Ruby, the Apple-Picking Labrador and Her Human, Betty Peterson
Every once in a while, I, Murphy the Therapy Dog, meet a fellow working pup who makes my tail wag just a little harder. Today’s story is about one of those dogs—Ruby, a gentle English Labrador Retriever with a heart as big as her belly rub collection—and her devoted handler, Betty Peterson.
I first met Ruby on a sunny morning during a certification test, the kind of day where everything smells like fresh grass and possibility. She trotted in confidently, calm but joyful, the way seasoned therapy dogs do. I knew right away she wasn’t new to this kind of work—and I was right. Ruby is actually Betty’s fourth therapy dog. Four! I had to sit down to process that. A handler with that much experience holds wisdom the way I hold biscuits under my tongue when I don’t want to give them back.
Betty’s therapy dog journey began back in 2008, long before Ruby came along. Their first three dogs were Reading Dogs at a local elementary school, helping children grow braver and more confident through stories and soft fur. Later, Betty and her dogs expanded their work to hospitals—places where a warm head on a lap can mean everything. Betty even completed her very first therapy dog test at the State 4-H Dog Show, which I personally think deserves a celebratory howl.
As we walked together, I asked Ruby about a moment that really stayed with her. She paused, ears forward, like she was remembering something important.
She told me about a hospital room she visited with Betty—one filled to the brim with visitors. Humans everywhere, chairs full, voices buzzing. She greeted each person politely, tail swishing, but then something inside her seemed to shift. Without hesitation, she padded across the room and sat directly in front of the patient. No one told her. No cue, no gesture. She just knew.
That’s the thing about therapy dogs—we don’t need words to understand where the heartache is. Sometimes we simply feel it, like a tug on a leash you can’t see. Everyone in the room felt the magic too. Ruby didn’t choose the patient; the moment chose her.
Walking beside them, it’s easy to see how deeply therapy work has shaped Betty’s life. She’s met countless people—patients, families, other handlers, trainers—each one becoming part of a bigger tapestry of care and community. She’s helped guide new teams, encouraged others to pursue certification, and continues to grow the network of therapy dogs spreading comfort through our towns.
Of course, even the most noble therapy dog has her quirks. Ruby’s? She’s famous for rolling over and presenting her belly the second anyone looks like they might give a scratch. Some say she’s shameless about it. Ruby says she’s efficient.
As our time together came to an end, Ruby nudged my shoulder, and Betty smiled down at both of us. It struck me how perfectly the two of them fit together—a handler who believes in the power of joy, and a dog who delivers it with every wag, nudge, and apple-stealing grin.
Therapy work isn’t just about visits. It’s about connection, instinct, heart, and moments that stay long after we leave the room.
And Ruby? She’s one of those dogs who leaves pawprints exactly where they matter most.
Until next time, friends—
Keep your tails high, your hearts open, and your treat stash full.
— Murphy the Therapy Dog 🐾
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDelete