This week Gus soloed at UCLA. Since he’s still wrestling with giving up his position as baby of the family, I figured he could use the extra attention and adulation. With the humid weather, his hair was fabulous so he didn’t disappoint. I’m also happy to report that he seems to be doing much better with Stanley.
ELBEE He’s totally faking it.
GUS He’s right. I am. 
The younger kids in our first neuropsych unit had been waiting for Gus. They welcomed him as if he was a visiting celebrity. A couple even had gifts. Two boys gave him drawings of Golden Retrievers that they had cut out of coloring books. I don’t know if it meant more to them or to me.
From the kids to the teens to the adults, Gus was in his glory. He cuddled. He did tricks. He rolled over for belly rubs. He was so cute and comforting that no one wanted him to leave. I don’t want to tell you how many patients and staff members said that it was fine if I needed to go but that they’d like Gus to stay for the day.
ELBEE That’s just sad.
After our regular groups, we had two encounters that once again confirmed the inexplicable power of therapy dogs. I often write about these quiet moments because I truly believe that they are the heart and the essence of what they do.
One of the staff asked if we’d stop in to see an elderly man with dementia who only responded when the dogs were visiting. When we entered his room, he greeted us with a gentle smile. I brought Gus over for him to pet, not really knowing what to expect.
To my surprise, for the next ten minutes we chatted about everything from special dogs in his life to places we had each lived. At one point he looked at me and said, “You’re a native Californian, aren’t you?” When I responded, “No, I was born in the Catskills, raised in Syracuse,” he knew all about the weather. It was very hard for me to grasp that without Gus, there would have been no conversation, no clarity.
Once we made our way downstairs, we stopped in the surgery waiting room. As soon as we walked in, a woman approached and said she was so happy to see us. She shared that she had watched us walk by twice that morning. The first time was when her husband was in surgery, the second was right after the doctor had assured her that everything had gone well. In almost a whisper, she confided that as soon as she’d laid eyes on Gus, she truly believed that she’d seen an angel.
Ellen
Once again your writing was uplifting!
Please consider a book of your blogs. Or join me in a Book called “Mitzvah Dogs”! The stories must get out to the public!!!
Xo
Judy