A Therapy Dog, A Forgotten Name, and the Bloom of Healing
When I visited the hospital with my therapy dog, Riley, I never expected one visit to change everything. Most patients brighten at the sight of him—but Mr. Callahan was different. Silent and withdrawn, he hadn’t spoken in months. That changed the moment Riley gently rested his head on the man’s chest.
A whispered “Good boy” turned into a name—“Marigold.” From that single word blossomed a story of Eleanor, the love of Mr. Callahan’s life, who used to bring him marigolds every Sunday. Her passing had left him lost, disconnected—from others and from himself.