By Bonnie Horovitz, Delta Society Pet Partner^®

You know those wonder dogs and their owners who win awards for service to the community. They cause mute kids to speak or paralyzed individuals to walk. Well, that's not Shana and me. Shana, my 11-year-old Golden Retriever, and I have won no medals, ribbons, or trophies. Even though I believe Shana is the smartest, most courageous and loving dog and I am a wise and understanding owner, in reality, we are fairly ordinary: a dog who loves her owner, and an owner who loves her dog.

For the past 5 years, as members of Prescription Dog Love, Shana and I have visited a psychiatric ward 2 Sundays a month and on holidays. The routine was always the same. We signed in, went up to the fifth floor, rang the bell and were buzzed in. Patients greeted us before we cleared the door. Old or young, pajama clad or dressed, the greeting was often the same. "A dog!" would be shouted, followed by strokes to Shana's head or full-fledged hugs.

Unless instructed not to do so, we visited everyone. Shana did not care if limbs were missing, language was not coherent, or patients stared off far away. She wanted to see everyone. Shana would pull me into every room until we had finally covered the whole fifth floor. When we left, she was often wet from bear hugs filled with drool or tears. Once Shana's face ended up covered with red lipstick. She looked like a letter teenage girls send to boyfriends, where the envelope is covered with kisses. Shana had no idea why I was laughing so hard!

Patients sang gospel songs to Shana and told her stories about dogs they had loved and lost. Shana would sit in front of a person, and always stuck out her paw. The patient would either end up holding her paw or be nudged by it repeatedly. It must have looked strange to an observer to see a dog and a patient just holding hands, facing each other.

It was such a hard decision to make, to retire Shana. During the past 6 months, she no longer led me from room to room. Instead, she dragged me to the exit door after we covered the lounge. She was still great with patients, but in my heart, I knew Shana was becoming a little less tolerant of vice grip hugs and would rather be in the park. Shana had done this for 5 years and now at 11 years old she was ready to retire. So an ordinary dog and an ordinary owner retire with these thoughts: we had a blast, we got as much as we ever gave and we hope someone else will fill Shana's paws.

Note:

The decision to retire an animal can be difficult. We salute all Pet Partners who protect their animal's well being.