September 2021 – Me and the Doods.com

A Four Feathered Oops!

Have you ever done something illegal, having no idea that it was illegal? In the spirit of the new year I have a confession to make.

I was hiking up a narrow trail when I saw four beautiful feathers on the ground, with no injured bird or nest in sight. Totally forgetting one of my favorite sayings, “take nothing from the mountains except memories and leave nothing but footprints,” I got caught up in the moment and picked up the feathers. I thought they were some kind of a sign.

ELBEE That is total rationalization.

I was pretty sure they were from a red tailed hawk. I have always found such peace in watching the hawks soar overhead. I had an unforgettable experience when one flew so low, it’s talons brushed my hair. A man hiking behind me asked, “Did I just see what I thought I saw?

ELBEE I’m sure the hawk thought it was nesting material.

When I got home I took a photo of Gus wearing the feathers. Then I googled red tailed hawk to see if I was correct. The good news is that I was. The bad news is that it’s against the law to take those feathers.

GUS Oh no. I hope I don’t get charged as an accessory

Overcome with guilt, and afraid I might be arrested, I hiked up and returned the feathers to the mountains. In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have taken Gus’s picture. Then, in the true spirit of atonement and also trying to clear my guilty conscience, I thought it would be a good idea to do some sort of community service.

As luck would have it, it was Gus’s turn to visit the adult day health center. The participants, ranging in age from their twenties up to their eighties, are dealing with issues such as schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and depression. Others have severe physical disabilities.

Due to COVID, the dogs have been unable to visit for most of the past year. From the moment I walked in with Gus, there was a ripple of joy. The regulars gave him a warm welcome back. Staff members walked over to tell me how much the dogs had been missed.

Especially touching was seeing the man in his sixties who only smiles when the dogs are there. Awhile back, before the pandemic, a therapist caught him smiling for the first time in months as he petted Stanley. He wrote me a letter sharing how much the dogs mean to him.

As Gus and I made our way around the large room, stopping to visit people sitting on scattered couches and at the lunch tables, he stayed with us. Even with a mask on, I could see that he had a constant smile on his face.

I have a very strange note to add. As Gus was sitting in the yard for his
“feather” photo, a red tailed hawk suddenly started circling overhead. When I went to take the feathers off of Gus, there were five! My husband, a man of science, was a witness.

Traditionally Nontraditional

In the past I’ve written about my exploits on Yom Kippur, a biggie in the Jewish religion, the holiest day of the year.

ELBEE I don’t think that “exploits” is the appropriate term here. And “biggie?”

It’s a day of atonement, reflection and remembrance. Traditionally observant people fast and spend most of the day in temple, some stream services on line. Nontraditional people watch Dodger games, hike and take their dogs to the vet. Perhaps I should explain.

GUS & STANLEY She really should.

The Dodgers are in a tight race with the Giants in their division so they need all the fan support they can get. It was the eve of Yom Kippur, barely dark out, so I was almost in the clear. And would they have won without me watching?

In the morning I hiked up to my favorite overlook in the Santa Monica Mountains, my sanctuary, my spiritual place. As I sat on a boulder, with hawks soaring over the canyon, memories washed over me of some very special people who left us way too soon.

My parents passed in their forties so I see them as young and vibrant. I can picture my dad emceeing shows at my grandparents’ Catskill resort. I can see my mother’s knowing smile when I was up to something. I think she realized that I was going to marry Doug before I did.

In the silence of the mountains, I can almost hear my brother Stan’s laughter. He could light up a room. A TV director, he put everyone in the studio at ease, from stars to stagehands. He passed away from cancer at forty seven.

My dearest friend Eileen is another person I celebrate on Yom Kippur. We loved, understood and supported each other. Since Eileen’s ashes are in the ocean along with my brother’s, her kids and I have made it a holiday tradition to drive to the beach and place flowers in the sand for them. It’s our way of saying Yizkor, the prayer for the deceased.

Since I am not going to lie about Yom Kippur, I have another confession.

ELBEE She’s probably hoping to get dispensation from a rabbi.

Instead of making the pilgrimage to the beach, I took all of the Doods for their vaccines. In my defense, with COVID and lots of people adopting pets, it’s very difficult to get an appointment, let alone three. I made them weeks ago and had no idea they fell on the holiday.

When my cousin Janet shared that she had watched services on line, I felt a slight twinge of guilt. When she admitted that while she was watching she was also texting, knitting and drinking coffee, I felt so much better.

Perspective

Henry, our newest addition, is a great puppy but he is still waking up before the sun. The other morning, while I was feeling like a sleep deprived zombie, I received a very important text.

At first I assumed it was from a relative or friend on the east coast because of the time difference. Instead it was from my dear friend and hairdresser extraordinaire, Brian, letting me know that he had an appointment available to color my hair.

ELBEE Shocker, she’s not a natural blonde!

I think I surprised Brian when I texted back a short time later to confirm. Hey, it’s my hair! I added that I thought we were both up way too early. Brian’s response was so positive it almost made me look at daybreak from a different perspective.

He wrote, “I love the mornings. God gives us the peace before the day unfolds, kinda like we ease into the chaos.” Could I possibly convince myself that it was fun to get up with Henry when it was still dark out?

ELBEE Probably not.

During a recent visit to UCLA, I had not so much a change in perspective as a greater awareness of what our dogs can accomplish. COVID has forced us to do countless Zoom calls over the past year and a half, and even to cancel planned visits, so it’s very special when we can actually go into the hospital.

As Stanley and I walked into our regular units in Resnick Neuropsych the joy was almost palpable. The kids under twelve and then the teens were so responsive. They shared stories about their pets. They sang when Stanley and I danced. They played along to “who wore it best” when I put silly sunglasses on me and Stanley. It was if they were just hanging out and having fun.

Then I noticed an older boy trying to help a younger one who seemed to have more severe problems. He was encouraging him to join in and to pet Stanley. It was a stark reminder that we were in a hospital and that the kids were dealing with serious issues.

That particular day, more than one therapist took me aside to tell me how grateful and relieved they were to have the dogs back. They said it was just not the same without them. The dogs relax the kids and bring out a much different energy… an energy they don’t usually see.

I have never taken the positive behavior of the kids for granted. When they chatter and laugh, it’s music to my ears. Still, hearing from the professionals who are treating them, puts it in a much larger perspective. It confirms how important the dogs are in the healing process. It fills me with a sense of gratitude and wonder.

Doug and Henry…Soulmates?

Anyone who has ever had a dog knows that there are certain ones who win your heart. Riley, our Golden Retriever who lived to be almost 16, was my husband Doug’s special dog. From the moment I carried him into the house as an adorable bundle of fur, he and Doug bonded.

As Riley matured, Doug liked his independent spirit and the kind of macho thing he had going on. Early on they took runs together and in Riley’s later years they walked every morning.

Not only was Riley our last dog without a job, he was also our last non-Doodle. Riley’s nephew Charley was our first Goldendoodle, followed by Charley’s half-brother Elbee. Then Gus, our Teddy Bear Doodle joined the pack.

I think the Doodles are a little quirky for Doug’s taste. They’re funny, attention seeking and kind of emotional. Let’s face it. They’re diva dogs.

ELBEE There’s a problem with that?

It’s not that Doug hasn’t loved all of them but Riley was his boy. The morning that Riley passed, Doug felt such a deep sense of loss. I don’t think he expected to have that connection ever again, especially with a Doodle. Then along came Henry.

The first time that Doug held eight week old Henry, a Pyredoodle, in his arms, he melted. We were both amazed at how calm Henry was on the long drive home. Almost two months later we’re grateful and, let’s be honest, totally surprised at the way he fits in with us and with Gus and Stanley.

It’s not that he doesn’t get into some typical puppy shenanigans and I’m sure he’ll have some crazy phases, but he seems to have the calm, gentle spirit of his mother who is a Great Pyrenees. He is independent yet loving. He will wrestle with the other two and make spitballs in their hair, but he is truly learning from them. And he loves Doug.

When Doug goes out to do some morning gardening, Henry is right at his heels. If he sits down to read the paper, Henry is under his feet. The other evening, after putting Henry is his crate, he said almost to himself “he’s such a cool dog and he’s so smart.”

Speaking of bonding, last weekend our seventeen year old grandson Ryan came over to meet Henry who immediately won him over. Even more touching than his delight with Henry, was Ryan’s interaction with Stanley.

Elbee was always Ryan’s favorite. When Elbee passed, he told me that Elbee was his favorite animal that ever lived. At the time, Stanley was a goofy puppy, so that didn’t help.

On Sunday things changed. Stanley, who is now mature and loving, kept giving Ryan the “lean.” Suddenly, Ryan said, “Grandma, Stanley reminds me of Elbee.” I asked if that made him happy or sad. He quietly answered, “It makes me very happy.”