Lovely Lola Just Won an Award (I'm As Shocked As You Are)

Written from my kitchen table on a drizzly Monday afternoon, with a Highly Commended certificate propped against my coffee mug, a dog completely unbothered by her own achievement napping at my feet, and me still trying to process whether I dreamt it all…

This weekend, something unexpected happened.

Lola, who firmly believes her main job is "flopping dramatically while humans do all the work" was awarded Highly Commended in the Working Dog of the Year category at the Animal Star Awards (Northern Region).

Yes. Highly Commended. Working Dog of the Year.

The dog who refuses to roll over on command. The dog who eats tissues like they're gourmet snacks. The dog who takes "lying down on the job" to Olympic levels and would definitely medal in Professional Napping if it were a competitive sport.

But the judges somehow saw past all the tissue eating and dramatic flopping: her calm, steady, attuned presence that helps humans soften, settle, breathe, and feel safe enough to try again.

When Doing Nothing Is Actually Everything

She doesn't do anything flashy. She doesn't "perform." She doesn't have tricks (unless "snoring through training sessions" counts as a skill). And we won’t even mention her skateboarding!

She just shows up with the kind of grounded nervous system most of us are still desperately trying to find on a Wednesday afternoon after three back-to-back meetings and a coffee that went cold an hour ago.

And humans respond to that in the most incredible ways.

They mirror her calm. They settle when she settles. They breathe when she breathes. It's co-regulation at its finest, and she does it without even trying. She's just...existing. Very successfully, apparently.

The Ceremony (Featuring Lola's Priorities)

The award ceremony itself was amazing with lots of wagging tails, lots of clapping, other incredible animals and their humans doing incredible things all over the North.

Lola was mainly concerned about whether the carpet was comfortable enough for optimal flopping and if any snacks were going to fall on the floor. Priorities, you know. And of course posing for the camera man who quite frankly, I think she would have followed home!

I, meanwhile, was trying very hard not to look emotional.

But when her name was called for Highly Commended Working Dog of the Year, I genuinely felt proud. Not just because of the shiny certificate and hanging star (though it IS very shiny and Lola has licked it twice already). But because it recognises something much bigger.

Why This Actually Matters

This recognition matters because it shines a light on what’s possible when we support children’s mental health in schools with nervous system understanding, not just behaviour management.

When we create safety first, the felt sense of "I'm okay here, my body can relax, nobody's asking me to be different than I am right now," everything else follows. Connection. Regulation. Learning. Growth.

Lola embodies that without even knowing it. She doesn't judge. She doesn't have expectations. She doesn't need you to be "better" or "good" or anything other than exactly who you are in this moment.

And for children who've learned that adults usually come with conditions attached? That unconditional presence is revolutionary.

It's trauma-informed practice in furry form. It's polyvagal theory with a wagging tail. It's therapeutic safety that doesn't require you to talk about your feelings unless you want to.

Back to School (Where She's Definitely Going to Milk This)

Lola can't wait to show her human friends the certificate this week. I expect full celebrations, probably excessive amounts of tail wagging, and at least one child asking if Lola will now expect "VIP treatment" in sessions.

(She already does. This just makes it official.)

There will definitely be questions about whether she gets a crown. Whether this means she's famous. Whether she can now charge more for her services (no, Lola, you work for treats, the contract hasn't changed).

But mostly, I think they'll just be proud of her. The way she's proud of them every single time they show up, even when it's hard. Even when they don't want to. Even when their day has been rubbish and they're only there because someone made them come.

She sees them. She stays. She doesn't ask them to be anything other than exactly who they are.

Here's to the Quiet Wins

So here's to calm dogs who somehow make everything feel safer.

To safe spaces where children can finally exhale.

To tiny moments of connection that add up to something bigger than we realised.

And to big unexpected wins that remind you the work you're doing…the quiet, unglamorous, tissue eating work actually matters.

All is, indeed, well.

If your school or organisation would like to explore how trauma-informed, polyvagal aware animal assisted interventions, such as Lola the Therapy Dog, can support your pupils and staff, we'd love to chat.

Even if Lola promises she won't eat any tissues during our first meeting (she's lying, she definitely will).