About a month ago I was walking the dogs in the neighborhood and ran into the rabbi from Providence Tarzana Hospital and his wife. When they stopped to pet Gus and Stanley, the rabbi, a fan of animal therapy, began telling his wife about things the Doods had accomplished. Some I didn’t even know about.
One story really stuck with me. A couple of years ago, the rabbi had seen me in the hall, I believe with Elbee and Gus, and asked us to go in to see a critically ill young woman. He shared how much peace and comfort the visit with the dogs had brought to her. Unbeknownst to me, a short time later she passed away.
This week I was at the hospital with Gus when a nurse told us that someone really wanted to see him. We walked into the room to find the patient waiting to go to surgery but alert and upbeat. Her two adult daughters, one a veterinarian and the other a sports trainer, were with her.
We immediately bonded over our love of dogs, the Dodgers and the Lakers. We were so sad about the loss of Kobe Bryant and mad about the baseball cheating scandal. The trainer daughter had worked with UCLA athletes so we cheered the great year the women’s basketball team was having. I showed them silly Christmas and New Years photos of Gus and Stanley which got a laugh from everyone.
Suddenly one of the daughters turned to me and thanked me for a visit we had done with her sister a few years before. Her sister had been so happy to see the dogs and so comforted by them. It turned out to be the very same woman the rabbi had been talking about.
After a few minutes of serious conversation, I shared with them that Stanley was my late brother’s namesake. That simple act of confiding spoke volumes. The experience of losing a sibling is different for everyone but there is a mutual understanding. I told them how warm and funny my brother was and that I was sure he was making their sister laugh.
