There is very little that upsets or excites Zinnia, she is chill just about everywhere. But one place that really excites her is Bishop Maginn High School in Albany, where she did her training (often by the students themselves) in therapy work with refugee children.

In a sense, she grew up there, and her tail starts going the minute she gets out of the car and sees the school. It is her second home. I take her off-leash and she goes running ahead to the door where Sue Silverstein is always – always – waiting for her outside, arms outstretched.

Zinnia runs up to her, gives Sue some licks, runs back to me, and then back to Sue. When we catch up, we all go in together and Zinnia goes running down the long hallway, turns the corner, and rushes into Sue’s classroom where she is met with shrieks of joy, many hugs, and greetings. Everyone in the school knows her or knows of her, and she is welcome everywhere.

Sue is Zinnia’s official godmother and I told Sue I was getting a computer chip into Maria, if she ever disappeared I would know where to live. These two adore each other.

Zinnia goes from table to table, checking things out, recognizing the kids who helped train her, sniffing for the scraps of food all kids leave at lunchtime. We usually arrive before lunchtime, but when the bell rings for lunch, Zinnia’s tail wags even more. She knows what the bell means – lots of food heading for the art room.

Sue Silverstein’s class is a favored refuge for many refugees and inner-city kids at Bishop Maginn. At lunchtime, the kids all come rushing in with their sandwiches hamburgers and french fries. The chairs are full in a flash.

This is not lost on Zinnia. She knows what is coming.

Sue always leaves out a bowl of water, some toys (which Zinnia now ignores, food is better), and parcels out a few treats for the kids to give her. It took me a while to figure out that the kids – they are told not to feed her – ignore that request and drop a french fry here or there at each crowded table and Zinnia has learned to patrol the tables very carefully over and over again, pausing for rubs and squeals along the way.

Wherever she goes, a french fry is on the floor waiting for her. There is no rational way to stop it.

The room at lunch is crowded, kids are jammed together at every table. Zinnia melts out of sight under the tables, one to another, getting hugged and petted – and fed – every step of the way and completely out of sight. Every few minutes, she emerges and vanishes under another table. She does this happily until the bell rings again, and the kids get up and take their lunch detritus with them. Then she really goes to work.

She’s a Lab, but not a hog. She knows what she is supposed to do.

It’s a good time for any Lab, but especially for Zinnia, who is completely at home amidst the laughing, shouting students. She is just at ease there as she is in our living room. When most of the kids leave to go to their next class, Zinnia pauses and checks out the crowd. She stops looking for food and starts looking for people who need her. Therapy dogs look for attention. The people who look the most closely at them are the most likely to want to see her.

First, she went over to see Chanzay, who seemed quiet and shy and was sitting alone. She is a new student, I hadn’t met her, she comes from the Caribbean. Zinnia is intuitive, she has amazing radar for children who need her, as she does for me.

Sue says if anyone is crying, Zinnie goes to her first and lies down. I see that.

Chazy was not crying, but Zinnie sensed she could use a visit, so she went over to her and lay down next to her. She didn’t move until the table was full of kids scraping their chairs around. They needed the space she was taking up. Chanzy kept reaching down quietly to touch her.

Then she made her rounds again, disappearing for long periods (I suspect lots of fries were on the floor, she makes sure they are gone). It would break her heart to pass up the few french fries she gets, I don’t have the heart.

Zinnia loves to eat, but she is not food-obsessed. She eats a bit, sniffs around, then patrols for attention and offers some love. She is always happy to pause for a rub or scratch. I don’t even try to stop the fry conspiracy, but she never seems to forget what her work is, and she is always available to do it, food or not.

At one point, a quiet freshman named Oleo Tijani sat down by himself at a table. I saw him looking at her, but I also saw him hesitate, he seemed to be wary of a big dog like her. She spotted him, licked his hand, let him scratch her, and then lay down on the ground, resting her head on Oleo’s feet, as she often does with me.

Then she took a nap, greeting 40 kids and scarfing for french fries can take it out of a therapy dog.

I learned in my therapy work with Red and Izzie that therapy work tires dogs after 30 minutes or so, they always sleep for hours afterward, as Zinnia does. Something about the work is draining. As I write this, Zinnia is asleep, snoring with her head on my foot.

Oleo seemed to like Zinnia lying down in front of him, in this busy and loud classroom, they sat together for 10 minutes or so.  Neither of them spoke or move but the connection with them was visible.

This was important to Oleo, I could see. When he got up, he leaned over and reached down, and patted Zinnia’s forehead as if to thank her. She closed her eyes, it was sweet.

After this, Ler Wah, also a freshman, swept into the room and dropped to the ground to hug and kiss Zinnia, who appreciated the attention. She said she was a great dog lover.

There was no more food, so the students had Zinnia’s full attention. She was doing her one-on-one therapy work, which is the most effective.

Ler was moving too fast for me to get a photo, but she agreed to pose for a portrait. I very much love getting portraits f these young and interesting faces. I did a bunch of them today and will post them during the weeks ahead.

Zinnia’s special friend Ler Wer.

I’m interested in seeing how the students interact with her. She trained with them many weeks at Bishop Maginn. She trusts them in their classrooms and in the hallways, whether they are making noise or not.

I’d say she flipped about 20 students who were afraid of dogs, the only ones they knew were guard dogs or fighting dogs.

Overseas, very few of these refugee kids, most of whom grew up in refugee camps, could afford to have pet dogs or to feed them. Big dogs like Zinnia are also very new to them, they have never been so close. She had to be trained very carefully to approach children softly and slowly. Let the kids come to her. It’s a joy to see these kids light up and appreciate what a dog like Zinnia can mean.

It’s a pleasure to see them get to feel safe with her.

I think that’s the sweetest part of the work, that and watching Zinnia spot the people who need her, like Oleo and Charzay. She leaves dog lovers behind wherever she goes.

I’m glad to be back at Bishop Maginn. The pandemic took a couple of years out of our therapy work, but we are back again and re-starting our regular visits both here and at the Mansion. She hasn’t lost a beat, and I love this work. Therapy work with my dogs is among the most gratifying work I’ve done,  a part of my calling to do good.

Zinnia has the biggest heart and seems to have been born with empathy as well as a love of french fries.

It turns out its a beautiful mix.

 

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