energy that passed between them. But I was awed by his ability to hold her pain and offer her comfort in return.
What he did was priceless. No amount of treats can repay his gift her. None is needed. The big guy upstairs is proud, of that I have no doubt.
Life with dogs. A little humor, a dash of play, a seed of faith, and of course, some dog fur.
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