Help me become a therapy dog

A dog's work is never done. So humans say. When my owner, a diversional therapy teacher named Hannah, said "You're going back to school Leelah" I nearly dropped my bone. Why would I give up the good life—free board and lodgings, extended sniffing rights, Jimbo's three times a day, pats on the head on demand—to go back to school?

As a puppy I enjoyed learning the easy-peasy stuff: sit, down, fetching sticks and barking at the courier driver (from behind a closed door of course). However, this new venture would mean learning fancy stuff like how to open doors, how to press buttons and how to remain calm when assisting people who have challenging behaviors. Hannah also told me that the training would show me how to make sure that she didn't leave her purse or keys behind when she’s out and about at work—she has Irlen Syndrome and often forgets where she has put things.

I'd have to learn how to bring toys to the elderly so they'd get a chance to play a friendly tug of war with me, Hannah said. I'd show students what to do too—somebody has to. Actually, I'd show them how animal therapy works. On top of all that they'd show me how to work with the elderly and people with dementia. Sounded like a dog's life to me.

Then, one evening, while sprawled over the floor of the lounge chewing on a pig's ear, I realised that going back to the classroom might actually be fun. After all, I'd be the centre of attention, a star! Hollywood here I come! Woof! Woof! So I told Hannah, I'm in, although I said I'd need to see the fine print. I said I'd take the contract to a bloodhound acquaintance of mine. She can sniff out a bad deal, I said, so no tricks.

There's only one problem—money.

Or rather, a lack of it. Money comes in all shapes and sizes and is something humans use to get stuff. No money, no stuff. Unless we can get some money, my career development will come to an abrupt halt and its back to chasing tennis balls (that's me, not Hannah).Turns out that most humans have money. Some humans are even willing to give a bit of money to good causes, like this one. Hannah would like me to train with my favourite TV star Mark Vette for at least two weeks—longer if possible. This will cost $1250 per week – you could buy a lot of pig’s ears with that.

That's where you come in. I'm hoping that you will donate a small amount of your money so I can get the training I need to help Hannah, her students, and the elderly.

(Of course you'd be helping me become the centre of attention too. That's not to be sniffed at. I could be the next Wilson from the Lotto ads...dressing room with a star on the door...interviews with John Campbell...I might even borrow a pair of Hannah's sunglasses so I look real cool...)