Angel on a Leash Read Online Free

the places she had been working, but after watching her in action and hearing some of her stories about her other experiences, I thought I should see what it was like on my own with Belle. The first visit that Belle and I did was to an extended care facility in north Seattle. Visits to extended care facilities (they used to be called nursing homes) can be somewhat uncomplicated, as the people there are relatively quiet and the situation is not too stressful for the dog or the handler. I thought this would be the perfect maiden voyage for us.
    The administrator greeted me, and I introduced him to Belle. She gave him the standard Brittany greeting: the butt wiggle, the lean-in, and the wagging tail. He loved her. Of course. I was certain that she would get the same reaction from the people we were about to visit, and I was anxious to get started.
    The administrator walked us down the hall. He told me that he was bringing me first to Richard, a long-term care patient who had a photo in his room of himself with a Brittany. However, Richard was battling the early stages of dementia, the administrator told me, and I shouldn’t expect too much from him. Richard also believed that his family had simply dumped him in the facility to live out his days. “He’s not happy to be here,” said the administrator. “He’s rarely spoken and rarely smiled since he arrived here some three months ago.”
    With that information, Belle and I entered Richard’s room. I was a little anxious and was hoping for just about any reaction from him—a smile, maybe a few words. We walked in, Belle tugging me along with her tail wagging and her body twisting in that Brittany kind of way. She apparently had not heard anything that the administrator had told me, and she was ready to make a new friend.
    Instantly, we got the smile—and then some. Richard’s smile lit up the room, his face beaming, tears forming in his eyes. All at once, he became animated and vocal.
    â€œCome here, you knucklehead,” he called to Belle, slapping his thigh. She jumped on his lap and he hugged her as the administrator’s eyes widened at this first show of emotion. I watched without speaking, but I was thinking, Geez, we’re already breaking the rules by letting her jump on his lap.
    I decided, given what I had been told coming in, that this was a rule that could be broken for Richard. The interaction was exciting to watch, actually.
    By the way he was talking to her, I quickly realized that Richard thought Belle was his dog. He confirmed that when he said to me, “Son, will you take care of her after I die?” When his tears started flowing, so did mine.
    Belle could feel what was happening, and she was loving it. Here she was—the dog who runs through my house at about 40 miles an hour, the dog who chases pigeons, squirrels, and her brother throughout our urban neighborhood, now just patiently resting her head on Richard’s lap—looking him right in those tear-filled eyes.
    When it was time to move on, Richard gave Belle a big hug, some more pets, and said good-bye. He was smiling. He was happy. Maybe just for that moment, but that’s the moment we have, the moment we want, and the moment we contribute to.
    We wandered through the facility and had a couple more visits. Belle stuck her face onto the bed of another man, who was bedridden but smiling. She sat on a chair and went eye-to-eye with a woman who produced a smile that she apparently had never given in this place before. She lay on a bed next to another woman who couldn’t talk.
    On the drive home, I realized that now I got it. Richard and those other people we had visited—we had made their day. Had we changed their lives? Well, at least for that day, we certainly had.

    Eventually, I passed the evaluation with Teigh, and Cheri passed with Belle. I was ready to set out on my own with Teigh and Belle. I had lost a few friends from the dog