A couple days a month, Lisa Londry and her dog Marley drive down to San Jose Mineta International Airport. After slipping on Marley’s official vest and clipping it to a leash that clearly says, “Please pet me,” the duo meander through the terminals. Sometimes, people line up to meet Marley. Other days, flyers are hesitant, and Londry catches their eyes and softly encourages them to say hello. In either scenario, travelers are thrilled to see Marley’s goofy smile and scratch the puffy tuft of fur atop his head. His presence brings a moment of calm in a chaotic place.

Londry, who works as the assurance manager for Computing, and Marley are volunteers with San Jose’s Happy Tails program, the first airport animal-therapy program in the nation. As volunteers at the airport and in the broader community, they help soothe anxiety, deescalate tense situations and bring joy to stressful scenarios. 

But what may seem like a simple act of kindness — offering up a furry friend in a busy terminal — is rooted in something much deeper. Londry and Marley’s work is shaped by family, love, community and showing up when others need it most.

Marley at work

Marley is a five-year-old goldendoodle (who looks mostly like a poodle). Londry describes him as “the best” and says he always meets her vibe, whether that’s playing or snuggling. She says he inherently knows how to behave around children, the elderly and the special-needs community and that he loves volunteering. 

“I see a change in him just by putting his vest on him,” said Londry. “He knows he’s going to work and that he is going to make friends.”

Every day at the airport brings different faces and needs, but some moments have left a lasting impression on Londry. In one case, a young woman was crying, alone, in the terminal. Londry and Marley approached her, listened to her and helped her work through her anxiety about the flight. While she was the last person on the plane, she was able to board after cuddling with Marley. 

“I could physically see her whole composure change, where she was able to control herself and get her feet back on the ground,” said Londry. “She was just so appreciative.
That one sticks with me. That one really made me feel like what we
do is worthwhile.”

Marley’s presence is calming in many ways. When a traveler missed his flight and began shouting at gate agents, Londry and Marley were there to calm him. Rather than involving security right away, the pair offered
to approach, and Londry gave an introduction: “Hey, this is Marley. He volunteers here. Would you like to meet Marley? He wants to say hi to you. It’s his job.”

The traveler agreed. He sat down, and eventually, he calmed down without the need for further intervention. But after the man left peacefully, Marley’s work didn’t stop — the pup went right over to the gate agents to check if they were okay, too. 

Londry and Marley’s impact goes well beyond airport terminals. They are also trained to provide comfort to first responders and evacuees in even more urgent and emotionally-charged environments, and they frequently support police departments and 911 call centers. In Santa Clara, they were volunteering when a person called about a family member who was not responding.  

“The operator started to have to give instructions for CPR until EMTs could get there, and he also had to type. But in between, when he wasn’t typing, Marley was right there, and he’s petting Marley,” said Londry. “And every time he lifted his hand to type instructions, Marley would just lean in a little bit harder, a little bit closer. And before you know it, Marley’s laying his whole head on the operator’s lap.”

A gift from Rainbow Bridge

While Marley is now Londry’s trusted companion and partner in crime, their connection didn’t form overnight.

Before Marley, there was Riley — Londry’s first therapy dog. Londry and her husband, Chad, often discussed adding a second doodle to their family. But after Chad passed away in 2017, it never felt like the right time.

In 2020, Londry helped Riley pass peacefully on. When she returned home from the vet that same day, she received a text from a friend about an available goldendoodle puppy. The breeder’s family loved the puppy and called him Peanut — the same nickname Londry and Chad had for their daughter, Haley.

Londry hesitated. Was this crazy?
Was it too soon?

“I called my daughter, and she said, ‘Oh my gosh, Mom, that’s a gift from Rainbow Bridge. That’s from Riley and Dad. You have to get him. Write the check.’”

So write the check Londry did, and Marley officially joined the family. But much of Marley’s early life was spent in the care of Londry’s friends, as she traveled to support Haley, who was diagnosed with the same immune deficiency disorder as Chad. This left little time for Londry and Marley to bond.

When Haley passed in 2021, Londry returned home. As she worked to process her grief, she had a difficult time connecting with Marley. Eventually, Londry realized that he was depending on her. And that, maybe, she could depend on him. 

“I was able to, at that time, realize that I needed to find some purpose in my life going forward,” said Londry. “My daughter was a flight attendant and a dog lover, like me. As a flight attendant, she couldn’t have a dog, so she really enjoyed seeing the dogs in the airports and on her planes. That is what motivated me. I have this wonderful dog, and I think he really has so much to give.” 

That idea sparked Marley’s training and tenure as an airport therapy dog. 

“It was a way for me to honor my daughter and also honor Marley and what he’s capable of and also help myself,” said Londry. “I always feel a bit closer to Haley when I’m at the airport. As much as Marley gives to others, there’s so much more that I get out of it.”

Creating paradise

Marley may be the crowd favorite at the airport and the local park, but Londry’s compassion doesn’t stop when he stays at home. She gives back in other profound ways, including as a board member and treasurer for the Exceptional Needs Network (ENN), which helps put on camps for children with special needs.

“Camp is like paradise. It’s like Disneyland, because a lot of our campers, this is the only camp they can come to because their needs are so specialized,” said Londry. “At ENN, we pride ourselves in not turning anyone away.”

As a sibling of a brother with Down Syndrome, Londry also emphasized the importance of this camp to the children’s caregivers. One couple told her that ENN provided the opportunity for them to go on their first date since their child was born 13 years before. 

At the beginning of their involvement with ENN, Londry and her late husband Chad focused on fundraising for the camps. Now, Londry takes care of the finances and is involved with the behind-the-scenes work: making all the activities — including face painting, a dance, a reptile show, a petting zoo, horse therapy and zip lining — happen.

“When you’re witnessing a camper who is not mobile, and in a wheelchair, and you’re seeing them fly on the zip line, and their smile — that’s incredible,” said Londry. “People are just free to be who they are, how they are, and free of judgment. That’s a beautiful thing to witness. It’s my privilege to get to be a part of that.”

"You don't really need to have all the answers...but everybody can do something."

Finding fulfillment

Whether it’s returning home from an airport terminal, a 911 call center or a summer camp nestled in the hills of Livermore, Londry says volunteering makes her feel content, satisfied and at peace. She encourages everyone to find something similarly meaningful and suggests that volunteering can start small.

“You don’t really need to have all the answers or be the one to fix everything, but everybody can do something,” she said. “Start off by trying to find something that’s important to you.”

For example, Londry suggests asking friends to donate blood or signing up to make lasagna for families struggling with food insecurity. 

For her, volunteering has helped build a community, a support
system and a group of friends who
are like family. 

“It fills my heart to be able to be a part of something that’s bigger than myself. I think it’s really easy when we’re struggling through things in life to get too focused in on our own issues and problems,” said Londry. “In a way, I do this to remind myself that it’s not just about me. The world’s a big place and none of us get through it alone.”