Therapy Dog Peaches: Not Just a Family Pet

The picture that started it all.

Funny how a picture can take you back in time. Or sometimes help you see a truth you didn't know until it’s shown to you.

For me, it set me on a round the way path of transforming my family pet a therapy dog. The photo was of a family friends’ son holding my dog in his lap. He was a beaming teenager and that in itself is a miracle given their attitudes and hormones. He was happy and always loved my dog. What a beautiful smile. I’ll save the image. Send it. Text it to his mom and dad. The End.

But then I looked at the photo closer. Not only was Sawyer smiling, my dog was too. Ear to Ear. Or is it whisker to whisker? Regardless, the dog in the photo was as happy, if not happier, to be loved on as the human was to be giving her cuddles.

What if this was something she really dug? Maybe she could be one of those therapy dogs that visit my mom and dad during their medical visits that they always say make the day pass easier? No, surely not. She’s not an ooodle or a doodle or an itzu or any of those designer breed dogs.

She’s just our family dog. An owner turn in to the Scott County Animal Shelter nearly 9 years ago. She’s no spring chicken or beagle. At least that’s what they suspected she is. The verdict still remains out on that and continues to be a hot topic for all who meet her even to this day.

Named Peaches, by a then five-year-old, it’s a simple name for a simple dog. That puppy bought for two little boys to love on now has cataracts and a slower step, but other than that she doesn’t readily reveal her age. Even the vet gets shocked when he reviews her paperwork to see she’s approaching senior status.

Back to my picture. Yes I sent the photo to Sawyer’s mom and dad and then I pursued what to do and how to determine if Peach were cut out for therapy work. She’s always been a good “doggo” with a penchant for snatching Big Macs off the coffee table and pooping in my closet floor. As for me, by trade, I like to interview people and learn all about what makes us all tick. It was fitting for my career in tv news and eventually corporate communications. And I can remember names like I’m your future judge executive. No politician could shake hands and remember names better than me. Sounds like a dream team, right? I wouldn’t know if I never tried.

So I googled, asked a friend and learned that “the best of the best” when it comes to dog training was in Frankfort. Great, I love Frankfort. I lived there for 11 years before moving to Georgetown to come work for Toyota.

So I contacted Liz with Pawsibilities Unleashed, who I was advised was hard core but knew her stuff. We were excited and prepared for our evaluation and first behavior class.

• Ditch the retractable leash-check. • Treats and a clicker-check. • A safe mat for her to lay on during class –check. • Peeing at the front door upon entering class NOT ON MY CHECK LIST.

But that’s how our journey began. Taking a big ol’ whiz on the floor in Liz’s classroom, totally messing with her well oiled machine. Literally a puddle of pee is how we said hello to Liz and our fellow classmates last August. She blankly looked at me and I knew the words not released from her mouth. “You newbie.” Or maybe that was just my nerves. I was mortified and paralyzed all at the same time.

Regardless, Liz herself cleaned up our mess and pretty much dedicated the rest of the class to us. I didn’t realize this held up my classmates from their lesson but she hung with us, never giving up. I just knew when our time was up Liz would say “Sorry Hon, but you guys didn’t make the cut”. But I was wrong. Her exact words, I repeat them to myself a lot. “You are better late than never.”

So we’d received a green light from the Godfather, or godmother in this case, of dog training. This was way more fulfilling than opening your mail and finding a 30 percent Kohl’s coupon or stumbling upon the greatest coat or purse in a Thrift Shop. Shopping still remains my passion, don’t get me wrong. But this made me feel good. Someone saw something in the dog I rescued from the pound on a haphazardly planned lunch break. This meant she could go make people happy.

Each Tuesday we’d go to Frankfort for “dog class.” I think the dog would drive me herself if she could. She has a certain woof when it’s time to get in the car and when we have to miss I swear she gives me side eye.

We spent the fall and holidays being observed so we could log our 10 supervised hours before being allowed out in the great big therapy world on our own. And man have we had some memorable experiences.

I wish I had a photo for everyone I’ve encountered. But when you are a therapy team you have to stay on your toes, so my phone stays in my pocket and I only have my own memory to serve me.

But here’s a short recap on all we’ve done.

Kendall in a special needs classroom in Georgetown who called for Peaches and who giggled so loudly her teachers had no choice to get her out of her chair and gently place her in the floor at the dog’s feet. A little girl who was non-verbal then proceeded to mock sneeze after the dog sneezed, sending her teachers into a glee filled text frenzy with her mother. “Wait til she hears what Kendall did.”

There was Mike at a brain rehab facility who didn’t smile a lot and choose to avoid most group gatherings but asked to see “the dog” who was in the building. And they asked us to come back. They’re even planning a rehab activity revolving around cooking treats for my dog.

There’s Bonnie and her buddies at the Homestead Senior Facility who keep Snausages in their pouches on their walkers. FOR my Dog! For my family pet.

Or the students at Georgetown College who got to hug on a dog during finals week and tell me how homesick they were for the pets they had to leave behind in their hometowns. My dog maybe helped a kid have a better Thursday night instead of pulling their hair out over a Physics final. And I’m ok with that.

Will any of these folks remember us? Who knows. But I think they made more of an impression on me than I could ever leave with them.

Peaches working the ToyotAbility BPG hosted sensory-friendly Christmas event for team members and their families.

Keep in mind, while I’m the one handling the dog and we are the insured therapy team, when appropriate sometimes I take my 10 year old son with me to see there are people different than himself in this world. And yes some have been dealt a tough hand. You are fortunate and when you have something that might help someone-you share it. So we share our family dog and make people happy. That simple dog taught me a very simple lesson. And I hope my son learns the same and gives, and gives again as he grows up.

Can your dog do this too? Maybe. Liz would surely meet you at the door if she saw they didn’t have the temperament to go the long haul.

I just know a lot of people believed in me, in US. And encouraged me to keep going. That my idea of teaching an old dog some very new tricks was not stupid. Peaches is nine and I don’t know how many more years I will have her to share. But myself and the Mikes, the Kendalls and the Bonnies of this world sure hope we’ve got a few more miles in us.