The kids thought he would help me cope with having Cali so sick and in the hospital so far away. They were right; I have been able to laugh through my tears when he flings toys so high they bounce off the ceiling or when he tips his head from side to side as I talk to him, lower teeth showing in a pearly line set in his black black face.
But, as importantly, he perks up when I begin to cry, lands in my lap, places his front paws on my shoulders, looks straight into my eyes, and licks the tears off my cheeks. He stays there until I give up and pretend to be okay, after which he jumps down and prances off smartly, as if proud of a job well done. Then, he comes back every three to five minutes to check on me until he is satisfied that I won't fall apart again.
For all his silliness and joie de vivre, he takes his role as my therapy dog seriously. And he is very, very good at it.
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