Ziggy’s Party

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Yesterday we celebrated Ziggy’s 6th birthday. Ziggy, for those who don’t know, is a cavoodle who has left paw prints on the heart of our college since the day he arrived. His story is already legendary: at just 12 weeks old, his owner was encouraged to let him sleep outside. The fences were secure, but Ziggy had other plans. By 2:00am, he’d made his way into the admin corridor and curled up on a leather lounge, captured on CCTV, fast asleep as if he’d been there forever. From that night onwards, Ziggy belonged to us all.

So of course, when his birthday came around, the whole college turned up. There was a jumping castle (yes, for a dog’s birthday), cupcakes and cookies, a Slurpee machine, popcorn, and—most importantly—music pumping through the courtyard. Students were bouncing, dancing, laughing, and talking. The vibe was great. There was even a photographer there, capturing the moments that words can’t quite hold.

And it made me think: what would it have been like without music? Neuroscientists tell us music triggers dopamine, the brain’s reward chemical. It locks memories into place and strengthens the bonds we form with others. Without it, our courtyard party would have been just sugar and small talk. No rhythm to move to, no beat to bind us, no soundtrack for the moment.

Without music, we would have walked away with fewer memories, less connection, less joy. No laughter echoing in sync with the bass. No fond nostalgia for “that time we jumped on a castle at Ziggy’s birthday.”

Let’s be honest: Ziggy was the excuse. The real gift was community—people leaving their rooms, assessments forgotten for a while, and stepping into sunshine, joy, and friendship. Music made it possible.

These are the things I love about my job: the crazy interludes in an intense study program that bring joy and connection into people’s lives. And in the middle of it all, music is the invisible thread that ties us together.

It feels fitting that Ziggy was named after Ziggy Stardust. Bowie’s Ziggy was a rock star who carried hope into a dying world, giving people something to gather around, something bigger than themselves. Our Ziggy, in his own small way, has done the same—drawing us into laughter, sunshine, and friendship.

Without music, none of this would have held together. With it, even a cavoodle’s birthday becomes something more: a reminder of joy, of community, and of hope.