Say K Paw was one of Zinnia’s first projects as a therapy dog when she began work at Bishop Maginn three years ago as a puppy. You might remember  Say, she has a severe heart condition. We got her out of a crowded and chaotic public middle school and sponsored her. We paid her tuition when she came to the school as a  freshman.

She is a junior now. We’re supporting her all the way.

Zinnia has a growing list of devoted friends at the school; Say K Paw comes looking for her when she knows she is in the school, and she will sit down with her for as long as she can and smile and pat her head and shoulders.

Say K  has a gentle and easy way with dogs, and the love between them is tangible.

Zinnia will often veer off and run into a class if she knows Say K Paw is there, and being a Labrador Retriever, she always knows how to find her.

Zinnia also knew Say K Paw’s sister Ni Lar. She was second in her class when she graduated from the school three years ago and is now a third-year nursing student at Sage College doing her rotations at the prestigious Albany Medical Center.

You have done a mountain of good as only an Army Of Good can.

Say K Paw was a promising artist at an Albany Public Middle School. Because of her health and unique gifts, a teacher at the school believed she needed to transfer to Bishop Maginn, where she would be safer and get the help she needed.

We raised funds; it was a good decision. Say K Paw is thriving at the school and gaining strength all the time.

It’s a joy to watch Zinnia work in a crowded room of high school students. She is a charmer.

At lunchtime, scores of kids come to Sue Silverstein’s class; they prefer it to the cafeteria. It’s a bit chaotic in there at lunchtime, and there is food all over the place—zinnia heaven.

Zinnia has a vast network of co-conspirators now, they sneak bits of fried fish, french fries, and hamburger chunks out onto the floor, and she circles the room, slyly checking under all the tables, getting her french fries (she loves french fries), and disobeys all of my rules about not eating while working.

So, for that matter, do the students. Sometimes, you have to roll with it.

They have become skilled at dropping food just at the right time, and before anyone can say anything, Zinnia swoops in, and there is no evidence.

Zinnia loves this game.

Ziinnia is not a food snob.

Crumbs are fine, grease and ketchup are good too. So is the occasional tasty piece of notebook or drawing paper. She doesn’t turn her nose up at anything, and I’ve given up trying to stop the secret society of Zinnia-loving food droppers.

We have to get through the lunch period.

Sue always has treats around for Zinnia; she is happy to eat that as well. There is no kind of food that Zinnia won’t eat and even some rocks that she is glad to eat. She is delighted with this part of therapy work.

Red was superbly trained and honest. He never touched a piece of food while doing his therapy work. Zinnia has a different approach. She is a Lab.

Elise, above, is a 10th grader with a sprained ankle and has to keep her foot upon the table. She is getting used to dogs.

Zinnia has a fantastic radar for sick, nervous, or unhappy kids and makes a beeline for them. It doesn’t hurt if they have a treat for her in their hands, which many of them do. I sometimes think Zinnia takes it personally when someone is afraid of her; she keeps at it until they come around. Her admirers are legion.

I admit to spoiling Zinnia, but Bishop Maginn kids take it to another level.

They adore her; she is patted, hugged, fed, or scratched for every minute she is there. I saw firsthand how frightened many of these inner-city and refugee children were by my big white dog.

Some of them have never seen a dog that wasn’t a pit bull guarding an apartment.

Zinnia has flipped a lot of children who are afraid of dogs and are not anymore.

There are lines of kids waiting for her when we show up, and she is utterly chill with the crowds, the noise, the attention, and of course, the french fries and fried fish balls.

She sleeps for hours when we get home. In school, she is unflappable. A dozen kids can be crawling all over her, and she wags her tail and soaks it up.

Louise got some dog treats for Zinnia from Sue, and then Zinnia managed to visit every table collecting hugs, rubs, and bits of food. She loves Bishop Maginn. Her tail starts wagging blocks away. It was a good idea to train her there; she doesn’t blink at honking announcements and buzzers, dozens of noisy kids stepping over and around her.

I love that they see her as one of them, and she sees herself as being at home there. I never tire of seeing her work; she was born to do this. As I write this, she is sound asleep, snoring with her head on my foot. She’s earned the rest.

 

Sue always makes sure that Zinnia gets to see the kids that need her. Natalia (above) is shy and is fearful of dogs. Sue goes around and gives the shy and wary kids a treat to hold. Zinnia, who has a nose that could find a pea in a football field, finds them, visits them, gets her treat, and accepts the loving. This gives her confidence, and they love touching her soft coat of fur.

Therapy work is good for her, and she is good for kids who need some love and attention, which is most kids.

Zinnia is also truly color blind. Latinos, African-Americans, Asian Kids, white suburban kids are all her friends; she treats them all the same and happily takes anyone’s food and attention from any country. I wish people could be like her.