Let me introduce you to Rudy — a six-year-old standard poodle who wears more than just a fur coat.
He wears a mission.
A purpose. A heart big enough to comfort those running toward danger, not away from it.
This isn’t just another therapy dog story. Rudy’s owner, Steven Zonis from Chatsworth, wasn’t sure he’d ever bring another dog into his life after his beloved poodle Misha passed away.
He felt the loss. He felt the weight of grief. He told his wife, “That’s it. No more dogs.” But life had other plans — plans full of hope.
One night, Steven’s wife dreamed about a black-and-white puppy. That’s all she saw.
Heeding that dream, they set out to find their next furry companion. A few weeks later, they met Rudy as a four-week-old pup.
Steven remembers thinking, “Mr. Personality.” Right then, Rudy was smiling, offering hugs, making eye contact — small things that declared: I’m ready to be more than a pet.
I want to be a comfort. I want to be a helper.
Fast forward to today. Rudy is a certified therapy dog working with the Los Angeles Police Department.
When the Eaton Fire and Palisades Fire struck in January, he didn’t hide. He didn’t back down. Rudy and Steven got up at 4 a.m. most days.
They went to command posts. To daily briefings. To break rooms.
To whatever spot first responders gathered. And Rudy did what he knows best: he stood there, fur and all, offering the kind of calm only a dog can give.
A gentle presence. A reassuring tongue. A warm cuddle. The kind of support that says, “You are seen. You are not alone.”
Because Rudy’s not just asking people to pet him — though plenty did. He’s asking them something far more important: to breathe.
To pause.
To let their shoulders drop.
To remember their own humanity.
The soldiers at those fires, firefighters, paramedics — these folks see things most of us can’t even imagine.
Yet Rudy had a way of letting them feel “just like home,” if only for a moment.
Now, Rudy’s name is up for bigger recognition.
He’s a finalist in the therapy dog category for the 2025 Hero Dog Awards, a national competition held by the American Humane Society.
He’s the only dog representing Southern California. Win or not, Rudy’s already won more than many ever do: he’s made a difference.
Here’s what hits me: Anyone can be a therapy dog — with training, with love, with purpose. Steven didn’t wait for perfect.
He simply followed his heart, got to work, trained Rudy with his grandchildren, certified him at hospitals like Children’s Hospital Los Angeles, and started showing up.
Rudy doesn’t just wear his harness to get attention. He wears it for kindness. For hope.
For living proof that even in smoke and ash, in hard work and long hours, there’s room for softness.
For laughter. For pets on the back. For a warm moment that remembers you’re human.
So, when you hear Rudy’s name, don’t just think “dog.”
Think courage.
Think healing.
Think comfort.
Think the kind of love that doesn’t need words. Because Rudy says it all in a wag, a lick, and a way that fills the cracks where fear and fatigue try to settle.
And yes—a black-and-white furball with a big heart is exactly what the world needed in January.
And probably right now, too.
