October 2018 – Me and the Doods.com

Stanley and the Mountains

The mountains are my happy place. It’s where I can really breathe and put things in perspective. What makes hiking even better for me is going with the dogs. I started a long time ago with Larry, my brother Stanley’s Border Collie mix, and my Golden Cody. Then I spent wonderful hours of freedom exploring unknown trails with Charley.

Over the past few years, Elbee and Gus have been my faithful companions. But now, since the hills are getting a little steep for Elbee and everything sticks to Gus like velcro, I decided it was time to take Stanley.

ELBEE Excuse me. What is it lately with Stanley this and Stanley that? What am I, chopped liver. By the way, I’ve never understood that expression. I enjoy chopped liver, especially with a nice piece of rye bread.

As we started up our first trail together, other than an inordinate amount of sniffing, Stanley was doing really well. He trotted along by my side, fascinated, maybe a little too fascinated, by the lizards and birds. Fortunately, the snakes were sleeping.

To my surprise, the brush sunflower was blooming so of course I had to take his first mountain flower photo. I always took pictures of Charley and Elbee with them.

ELBEE Yes, but we had them all over our heads. Why couldn’t we just stand next to them and look cute like Stanley?

Since it was a weekend, we ran into so many of the regulars. It was like a meet and greet for Stanley. He continued sniffing everything and everyone, including every dog that went by, but his tail never stopped wagging. To my delight everyone responded so positively to him, except for the bike riders who went flying by.

ELBEE She obviously has issues with them.

Actually one really nice couple on bikes made my day. They could see that he was a puppy and wanted to know how long I’d had him. When I answered “just a few months,” they were amazed that he was so well behaved!

ELBEE I’m sure she had tears in her eyes.

To be honest, I’m still mystified by some of his good behavior. I guess it’s like with the daughters. If you don’t want to get the blame for the bad, you can’t take all the credit for the good. There’s a flaw in there somewhere.

As we were heading down, another hiker was walking by and called out, “Cute puppy. What’s his name?” When I answered, “Stanley,” he said “That’s a character name.” I have absolutely no idea what he meant, but I loved it. I’m sure my brother was watching and got a good laugh. He truly was a character.

Stanley and the Gentle Barn

At a June PAC luncheon, I was incredibly moved by the words of guest speaker Ellie Laks, the founder of the Gentle Barn, “a sanctuary where animals heal and children learn to hope.” This week a group of us from UCLA went out to Santa Clarita to visit. The experience did not disappoint.

Rescued from deplorable conditions, a mix of animals from cows, pigs, horses, sheep and goats to turkeys and chickens live in a bucolic setting. Treated with love, kindness and caring, they have learned to trust again.

I felt as if I was seeing a reflection of the best and the worst of mankind. The animals had been mistreated by people, but Ellie and her wonderful crew have brought them hope. Their names, like Blessing and Magic, are a reminder of the positive work being done. Somehow, they also contribute to a sense of peace and spirituality.

There was another part to the day that made it even more special for me. Ellie encouraged us to bring our dogs so I had Stanley with me. I was a little nervous about bringing a puppy but felt it would be a great opportunity for socializing and training. I also truly believed he could handle it. To my delight, he was so good that he surprised not only me but everyone else.

When we first arrived, he barked at a donkey standing by a fence. In his defense, he’d never seen anything that looked even remotely like a donkey. It was the last time he barked all afternoon!

Not only was he comfortable with the other dogs in our group, he was fascinated by the barn animals. When we went into the enclosure with Forgiveness, a three thousand pound genetically altered cow, he stopped briefly as if to assess, and then moved closer. He showed more curiosity than fear.

It was the horses that really caught his fancy. He went almost nose to nose with Hiro, a horse that is totally blind. There was something so gentle in their interaction. Later, standing by the outside paddock, he tried to climb through the fence to get closer to the others. He even made friends with the donkey.

Ellie was so impressed with Stanley’s temperament and judging by the photo, he was pretty impressed with her too. She said that he was the most amazing puppy she’d ever seen and felt he’d do great work. Since she is an animal guru with such empathy for them and such intuition, I could not have asked for more.

Stanley may continue to bite Elbee’s ears, counter surf, and shred newspapers but I will hear her words in my head and believe that he has something special to offer. With luck, he will one day walk bravely into the hospital by my side.

Elbee and Gus Do Cocktails

In 2008, Charley and a Golden Retriever named Abby took part in the opening celebration for the Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center. Charley and Abby are gone now, but I will never forget how they charmed the crowd.

This week, Elbee and Gus worked a celebration for the tenth anniversary of the hospital! I admit that I was feeling nostalgic. As we got out of the car, we were greeted by a young woman who explained that she had met Charley at the student athlete event the night before he passed. She still had fond memories of him. The nostalgia grew even stronger.

ELBEE Don’t get me wrong. I adored my big brother, it’s just that last week was a trip down memory lane. She needs to snap out of it.

Before heading down to the main event, we all took photos outside with a very special addition to the UCLA program, Blue Moon, a miniature therapy horse. Gus kept sniffing as if trying to figure out what kind of dog it was.

ELBEE Sometimes the little guy is clueless. Besides I think she kind of had a thing for me.

I’m not sure if Elbee and Gus “charmed” the crowd, but they certainly caused a stir. It never ceases to amaze me how the dogs can change the energy in an entire room. They’re like entertainment on four paws. One guest, obviously from out of town, saw the dogs in their festive party collars and Elbee in his pigtails and laughingly said, “Welcome to L.A.”

ELBEE I have mixed feelings about the pigtails.

When therapy dogs work an event, they’re enthusiastic and rarely let on if they’re getting tired. They keep going as long as anyone wants to interact with them. Unlike some of us, they never pull a “houdini” and disappear. Oops am I giving away secrets.

When I sensed they needed a break from mingling, I let them settle in front of the bar. A few of us (I’m totally sharing the blame) thought it would be cute to put wine glasses down in front of them. Since I really never thought of them as drinkers, it was strange how natural they looked with their glasses of champagne.

ELBEE I think I’ve acquired a taste.

At home later that night, I realized just how hard they had worked. They both fell asleep on their backs and were snoring, something they rarely do.

ELBEE That’s personal. Does this woman have no boundaries!

Therapy Doods, Past, Present and Future?

UCLA is planning a People Animal Connection tribute wall so we were asked to select a few photos of each of our dogs. Looking back at pictures of Charley, then Elbee and Gus, opened a floodgate of memories. There were lighter moments like parades, Christmas caroling and photo shoots.

There were more serious moments. The little boy in pediatrics who smiled for the first time in a week. The anxious family members in the surgery waiting room who laughed as Gus did his “dance” for them. The nurse who was helped through a difficult day by a short time out with Elbee.

Then there were the spectacular moments. The sixth graders from Compton who learned about anti-bullying from the dogs. The mourners at a candlelight vigil for the murdered UCLA professor who were comforted by Charley and Gus. The disturbed child in the neuropsych unit who went from smashing her head against the wall to sitting on the floor teaching Elbee how to take a bow.

Although each therapy dog has its own unique style, they all have so much in common. Whether they’re gentle giants like Charley, class clowns like Elbee or cuddlers like Gus, they all come from a loving place. They trigger positive and often unexpected responses, expecting nothing in return. There’s no judgment. Countless times I’ve heard someone in the hospital say, “You’ve made my day,” and I know they weren’t talking about me.

ELBEE She’s got that right. Please, you didn’t think I was going to be quiet for this whole post.

Recently I saw two cartoons that so simply reinforced what I’ve been trying to say.

In 2006 when I first walked into Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center with Charley by my side, little did I realize where this journey would lead me or how breath taking it would be. Thanks to Elbee, yes Elbee, and Gus this journey continues. Scrolling through the photos and recalling so many cherished moments, made me realize just how much I am hoping that Stanley will someday be walking next to me, making his own magic.

Each time he greets someone new with a wagging tail, I’m sure we’re on the right path. When he sits in my lap and wants nothing more than affection, I applaud his temperament. Then he barks for attention, steals one of my shirts or jumps up on someone and I wonder if we’ll ever get there.

Seriously, I know what a long process it is, but I really do think he’s been making great strides. Speaking of strides, he is now leash walking not only better than you know who, but also than Gus.

ELBEE I didn’t see that one coming. And was that a pun?

GUS That’s it. I’m hiring a professional dog walker.

They Like Him! They Really Like Him!

So many people ask about Stanley. They’ve never actually met him but feel as if they know him.

ELBEE Maybe because she’s been oversharing about him since the moment he was born.

I am happy to say that at four months, I can give a cautiously optimistic update on the little guy. Although at thirty pounds and taller than Gus, I can’t really call him the “little guy” any more.

GUS I’m so confused. I could swear that I was towering over him and now we’re eye to eye. Am I shrinking? I know that Pack Leader is but she’s a lot older than I am.

Looking at these photos, it’s easy to see how much he’s grown. He was around ten pounds when we brought him home in July and this week he’s weighing in at thirty.

In this picture with Marsha, the groomer, his legs look so long, a friend commented that she wished hers were like that.

It would be nice if I had a better recollection of the other Doods at this stage so I’d have a more accurate frame of reference. I should have kept puppy books, just like the baby books I had for the daughters. To be honest, I wasn’t that great at those either. I may have exaggerated from time to time or made up a few things here and there. Hey, I had three kids under the age of five and a half.

ELBEE And once again, we know why she wasn’t mother of the year.

As for Stanley’s behavior, he has some quirks but his evil twin with the sharp teeth is making fewer and fewer appearances. For instance, he has put those long legs to work counter surfing, something I’m sure he picked up from Elbee.

ELBEE No comment.

He has also developed a fetish for my tee shirts and steals them out of the closet, something he picked up from Gus.

GUS No Comment.

On the bright side, Stanley is hanging so naturally with the pack whether relaxing or interacting. He spends hours playing with Gus, his former nemesis. He’s learned commands from Elbee. He even got Riley, our 15 year old Golden, to run a few laps around the yard with him. They like him! They really like him!

His leash walking may be what has surprised me the most. Last night I took him for a short walk in the neighborhood. Since that was pretty uneventful, today I upped the ante and took him on Ventura Boulevard, one of the busiest streets in the San Fernando Valley. I didn’t know what to expect but tried to do the calm, assertive “dog whisperer” thing. I was shocked when it actually worked.

He was freakishly good, staying calmly by my side. He sniffed all over the place but barely pulled on the leash unlike a certain other dog who shall remain nameless. (It begins and ends with “e”). He initially reacted to the traffic but then ignored it. There were hints of Charley. I figured that either I’m a fabulous trainer or he’s a genius.

ELBEE Is she serious?