Thread by @TheRealDoctorT

“When the dog looks at you, the dog is not thinking what kind of a person you are. The dog is not judging you.”

-Eckhart Tolle

“My name is Dug. I have just met you, and I love you.”

- Dug, the dog, “Up.” 2009.

(A 🐶 Thread)

The hospital rooms can have a numbing sameness.

The same four walls. The same TV. The same bed. The same white sheets, meticulously tucked.

The same plastic toothbrushes in the same “hospitality kits.”

Sterile. Efficient. Drab. 1/

Patients make little personalizations where they can.

A get well card on a side table. A blanket of their own. Photographs on a wall. A little speaker to connect to their phone and play music.

In this way, they say “I was here. I am here. And I am myself. Unique.” 2/

To Bella, however, every room is unique already.

The moment a person is inside it, Bella’s impossibly refined senses can detect their uniqueness. And in doing so, she can sense what they need from her, intuitively.

Bella is a golden retriever.

And she is a healer. 3/

Every now and then Bella and her human best friend, Anne, make their rounds together through the hospital.

Patients can request to see Bella. And sometimes the nurses make suggestions too; patients who might benefit from Bella’s unique brand of medicine.

Her love. 4/

The first room today is filled with grief.

Bella senses it as she enters, and hears it in the quietness of Anne’s voice.

Bella’s tail doesn’t wag briskly. She is subdued.

She rests her head on the side of the bed, and the sick human holds her, and weeps.

Bella loves them. 5/

Eventually they move on, and in the hallway several of the nurses come to pet Bella.

She holds out her paw to “shake hands.” She beams, and her tail thumps against the floor as she’s petted.

She absorbs their love.

And she gives it back.

Bella loves them. 6/

A visit to see a child always makes Bella’s day.

Their scent is unique to her. Innocent.

Of all the humans, she loves children the most. They bring a surge of protective warmth inside her.

They’re always so happy to see her, eyes wide with wondrous joy.

Bella loves them. 7/

Sometimes the grief touches the children’s rooms too.

Unbearably.

Sometimes Bella doesn’t enter right away, but she lingers by the door. Seeking permission to step into this most difficult of places.

Sometimes the parents want her there. Sometimes not.

Bella loves them. 8/

An elderly patient is always happy to see her. He pets her lovingly and says, “You’re a good dog, Bella. You remind me of my dog. She was a good dog too.”

The old man is deeply alone, in ways that Bella can sense, but Anne can’t.

She sits by his feet.

Bella loves him. 9/

The doctor walking briskly down the hall seems lost in his thoughts. His gaze is distant, and he almost runs into Anne and Bella before seeing them, and laughing.

“Hey Anne! Hey Bella! How are the dynamic duo today?”

Bella can sense the friendship in his voice. 10/

The doctor reaches down to pet her, before washing his hands with the foamy disinfectant whose scent fills Bella’s nostrils all day.

She beams up at him, hoping for a treat, but he has no packets of peanut butter to offer her.

Bella loves him all the same.

And I love her too.