“Phyllis Langford, and with the instincts that had been serving her well, Cassie let Sammie off her leash in the park Monday morning. “Okay, girl,” she said, squatting down, rubbing the sheltie’s ears, “you’re on.” There were no rules here, no right ways, no answers. There were only bits and pieces of advice from psychology professionals—not all of it consistent—suppositions and a very few precedents to guide her. And there was her absolute certainty that pet therapy could help where not...hing else would. They were breaking new ground. So far, with great success. Because this was a Monday morning, a school day, the park was deserted. Except for the man walking toward them with his daughter clinging to his hand and staring up at him. Mariah’s long black hair was in a French braid. She looked adorable—and fragile—in her yellow jumper and sandals. “Go say hello, Sammie,” Cassie said, her tone of voice changing as she gave the command.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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