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BARK volunteer and UBCO student Elena Marchesan greets 4-year-old golden retriever Opel while 13-year-old Dash looks on from behind.Lucas Oleniuk/The Globe and Mail

While making her therapy rounds, Dash never offers advice, unsolicited or otherwise. She prefers to listen, although clients are encouraged to praise her soulful, brown eyes or scratch her ears. Cuddles are both welcomed, and expected.

On the University of British Columbia’s Okanagan campus in Kelowna, Dash always draws a crowd, according to her handler and official spokesperson Maureen Watt. But she’s not motivated by fame: Like most golden retrievers, she’d rather a tasty liver treat.

So when Canadian researchers wanted to study the effects of virtual animal therapy, Dash was a natural casting choice. In one of the five-minute videos that study participants watched, Dash sits calmly on a couch, with a panting smile, occasionally licking her own nose, while Ms. Watt suggests viewers imagine sinking their finger into her soft fur, and demonstrates deep breathing. “How do you feel, Dash,” she asks. “Can you do that, Dash?” Dash offers no official comment, aside from one very chill burp.

Dash is the kind of therapy dog increasingly providing comfort at schools, police stations and courthouses across the country. The BARK program – which stands for Building Academic Retention with K9s – has been bringing dogs to the Kelowna campus for 14 years, while also publishing research showing that the in-person visits reduce stress and perceptions of loneliness, at least in the short term.

More recently, with virtual therapy becoming more widely practised since the pandemic, the BARK researchers wanted to study whether animal therapy could still deliver similar benefits online.

The results, published last year in the journal Human-Animal Interactions, found that even via screen, a mindfulness exercise with Dash could significantly reduce the self-reported stress among viewers. The study group included 807 students from the Okanagan campus, and another 278 people recruited online around the world.

Watching Dash and her canine co-stars, the authors suggest, might serve as a low-cost and accessible complement to existing care or provide a friendly entry into mental health services. “It’s a foot in the door for people who might be isolated,” says lead author Christine Tardif-Williams, a professor in the department of child and youth studies at Brock University. “It can be accessed by anyone anytime they need it most.”

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Student Adeo Kodra greets 4-year-old therapy dog Opel while he studies on the UBC Kelowna campus.Lucas Oleniuk/The Globe and Mail

Also, Dash and her handler are a charming pair. Even in our Zoom interview, with Dash dozing at her side, Ms. Watt, 73, exudes a grandmother-with-cookies-in-the-oven vibe.

And who doesn’t love a sweet dog video? Watching them lowers the heart rate and reduces anxiety, according to studies.

But the BARK researchers say the scripted part of their video sets it apart from random reels of cute animals.

Ms. Watt leads the viewer though a mindfulness exercise, suggesting they think about self-care and the people in their lives they can lean on for help. The videos also come with links to more formal support.

Dr. Tardif-Williams describes these videos as “brain breaks,” and says an online collection could be revisited repeatedly when needed.

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Therapy dog Dash lays with students on the UBC Kelowna campus.Lucas Oleniuk/The Globe and Mail

The director of the BARK program, John-Tyler Binfet, a UBC Okanagan professor who co-authored the paper, says students reported using the videos to clear their heads before exams. And he pointed out that since the videos are not embedded in a social media feed, they don’t pull viewers down a scrolling rabbit hole.

Still, as one of the virtual study participants, Karen Sticchi Zambom, says, the dogs in real life are better. The BARK program was one reason the Brazil native chose the Kelowna campus to study molecular chemistry. During her second year, when burning out from studying and working, she seized every opportunity to see the dogs.

“I just loved to look at their faces and their wiggly butts and tails,” the 23-year-old says, although her favourite was a quiet, little grey Schnoodle named Lacey. “My brain would shut down to everything else in the room.”

Now back in Brazil, Ms. Sticchi Zambom says she found the virtual therapy videos helpful and fun to watch. “But I prefer having a dog in front of me.”

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Volunteer Maureen Watt leaves the Kelowna campus with therapy dogs Opel and Dash.Lucas Oleniuk/The Globe and Mail

The BARK program has 70 rotating, trained dog and handler teams. On Wednesdays, the dogs, of all breeds and combinations, hang out at different spots on campus, where Ms. Watt watches tentative onlookers who’ve never had a pet become fans.

And for the regular Friday afternoon drop-ins at the Innovative Learning Centre, about 75 students line up each week to hang out with the dozen dogs waiting inside. Last year, 13 sessions drew nearly 1,000 visits. The BARK dogs also visit local schools and an RCMP detachment.

Dr. Binfet says that students are often missing their own dogs, or unable to afford a pet of their own, “so there’s this yearning to have access to dogs.”

Universities can also be crowded places where individuals may feel alone and unconnected. The animals are a social conduit, creating instant common ground between strangers.

While petting the dogs, “we see kids just light up or melt,” Dr. Binfet says. The experience can also free up less positive emotions. “We are very comfortable with tears.” The human handlers are trained to signal a staff member when a struggling student needs extra support.

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Volunteer Elena Marchesan, left, student Sarah Sikkes, middle, and Frey Green of BARK kneel with Dash, front, and Opel.Lucas Oleniuk/The Globe and Mail

At the drop-in, students sit in a semi-circle around their chosen canine. Sometimes, they arrive wearing headphones and stay silent. Other times they chat with each other and Ms. Watt about exams, music and current events.

Over the course of the sessions, Ms. Watt watches lonely and stressed-out humans bond with the animals, and each other. “One week, someone will arrive alone,” she says. “The next, they’re calling out to people they’ve met in line.”

During visits, the handlers monitor the dogs for stress as well. But their enthusiasm is usually self-evident, Ms. Watt says, in the way they find a mat, flop over and wait for the hugs and kisses to start.

After 10 years of BARK dog duties, Dash is slowing down, so Ms. Watt is training her sibling, Opel, to take over some of her duties. But at 13, Dash still likes to stand in the middle of a streaming crowd of students, waiting for someone in need of a pat to stop.

“These dogs are so special,” says Ms, Watt. “They don’t just lie around waiting for their person. They love working and experiencing a whole world.”

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Lucas Oleniuk/The Globe and Mail

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