More Than Words: What Max and Maisy taught us about presence and connection.
- Kelly Howard
- 23 hours ago
- 2 min read
Ahead of National Pet Day on Saturday, 11 April, Kelly Howard, our Team Leader at Lilias Gillies House, shares how her two dogs, Max and Maisy, made a real difference for the residents and staff in our therapeutic community.
When I first joined Lilias Gillies House, 7 years ago, our manager had a small dog that came to the house. She brought something with her that’s hard to put into words, lightness, warmth, a shift in the atmosphere. Residents who struggled to engage would sit a little longer, speak a little more. When management changed, his dog left a big void.
So over time, I began bringing Max and Maisy in.
For them, they always knew. Once we were on the train, they recognised where they were going, not to work, but to a place where they would be met with excitement and smiles. As staff, we receive a handover to help structure our day, but they never needed one. They would walk in and just know.
They knew who needed closeness, and who needed space. I’ve seen residents who struggle in groups come out of their rooms and speak openly whilst stroking their soft fur.
Max often resting his head gently on their lap, Maisy curling in close beside them. Others, who find it hard to cry, sit and quietly let tears fall with them tucked in close, feeling their steady warmth. Stories have been whispered into gentle ears, met only with patience and listening.
They stayed through the difficult moments, the distress, the silence, the discomfort, offering a kind of containment without needing words. And then, just as instinctively, they would shift the energy. A nudge from Maisy to get up, Max already racing ahead to the garden, a game that brings laughter back into the space.
They also created opportunities beyond the house.
Residents who might not usually leave would find themselves up, getting ready, and stepping outside to take them for a walk, sometimes quietly side by side, sometimes talking more freely than they would indoors. The dogs gave a reason, a purpose, and made those moments feel easier.
Knock-arounds were their favourite. They knew every room, every door, Maisy waiting patiently, Max gently pawing the door, both always holding that quiet hope that it might open, and not giving up until it did l.
Sometimes that small moment of connection was enough.
Max and Maisy always reminded us that therapeutic impact doesn’t always come from words or planned interventions, but from presence. From being alongside someone, offering warmth, patience, and connection, helping someone feel, even briefly, less alone.
