Most people bring a small gift when they visit someone undergoing chemotherapy. Kris Green brings her 70-pound red standard poodle. His name is Max, and he’s more than just a friendly face. He’s an officially trained therapy dog with a tail that wags like a welcome banner and a presence that somehow makes sterile medical rooms feel a little more like home.

 

“I had always wanted to do therapy work with a dog,” Kris says. “But when we lived on our farm, I just never had the time. Once we moved to Yankee Trace, I told my husband I wanted a standard poodle puppy, which is how Max came into our lives.”

 

After 25 years of farm life south of Springboro—with horses, kids, and enough land to keep them all busy—Kris and her husband, Tom, decided to pursue a new chapter. Tom had lived Kris’s dream for more than two decades, and she agreed to give suburban life a try.

 

They landed in Yankee Trace five years ago, and not long after, Max—an eight-week-old bundle of curls—joined the family. The poodle was a sort of peace offering from Tom, Kris says with a smile. “He’s very supportive, but he wasn’t necessarily a dog person when we got married,” she explains. 

 

Kris had always been a Labrador person, but the poodle’s intelligence and calm presence intrigued her. “I wanted to take Max to cancer infusion centers, maybe hospice, maybe the VA,” she explains.

 

That idea became real this past June when Max completed a six-week training course through the Miami Valley Pet Therapy Association (MVPTA). Classes took place at Bethany Village, where Max and Kris worked through four weeks of instruction and two weeks of on-site visits. 

 

Their first official “gig” was at the Cancer Care Center at Governor’s Place. “We were there about an hour, which is usually the limit before dogs can get stressed, but Max did great,” Kris reports. “I was really proud of him. The patients loved him—they talked about their dogs, and one man nearly had him in his lap, which, to be fair, is not ideal when the dog weighs 70 pounds.”

 

Still, Max’s size, combined with his gentle temperament, makes him a natural. “He’s got to be able to handle elevators, carts, medical equipment, odd smells—all of it,” Kris describes. “But he’s used to meeting people. I walk him a couple of miles every day through the neighborhood. He gets plenty of practice.”

 

Max’s therapy work was inspired, in part, by a friend’s comment. “Her husband had cancer, and she said, ‘You know, so many people go to chemo alone. They just sit there for hours.’ I thought, if Max could be a little bit of a diversion, that would be something.”

 

Kris already knew Max’s ability to connect with people. When he was just a year old, she took him to the Humane Society’s Pet Afflaire fundraiser at the Dayton Arcade. “About a hundred dogs were there,” Kris notes. “He was the only poodle—and red, so he stood out. A young woman came up to me and said, ‘Would you bring your dog over to my mom? She had a poodle and would love to see him.’ So, I did. And she cried.”

 

That moment stuck with Kris. “So many older people had poodles growing up,” she notes. “That woman got to step out of whatever she was going through and just remember something beautiful.”

 

At home, Max lives with Margo, a 15-year-old Cavapoo who, according to Kris, “tolerates him.” Margo was already a senior when Max arrived as a bouncy puppy. “She looks at us like, ‘Why on earth did you ever think this guy was a good idea?’” Kris laughs. “She’s a very nice dog, though. She just doesn’t want to play.”

 

Max, on the other hand, would love to play all day. He’s athletic, smart, and—typical of the breed—opinionated. “I always say that labs will do whatever you want, whenever you want it,” Kris remarks. “With Max, I have to negotiate. He knows a lot of words—Tom and I have to spell things around him.”

 

Despite the strong opinions, Max is affectionate and loyal. “He’s just a good all-around dog, and he makes us laugh,” shares Kris, who reflects on choosing the name Max. “We had a black lab years ago named Molly who lived to be 17. After she passed, I decided all our dogs would have ‘M’ names. Max, which was my dad’s name, just seemed to fit. We were going to name a female Maxine, so, it just kind of worked out.”

 

Kris hopes to volunteer with Max weekly—splitting time between the cancer center and Miami Valley South, where she’s finishing orientation. Even though Tom isn’t directly involved, Kris says he’s fully on board. “He works a lot as an attorney, but he’s supportive,” she notes. “And now, he’s kind of a softie with Max.”

 

Kris finds comfort in walking into hard places with a joyful dog by her side—being with people who are carrying so much reminds her to stay grounded and present.

As for Max? He just sees a room full of potential new friends.