Imagine feeling overwhelmed, stressed, or simply lonely, and then finding solace in the soulful gaze of a therapy dog—even if that connection happens through a screen. It sounds almost too good to be true, but research is proving it works. Meet Dash, a golden retriever who’s become a star on the University of British Columbia’s Okanagan campus in Kelowna. While she doesn’t offer advice, her calm presence, inviting brown eyes, and willingness to be cuddled make her a natural therapist. According to her handler, Maureen Watt, Dash effortlessly draws a crowd, though her true motivation is likely the promise of a liver treat rather than fame.
When Canadian researchers sought to study the effects of virtual animal therapy, Dash was the obvious choice. In one of the five-minute videos, she lounges on a couch, panting contentedly, while Ms. Watt guides viewers through a mindfulness exercise. She encourages them to imagine petting Dash’s soft fur and demonstrates deep breathing techniques. Dash’s only response? A relaxed burp, perfectly in line with her chill demeanor.
Dash is part of the BARK program (Building Academic Retention with K9s), which has been bringing therapy dogs to the Kelowna campus for 14 years. Studies have shown that these in-person visits reduce stress and feelings of loneliness, even if temporarily. But here’s where it gets interesting: with the rise of virtual therapy during the pandemic, researchers wondered if these benefits could translate to an online format. And this is the part most people miss—it actually does.
Published in the Human-Animal Interactions journal, the study found that even through a screen, mindfulness exercises with Dash significantly reduced self-reported stress among viewers. The study included 807 students from the Okanagan campus and 278 participants from around the world. The authors suggest that these videos could serve as a low-cost, accessible way to complement existing mental health care or provide a gentle introduction to it. As lead researcher Christine Tardif-Williams puts it, “It’s a foot in the door for people who might be isolated. It can be accessed by anyone anytime they need it most.”
But here’s the controversial part: While the virtual sessions are effective, some argue that nothing beats the real thing. Take Karen Sticchi Zambom, a former Kelowna student now back in Brazil. She found the virtual therapy videos helpful and enjoyable but admits, “I prefer having a dog in front of me.” This raises a thought-provoking question: Can virtual therapy ever fully replace the tangible comfort of a real-life interaction? We’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
Dash and Ms. Watt, now 73, make an irresistible duo. Even in a Zoom interview, with Dash dozing beside her, Ms. Watt radiates warmth, like a grandmother with cookies fresh from the oven. And let’s face it—who doesn’t love a sweet dog video? Studies show that watching them lowers heart rates and reduces anxiety. But what sets the BARK videos apart from random cute animal reels is their structured approach. Ms. Watt guides viewers through mindfulness exercises, encouraging self-care and reflection, while also providing links to formal support resources.
Dr. Tardif-Williams calls these videos “brain breaks,” emphasizing their value as a tool that can be revisited whenever needed. John-Tyler Binfet, director of the BARK program, notes that students often use the videos to clear their minds before exams. Plus, since the videos aren’t embedded in social media feeds, they don’t lead viewers down endless scrolling.
The BARK program boasts 70 rotating dog-and-handler teams, with dogs of all breeds visiting campus spots on Wednesdays. Ms. Watt often observes hesitant onlookers—many of whom have never had pets—quickly becoming fans. On Fridays, about 75 students line up at the Innovative Learning Centre to spend time with a dozen dogs. Last year alone, 13 sessions drew nearly 1,000 visits. The dogs also visit local schools and an RCMP detachment.
Dr. Binfet highlights a common issue: many students miss their own dogs or can’t afford pets, creating a “yearning for access to dogs.” Universities, despite being crowded, can feel isolating, and these animals act as social catalysts, creating instant connections between strangers. While petting the dogs, students often “light up or melt,” and handlers are trained to spot when someone needs extra support. Tears are welcome, and the experience can be deeply cathartic.
During drop-in sessions, students sit in a semi-circle around the dogs, sometimes silent with headphones, other times chatting about exams, music, or current events. Ms. Watt observes how lonely individuals gradually bond with both 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.”
After a decade of BARK duties, Dash is slowing down, but at 13, she still enjoys standing in the middle of bustling student crowds, waiting for someone to stop for a pat. Ms. Watt is training Dash’s sibling, Opel, to take over some responsibilities. “These dogs are so special,” Ms. Watt reflects. “They don’t just lie around waiting for their person. They love working and experiencing a whole world.”
So, here’s the question for you: While virtual therapy with dogs like Dash is proven to reduce stress, can it ever truly replace the comfort of a real-life interaction? Share your thoughts below—we’d love to hear your perspective!
