The Puppy That Came for Christmas by Megan Rix Page A

used a favorite toy, placing it right on the edge of the machine, and showered her with love when she brought it back to me. Gradually I’d put it farther and farther inside, until she had her head completely within the dark echoey drum; her tail, which was sticking right out into the kitchen, was swishing merrily from side to side like a metronome, marking how happy she was.
    It was one of the many skills that all Helper Dogs had to learn. For an able-bodied person, taking the washing out of the machine is simply a tiresome chore, but in a wheelchair or with limited mobility, it can be a struggle. Now, after only a couple of weeks’ practice, Emma was cheerfully—and surprisingly delicately—pulling socks, pants and bras out with her mouth and dropping them into the washing basket, ready to be taken outside to be hung up to dry. It was a game to her, one she loved to play.
    Learning how to take the pegs from the basket and give them to me, however, was all her own work. After the washing-machine drill, she followed me out into the garden and, in an excess of play-fever, simply copied what I was doing. Soon, I’d say, “Peg, Emma,” and she’d bring me a peg over; and when I was unpegging the washing, she could take the pegs gently from my hand and drop them back into the basket too. For her, it was a fun, exciting game, well rewarded with treats and love. Someday, the washing-machine game and the peg game would make somebody’s life a whole lot easier. She was really picking up new skills quickly now; most of all, she was enjoying it.
    Other things we concentrated on were taking off a person’s shoes and socks, picking up a dropped walking stick and finding the phone—what’s a few tooth marks on a phone if it means your dog can bring it to you when you’ve had a nasty fall and need help? She was also very good at finding a set of door keys to which I’d attached a cuddly toy keyring. “Find the keys,” I’d say, and off she’d go, hunting around the room. Sometimes, I’d hide them in a shoe or under a cushion so she really had to look for them. Sometimes I even buried them inside a pile of her toys. She never gave up until she found them and she always had a treat and tons of happy praise when she brought them over. I was certain that a huge smile spread over her doggy face every time.
    Quite aside from the specialized Helper Dogs work, Emma was coming on in leaps and bounds in her obedience training. All Helper Dogs had to complete Kennel Club training, too, as it was equally as important to their prospective partners that they could do simple things such as stay and sit on command as it was that they’d perform the more complicated tasks. Jamie had decided that it was time for Emma and Eddie to go for their first Kennel Club exam. Elvis hadn’t yet quite grasped what was required of him and was going to wait until later when his behavior was less erratic.
    Ted, a man in his thirties with cerebral palsy, told me how his working day had changed after his Helper Dog, Callum, came to live with him. At first Ted had thought that Callum’s most important skill was being as quiet and unobtrusive as possible; however, he soon found out that there were much bigger benefits than that.
    â€œAt work I never used to speak to anyone if I could help it and no one ever spoke to me. Some days I’d go through a whole day sitting at my computer without saying anything. Around me other people in the office would be chatting, but not me. I was the invisible man—there but not there. When I got Callum and took him to work, it was like people saw Ted the person for the first time. Everyone wanted to say hello to Callum and ask questions about him. Soon it took me ten minutes to get to my desk because everyone wanted to stop and say hello.
    â€œCallum is really good and sits under my desk. He’s not in the way at the office at all. Now, when