"They're here! They're here!"

Excited whispers circulated amongst those enjoying the autumn sunshine at the outdoor tables of the café. They stood, leaving their coffees unattended, and approached. The news spread quickly. Patrons inside the café did likewise, followed almost immediately by staff.

A few staff members from the adjacent building rushed out, joining the ever-increasing group of onlookers on the footpath. Everyone was smiling and happy.

"They're here! How exciting!" The visitors were quickly surrounded.

Soon they were ushered inside the adjacent building. Instantly there were gasps of surprise and pleasure. The hush of the few preceding moments was now replaced by happy chatter.

Who were these celebrities?

I was there, watching the proceedings, and I immediately felt the almost tangible pleasure. I was looking forward to the next couple of hours.

I was not one of the celebrities. No, of course not! Nor were the two friends with me.

But we wheeled in the celebrities  - our dogs. In dog prams!

We were visiting a Cancer Care Centre and would spend the morning with people of all ages undergoing their chemotherapy treatment. The prams were easily visible and would not be in the way of hospital staff. They also meant we could keep the dogs at a height where even quite unwell people could reach if they wanted to pat the dogs. Most people asked for the dogs to be placed on their laps however.

It was a beautiful and uplifting time. The Centre was not too busy, so the patients had enough time to enjoy stroking the dogs, feeling their warmth and love, and chat with us. We were outsiders -  different, not involved with their world of cancer, not medical, we were ordinary normal people, still linked to the real world. The dogs were a conduit of love and care.

Tia, a miniature fox terrier, was drawn to one lady in particular, and would happily have spent the entire morning with her, lying on her lap and being stroked and caressed. She reluctantly moved on to meet and greet others.

Zsa-Zsa, a glamorous Cavalier King Charles spaniel, wore her best and biggest sparkly pink bow and looked for all the world like a doggie film star. She too enjoyed being the centre of a small circle of attention. Zsa-Zsa doesn't smile, but she does present with an air of satisfied complacency and confidence.

And my dog Sunny? He was simply himself, wearing his biggest smile. He is handsome and cute, and his looks are quite unique. Everyone tries to guess his mixed heritage. This visit to the Cancer Care Centre was the highlight of his career so far, and he shone in his new role.

The other two dogs were quite used to prams. Sunny was not - and had to have some quick training over the last two weeks. He jumped out the first two times, and I could understand his nervousness.

He is not used to being up high. He is a dog, not a human child, and he has always been treated like a dog - a much loved dog, but nevertheless a dog. He's never dressed up, does not sleep on anything but his own doggie bed, or on his special small rug. He never climbs onto furniture and is reluctant to sit on my knee for too long, rarely for more than five minutes. Life is too busy to sit still.

However, he's quick to learn; he watched the others, and made no escape attempts. He loved being placed on people's knees, and their faces radiated their happiness. He did brilliantly. He simply did what he does best - he offers love and acceptance, and remains calm and placid at all times.

For the last lady we visited, he stretched himself full-length along her legs, offering her the comfort of his body from the tip of his nose to his tail, and she stroked him gently while we conversed at length about normal things in life - her family, her dogs, her memories. It was a beautiful time. His head snuggled into her, and he made no effort to jump down. He would have stayed longer than twenty-five minutes, perfectly relaxed, but our time was up. No problem sitting still this time. He sensed what she needed, and his intuition was extraordinary.

Staff commented on the difference in atmosphere from the previous day. Most days are quiet, the hours passing slowly while they receive their treatment. There is perhaps an air of fear, of trepidation for new patients. Not today. Time today passed swiftly.

Most of the patients will be back in two weeks, which will coincide with our fortnightly visits, so we'll see them again, and hopefully have opportunities to build meaningful relationships.

Visits by the dogs not only bring cheer for the moment and happy memories, but something fresh to talk to the family about when they go home. Our visits provide something to look forward to and anticipate with pleasure on their next visit to the Cancer Care Centre, rather than dreading the whole procedure.

Sunny has found his niche.

He knows which days he will be "working" (he can tell by my identifying uniform and by his own Therapy Dog ID and bandana) and he is always excited. While I was finalising my preparations for this outing, he went into the garage and sat next to the car, waiting to go. We always therefore arrive early!

He needed no further confirmation that this was going to be a good day. And it was.

I think it was a good day for everyone.