Why Oh Why a Therapy Dog?

When I was growing up, a surefire way NOT to get something was to argue that "everybody else had it." My mother was not swayed by tales of peer pressure; in fact, when we expressed a name brand preference or a desire for something trendy she always seemed a little disappointed, as though we had failed her in some small yet significant way. And it is true that our things were often different from other kids' things: our sweaters handknit, our art supplies the real ones for adults, not the colorful kid kits we drooled over at our friends' houses, our school bags embossed with flowers or ladybugs, never the superhero characters my mother claimed not to recognize.

Which is why I found it strange one day when I discovered that she had purchased a winter jacket, I think, I can't quite remember the item specifically, from a name brand store she generally eschewed. Is it for us? I asked. For me? It was not. We had winter jackets. With some prodding, I learned that the jacket, as well as many other items of clothing, books, games, and toys, were for a family in her school that needed them.

It turned out, I gleaned from a number of reliable sources, that my mother had been supplying families in need for years in this way, anonymously, and based on her own intimate knowledge of the family's needs. She made children warm, kept children fed, and personally outfitted a number of bedrooms with books--my mother believes children need books. Lots of them. But the name brand jacket. Why that in particular? Because, she explained, nobody should have to feel on the outside all of the time.

So much of what both of my parents said to me has stuck with me. But even more than their words are their actions. It is one of my father's rules of living to judge people based not--ever, really--on what they say but on what they do, have done. He has always found action to be a far better indicator of purpose and intent. And if truth be told, I agree with him. I know a lot of people who can say impressive things eloquently but only a handful who do great things and never talk about them.

I will make sure that Lily and Annika know that their grandmother, Sands, is the kind of person who ensures that the most needy kid in a school has the coolest jacket in town. I want them to be this kind of person too. But I can't help push them in that direction by telling them stories. This is why Sadie is going back to dog school tomorrow for session number two. Not for Sadie but for Lily and Annika, who will go out with her--with me, too, of course--into the world. I am feeling optimistic about this brave new world. I want my girls to know that it's never too early to put your money where your mouth is. I owe my parents nothing less than this.