My dog Sunny has been accepted as an official “Therapy Dog”.

We are in training for the next few months.

His role is to provide comfort and support to those who may need this, and also to help children and young people learn how to love and care appropriately for dogs.

On Wednesday we had our first work experience, visiting a day program for mildly disabled young adults. There were about fifteen clients and five staff, and four dogs with their owners. Visits occur fortnightly at this centre.

We were welcomed into the venue with great delight, by staff and clients alike. Sunny was greeted with great joy. I may be biased, but to me he was by far the most handsome of the dogs, and his sweet personality was soon evident.

Everybody wanted to make a fuss over him, and pat and stroke him. He became the centre of everyone’s attention, so we had to restrict the number of people with him to two at a time. Yes, there was a queue of people waiting to greet the new one!

He posed brilliantly for photos. Like a pro!

Although he loved all the attention, and gentle pats, a few times he became a little overwhelmed by so many people and all the attention – he walked away by himself, choosing to go under the billiard table. I took him outside for a little walk each time, just to give him some emotional space. He was always happy to return.

At the end of our time there, the four dogs sat together on a lounge couch while they were offered treats. The clients all knew how to be gentle with dogs, and all knew how to offer the treats.

It was a beautiful and moving experience to watch them care for these dogs, and to watch the dogs bringing such happiness into the lives of these young people.

One thing distressed me, however. At one point I noticed a young woman sitting alone. She was wearing sunglasses, so I thought she perhaps had vision problems. She was not interacting with anybody, nor with the dogs.

Sunny and I went and sat down near her, and she looked as though she might have been crying. I asked her if she was okay, and she simply said “No.”

At that moment my supervisor signalled me to come away, apologising profusely.

“Doesn’t she like dogs?” I queried, a little puzzled.

“I’m so sorry, I should have told you! She lost her dog very recently!”

I have to follow my supervisor’s instructions. After all, she’s been doing this with her many dogs for many years.

But I couldn’t help thinking that it was at just such a time of grief that this young lady needed the love and comfort, and the warmth and cuddles of a dog like Sunny. Isn’t that what Therapy Dogs are for?

I wondered if she would not have preferred to withdraw into the other room, if the sight of the dogs was too much. I hope she was asked, not just awkwardly left to manage and try to cope with a difficult situation.

Would it really matter if she cried while she stroked him? Perhaps she needed to express her pain through tears. Sunny would have been happy to lie quietly on her lap. He is very intuitive, and would have sensed her distress – and he would have offered comfort in a way only dogs can do.

Was it better to leave her alone in her grief, because interacting with a dog might trigger tears?

Or would it be better to offer her the love and comfort of another dog, albeit for just a short time on a Wednesday afternoon, and permit her to cry if she needed to?