Last week a funny thing happened. Mom and Dad brought me to a new place--a big building with lots of doggy smells. That's okay, I like new places. Especially if I'm going to get treats when I'm there. And I'm pretty sure I was going to get treats, because I could smell them in Mom's pocket.
Mom said I was going to school. Even though I'm 9, I guess I'm not too old to learn new tricks. The teacher's name is Sylvia. She looks nice. Several other dogs came into the building.
We practiced our sits, downs, stays and healing. Mom isn't very good at it yet, I guess she'll need to do some homework. I did my best, but sometimes all those smells, and little dropped training treats on the floor, distracted me. What's a golden to do?
Overall, I think I like school. Mom said when we're done, I have to take a test. If I pass the test, I'll get to be a certified therapy dog. I'm going to try my best to pass. I really want to help others, the way I know therapy dogs have helped my dad when he was in the hospital.
See you next week.