Sunny here. I'm the cutie in the photo. You are wondering how I came to be a therapy dog? Some people have asked about that, and about my training. Well … let me quickly explain.

My Mama had been observing for three years how I enjoyed being with people. Her last dog was like that as well, and she called Honey an “unofficial” therapy dog. One evening Mama saw an advertisement about the need for more therapy dogs! Mama knew immediately that I would be great in that role.

She was excited – that would mean we could go out together more often. She sent away for information, and within a few days we were scheduled for an interview! I didn’t even know what an interview was.

We arrived a few minutes early and knocked at the door. A man with a dog opened it, saying they would be ready for us in a few minutes. I quite liked the look of the other dog – she was cute and friendly, so I introduced myself. This place had positive vibes for dogs. Shortly after, we were ushered in – but, disappointingly, my new dog friend and her human left, leaving just one other man, who said that we had passed the first stage of the interview.

We had? Yes, the first step was that I had a friendly nature and would get along with other dogs, even if I didn’t already know them. The first man had brought his dog just to see how I would react to another dog. Easy-peasy.

After that, the man chatted with Mama about the role, and I listened. Then he asked Mama to go into the next room while I stayed with him. I didn’t understand where she went or why, but he was nice, so I didn’t worry. A few minutes later he got up and then dropped something with a terrible clatter. My ears pricked up and I looked over to see whatever he was doing, but I took that in my stride too. Perhaps he was just clumsy.

Mama told me later that these were two more tests. How do I cope without my Mama? And how do I cope with sudden loud noises? I passed. They continued to chat about whether Mama would cope with disability and wheelchairs. We are both used to them because we still see Jonathan who is in a wheelchair. Would Mama cope with illness and death? Well – she does palliative care. Yes, she would cope.

As the interview continued, I moved over to sit at his feet, and he was kind enough to pat me and rub my ears. I asked for a tummy rub, and he obliged. Finally, he said to Mama that I was remarkable, calm and placid, and ideally suited to the work we would be doing. I was then amazed when he told Mama that I had been successful at my interview, and furthermore, I was the first dog EVER to pass on the first go!

You can imagine that Mama was pleased and proud of me. She left with a manual of regulations. These concerned my hygiene and regular grooming, and included cleaning my ears and private parts and brushing me before every outing, no raw meat the day before, and other such things.

I had to be trained to sit or lie on a rug and stay there for as long as she chose – whether she was with me or not. I had to learn the appropriate “meet and greet” routines for other dogs. Slow approach, three seconds of nose touching, step back and give space. Repeat three times. Walk in front, walk behind, and then walk beside each other. By this time, we should be friends. I now apply this strategy to every dog I meet.

Mama had to be sure to know my signals for bathroom needs and be able to “read me” for any other needs, for example if I am thirsty. She’s good at this. Now I know where and when we are going to “work”, I have a drink beforehand, and I can wee on command before we go in. What a team!

As a therapy dog, there are lots of other things to learn. There’s so much sensory stimulation - new sounds, sights, smells and hands (some people even have the smell of cats on them). I have to cope with loud music and excited young people, and many hands all wanting to touch me at once – at first this was a bit overwhelming, and Mama had to “read” when I needed a quick walk outside.

I soon progressed to Aged Care. Some old people are a bit rough – they scratch a bit too hard and rub my fur up the wrong way. Mama had to learn to pre-empt this by saying, as soon as we were introduced, what I liked and how to please me. At that point I was wearing my “Learner” bandana, so they understood.

Wherever we go, I have to walk along the left side of the corridor and closer to the wall. Being only small, I could otherwise be a trip hazard. So, all us dogs walk in a line, one behind the other, usually three or four of us, but sometimes up to seven together, all on our best behaviour. People always smile at us and are impressed.

Within two months Mama and I had graduated from being learners.  Our communication was good, and Mama and I both knew our roles. I didn’t have to wear that yellow “Learner” bandana anymore. I was the first dog to graduate in less than a year.

I was then assessed and approved for hospital work! The first thing was that I needed to get used to the hollow sounds and echoing of the underground car park, and then the elevator, with swishing noises, and bells and dings, and a strange voice announcing the different levels. At first, I was scared of the small gap between the floor and the inside floor of the elevator. Yes, I know I couldn’t really fall into the elevator shaft, but I still had to get used to jumping over the gap, so my paws didn’t get stuck.

In hospitals there are many different sounds – bells, beeping machines, and alarms, and hurrying feet. It’s a different world, but I am used to it now, and this is where I do my best work, and where I know I can make a difference. Hospitals are my favourite place now.

Mama has been learning a lot too. She has to register us at Security and contact the person in charge of each ward before we enter. She knows to ask if any patients have allergies to dogs. She’s learned which signs mean “droplet contamination”, posted outside wards with patients with contagious diseases. We never go into those wards!

She must use sanitiser before and after every single patient, as well as when entering and leaving each ward. Patients must use sanitiser before and after touching me too. Hygiene is crucial, and it goes both ways. The supervisor said that dogs can sometimes become ill from human germs too.

At the hospitals, I had a lot to learn. Here I am expected to sit and lie not only on couches, but on hospital beds, or on people’s knees when they are in recliners. I never go on furniture at home – I never liked being up high.

Only once during a storm Mama let me lie beside her on the edge of her bed because I was so frightened. It was supposed to be only for a few minutes, but we both went to sleep, so we don’t know how long it was before I jumped down and went back to my own bed.

So yes, I’ve had to learn to accept being up high. Now, people in recliners need their footrest to be raised, so it’s not like a slippery slide for me. Mama reads my signals and asks the person, on my behalf, to raise the footrest.

What else have I had to be trained to accept? Well, in hospitals I must be in a pram instead of walking from ward to ward. There’s a lot of walking in big hospitals, and also if I’m in a pram, I am clearly visible and don’t get underfoot in an emergency. We practised with Mama pushing me in a shopping trolley at the local hardware store. I jumped out the first couple of times, but then a few days later I saw the other hospital dogs in prams, and we teach and encourage each other about such things. I got the idea quickly.

That way too, all people visiting their family and friends in hospital easily see us; they are cheered and want to interact with us too – because it’s fun for them to see us dogs being wheeled in prams. We feel like celebrities sometimes, as people love to give us some attention. They too need our time and love. Caring for loved ones who are ill also puts people under a lot of stress.

Being in a pram also means that people can reach me to pat and stroke me if I am wheeled up beside their bed. I am too short for them to reach if I’m on the floor – there would be patients falling out of their beds for sure. Don’t be surprised, but not everyone wants a dog right on the bed beside them. If they do want us on the bed, however, we put hospital “blueys” down for me to lie on, just in case any of my hairs fall out.

So that’s a few of the main things about my assessment and training.

The only other thing to say is that because Mama also does palliative care, she is allowed to take me with her for palliative care visits – and we are the only ones with approval to go on our own, to visit dying people, either in their homes or in the hospitals. I feel honoured that I am included with her. I am very glad she saw that advertisement. It’s opened up a new world for both of us.