Some of my fondest memories of my golden retriever Hal are from the times when we went pat-dogging together. It was a great surprise to all his friends and acquaintances when he passed his temperament test, as a lively three year old, on a windy day in Malton marketplace, and was accepted to be a PAT dog. He accepted a treat gently, ignored the crash of a metal dish as it hit the floor, walked calmly to heal, was groomed without making a fuss, had his teeth and ears examined, and generally showed himself to be a responsible member of society- not something he had shown signs of doing up to that point! From then on, visits to a local retirement home on behalf of the Pets as Therapy charity became a part of our weekly routine, so that the residents could enjoy the chance to see him, talk to him, and stroke him. As he walked into the silent lounge, and looked round with his tail thrashing, it was as if someone has just switched the lights on. People would move in their chairs and focus on him. “Here he is.” “Isn’t he lovely” “Let’s have a look at you” “I’ve nothing for you old lad”. Suddenly the half finished cups of tea were remembered and the tales began. I heard the story of a squire, riding in a carriage, whose dog was taught a lesson when he let it go for other dogs on his way past once too often and it met its match. Then there was the young man who was locked out of his house at ten o’clock when he got back five minutes late after seeing his girlfriend home at the other end of their village, and had to pay for a new lock when he broke the door down. I heard about the time before dog wardens, when gangs of stray dogs would fight in the streets, and was told what it felt like to be a London landlord waiting for a visit from the Kray twins. I shared happy memories of life as an army child in the hill stations of India and as a Wren in wartime Ceylon, and marveled at the sixth sense of the dog who led its owners away from a coming doodlebug, as well as hearing about dozens of much loved companion dogs from the past who are still remembered. It is something very special to think that simply by being there, and looking for the attention and physical contact which he loved, Hal was able to open up memories of a life, and bring back times which would otherwise have been forgotten. It’s was an easy way to cheer up a morning that might otherwise have been silent and solitary, with each resident sitting in their private world. Alongside this there was the lady who would simply fix her eyes on him, hold out her hand, and murmur “beautiful” and “soft” over and over again as she found the silky fur behind his ears and ran it through her fingers. There was no reaction from one particular resident at all for months, he sat in the same corner each week staring silently, until one day there was a nod and his hand went out offering a single piece of apple. For Hal of course that was the point of the exercise. He had no idea that he was there to provide a focus for reminiscence, mental stimulation, and touch therapy. He just thought that we had been lucky enough to find a place where they gave out biscuits once a week, at about quarter to eleven, to people who could be persuaded to part with them. Bourbons, custard creams, jaffa cakes, toast carefully wrapped and stored away from breakfast, toffees, tuna sandwiches, jelly babies- you name it he sat down, stared hard, thumped his tail on the floor and was given it. I know it wasn’t healthy eating, but somehow it just never seemed to be heard when I attempted to refuse on his behalf, and they really loved it when the toffees stuck to the roof of his mouth and he had to chomp and lick to dislodge them.

I can definitely recommend “going pat-dogging” if you have the time and the right dog, which can be any shape or size so long as its temperament is suitable. Even on a quiet visit it’s always worthwhile, and sometimes you can be lucky enough to make somebody’s day, just by letting them spend a short while with the pet you love.