A Life Well Lived

 

 

Sometimes it was hard to believe that Charley was a dog. Nicole, the middle daughter and the one who actually loves all the Doods, said that he was like a mystical creature who would never die. Like a unicorn.

Missing my wonderful “unicorn,” I took advantage of a beautiful, breezy morning to hike up into the mountains. As I enjoyed the healing freedom, the spectacular views and the wildflowers, thoughts of Charley came flooding in. I could almost feel his spirit.

 

In his ten plus years at UCLA Medical Center and at Providence Tarzana Hospital his interactions with patients, staff and families were so simple and natural but at the same time extraordinary. He entertained with tricks. He comforted. He healed. He always seemed to have an instinct about who needed him the most.

For some reason, as I climbed the trails that morning, I kept remembering many of the more difficult situations. Those were the times when his grace and kindness really helped me as well as the people we were visiting.

At Providence, with the okay of their oncologists, we visited cancer patients. Charley spent time with Susan, an absolutely amazing woman who was battling the disease. When she was in a “funk,” having him on her bed made her feel better for hours. On the day she confided that she was done fighting and going home, it was only Charley’s presence that kept me from losing it. She is gone but her husband has sent me touching messages about how much Charley meant to both of them.

We were asked to see a man who was terminal but waiting for his daughter to fly in and say goodbye. Without Charley by my side, I don’t know if I could have entered that hospital room. He truly did teach me to be brave.

The patient’s wife, who had been in tears, hugged Charley and started smiling as he leaned on her. I gave the patient a treat for Charley who gently took it out of his hand. Then we sat and chatted quietly as he petted my big sweet dog. We spent a peaceful, emotionally healing few minutes.

Years ago Charley did several visits with a young girl in the neuropsych unit at UCLA that I will never forget. Jani, according to doctors at the hospital, was born schizophrenic. She loved animals in general and Charley in particular. However, on a rough morning she tried to kick him. Unfortunately it was the same day that a reporter from the L.A. Times was doing a story about her.

The column one article talked about Jani having a very bad day and trying to kick the hospital dog. What the reporter didn’t know was that the next time we came in to see her, Jani ran over to Charley, hugged him and said, “I’m so sorry. I love you, Charley.” On our following visit, she gave him this page from a coloring book that she had signed. She even apologized for not having time to fill it in. I saved it because it moved me so deeply.

I emailed the reporter to tell her about the positive interactions and she got permission to put it on the newspaper’s blog. That’s why I’m able to share the story now. Charley with his kindness and gentle spirit was able to reach Janni.

After Charley passed, Ursula, a wonderful therapist in the NPI, sent me a note with an Irish saying that she felt applied to Charley,  “We will not see his like again.” How fortunate were all of those who saw his “like.” How fortunate was I to be at his side.