January 2021 – Me and the Doods.com

Stanley Is a Rug Thief

After last week’s encounter with the terrible teen at the beach, I wanted to write something on a lighter, funnier note.

ELBEE Oh, it’s about me.

It’s actually about Stanley. He is half Golden Retriever but he doesn’t retrieve. He’s not even very interested in toys unless he can chew them up.

STANLEY Truthfully, I find fetch a little boring.

Now throw rugs, that’s a whole different story. He’s obsessed with them. It’s ironic because when he and Gus nap together, they look like a throw rug.

Stanley has a combination of Charley’s sweetness and, how shall I put it, Elbee’s goofiness.

ELBEE Excuse me. I’d call it charm.

When someone comes into the house, Stanley will eagerly greet them and then run to grab a rug from the kitchen or the bathroom. Instead of bringing it over or sneaking away with it, he will literally prance by without looking at anyone. It’s as if he wants you to see him but pretends that he doesn’t.

When my husband gets home, Stanley will wait a minute or two, pick up the large black rug by the kitchen sink and then strut right by him. After he deposits it in the living room, he comes back for another one. He usually drops that on top of the first one and then may go for a third.

Gus looks as if he’s waiting on his special rug to eat breakfast. He’s not. He’s guarding it so that Stanley won’t drag it into the yard.

Baffled, I asked a few of my dog people friends why they thought he was doing this. One figured that he was bored. Another said he was probably just looking for attention. A third one suggested that he didn’t like my decorating and was moving things around.

ELBEE So that’s why he was trying to order from Living Spaces.

Then it dawned on me. As the namesake of my brother Stanley, he’s living up to his legacy. Stan was a television director and a favorite of so many that he worked with. His optimism and good nature were a gift.

Charismatic and a total dog lover, he was one of the most special people in my life. He was also one of the funniest. He could literally make me laugh until I cried. We had so many inside jokes.

Sadly, my brother passed away from colon cancer over 20 years ago when he was just 47 but his spirit is still with me. Every time that Stanley saunters by with a throw rug in his mouth, I can hear my brother’s great big laugh.

A Rough Day at the Beach

Generally I try to keep my posts positive, especially now. More and more people are talking about how stressed they feel and how much they need a time out. Whether they’re on the front lines like my daughter Nicole working in the ICU or have kids in virtual school at home like my youngest, Danielle, people are doing their best to hang in there but it’s tough.

It’s inspiring to see how many are reaching out to help each other cope. This week, unfortunately, I had an incident with someone who definitely wasn’t. I apologize but I need to vent.

With the unseasonably warm weather, my husband and I took the dogs down to the beach. While he went to sit on the sand and watch the huge waves, I went for a walk with Gus and Stanley on a path that runs along the ocean. It felt safe because there were no bikes allowed and almost everyone we passed was wearing a mask.

As I was starting to relax and enjoy the day, a teenage boy, without a mask, came barreling toward us on his bike. I pulled the dogs close and turned my back to him. That’s when he yelled at me in language that I won’t even repeat as he sped by. He went so low as to use the “old” word.

ELBEE That’s what really got her.

I admit the “old” word was unsettling, Who yells at a grandma walking her dogs? And so much for my theory that a mask makes you look younger.

Thank goodness I had Gus and Stanley with me for support. Neither one would make a very good guard dog. Gus sprints past houses where dogs have barked at him. Still, in that situation I felt less vulnerable with them at my side. Stanley leaned against me, probably keeping me from saying something totally inappropriate in response.

I debated about sharing this but sadly that encounter is such a sign of the times. What I truly find sad is that this is not an isolated incident. There is so much divisiveness when we all really need to come together. We hear the rhetoric but when it becomes that personal, it’s disturbing.

Once we got home, Gus and Stanley went into therapy dog overdrive. They followed me around the house (even more so than usual). Gus nudged me with his paws. Stanley threw himself down next to me.

The behavior of the dogs is so instinctual and so kind. I personally benefited from it that day. I also see it whenever Gus and Stanley or their buddies in the People Animal Connection are visiting in the hospital. There are lessons we can learn from them about unconditional love and acceptance.

Photo credit to Doug Morrow

Have a Grateful Heart

Some weeks are so difficult, it makes it hard to write a feel good post. I felt like that when wildfires were blazing in California. I even drove out to see the devastation for myself. The pandemic has given me pause. This week it’s the riots and the deaths in our nation’s capital.

What keeps me going is the hope that I can give people a moment of positivity.

ELBEE Trust me she is no Polyanna but she tries.

It’s also an opportunity to reach out and stay connected to family and friends, more important than ever with all of the social distancing. Coincidentally, a friend just left a message saying that she hoped I’d keep posting during these dark times.

Two things inspired me today. The first was the sweetener Truvia.

ELBEE Not again

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, there are sayings on each of the packets. They’re very positive, like a morning boost with your coffee. This one said, “Have a grateful heart.”

The second was the throwback photo on the left that a friend recently texted. It’s “baby” Stanley being socialized at the gym in the hopes of following in his big brothers’ paw prints. It led me to find this photo of Stanley starting his first day as a therapy dog at UCLA Medical Center.

As I began looking back at older posts, I was so thankful for the photos. Here are a few of the special ones that I was given permission to share.

Charley and Elbee comforted my dear friend Tracy’s wonderful dad shortly before he passed.

Gus offered his special love to two very sick children.

Stanley cheered up a teen waiting for a heart transplant and helped a nervous student relax.

Although the situations were all difficult, the unconditional love of the dogs brightened each one. These photos brought it into focus. The therapy dog journey that I am privileged to share is an integral part of my gratitude.

I am so looking forward to the day when we are safe from COVID-19 and the dogs can go back into the hospitals. For now Zoom visits will have to do. They make it harder to get the patients involved and can be chaotic when Gus and Stanley compete for screen time but at least there’s a dog presence, even virtually.

On Zoom I put Gus and Stanley in silly outfits and have them do tricks. In the hospital all they have to do is sit on the bed or roll over for a belly rub. There is comfort in simply petting or hugging them.

I will never forget the woman at UCLA whose baby was blind. I brought Gus into the room and she gently ran the boy’s hands and feet through his hair. Then she looked at me and quietly shared that it was his very first interaction with a dog. My heart will always be grateful for that moment.

Looking to the New Year

I’m writing this post as the clock counts down to midnight on New Years eve. I may even do a load of laundry later.

ELBEE That is just sad.

As this crazy year finally comes to a close, like so many others, I’m trying to sort things out. Gus and Stanley are at my side, as they have been so often during the past several months.

It’s hard to believe how normal things were just a year ago and even in January and February. Then in March the realization sank in that life was not normal.

On March 11th I took Gus into UCLA for his recertification. Though it was our regular visiting day in the hospital, after I went to the conference room for his testing, out of an abundance of caution, I skipped our units. Then two days later the dog visits were all cancelled.

At the time we thought it would be temporary. Now here it is months later and we still haven’t been back into the hospital. This has been the year of Zoom and virtual visits, two things I’d never heard of before.

A few days ago, I was walking the dogs in the neighborhood when two little girls on the other side of the street with their dad called out, “Hi Gus and Stanley.” Having only met the girls once or twice before and having socially distanced, I was surprised that they remembered their names.

They giggled as they asked if they could see Gus dance again or Stanley play peek-a-boo. I so wished I could have crossed over and let them hug the dogs.

It made me think about what other Dood things I’m looking forward to when, hopefully, the world turns right side up again this year.

Here are just a few:

The joy in the hospital lobbies when people see Gus and Stanley walk in the door

The noisy excitement of the kids in neuropsch at UCLA as soon as they see the dogs

The nervous or depressed patients who relax when Gus or Stanley cuddles next to them on their beds

The smile of the man at the adult health center who only smiles when the dogs are visiting

The hospital staff, patients and family members who say, “this made my day” as soon as they hug Gus or Stanley

The honor of holding their leashes as, once again, I am privileged to witness small miracles

Every one of their visits will be more special to me. Not for a moment will I take for granted that I have been given the gift of sharing my beautiful dogs, of helping people heal, beginning with Charley so many years ago.

From now on, every visit that we do, whether virtual or in person, will be dedicated to the thousands whom we have lost to COVID-19. May the love that Gus and Stanley give so freely honor their memories.