PERSONAL ESSAY | PETS

I Have Lousy Therapy Dogs

Meet the von Walter boys—neighborhood terrors

Author photo: Otto and Sammy having crackers and wine while the sun sets.

I have — pardon my French — the shittiest therapy dogs in the world.

Otto and Sam, the von Walter boys, are a couple of little spitfires. Don’t get me wrong. I love them with all my heart and they are natural-born killers when it comes to protecting me. It sounds cute, but it’s kind of a behavioral problem. They recognize the Prime and FedEx trucks when they drive by and begin barking immediately in anticipation.

They’ll bark at a shadow in the window like it’s a cartoon turkey with the graphics of aroma rising out of it, and little Otto, well, he’ll growl and snarl, and nip at anyone who dares come near me if he’s on my lap.

I’m his big fat bone, you see.

What do you think of when you hear the term “therapy dog?”

I was just a frequent hospital visitor and a sweet older man would stroll into the waiting room every couple of hours with a gentle dog named Sally. Sally wore the distinctively marked THERAPY DOG jacket and was trained to walk up to each waiting visitor and nudge them for pets. It truly was uplifting and therapeutic.

There was no barking at shadows. Or growling at people who smile at me. Just the most…