The location of Hip Dog Hydrotherapy is an unassuming one; on the edge of Winter Park in a residential area, it could be mistaken as just another house save for a drab gray business sign out front (which doesn‘t advertise the business in question). On closer approach, walking past vehicles promoting Hip Dog with folk art magnets by Orlando’s Carl Knickerbocker, you begin to feel this is no ordinary place. It may have been just a house with a pool at one time—probably a home that meant a lot to a family or two—but now it is a special place wrapped in a comforting aura.
Passing through a chain link fence adorned with offerings of aquatic doggie toys, you become aware of a presence you may not be able to name in the moment, but later you’ll realize it can only be called “Hope.”
Actor Tom Nowicki and his friend Kristina Latimer founded Hip Dog in 2000, offering therapy to dogs that have mobility trouble from conditions such as arthritis, hip dysplasia, and amputation. More often than not, parents have sought the company’s help after their veterinarian has advised that it might be time to put the pet down. In most cases, Hip Dog’s work has been successful in adding months and years to the lives of these animals.
Cozmo’s Legacy
The whole thing started with Latimer’s three-legged dog, Cozmo. Cozmo had lost his leg in a car accident, but possessing the energy of his Brittany spaniel heritage, he wasn’t about to let it stop him.
“Brittany spaniels have two places on their throttle—11 and zero. They’re either crazy or nothing,” says Nowicki. “There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do, but he was always sore, always tired.”
The two friends tried diet, acupuncture, and massage which gave Cozmo some real relief. Then Nowicki was on an airplane and someone had left a copy of The Whole Dog Journal in the seat pocket. Flipping through, he ran across an article about a new trend called canine hydrotherapy.
Sharing the news with Latimer, they both decided to study with Susan Marino, a retired registered nurse who established Angel’s Gate Hospice for Animals in New York, and is considered a founding godmother of canine hydrotherapy. Realizing the investment of time and money they were making, Nowicki and Latimer realized they should share their knowledge and help more than just Cozmo.
When Nowicki and Latimer opened the pool in August 2000, they had originally thought it could be a money-making prospect. They soon learned that many people couldn’t afford to pay—or weren’t willing to—and besides, they felt kind of guilty charging, so they established Hip Dog as a non-profit. There is a suggested fee of $35 for a 30-minute session, but Hip Dog will work with any budget, even if you aren’t able to pay. Nowicki estimates a quarter of its clients pay full price.
While Hip Dog’s annual budget is too low to qualify for most grants, it is an expensive operation, chiefly because of the heated pool. The organization stays afloat with the generosity of dog lovers making private donations and the occasional yard sale or small fundraiser.
Touch of the poet
Originally Nowicki administered most of the therapy himself, until Cherylann Blay-Marquez and her golden retriever, Dakota, began visiting Hip Dog.
“Having her in the water just elevated the care we were able to give these dogs,” says Nowicki.
Blay-Marquez is as surprised to find herself in Florida as she is to find herself in the swimming pool helping dogs heal. Less than four years ago, the 
published poet was living in Amsterdam, had obtained Dutch citizenship, and was traveling Europe hosting English spoken word events. Pursuing an interest in massage therapy, she was accepted into a sports massage school in Helsinki, but a Thanksgiving visit to her parents in Oviedo wound up changing all that. She learned that the international respected Central Florida School of Massage Therapy was four miles away, so she visited the campus, and decided to attend.
Dakota had been diagnosed with hip dysplasia and Blay-Marquez intuitively began practicing on him with hopes that it would help. Researching online, she learned of Hip Dog and began taking Dakota to the Crazy Hour on Sundays (12:30 p.m.-1:30 p.m.), a time during which all dogs are welcome to visit and have fun.
Around this time, Blay-Marquez had a chance encounter with an animal communicator who she chatted with about Dakota.
“Wait a minute,” he told her. “You’re supposed to be with Kristina.”
Being a lesbian, Blay-Marquez thought the insight was about a love connection. Instead, he asked his wife to get on the phone to tell Kristina he found the new person for Hip Dog. A little stunned, Blay-Marquez told him she’d been at Hip Dog the past two Sundays. “You’re going to be spending a lot more Sundays there,” he told her.
For a year and a half, Blay-Marquez worked in the pool during the day, applying what she was learning in school at night. Comparing human and canine anatomy books, she would translate the modalities she learned to dogs and she married this to her knowledge of Chakra energy work and Reiki. Nowicki is careful to not overstate himself, but says he feels the work Blay-Marquez has done makes his training seem almost insignificant.
Working on a golden retriever named Ginger while Hip Dog assistant Hart Campbell expertly holds the dog, Blay-Marquez says she still writes, performs spoken word and is consulting on an anthology of lesbian poetry.
“Poetry is the heartbeat that I go by,” she says. “It always has been. This is my calling.” As if on cue, her hands feel the movement of fluids needed in Ginger’s body.
“There you go. She’s good now.”
And, with that, the dog splashes out of the pool to her grateful parents.
The Hip Dog staff stresses that their work is not an alternative to veterinary treatment, but rather a complementary therapy. Through experience and constant research, the Hip Dog team is able to advise clients on alternatives to discuss with their vet. In many of the cases that have come through their gates, a vet simply hasn’t heard of or thought of hydrotherapy.
Openly dog
“We do everything we can to keep this place as tranquil and spiritual as we possibly can—and in a dog way,” Nowicki’s voice mingles with sounds of wind chimes toning and tingling in the air. “We don’t ask them not to bark. We want them to be as openly dog as they possibly can.”
While the staff is sensitive to which clients are open to spiritual discussion, Nowicki says it is what Hip Dog is all about. A common statue of St. Francis of Assisi standing at one corner of the pool is the only overt evidence of this assertion. Still, the intangibles at work at Hip Dog are undeniable to a parent like Drew Westveer. He started bringing his dogs here when his dog Viva, who has since passed, was having trouble getting around. Viva didn’t like to be held, Westveer remembers, but would easily submit to the Hip Dog staff, even laying her head on the assistant’s shoulder.
“I think it’s the energy here,” Westveer says, softly watching his 12-year-old golden retriever Cheyenne paddle around the pool in an orange lifejacket. “Not to be too hippy dippy about it.”
