To me, this was a small miracle; I brought Zinnia to Bishop Maginn today to do some serious therapy work. I was very moved today to see that Zinnia is way ahead of me; she is now – at four months of age – doing the work I hoped to train her to do over the next couple of years.

She loves being at Bishop Maginn, and no creature, human or animal, has ever been loved more than she is by the teachers and students in the school.

Three shy girls spend a half-hour training her and sitting with her, and she now walks all around the school as if it were hers.

Two kids who are afraid of dogs came in, and we closed the door and left Zinnia alone with them. We were close by, watching through the glass door window.

When we came in, both of them were sitting on the floor, scratching her belly while she chewed on a toy lying upside down.

They are not afraid of dogs any longer.

In a way, it is hers. Everywhere she went, students lined up to sit with her, scratch her belly, talk to her, scratch her head, secretly slip her some treats or pieces of from their sandwiches when they thought I wasn’t looking.

She loves to see her friend Sue Silverstein and walks off with her as if I weren’t even the building. Several students ask their parents if they could stay late to spend some time with her.

She signed up as a mascot for the new Cheer Squad and was led into different classrooms to say hello. The students could not have been more gentle or loving, and this was Lab heaven for this lab, loved for hours by everybody in the building.

Zinnia is almost startlingly appropriate; she didn’t jump on anyone and would reach up gently to lick the students on the nose.

She also already knows where there is apt to be a crumb or two underneath the benches where the student eat their lunches.

I was very proud of her and thrilled to see how much happiness that followed her like a cloud. Animals can do that for us; this is a beautiful place for her.

She is needed and does much good.