April 2022 – Me and the Doods.com

There’s Something About Henry

ELBEE I almost didn’t comment about her stealing another movie title but I couldn’t help myself.

When we met Henry last summer, I knew that life was going to be different. I just didn’t know how different. Bringing a new dog into the pack always makes things more interesting. Bringing in a Great Pyrenees/Standard Poodle mix makes it even more interesting than I could have imagined.

Now at eleven months and eighty pounds, it’s hard for me to remember him as that tiny puppy who slept in his crate and chased Gus around the yard. I kind of forget his size until we’re out for a walk and someone reminds me.

I’ve heard a range of comments from, “Why don’t you put a saddle on him?” to “He’s really nice, he looks like he should be meaner.” Yesterday someone remarked, “He’s so big and you’re so small. Good thing he’s well behaved.”

ELBEE Trust me. He’s not that well behaved. It was a moment.

At Petco, a sales girl, helping me find a harness for Henry, fell in love with him.

ELBEE Mr. Perfect still pulls on the leash.

And wouldn’t you know it, her boyfriend’s name was Henry. When we got in line to pay, to everyone’s delight, the woman behind us had a Golden Doodle in a cart who looked like an adorable mini version of Henry with white hair and big tan spots. The salesgirl, who was now the cashier, said, “This is my best day ever working here.”

Yesterday, I was picking up food at CPK and had Henry in the back seat.

ELBEE Apparently, someone still isn’t cooking.

As the waitress brought my order to the car, Henry stuck his big head out the window. She immediately started laughing and petting him and didn’t want to go back inside.

Even the police like Henry. We were on a busy neighborhood street that has a lot of blind curves. An officer was across the road on his motorcycle, doing security for a film site. When he saw Henry, his face lit up and he waved.

Always on a mission to socialize Henry and get him used to new things, I figured the uniform and the mortorcycle would be great practice so I threw caution to the wind and ran over. When I had to cross back, I realized just how busy the street was. The officer, very kind and concerned, stopped traffic and led us over safely. Technically, Henry and I had our first police escort.

ELBEE Seriously?

It Was a Good Week

That may seem like an overly optimistic title in these continuously trying times, but Gus and Stanley made it happen. They each had a chance to go into the hospital which was special for me and so many others.

Usually, when I write about the dogs, I’m inspired by an event like the palliative care seminar or a moment with a patient. This week it was a throwback photo that popped up on my Facebook page.

Taken in April 2020, shortly after COVID forced all of the dog visits to be cancelled, it made me appreciate the in-person visits even more.

ELBEE A lot of other photos popped up too… fabulous dogs like moi, crazy flexing, beautiful scenery. Where are her grandchildren?

On Wednesday, Stanley went to UCLA. There is always such an air of excitement whenever one of the PAC dogs walks into the lobby.

As we went from one neuropsych unit to another, everyone, staff included, wanted to give him a hug. Several of the kids tried to convince me to leave him with them, promising to take good care of him.

Friday, I took Gus to Tarzana Hospital. From the moment we walked into the lobby, he was on. His tail was wagging and he seemed to have a constant smile on his face. He was so excited that he was doing his little “dance” on his own and waving at people.

What added a special note to all of our visits was Easter, well actually, Easter accessories. There is nothing like a dog in rabbit ears and sparkly glasses to cheer people up. In our UCLA units, even the adult patients joined the party. They tried on the extra ears I had in my bag. We all played “who wore it best?” It’s no surprise that Stanley won hands down every time.

At Tarzana, so many of the nurses, and a few doctors too, wanted to take photos of Gus. Whenever I asked if anyone would like accessories, the answer was a resounding “yes.” When it came to selfies, they were very excited that I had extra props for them.

**Did you really think I could resist?**

I realize that some of my stories may be repetitive, but I always feel the desire to share the privilege I have of watching therapy dogs at work. I still have the same sense of wonder (with slightly fewer nerves) that I did over fifteen years ago when I began this journey with Charley.

Wishing everyone a happy Easter and a happy Passover from me and the Doods.

Caring for the Caregivers

Recently, Gus and a few of his co-workers from the People Animal Connection brought so much fun to a palliative care seminar.

ELBEE I believe that’s an oxymoron.

UCLA was having its annual symposium. Since palliative care is a difficult specialty, aimed at optimizing the quality of life for people with serious, complex illnesses, they reached out to have the dogs there. It couldn’t have gone better.

I knew that Georgia and Bubbles, two big Labs, were going, so decided that little fluff ball Gus would be perfect to add to the mix.

GUS I won because of my hair?

STANLEY I won’t pretend that I wasn’t hurt.

The attendees were absolutely delighted. When they walked out of the auditorium and saw the dogs, serious faces suddenly lit up. Two women admitted that they’d been in a lecture when they’d heard a bark and came running out for a break.

Whether the dogs were rolling over for belly rubs, doing a few simple tricks or just leaning in to be petted, they brightened the mood. People laughed when we put Bubbles and Gus in accessories, and immediately began taking selfies with them.

There was so much laughter and joy in the large basement of the hospital, it was easy to forget why we were all there. What brought it into focus was talking to a few people who had tables set up representing hospice companies. I had a quiet conversation with a woman who was asking how she could get the dogs involved with patients in the final months of life.

I was also reminded of a palliative care physician who was one of the most caring people that I have ever known. Manny Kaddour worked at Tarzana Hospital. Despite the difficult nature of his practice, he had such enthusiasm for life. He greeted everyone with a smile.

Manny, Charley, my first therapy dog, and Gus had a mutual admiration society. No matter what he was dealing with, he would always take a moment to hug them and tell them how much he loved them. As someone who cared for critically ill patients, often near the end of life, he truly understood and respected the unconditional love and support that the dogs offered.

Sadly, Manny passed away in March of 2018 at the age of forty-nine. I will never forgot him nor the lessons he taught me about kindness and compassion.

The Power of the Dogs

ELBEE Is someone stealing movie titles again?

Wednesday was Gus’s regular morning at UCLA, although, when it comes to therapy dogs, there is no such thing as a “regular” morning, especially since COVID. With the dogs in and out of the hospital so many times, there is almost a collective sigh of relief when they walk in.

With tail wagging, Gus greeted everyone from the crew at valet parking, to families in the lobby to staff. We finally made it up to Resnick on the fourth floor.

As we went from one neuropsych unit to another, starting with the kids under twelve and ending with the adults, there was such a pervasive sense of joy and again a sense of relief.

After a long morning, we headed down to the take-out Subway in the basement of the hospital. It’s become an informal tradition to meet Jen, the manager of PAC, and Donna, human to Gus’s buddies Tommy and Finley, after the dogs make their rounds.

Without saying a word, we all understood how fulfilling, and at times how difficult, the morning had been. As our little heroes rested around us, we began sharing some of the special moments.

I mentioned a young man who was hugging Gus as he told the group how badly he wanted a dog. Awhile later, as we were leaving the floor, we saw him in the hall, carrying his bags, ready to go home.

He rushed over to tell me how much the visit from Gus had meant to him. He said he was glad that he hadn’t been discharged earlier because he would have missed it. He added that Gus had changed his whole mood. He was so earnest and sincere, it almost brought tears to my eyes.

A severely autistic, non-verbal boy focused long enough to put his hand on Gus’s back. It didn’t seem like a lot to me but the therapist said it was “major.”

Tommy and Finley had been in the PICU cheering up very sick children. Donna mentioned three in particular that had been critically ill. One was a seventeen year old boy who smiled and chatted with her while he cuddled the dogs. Only later did she find out how gravely ill he was and that he rarely smiled.

As conversation flowed, I was suddenly overwhelmed. I thought about Gus offering comfort in one area of the hospital while Tommy and Finley were comforting children on another floor. Donna and I were holding their leashes and making sure they were doing okay but they were truly showing us the quiet power of therapy dogs everywhere.