Therapy horse ‘Doctor Peyo’ comforted more than 1,000 cancer patients in their final hours ‘When he decided, I couldn’t stop him. It was a need, an instinct, it was in him, he needed to go and cling to the person he chose.’ as a gift that Peyo the horse gave to everyone
In the sterile corridors of Calais Hospital in northern France, where the air hums with the quiet urgency of life slipping away, an extraordinary visitor arrives almost daily. His hooves click softly against the linoleum floors, a rhythmic counterpoint to the beeps of monitors and the muffled sobs of families. This is Peyo, a 19-year-old Barb stallion affectionately dubbed “Doctor Peyo,” who has become a beacon of solace for the terminally ill. Since 2016, this gentle giant has comforted over 1,000 cancer patients in their final hours, offering a touch of warmth and instinctual empathy that no medication can replicate. His story, one of unyielding compassion, challenges our understanding of healing and reminds us that sometimes, the greatest gifts come not from science, but from the quiet wisdom of animals.
Peyo’s journey into therapy began unexpectedly, rooted in his days as a show horse in dressage competitions. Owned and trained by Hassen Bouchakour, a dedicated equestrian from the region, Peyo was once the star of elegant performances, his chestnut coat gleaming under arena lights. But even then, something set him apart. After shows, while crowds dispersed, Peyo would linger, drawn irresistibly to certain spectators. He would nuzzle against them, refusing to leave until Bouchakour gently led him away. At first, Bouchakour dismissed it as quirky affection. “He was always selective,” Bouchakour recalls in interviews. “But over time, I noticed a pattern—these were people carrying invisible burdens, those battling pain or illness.”
Curiosity turned to revelation during a routine outing. Peyo approached a woman in distress, pressing his muzzle to her side with a tenderness that moved onlookers to tears. She later confided she was undergoing chemotherapy for breast cancer. Intrigued, Bouchakour began observing more closely. Time and again, Peyo gravitated toward individuals later revealed to have tumors or chronic conditions. It was as if the horse possessed an innate radar for suffering, a sixth sense that defied explanation. Scientists at Les Sabots du Coeur, the nonprofit organization Bouchakour founded to harness Peyo’s abilities, have since studied him extensively. Out of 500 horses tested, Peyo alone demonstrated this uncanny detection—identifying cancer and tumors with startling accuracy, often before scans confirmed them. Researchers hypothesize it’s linked to his heightened sensitivity to pheromones or electromagnetic fields emitted by stressed bodies, but Bouchakour prefers a simpler truth: “It’s his heart. He feels what we can’t see.”
By 2016, Peyo and Bouchakour had formalized their mission, partnering with Calais Hospital’s palliative care unit. What started as occasional visits evolved into a near-daily ritual. Preparing Peyo for the hospital is no small feat. Bouchakour spends up to two hours meticulously cleaning the stallion with disinfectant wipes, ensuring not a speck of dirt disrupts the clinical environment. Peyo, ever the gentleman, has been trained to signal when nature calls—he shifts his weight side to side, prompting a quick escort to the parking lot. Once inside, the transformation is profound. Gone is the performer; in his place stands a healer, his large eyes scanning doors with purposeful intent.
Peyo chooses his patients himself, a behavior that leaves even seasoned staff in awe. He pauses before a room, lifts one foreleg in a deliberate tap against the frame, and waits. Bouchakour follows, never forcing the direction. “When he decided, I couldn’t stop him,” Bouchakour says, echoing the instinctual drive that defines their partnership. “It was a need, an instinct, it was in him, he needed to go and cling to the person he chose.” Inside, Peyo becomes a living embrace. He lowers his head to nuzzle frail hands, allows children to lean against his flank for piggyback rides, or simply stands guard at a bedside, his steady breathing a lullaby against the chaos of pain.
The impact on patients is nothing short of miraculous. Nurses report that Peyo’s visits often coincide with a dramatic drop in anxiety levels—heart rates slow, pain scores plummet, and dosages of heavy sedatives can be halved or more. For Marion, a 24-year-old mother battling metastatic cancer, Peyo was a daily ally. Wheelchair-bound and enduring relentless treatments, she found fleeting joy in his gentle prods. “He doesn’t pity you,” she shared before her passing. “He just… understands.” Her seven-year-old son, Ethan, who once dreaded hospital trips, now associates the ward with Peyo’s soft whinnies. Clutching the horse’s mane, Ethan giggles as Peyo playfully lip his fingers, turning dread into delight. Similarly, Robert, a former rider in his final days, shared a silent camaraderie with Peyo, the two exchanging knowing glances as if old stablemates reunited.
Even the staff, hardened by years of witnessing loss, draw strength from him. “Hassen and Peyo are part of the team,” says Anne-Sophie, a palliative care nurse. “When it’s hard, we’re happy to know they’re here.” In one poignant instance, Peyo stationed himself like a sentinel outside a patient’s door, adopting a protective stance that barred entry until the family was ready. Scientists puzzle over such moments—guarding behaviors, unprompted vigils lasting hours—but for those inside the rooms, it’s pure magic.
Today, as of late 2025, Peyo’s legacy endures. Now in his twilight years, the stallion shows no signs of slowing, though Bouchakour ensures rest days with beach walks along Calais’ windswept shores. There, Peyo grazes contentedly, but his gaze often drifts back toward the hospital, as if pulled by an invisible thread. Les Sabots du Coeur continues its research, exploring how Peyo’s interventions might inform broader animal-assisted therapies. Pediatric oncologists have noted his particular affinity for children, where a single visit can coax smiles from the most withdrawn. Geriatric teams credit him with easing the isolation of elderly patients, fostering bonds that ripple through families.
Yet beyond the studies and statistics lies the profound simplicity of Peyo’s gift. In a world armored against vulnerability, he arrives unarmed, offering connection without agenda. He has stood by over 1,000 souls as they crossed thresholds no one can map, his presence a bridge between the living and the letting go. Bouchakour, Peyo’s steadfast companion, describes their bond as symbiotic: “He is my other half, my life partner.” But it is Peyo who gives endlessly, his instincts a quiet revolution against despair.
As Calais Hospital’s halls echo with fewer clip-clops in Peyo’s advancing age, whispers of successors stir—foals trained in his shadow, though none yet match his spark. For now, “Doctor Peyo” remains a testament to the wild, healing heart of nature. In clinging to those he chooses, he doesn’t just comfort; he affirms that even in final hours, we are never truly alone. His gift—to patients, families, healers—is the raw insistence of life itself: to touch, to stay, to simply be.
