Tonight Holly spotted several of her favorite little readers and was very proud of how well they’re reading — Holly says their skills are leveling up faster than her treat‑detecting abilities.
And Holly got a BIG surprise today, but I’ll let Her Royal Fluffiness share the news herself… because she’s been strutting around like a dog who just won the Nobel Prize for Cuteness.
A Little Paw-Mail from Holly!
I GOT MAIL TODAY! Real, official, fancy mail — not the boring kind my humans hide because it’s bills. This envelope was addressed to ME, the fluffy superstar of the household. And inside was the biggest news of my entire career:
I am now Holly Maguire, Therapy Dog Excellent, officially titled by the American Kennel Club.
Yes, Excellent. Not “pretty good,” not “nice dog,” not “she tries.” EXCELLENT.
Honestly, I should probably start signing autographs.
They sent me a silver medal. A medal. An around‑the‑neck, shiny, clinky, “excuse me, peasants, make way for the important dog” medal. Tell me — how many dogs do YOU know with a silver medal? Exactly. I’m basically royalty now.
They also gave me a silver award patch for my vest, but let’s be honest… the medal is the queen of the accessories — the patch is merely a loyal subject.
To earn it, you have to rack up over 200 visits. Two. Hundred. That’s a LOT of hugs, tail wags, and emotional support — basically I’ve been running a full‑time kindness marathon. And guess what? The next award is gold, like the actual Olympics.
Just picture me, Holly, floating in like royalty with a gold medal swinging from my neck. I might need a red carpet… and maybe a spotlight… and possibly a small marching band.
Tonight was library night, and I was feeling extra fancy with my new title. I practically floated in like a VIP guest. My human’s friend even came straight from work just to bring her son to see me. My human told him I make an excellent pillow, so of course he had to test that out. He approved immediately — five stars, very soft, would snuggle again.
There were four other dogs there tonight, but he kept coming back to me. I mean… obviously. I’m medal‑winning fluff.
My human handed out my stickers and told all the new people that I’m there every first and third Monday, so they should absolutely come back and visit their favorite therapy‑dog superstar. I mean, who wouldn’t want more Holly time?
One little girl was adorable — she read me a story and made sure I could see all the pictures. She held the book up like she was presenting a slideshow to a very important audience (which, obviously, she was). And it was one of my favorites: a Biscuit book. Biscuit is such a silly puppy. I’m pretty sure we’d be friends, but I’d definitely have to teach him how to pose for photos. He’s cute, but he’s not award‑winning cute.
After the library, my human had to stop at CVS, so of course I tagged along — a therapy dog superstar never travels without her entourage. Inside, I met a very nice gentleman who liked big dogs, which is perfect because I am a big dog AND a big deal. My human handed him one of my cards so he could read all about my adventures. He seemed impressed — probably because of the medal.
Did I mention I have a medal?
“I’m‑going‑to‑need‑my‑own‑museum‑wing” energy: I can’t wait to get my gold one someday. I’ll probably need a special display case. Or maybe a spotlight. Or maybe an entire velvet‑roped exhibit titled “Holly: The Medal Years.”
For now, I’ll just keep doing what I do best — making people smile, serving as a deluxe fluffy pillow, and collecting awards like the champion I clearly am.
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See you on the next adventure!
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