Cry all the wholesome tears.

Yesterday, I watched Pick Of The Litter.  I was in the gym, wishing I wasn't in the gym, desperately scrolling through Netflix on my phone for something to distract me from the horrors of the cross trainer. That's when I saw it; tucked neatly among the true crime documentaries beneath the Critically Acclaimed banner, luring me in with its promise of cute puppies and dog-based narratives. What I got, however, was so much more. Pick Of The Litter follows the journeys of five puppies (Patriot, Potomac, Primrose, Poppet, and Phil), as they endure rigorous testing and unintended heartache while training to become registered guide dogs for the blind. The documentary details the discipline, courage, and ability to be pretty chill needed to become a guide dog, the pitfalls faced during training, and the inevitable failures of the good little boys who are simply too excitable to finish the programme. It's a story of love, achievements, and warmed-hearts, but for maybe the first time in the world, it's not just the dogs that'll ensure you're left violently sobbing in public for the fourth time this week - it's the people. Those who have been blind for most of their lives, who have been told that receiving the gift of a dog will change the way they navigate the world. The families who mentor the puppies, watching them grow up, hoping that they'll stop pulling their leads, learn their commands, and progress in the programme before they need to be "career changed." The men, women, boys, and girls who absolutely fall in love with the dogs - and find it incredibly painful to say goodbye. There's something about pets - be it dogs, cats, rabbits, but mainly dogs - that leaves a lasting effect on a person. They're the mood shifters lifting our spirits when we've had a bad day, the game changers making things just that little less daunting. Sometimes, they're the only ones there when no one else can be. Just last week, our office was graced by three dogs from the DSPCA. Their names were Casper, Lois, and Roxy and they had been rescued from various harrowing situations that had left them injured, anxious, and scared. The dogs that arrived into work were none of those things. They were happy, excitable, and simply delighted to be a part of the working day; chomping on treats, receiving rubs, and (somewhat regretfully) peeing under chairs. It takes something special to rouse an entire company from their desks and send them cooing down the hallway, pushing past one another and launching into their most high pitched classic dog/baby voice at 2pm on a Wednesday. And as it turns out, dogs are that something. Pick Of The Litter perfectly encapsulates how important a dog truly can be. They can be a friend in a time of need, a distraction from a questionable day, an excuse to head out to the shop at 11.30pm. But they can also be a guide for the visually impaired, an unofficial PTSD dog, and a reason to get up in the morning. Dogs are pure. Maybe even the purest of animal there is. I don't have one but I want one. In fact, I've never had one, and while I don't believe that this lack of excitable fluffy friend in my early more formative years has made me any less of a person, I do wonder how much longer I can exist without knowing there's one waiting for me at home. Probably not all that much longer after seeing this documentary, tbh. Pick Of The Litter is streaming on Netflix now.