It started with a walk and a chance encounter. Peter Loring was out for an afternoon stroll with his dog, Temba, when a stranger stopped to admire the pup’s calm demeanor. What began as a simple compliment quickly turned into a life-changing conversation.
“She was a therapy dog assessor,” Peter recalls. “Within a minute of meeting him, she said, ‘He’d be fantastic. Ever considered therapy work?”
That interaction marked the beginning of a years-long commitment to bringing comfort, joy and calm to staff, children and families at IWK Health.
Temba, natural from the beginning, quickly proved his ability to connect with people of all ages. From seniors and university students to preschoolers and babies, he gradually socialized to ensure he had the right temperament for therapy work. Eventually, he was invited to join IWK’s therapy dog program. Now semi-retired at 12 and a half years old, Temba has passed the torch to Jetsan, his younger counterpart, who continues the work with just as much heart.
Jetsan is more than just a well-trained dog. While basic obedience commands, such as sit, stay, and wait, are essential in this role, it’s his emotional intelligence that sets him apart.
“What makes Jetsan great isn’t something you can teach,” Peter explains. “I can tell him to sit on a hospital bed, but I can’t make him snuggle in and light up a child’s face. That part comes from him. It’s just who he is.”
That natural empathy is vital in a setting like the IWK, where each day is different and every patient has unique needs.
“Jetsan intuitively adjusts to the child in front of him,” Peter shares. “That calm, patient presence is essential.”
While there is no formal certification program for therapy dogs in Canada, the assessment process is extensive and the expectations are high, especially in a pediatric hospital setting. Dogs are evaluated not just on obedience, but on temperament, adaptability and resilience in unpredictable environments. Handlers receive feedback and often return for reassessment after working on specific behaviors. For Jetsan and Temba, their ability to remain composed and gentle, especially around children, made them ideal for the role.
Jetsan’s hospital days begin around 9 a.m., but even reaching the sixth-floor playroom can take time.
“So many people stop us in the hallways and elevators just to say hi to Jetsan,” Peter laughs. “A few minutes with a dog can completely shift a family’s mood.”
They typically begin in the oncology unit’s playroom, encouraging children who can leave their rooms and engage not just with Jetsan but with each other. After that, Peter and Jetsan conduct individual visits for children who are too unwell to leave their rooms.
“Jetsan will hop up on the bed and snuggle in. Sometimes, it’s just about being a soft, comforting distraction from the hospital world. And often, it’s not just the child who needs it. Parents and siblings light up, too.”
“You’re not always ready for what’s behind the next door,” Peter admits. “In those moments, I talk about Jetsan, his swim at the beach or how much he loves the snow. It’s not about ignoring what is happening. It’s about bringing a moment of ordinary life into something extraordinary. It’s a way to cope.”
That simple act can have a profound impact on your life.
“One doctor once told me, ‘There’s a lot we can do for kids here. But what you and Jetsan do, that’s medicine we can’t prescribe.”
Even for Jetsan, the emotional weight of the work is real. After a shift, he’s completely drained, sleeping the entire hour-long drive home.
“I could take him on a five-hour run and he’d still be full of energy. But after a morning of therapy work, he is wiped. He’s tuned in the whole time, reading people, looking to me for cues. But as soon as I take off his therapy vest, he’s back to being a regular dog, chasing seagulls and playing in the yard. He knows when he’s working, and he gives everything.”
Despite the emotional intensity of the work, Peter’s outlook remains grounded and deeply human.
“After 10 years, some people get hardened. But I haven’t. I think it’s a skill to stay soft. I love the saying, ‘It’s harder to stay soft than to become rigid.’ Every week is a new adventure, and every day brings new families and new moments. That’s what keeps me coming back.”