One in a Million: Remembering Delta Dawn
Delta Dawn, a rescued Great Dane-Labrador Retriever mix who helped pioneer animal-assisted speech therapy, passed away on August 20, 2026 at the age of nine.
She changed the lives of many. This is my love letter to her and, I hope, inspiration for current and future therapy dog handlers.
We didn’t get the luxury of retirement.
How do you explain to a child that the therapy dog they were playing with and snuggling just three weeks prior is gone?
Delta Dawn, the “speech dog” that started it all for me, passed away from an extremely rare, extremely aggressive form of cancer.
Though she had been diagnosed with a mass in her urethra last spring, two different cancer tests had come back negative. Symptomatic treatment had returned her ability to urinate freely and her attitude had rebounded. We had lived summer intentionally nonetheless, taking special camping trips and prioritizing walks together just in case.
While I was being cautious and only bringing her to work on the occasional days I had client cancellations so I knew she could rest a lot, she was as enthusiastic as ever to shove aside her pesky little brother Zephyr to don the coveted “speech therapy dog” bandana.
And then I found a mass in one of her mammary glands. While waiting for the biopsy results, she stopped eating and began having difficulty defecating. My husband and I become short-order cooks, making whatever she might eat and sneaking in as much fiber as possible.
Then a recurring mild lameness she’d shown at times over the last couple months became dramatically worse. At times we couldn’t tell which leg was hurting, she just stumbled forward with tiny steps and acted fearful about claiming her usual spot next to me on the couch.
Despite complete rest and anti-inflammatories, her lameness worsened by the day and she was often anxious.
I got the call with the biopsy results while I was at work with Sky, with two sessions left to go for the day. I let it go to voicemail. If it was good news, I reasoned, it would be a nice surprise for the end of the day.
But in my heart I knew it wasn’t. It was cancer, and it had likely metastasized to her nervous system given her symptoms.
The very next morning Delta struggled to stand and we knew it was time. At least now we had an answer and she didn’t need to suffer while we tried to figure it out.
But I don’t choose to dwell on my sweet girl’s last days.
Instead, I’d like to share a few of my favorite moments working alongside her where her innate understanding of what was needed awed me…
One of Delta’s most endearing qualities was her desire to lean against children as they worked, providing both emotional comfort and sensory regulation.
A Speech Therapy Dog Responds to a Panic Attack
It was the last session of the last day before a three-week vacation. Mentally I was already a little checked out and not prepared for the heart-wrenching moments to come, but fortunately Delta had my back.
While multi-talented, Delta always shined the brightest with slightly older, anxious kids. She just seemed to know when they needed a head in their lap or a warm body leaning against them. She would become very still and present for these kids in a way that was amazing to watch.
It’s what got me hooked on AAT in the first place (see My Journey to Animal-Assisted Speech Therapy).
One day, a middle-school-aged boy with autism who often struggles to stay calm came in clearly very upset, yelling at his dad and scowling.
One of our overarching goals together had always been self-advocacy, helping him identify upset feelings and then picking from a list of personalized calming strategies we had co-created (e.g., talking about a baby crocodiles—a favorite topic, getting deep pressure input “squishes” from the therapy dog, taking deep breaths while petting the dog, or having time on the swing).
Today, however, any prompts I gave to encourage him to look at his feelings wheel or strategies list was met with anger.
“No calming breaths. I’m happy!!!” he’d shout with tears in his eyes while pacing the room.
So I modeled calm breaths and petting Delta myself, whispering language models such as “I’m very upset, I need a minute to calm down,” both to try to help co-regulate him but also to calm myself and Delta.
Eventually he sat next to Delta and started petting her. Given the volatility of the situation I kept my hand on Delta and watched her closely to make sure she was feeling okay about the interaction, but she snuggled up against him and even lifted a hind leg half-heartedly to ask for a tummy rub.
The boy recognized her request, and while petting her I started to understand that he had probably read or seen some sort of horror story. “If you wake up and the sky is black your parents are dead and no-one will feed you and you will starve,” he started repeating in a singsong voice.
Any time I tried to ask a question to better understand he would raise his voice and say “I’m not exaggerating!” which was clearly something he’d been told. But then he’d resume petting Delta and quiet back down a bit.
It was clear to me by this point that our only goal that session was to maintain our rapport and get as close to calm as possible before leaving. I couldn’t even begin to directly address our conversation and perspective-taking goals when he was in such a fight or flight state.
Just when I thought we were getting to a point we could maybe play a favorite board game together, the boy jumped up and paced the room, visibly shaking and crying while switching to a new fear-based gestalt (“If you sniff your hands you will get sick and you will die. You will bleed and then you will die.”)
He plopped himself down miserably a few feet from where he had been and that’s when Delta did something that literally brought tears to my eyes…
She scooched away from me to move back to the boy’s side, leaned against him, and started bumping against him with her head to get him to start petting her again.
I’d love to say Delta’s actions cured this boy’s panic attack. Ultimately he was a little calmer and quieter at the end of the session and the tears and shaking had stopped. But even trying to communicate to Dad about the session was tenuous.
For me, though, I had seen the true depth of Delta’s empathy in her self-directed determination to help this boy regulate.
And the hugs and snuggles we gave each other after the boy left helped alleviate some of the stress we had both endured as we desperately tried to help him that day.
Normally Delta sat in the back seat of my car looking out the windows for the first half of our drive home before finally settling in for a short nap. On this day, though, I looked back at her before exiting the parking lot and saw that she was already sound asleep.
She had exhausted herself in service to a client. If it’s possible, I loved her even more in that moment.
Delta showed me the power of providing deep pressure input (“squishes”) to help kids stay calm and focused.
Delta to the rescue
This was a story I wasn’t sure I would ever share. In the moment it was terrifying, but in the minutes following, it made me respect Delta’s decision-making abilities all the more.
I was working with a preschooler in my therapy room, his mom and toddler brother on the floor with us engaged in yet another exciting game of Pop the Pig (a perennial favorite). Because it was just us in the office, the baby gate to the room was open so Delta could remove herself for a rest or drink of water if having two rambunctious boys shouting in competitive excitement became too much.
Without warning the door from the public hallway opened and a strange man came striding quickly toward us. I didn’t even have time to react, it was so unexpected.
Delta took one giant leap from her position alongside us on the floor and barked loudly in his face. The man stepped backwards, crashing into the wall and screaming, “Get your f*ing dog off me!”
My first instinct was to feel mortified. My gentle, well-trained therapy dog had lunged aggressively at someone.
I apologized and called for Delta, but she simply sat staring at the man, who retreated toward the door. He claimed he had been looking for the exit to the parking lot (so why did he enter my office?) but was clearly agitated and barely coherent. Without another word he backed out of the door and I followed quickly to lock it from the inside.
When I turned, I expected the boys’ mom to be horrified by Delta’s actions.
Instead, beaming and praising Delta, she hurried without asking to my treat drawer to gather a jackpot of indulgences.
As we talked, it became clear that the mom had felt very threatened and perceived Delta’s response to be purely protective of her sons. While I have no idea if the man actually had any ill intentions or was simply intoxicated, Delta ensured we never had to find out.
My beautiful girl.
Delta came to us at approximately two years of age after having given birth to puppies in a Texas shelter.
A therapy dog’s powerful bond with a special child
The spring before losing Delta, I had an experience that summed up all her career as a speech therapy dog and the power of her bond with the children who most needed her.
As I was removing my phone from its charger at 7:30am one work day, a call came through. I hit “send to voicemail” and just figured I’d check it and respond midday as usual, a little irritated someone would call so early.
But as I went about my morning routine I just had an uneasy feeling that it might be something important.
So I listened to the message…
One of my long-time clients had been removed from their family and placed in emergency foster care a few days previous, unbeknownst to me. At 11pm the previous night, the child had told foster parents they had a speech therapy appointment and that they wanted to go and see Delta.
In the midst of all this upheaval the child had asked for my therapy dog by name.
Foster mom was confirming the appointment as it had been the first she’d heard the child was even in therapy. I called back and assured her I would understand if they couldn’t make it given the circumstances, but she reiterated how important the appointment had seemed to the child.
So I did an instant flip to my day’s plan and took Delta instead of Sky as had been planned.
When they arrived, I introduced my furry partner and foster mom said with a smile, “Oh, I’ve heard all about Delta.”
While this child loved each of my therapy dogs, I did know they had a special bond with Delta, who loved to lean against this child and get back scratches while working together. In fact, prior to first bringing Delta with me in 2019, this child would often shut-down and become completely non-verbal or hide in the ball pit if overwhelmed and unsure how to respond.
However, once I started bringing therapy dogs with me (the late, great Johnny Utah started a few months later, Bodhi came for a while, then eventually Sky, and now young Zephyr) we literally never had another rough session.
And while Delta couldn’t change what was happening in this child’s life at the moment, she could be there to share her love openly and provide a brief respite from the chaos.
Despite having full agency to move about the office as she liked, Delta usually preferred to stay as close to kids as possible.
Delta’s Ripple Effect in Animal-Assisted Speech Therapy
Since her passing I have had many other AAT professionals reach out to express how much it meant to them to see Delta’s interactions with clients through the educational materials I share.
Delta taught me much of what I know about this niche.
Because her communication signals were subtle, it forced me to look deeply at what she was telling me and research dog body language to a degree I might not have otherwise.
Because her decisions in the moment often amazed—but sometimes perplexed—me, I went on deep dives to learn more about dog psychology.
And because of my deep, deep love for her, I became determined to learn all I could to help maintain a high level of welfare so she would want to keep working alongside me for as long as possible.
And in the end, she did.
Delta was truly a one in a million dog. The legacy she leaves through all she has taught me and the help she provided over a hundred families will ripple through the world. I am forever grateful that fate somehow brought us together.
Thank you for the memories my sweet girl.
