One of the many “dog” related activities I and the four-legged redheads participate in is Therapy Dog visits. Nursing homes, hospitals and like today, homes for emotionally disturbed children. Several dozen kids I would guess between pre-school and pre-teen age had the opportunity to spend an hour this afternoon doing whatever they pleased with seven dogs. As the dog owners and staff watched the kids held, petted, admired, played and walked with the dogs.
Emotionally disturbed kids maybe, but the dogs didn’t notice. They looked and acted just like any other group of children out for a romp on the school grounds during recess.
So what classified them as emotional disturbed? Abusive parents? Absence of a nurturing or proper home life? Who knows. Not having kids places me in the position of looking at all other kids as somewhat alien creatures. I have often asked my mother or sister “was I like that?” when I see, hear or read about out of control, unruly or misbehaving kids.
I consider myself lucky in many areas of life. My parents, our home and the way I was raised as a kid is the top item on that list.