Page 44 of Daddy's Naughty Dog Trainer

With careful movements, Lucky eases himself partly onto the bed, positioning himself so Zoe can wrap her arms around his neck without having to strain. She buries her face in his fur, and for a moment, the room is silent except for the quiet beeping of medical equipment.

When Zoe finally pulls back, there are tears in her mother's eyes, and I'm not far from them myself.

"He's the best dog ever," Zoe declares. "When I get out of the hospital, I'm going to ask for a dog just like him."

"That sounds like an excellent plan," Sean tells her seriously. "Dogs make the best friends."

We spend about fifteen minutes with Zoe, letting her pet Lucky and showing her a few simple tricks he can do. By the time we leave, she's laughing and seems to have forgotten, at least temporarily, about the IV stand she's tethered to.

The other visits follow a similar pattern, children lighting up at the sight of Lucky, parents grateful for the distraction, the simple joy a dog can bring cutting through the sterile hospital environment like a beam of sunshine.

Our last visit of the day is with a twelve-year-old boy named Ethan, who's been in treatment for almost a year. When we enterhis room, he's sitting in a chair by the window, looking out at the hospital garden below. Unlike the other children, he doesn't immediately react to Lucky's presence.

"Ethan?" Liz says gently. "The therapy dog is here to visit you."

The boy turns slowly, his expression carefully neutral. "Hey," he says, his voice flat.

Sean exchanges a glance with me before approaching slowly. "This is Lucky," he says. "Would you like to meet him?"

Ethan shrugs one thin shoulder. "Sure, I guess."

Instead of bringing Lucky directly to the boy, Sean sits in the empty chair across from him, signaling Lucky to lie down at his feet. "You know," he says conversationally, "Lucky wasn't always a therapy dog. When I first got him, he was actually a bit of a troublemaker."

This seems to catch Ethan's interest. "Really?"

"Oh yes," Sean continues. "He chewed my favorite shoes, knocked over lamps, once he even stole an entire roast chicken off the counter."

A ghost of a smile touches Ethan's lips. "What happened?"

"I met Jessica here," Sean gestures to me. "She's a dog trainer. She helped us figure things out, taught us both what we needed to know."

Ethan's eyes flick to me, then back to Lucky. "He looks pretty well-behaved now."

"He is," Sean agrees. "But it took time and patience. And a lot of treats."

The boy leans forward slightly, his interest clearly piqued. "What kind of tricks can he do?"

Sean demonstrates a few of Lucky's more impressive commands, playing dead, fetching specific items by name, even a simple counting trick where he barks a certain number oftimes. With each trick, Ethan's reserve melts a little more, until he's finally reaching out to pet Lucky tentatively.

"I had a dog," he says suddenly. "Before I got sick. He had to go live with my aunt because my mom couldn't take care of both of us."

"That must have been hard," Sean says quietly.

Ethan nods, his hand still resting on Lucky's head. "His name was Rex. He was a mutt, but he was smart too."

"I bet he misses you," I say, joining the conversation. "Dogs never forget the people they love."

"Yeah?" Ethan looks up, a vulnerable hope in his eyes.

"Absolutely," Sean confirms. "Dogs are better at love than most people. They don't care if you're sick or having a bad day. They're just happy to be with you."

Something in Ethan seems to crumble then, and he leans forward, wrapping his arms around Lucky's neck much as Zoe had done. Lucky, sensing the boy's need, stays perfectly still, allowing the embrace.

"My doctor says I might get to go home next month," Ethan says, his face still buried in Lucky's fur. "If my counts stay good. Maybe I can see Rex then."

"That sounds like something to look forward to," Sean says, his voice gentle. "And in the meantime, Lucky can visit you again, if you'd like."

Ethan pulls back, wiping quickly at his eyes. "Yeah, that would be cool."

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