The healing and comforting power of the common or garden pooch is an amazing thing.

I have witnessed it many times and been on the receiving end of it almost every day of my life.

And I received it from this gentle soul just when I needed it most in recent weeks, like a great hairy, comfort blanket, she sought me out, filled my heart and bolstered me for a shocking day that lay in wait. I didn’t know her name … so I gave her one for the day; Goldie.

This yearning for the company of dogs is a constant in my life and the lives so so many others.

Even when I’m on holiday distracted by new experiences and places, I miss my dogs and wish they could be with me and every time, I tend to adopt a dog no matter where I go.

And that’s why so often we enjoy shorter breaks nearer home. In fact canine cafe culture is growing in Northern Ireland and it’s because growing numbers of us like to take our four-legged family members with us on a day or weekend away.

When we are overseas and separated from the pooches, my husband and I sit in cafes and go for walks, explore new places and agree it would be “really perfect” if we only had the dogs with us.

We miss them horribly but wouldn’t put them through the journey, the heat, the jabs or the potential quarantine, so we tend to enter into temporary canine companionship – sometimes for entire holidays or just an ear ruffle at some outdoor cafe.

Dog owners are always flattered and happy to have their pooches adored by strangers seeking a little home-time nostalgia.

And when I’m working away from home, it’s no different. I phone them… Hello?

And yes, we chat. I can’t tell what we chat about. It’s varied and it’s private…

I work as a journalist and have traveled much of the UK, Ireland, Europe, the US and parts of Africa on assignment – and whether it’s Millisle of Mauritius, without fail I’ve always sought out a friendly face with a waggy tail.

It is normally a cautious start for us both depending on what I call the rabies rule but so far so good.

And every time I see the moment of recognition, the moment of ‘yeah OK, I like you’, that instant of ‘I trust you’, well it just melts my heart.

Dog people understand this.

Dog people love this.

Dog people do this too.

Cat people? Meh … not so sure. We’ll have to ask.

Two of our Bassets are signed up members of the Pets As Therapy charity.

Our Bassets love visiting the nursing home and on their first visit Lola plodded her way directly to a bedroom where a little lady sat in a chair, her husband perched on her single bed, no one talking.

Lola maneuvered her substantial derriere around the small room to sit beside the lady and waited.

Slowly a hand reached over the arm of the chair to Lola who enjoyed a gentle ear rub, eyebrows doing a little independent wiggle as her new friend spoke quietly about her childhood dogs.

When I realised her husband had tears in his eyes, I apologised for the upset. But he explained he wasn’t upset, he said his heart was racing because his wife suffered from dementia and had not said a word for two and a half years.

Then he told me: “She’s still in there, isn’t she. Dogs know.”

Lola refused to budge until the lady’s hand dropped to her side and her words faltered and stopped. Our big sweet dog turned to look at this little woman for a second, then walked away.

There was comfort and communication on a level us mere mortals may never understand.

And the comfort can be found in so many areas of life.

When I covered the dreadful story of a young bride murdered on her honeymoon in Mauritius, I spent weeks traveling the small country.

And on roads that soon became familiar, my rattling little tin-pot car started to attract local dogs out of the sugar beat fields for a nosy and the chance of a snack.

They looked so wretched and thin. They were nearly all sandy coloured, the males with tails hawking their trade, a bit of nookie with the neighbouring bitch. And the females, well let’s say they’ll never see a B cup again after giving birth to litter after litter of scrawny little pups.

So when my work was done for the day, when I left the sweltering court room, when I contacted the boss and send my copy across the miles, I headed back out to the roads and fed these dogs.

I pretended I was their comfort – but in truth they were mine.

I was working alone on an island 7,000 miles from home, there was at least one killer on the loose despite the arrest of two apparent suspects, and I and other reporters had been threatened and felt unsafe and uneasy. I missed my home and all that it entailed.

The only familiar comfort I had was these dogs and their shy, wagging tails and their gentle acceptance of the food I offered them.

We didn’t cuddle, we didn’t have a settee to snuggle up on, just a dusty roadside and darkness and a bit of aul’ chat.

But I was comforted by their company, touched by their acceptance and amused by how quickly a little food could create a routine amongst strangers.

Closer to home and only last month, I found myself again seeking out an ear to rub while working on a deeply distressing story in Co Cavan.

A beautiful soul and her three lovely sons had been murdered in what should have been the safety of their home by her husband and their father. He also killed himself.

To say it left their families, community and country reeling in shock does not even touch the reality as they battled to make sense of the mass murder of Clodagh Hawe and her sons, Liam, 14, Niall,11, and six-year-old Ryan in the family home near Ballyjamesduff.

My job was to try make sense of the senseless and in the evenings I had the privilege of staying in a luxury hotel that was nearby.

Here’s the thing. Crover House is dog friendly and it endeared me to it even more than the beautiful room and luxury bathroom.

On the second day of our assignment, photographer Philip and I met for breakfast to discuss our day and we left the breakfast room with heavy hearts and a feeling of dread but the knowledge that the work had to be done, and done right.

As we stepped out of the reception to the car park, I turned to Philip and said: “It’s at times like this I really miss just going for a walk with my dogs.”

I certainly and literally felt the need of their positive energy.

And just as Philip was agreeing with the sentiment, from somewhere stepped a large, tail-wagging, golden coloured, hairy vision offering gentle head charges and hugs.

This beautiful old girl, legs stiffened by years, tail thwacking in the way only an elderly dog can, came to us and gave us her love.

The pair of us were all smiles for the first and last time on this assignment, hunkering down to give this lovely dog some attention.

Goldie did the doggie-lean, you know where their entire body weight is delivered to a human thigh so that if the human moves, the dog falls over.

And we loved it and we laughed…

In a moment of despair over the senselessness of human cruelty and the frailty of life, we were reminded of the goodness of dogs, of their gentle souls, warm and healing hearts and unquestioning love.

Thank you Goldie, our everydog.

♥

Right I’m off. Things to do.