Just a moment
Therapeutic work shaped for younger nervous systems — often with animals, always at their pace.
Children and adolescents don't do therapy the way adults do. They don't usually sit in a chair and talk about their feelings for an hour. The ones who need help most are often the ones least able to access it in a conventional format.
At Foothills, therapeutic work with younger clients leans on what the setting offers. Horses, dogs, open land, tasks that use the body. A ten-year-old who won't make eye contact with a therapist will often stand quietly next to a horse for twenty minutes and, somewhere in that quiet, start talking. A teenager who has shut down every adult conversation will sometimes let a dog sit on their feet and find that the silence feels different than it usually does.
This isn't play therapy in the traditional sense, though play is part of it. It's clinical work — trauma-informed, developmentally attuned — delivered in a way that meets younger clients where they actually are rather than where the clinical format expects them to be.
It depends on the child. For younger kids, sessions are usually 45 to 50 minutes and involve time with an animal, time outdoors, and some structured interaction with the therapist. The ratio shifts based on the child's capacity. Some sessions are almost entirely with the horse. Some are conversations that happen while walking. Very few look like a seated office appointment.
For adolescents, sessions run closer to the standard 50 to 60 minutes. The work might involve equine-assisted therapy, animal-assisted sessions, or conventional counselling — often a mix. What matters is that the teenager has some say in how the time is used. Autonomy is clinical, not cosmetic. A young person who feels they have no control is not going to let you into the places that need attention.
Horses and dogs do something specific with young clients that's hard to replicate in an office. They don't ask questions. They don't have expectations. They respond to what's happening in the child's body without interpreting it, and that absence of interpretation is often what makes the space feel safe enough.
For kids who've been over-assessed, over-questioned, or who associate adults with demands, an animal that simply stands beside them can be the first relationship in a long time that doesn't ask them to perform.
Parents are part of the process. Not always in the session, but always in the picture. We communicate regularly about what the work looks like in broad terms — without breaking the child's confidentiality. Sometimes a parent joins a session. Sometimes the parent is doing their own work here at the same time. Sometimes the most useful thing is a conversation between the therapist and the parent about what's happening at home.
We don't treat a child in isolation from the system they live in. If the home environment is part of what needs attention, we'll say so — carefully, specifically, and with a plan.
No. Some children come with a referral and a clinical history. Some come because a parent noticed something was off and wants support before it becomes a crisis. Both are valid starting points.
That's fine. Not every child works with horses. Some work with dogs. Some start at the fence line and stay there for weeks. Fear of animals is never treated as a problem to solve — it's information, and we work with it.
For the first session or two, often yes — especially with younger children. Over time, most kids do better with the parent waiting nearby rather than in the room. We'll talk about what makes sense for your child specifically.
It might be. The setting — outdoors, animals, no waiting room with fluorescent lights — removes some of the friction that makes conventional therapy feel unbearable to teenagers. That said, we won't pretend to be something other than therapy. If your teenager isn't willing, we can start with a conversation with you about how to approach it.
If something on this page resonated, reach out. There's no pressure and no commitment — just a conversation about whether this might be a fit.