After Texas school shooting, an army of therapy dogs arrives to soothe ragged nerves

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UVALDE, Texas – Agony. Anger. Confusion. Shock. 

The people of Uvalde came to the SSGT Willie de Leon Civic Center in all emotional states in the days after the Robb Elementary School shooting. In this small city, almost everyone knows, has heard of or is related to at least one of the murdered 19 children and two adults. 

The mourners came to the civic center for counseling and comfort.  

Hazel was waiting for them.

This is the 5-year-old French bulldog’s job – to be there for those in trauma. To let them cry into her soft tan fur or kiss her smooshy black face. To make them giggle with her silly snorts and snuffles. To let a stranger’s hand simply rest on her thick neck.

“She’s been such a blessing,” said Hazel’s handler, Sara Morgan. “She was born to be a therapy dog.”

Shortly after the May 24 school shooting, organizations from all across the country quickly sent teams of dogs and their handlers to help Uvalde. Lutheran Church Charities K-9 Comfort Dogs. Crisis Response Canines. Canines 4 Christ.

And then there were the dogs with Therapy Animals of San Antonio CARE Crisis Animal Response team: Gilley, Indigo Moon, Remi, Soluna, Scout and of course, Hazel.

Therapy dogs are regularly used in trauma situations. The Surfside condo collapse. The mass shooting in Buffalo, New York. The wildfires in Southern California. 

Research shows that the repetitive action of simply petting a dog produces oxytocin, the hormone that relieves stress. The canines also help reduce anxiety and depression.

They look you in the eye. They don’t judge. They have heard more secrets than they will ever know.

But what they do know is how to love, Morgan said. That’s something Uvalde residents need right now. 

And so, the day after the shooting, the San Antonio group headed to the civic center. There, wrapped in her day-glo yellow vest emblazoned with her name, Hazel went to work.

She and Morgan sat in counseling sessions with children and teachers for hours as they told their stories. So did Gilley and Indigo Moon and the rest.

Dogs deeply absorb people’s emotions. They can only go for two or three hours tops before they start to shut down. They might pin back their ears, tuck in their tails and shake. They might pant or back away from people.

During one of their visits, Gilley – a 12-year-old soft-coated wheaten terrier whose greatest talent is snuggling with her handler, Denise Linnert – was getting tired. The gentle, white dog’s back left leg was shaking. Linnert knew it was almost time to go home.

“I think she’s reaching her limit,” she said.

But Gilley and Hazel were game for at least one more stop: the blood drive at the Herby Ham Activity Center. On a recent afternoon, dozens of people sat in white chairs in neat lines, waiting for their turn to help. They came from Uvalde and surrounding towns. A group from the of Texas Army National Guard soldiers showed up in uniform, having driven more than five hours from McAllen, Texas, to give blood.

As they walked into the building, the dogs went to work. Morgan picked up Hazel and went to a sandy-haired woman sitting alone. 

Would you like to pet Hazel? 

The woman lifted her hand, slowly rubbing Hazel’s haunches and neck. The dog remained still, sometimes looking at the woman, then stretching her left leg toward her. After about a minute, the woman pulled back her hand and Hazel moved on.

The woman’s green eyes were red and full of tears. Had Hazel helped her? She nodded her head. 

Soon, Hazel was easily making the rounds. The nurses hugged her. A guard member petted her. And Uvalde resident Steve Rankin was in love. He held the dog on his lap for at least 20 minutes, petting her, cuddling her and chatting with a group of people.

“I love her,” he said. “She’s a sweetie. I love dogs.”

Hazel sat patiently while Rankin showered her with affection. This is her job. She’s been through all the training she needs to work with Therapy Animals of San Antonio. Basic obedience. Advanced obedience. Canine good citizen class. Therapy dog training. Crisis Animal Response Team training. She’s been on the job for four years, often working with the Children’s Bereavement Center of South Texas. A veteran by now.

But once the vest comes off and it’s quitting time, all bets are off. She zooms around Morgan’s San Antonio home, her little legs flying up and down the stairs. She rolls, she jumps, she plays with her two other French bulldog siblings.

She’ll do almost anything for food. Frozen yogurt and pumpkin pupsicles delight her. And she likes music. Her jam is chill, spa-like music.

“When we turn it off she looks around, like ‘Where’s the music?’” Morgan said.

After about an hour at the blood drive, Hazel and Gilley are ready to go. They’ve happily given what they can give. Now it’s time to move on.

As soon as they do, a handful of golden retrievers prance into the room. And everyone is smiling again.