Several of my hounds have been used as therapy dogs. I hate to tell you the number of times I've clouded up, but I also can look back on many sometimes happy, sometimes sad, and often incredible stories of my therapy visits. One that comes to mind is about the teenage girl, Karen, that had been in an automobile accident and had been only semi-conscious for two years when I first took Bosworth to visit with her. The only part of her that moved were her eyes. Otherwise her expression was a blank stare. We put Bozzie up on the bed with her and he snuggled close. That's all we did for about ten minutes. On the next visit which was a week later we did the same thing. This became a regular routine. One of the nurses had taken a picture of her with the dog and it was in a little frame by her bedside. Once when I arrived her parents were in the room. As usual we put Bosworth on the bed. She smiled slightly and then very slowly and distinctly said one word, "dog!" As I was leaving the mother came to me with tears in her eyes and said, "I never thought I'd ever hear my daughter's beautiful voice ever again." A few weeks later when I went down to the dog's room in the morning I found Bosworth dead. He had died of cardiac failure at four and a half years. I dreaded going to the nursing home that night, and when I got there I immediately told the nurse on duty about Bosworth. Very softly and quietly she told me that Karen had died in her sleep during the night.