A year ago today I had a major collapse. I was found a couple of days later and put on life support. All I remember is a dream about meeting God (He told me I have more work to do and I said, “Don’t tell me what to do!”) and then I woke up. It was two or three weeks later and I was on a vent, tied down because I was pulling tubes out and trying to get free. It was not what you’d call a great time. So this morning I had a meltdown. Buzz suddenly dashed off into another room, then came bounding back with a toy in his mouth, and stood there staring at me wagging so hard I thought he’d take off. I took the toy and he gripped it and hauled back on it. Buzz has the weakest grip of any poodle I have ever worked with. He can hardly carry an empty water bottle. But now he was refusing to give up the toy. He is also “soft”—he never argues with me. I pulled harder on the toy, surprised at him, still upset, and he put his whole body into it. That’s when I finally figured it out. The dang dog was DOING HIS JOB! He was deliberately making me play with him to redirect me. The weirdest thing is, I have never worked with him on this. I have taught him to do it for other people. Never for me. And he is primarily slated for medical alert, not PTSD or anxiety. He is so clever, and so sweet, he was able to extrapolate from other training what I needed and performed so incredibly well he had me laughing even with tears still on my face. Buzz never misses an alert. Today he didn’t miss a bad day, either.