A note from under the desk

Meet Alfie, Chief Calming Officer

Ex rescue dog. Heinz 57. Professional nervous-system whisperer. Available for strokes between 9 and 5.

Hello. I'm Alfie.

You won't see my name on the door, but I am, in my own quiet way, part of how HypnoGirl works.

I live under Kathryn's desk during sessions. When a human sits down on the sofa and their shoulders are somewhere up near their ears, I make myself known. A nose on the knee. A warm flank to rest a hand on. Most people don't even notice they've started breathing more slowly until it's already happened.

That's the bit I'm good at.

Love, Alfie

My story (the short version)

I used to be a rescue dog. I'm not one any more, and that's the bit people sometimes miss. Rescue was a chapter; this is the rest of the book. Nobody is entirely sure what I'm made of. Kathryn calls me a Heinz 57, which I'm told means "a bit of everything and entirely myself." I like that. I had a different life before this one, and I'm not going to bore you with the details. The important part is that I made it through to the after. That's the bit I now help anxious humans find for themselves.

"He's better than any waiting-room magazine. People who arrive holding their breath leave having forgotten they were holding it."

- Kathryn

What I actually do

Kathryn does the clever bit with words and the nervous system. I do the bit with fur. Together, we're a team.

I greet you at the door, so the threshold of "going to therapy" feels more like "visiting a friend who has a dog."
I'm there to stroke when something tender comes up. Hands need something to do when feelings get big.
I do not judge. I have never, in my entire career, raised an eyebrow at anything anyone has said.
I model the work. I am, after all, a once-anxious rescue who now sleeps soundly in public. If I can co-regulate, so can you.

A day in my paws

Morning walk somewhere local.

I'm a Yorkshire dog at heart.

Back to the office.

Greet the 10am.

Doze through some hypnotherapy (I have been hypnotised more times than I can count, and I'm fine with it, thank you).

Snack.

Greet the 2pm. More dozing. Occasional cameo on a video call. Home.

It's a good life. I recommend it

If you're nervous about coming

I get it. New rooms, new people, new feelings. It's a lot. Here's what I'll say: lots of humans have sat where you're about to sit, and most of them spent the first five minutes scratching behind my ears instead of saying anything at all. That counts as starting.

We can work from there.