One of those days

Dog + Kids = Magic

This morning Py and I did our weekly visit with the kids at the treatment center. We usually hang out in one of the classrooms, the kids cycle through as they work on a particular assignment or project. Sometimes we're involved in a treatment session, but not always. This week they are making and hanging Halloween decorations, which requires measuring and math. Then kids ended up measuring Mr. Py (as they call him), comparing their results in centimeters and inches, adding height at elbow to height from elbow to withers or top of head, comparing to height of hocks and hip. Around the ribs, waist, neck, each leg in various places. Then along his head, length of spine, add length of tail... you get the idea. Then they got out a stamp pad and used one of Mr. Py's feet to make paw prints in their decorations. It was very cool how they included him in the day's activities.

In the middle of all this activity, one little girl had lain down on the floor; I asked if she weren't feeling well. (It's germ season and the facility has strict rules about symptoms.) I miss my dad, she said, and looked unbearably sad. I let the teacher know she was having a hard time, the teacher suggested the girl draw to let out her feelings; she did, then gave the teacher her drawing.

Next thing I know Mr. Py is pulling and pulling, he wants out of the classroom. The doorway is covered with decorations (big scary streamers of bats and spiders) so I can't see what's out there. The teacher sticks her head in, asks if she can hold Mr. Py's leash in the hallway. Something in her face makes me say yes.

Mr. Py went and leaned on this girl, who then was able to talk with a counselor in the hall. I could see a little through the streamers; he just stood there, touching her, while she stroked him. I couldn't hear the conversation, but was later told the girl was considering suicide and had drawn a picture of a knife. Until Mr. Py had forced his way to her, she wasn't talking. By the time we left she was laughing.

Cured of her depression? Of course not. But, thanks to the miracle of a dog who felt her pain and insisted on helping, this girl has the support of the adults around her and will get the treatment she needs.

Py is now sleeping, he will for about 24 hours. The level of toxic hell some of these kids have survived is indescribable; they dump it out of their systems and Mr. Py takes some of it away from them. Then he has to recover. Every week he stamps his feet at my car - it's Thursday morning! Let's go see my kids! Then he drags me to the front door, down the stairs and to his kids - and becomes Mr. Py.

I can't explain it, I didn't train it, it's just a gift he has. It's days like this that make me appreciate the ability to listen to dogs, to trust them, to go with what they know - even when I'm in over my head.