Volunteerism...or...what can I do?

I'm going to gaze into my Crystal Ball and anticipate your question....

Hmmmmmmm...

"what can I do?...what can I do?"

That's the question, right? You've got this great dog, and you'd like to do something meaningful. But what? How do you share this wonderful companion? Where do you go? Who do you talk to?
May I offer an off-the-wall answer?

Ask your dog, they'll know.

Well, I don't mean ask like the dog-whisperer. But your dog can help you answer the question. We had a similar situation with our first Bullmastiff, Rylee. Rylee was a special girl. Of course she would have been special to us even if she would have been just a big, happy pet. And she was all of that, but she proved to be much more. I would like to share a story I wrote many years ago about how Rylee helped us figure out the answer to our dilemma. We are fortunate to have a wonderful residence facility for children and adults with Developmental Disabilities. My wife happened upon a story in the local paper about this facility and how they were considering a therapy animal program, but didn't have a resource to turn to. Almost on a whim we called the Center. I wrote the following article for their News Letter as a result of our visit:

(I have taken the liberty of omitting certain names)

"The Decision to Contribute"

We would like to start off by saying that the decision to find an outlet for sharing Rylee with others wasn't really ours. It didn't take days of brainstorming to come to the conclusion that we needed to get Rylee out into the world. As much as we would like to get that kind of credit, someone else came to that conclusion for us. In this case, that someone was Rylee. Yes, we know that Rylee is a dog. Referring to her as a "someone" makes more sense once you've met her. Thinking of her as a person becomes very easy once you've experienced her "person"-ality. If there is an animal anywhere with more of it than Rylee, that animals owner needs to contact the Center as soon as possible!

Rylee came into our lives on January 16th, 1995. She was eight months old, and weighed in at a healthy 95 pounds. Big, goofy and incredibly lovable were the most accurate words to describe her. Despite her size she always seemed to know how big she was, but more importantly, how small other things were in relation to her. One thing we don't want you to do, is think that as Rylee's owners we were looking for something special from her. Neither of us had had any real experience with dogs as children, and all she was going to be to us was our DOG. It just became too obvious for even us to miss, that Rylee was somehow special.

Like most people, we had heard of Guide Dogs and other types of assistance dogs. The idea that jumped out at us was that of joining a visiting therapy group. The problem was, who did we contact? What is required of both dog and owner? Our dilemma was solved when my wife read an advertisement for a start-up program at the Center. This was something we hoped would be the perfect marriage, an ideal dog and an existing group of people she could help. Thanks to the outstanding staff at the Center, we were not disappointed. If we had any doubts about whether we were doing the right thing, those bouts were wiped away the first time Rylee paid a visit. She was given the official tour of the office and proceeded to show everyone there that she was the dog for the job. The icing on the cake came when we had a chance to put our grand idea to the test. We were told that one of the residents was in the office and they asked if it would be OK to make an introduction. The residents name is Jack, and he is the unofficial "postman" for the Center. Jack was asked if he liked dogs, to which he answered yes. That's when Rylee met her first client, and as it turned out, her next friend. Judging by the number of moist hankies that this introduction produced, we knew that this was it. No more trying to figure out how to get Rylee out to the world, she was home.

We never planned on being a test-case or to be pioneers. It just so happened that the right situation and the right dog met at the right time. And as much as we think of Rylee as being the perfect dog for this type of program, we know that there is room for more. Hopefully, other owners with the perfect dog will allow their pet to make the same decision that ours made for us.

How can we be sure that Rylee made the right call?
Faces.
Hers and those of the people she makes friends with on each visit to the Center.

Rylee made twice-weekly visits to the Center. Each visit provided opportunities for Rylee to work her magic. It was incredible. Faces twisted by years of pain or isolation suddenly smiled. Idle hands reached out to her. Fingers fiddled with her hair and ears. Clumsy hands groped her head and legs. She loved it. Sometimes it was hard to watch, but I'm so glad we did it.

Rylee's been gone for three years now, but those evenings at the Center will always be part of her legacy. Do you have a Rylee? My guess is you probably do.

"What can I do?...what can I do?"

Look around. Make a few calls. Better yet, ask your dog.