More Than Just A Dog

My Constant Companion

Hi, I’m Michael and I’m a stroke survivor.

Every day, by my side, is my furry companion, Mori. Mori is a five-year-old female German Shepherd. She’s well trained, fiercely loyal, and I certainly wouldn’t want to be the burglar who picks our house.

Mori was only one year old when I had my stroke. She was still in her crate when the ambulance took me away. Even then, she sensed something was wrong - not dangerous, but not right. While I was in hospital, she became depressed.

I still remember the joy in the hospital car park when my wife, Tamaki, brought Mori to collect me.

A Different Role

From that day forward, Mori’s role in my life changed.

She stopped being “just the dog.”
She became my companion.

Because I don’t visibly look disabled, people often underestimate the mental impact of stroke. I joke about it sometimes, but the reality is very different.

Mori keeps me calm.
She stops me from panicking.
She grounds me when I feel overwhelmed.

She helps me navigate the world around me in ways most people will never fully understand.

And somehow, she always seems to know exactly what to say.

The Fun Police

Unfortunately, society loves rules. Especially Australian society.

The French adore dogs and allow them into almost every social setting imaginable. In Australia, we also claim to love dogs - but our love of regulations often overrides common sense. Dogs are banned from most social environments.

I don’t recall France collapsing from canine-related chaos.

Thankfully, living in Yarra means we can walk to plenty of cafés and pubs. Most owners are sensible people. They hear my speech, see the reality of the disability, and have no issue with Mori quietly accompanying me inside.

But the council inspectors? Different story.

“Who Ever Saw a German Shepherd Assistance Dog?”

The council’s response was essentially:

“You don’t look disabled.”
“And who’s ever seen a German Shepherd assistance dog?”

The support from local café owners fell on deaf ears.

So I found myself forced into a situation I hadn’t originally planned for - officially registering Mori as an assistance dog.

The Test

The process took close to a year.

And importantly, the test isn’t just for the dog. It’s for the handler as well.

Recently, we passed.

Mori was measured for her official jacket. Her ID card is on the way. She even had a professional photo taken - thankfully she’s very photogenic.

And yes, there are also official cards explaining her legitimacy for the inevitable people who still feel the need to question it.

Bring On the Inspectors

There’s something strangely satisfying about reaching this point.

Not because I wanted a title or a vest for Mori. But because invisible disabilities constantly force people into proving themselves to others.

Now we have the paperwork.
The jacket.
The official status.

So to the council inspectors:
Bring it on.

More Than a Dog

At the end of the day, Mori isn’t important because of a jacket or a government-recognised role.

She’s important because she was there.

Through the confusion.
Through the rehab.
Through the panic and overwhelm and rebuilding.

Some people recover with medication.
Some with therapy.

And some of us recover with a German Shepherd quietly sitting beside us, making the world feel manageable again.