(From Connexion Newsletter Fall/Winter 2023)

He was a burly, furry man with a thick beard, a flannel shirt and big winter boots, his faced etched with lines carved out by years spent in the cold winter sun. We lovingly called him Yukon Jack.

His affect was low. My husband was his family doctor and, after the usual clinical history, made a diagnosis of depression. Yukon Jack’s response: “Of course I’m depressed. Look at my life. But I don’t want no pills. And I am not going to no counselor.”

He used to have a purpose. He spent all his life training sled dogs and running teams of huskies up in the wild North. Then his wife died, and he found himself in warm, metropolitan Kamloops, living in an apartment by himself, staring at four walls with only the city noise for a companion. He went from being mesmerized by the Northern Lights to being blinded by the traffic lights on Columbia Street.

“What’s the point of living, doc?” he cried in anguish.

In a moment of complete helplessness, my husband did the only thing he could do to ease this man’s suffering. He pulled out the paper prescription pad and wrote, “One dog,” and signed it.

“Gosh, darn it,” Yukon Jack said, and slapped his knee. “That’s what I’ll doggone do.”

Orley (aka Yukon Jack) came back the following week, his eyes bright and his smile huge. He was a changed man. He took the prescription to the SPCA.

“Doc, they saw your signature and they said it was legit, so they waived the adoption fee. I have a dog.”

Buddy was a docile fluffball with soulful eyes and crooked teeth. It was a match made in heaven. Over the years, Orley trained Buddy to sit quietly in the scooter basket beside Orley’s oxygen tank. The two of them would ride around town, sit in Lansdowne Mall, and talk to everyone. Orley would come into the clinic and tell us tales of Buddy being his wingman as ladies would vie for a chance to pet Orley’s obedient and furry companion

Buddy was trained so well that the duo was eventually invited to visit pediatric patients in the hospital. There, a little girl with cerebral palsy took a huge liking to Buddy. We didn’t see Orley and Buddy much in the office after that because they were busy visiting sick patients and making their rounds around town.

When they did come in, Buddy would sit and wait quietly in the basket while Orley had his doctor’s appointment. One day, a rude man came in and demanded to be taken on as a patient. To our surprise, Buddy barked and showed his teeth. Up until then, we didn’t even know Buddy could bark.

The pair of them became so famous that they even made the front page of the newspaper.

In Orley’s final days on the medical ward, we were able to bring Buddy to be with his human. No one batted an eye when Buddy became part of Orley’s palliative care team.

After Orley passed, Buddy went to live with that little girl from the hospital. He retired as a therapy dog and became a family dog. It has been many years now. I keep thinking about the reunion between Buddy and Orley. I am sure Buddy would have been barking and showing his teeth for an entirely different reason at the end of the Rainbow Bridge.

— Dr. Allison Chung