Yes, Annie’s a therapy dog*
*in that she needs therapy, not that she’s therapeutic in any way whatsoever
You can often see Annie behind me on the office sofa. She’s a silent observer until the world outside shifts — then you might hear the occasional bark. But mostly she sits, fwaps her tail softly on the cushions, and listens. Good girl, Annie.
Oh, Annie.
What began as a kiteboarding trip with friends turned into something unexpected.
The thing about wind sports is that there can be a lot of…downtime. No wind? Better get busy sightseeing.
Friends and I had been noodling around town after repeated no-wind days in Mexico a few years ago. We came across a dog shelter in the dusty little town of La Ventana and, in it, our little Annie. Not known for being impulsive, my husband and I somehow agreed to plunk her into a carry-on bag and take her home with us.
She settled into our lives, an endearing but odd addition. She was terrified of flooring. She swivelled and walked backwards through most doorways (still does). She gave mean side-eye if she didn’t like what you were up to. She’d howl if you said the word birdie. And you could make all the noise you wanted in front of her, but lord help you if you created a whisper of sound behind her — freak out city. (I’ve tried grounding exercises with her — no dice).
When Annie was 11 months old, we found out she needed double hip surgery to fix the worst case of dysplasia our vet had ever seen. (No pet insurance since our policy didn’t kick in until the following day…blerg). But her hips healed and her weirdness remains — and we’re very thankful for both. Overall, she’s glitchy but lovely.
If you have a pet family, please introduce me — they’re an important part of your healing, no doubt. I’ll risk losing some professionalism as my dog-mom voice comes barrelling out of my mouth, but whatever. It’s worth it.
