Mr. Halvorsen hadn’t spoken in over a month. Alone, distant, and fading, he spent his days staring out the window, forgotten by family—until Sunny, a therapy dog, came to visit.
While other residents lit up, he stayed still… until Sunny gently rested her head on his knees. For the first time in 42 days, he spoke: “Had a dog just like you. Named her Mags.”
From that day on, he came alive again—telling stories, asking when Sunny would return. But then, his daughter called, planning to move him to a cheaper facility. One that didn’t allow dogs.
I couldn’t stay silent. I shared with her how much Sunny meant to him, how she’d brought him back to life. After a long pause, she quietly said, “I didn’t know.”
Two weeks later, she visited. Her father simply said, “Claire.” They didn’t talk much, just sat together. But she changed her mind—he would stay, and Sunny could visit anytime.
Since then, he’s opened up, laughed, eaten more, and slowly reconnected with the daughter he thought he’d lost.
Sometimes, healing starts with something as simple as a wagging tail. Love can come quietly—and just in time.