Month: September 2023

September 21st was World Gratitude Day. Normally that would have led me to make a list of all of the things that I’m grateful for like my family, the mountains, and the dogs.

ELBEE Not necessarily in that order.

Instead, I found myself thinking about a few very special and personal encounters I’ve had lately, all facilitated by the dogs.

At UCLA, I was visiting the adult neuropsych unit with Stanley. As we were leaving, a young woman who had been in the group, quietly told me that the last time I was there, she’d sobbed after we’d left because the dog, I believe it was Gus, had such a deep impact on her. She eventually ended up getting an emotional support dog that has completely changed her life. It’s true she was back in the hospital, but knowing her dog was waiting at home was making her fight harder to get better.

 

 

 

 

 

Walking Henry in the neighborhood, I ran into a woman, a total Dood lover, whom I’ve known casually for years. As Henry leaned against her and she rubbed his ears, she said, “I’m not sure if you know this, but when my son was younger, he had major drug issues.” She continued that he’d been really struggling at a rehab center in Malibu when they began bringing in all sorts of therapy dogs. They changed everything for him. He told his mom that the dogs had truly helped in his recovery.

At the gym, I was talking to an extremely upbeat young man whom I’ve connected with thanks to our mutual love of dogs. We always share stories and photos. When he heard about Henry taking part in a suicide prevention conference, his demeanor suddenly changed.

He confided that several years ago, his thirteen year old cousin, the same age he was at the time, had committed suicide. I told him about my mother. We looked at each other and without saying another word knew that we each understood and cared.

I believe that the dogs provide a bridge that enables us to open up and relate to each other on a more profound level. I am deeply grateful to be a part of this, simply by sharing them with others.

 

 

 

This week Henry and his PAC colleagues Opal and Toto worked a suicide prevention conference in Los Angeles. It was for a network that includes everyone from mental health professionals to researchers and even survivors. They work in different ways to fight suicide, focusing on “hope, recovery and well being.” Their sign says so much, “The Hero In Each of Us.”

As I walked from the parking garage to join the large group gathered on the patio of the downtown office building, I was a little nervous and expecting the mood to be somber. I had even debated about bringing the dogs’ props. I thought they might be inappropriate.

ELBEE She had them in her bag just in case.

I needn’t have worried. As soon as the dogs came in, there was so much excitement that it felt like a party. The pups completely changed the atmosphere. When lots of the attendees wanted to take selfies with them, I brought out the sunglasses that I had stashed in my purse.

On a serious note, the comfort of having the dogs there allowed people to open up and relate to each other. I had chosen to bring Henry because, although he doesn’t have the experience of his “brothers,” he has this special ability to connect with people. Plus, a gentle giant is very difficult to ignore.

As he leaned in for back rubs, people petted him and shared stories. I kept hearing the words “appreciation” and “gratitude” for the three dogs. Opal and Henry worked so hard, they needed a moment.

Unfortunately, suicide has closely touched my life. In March of my senior year of high school, my dad died of a brain tumor, just short of his forty-sixth birthday. When he passed, something in my mother died too.

My father was the quintessential extrovert. He didn’t walk into a room. He made an entrance. He emceed the shows at my grandparents’ summer resort in the Catskills, telling jokes and singing. My mother was truly the wind beneath his wings, long before that sentiment was expressed in song.

She never recovered from the loss of my father. She remained loving and kind but was never herself again. I’m sure she stayed for me and my brother. Years later, when Doug and I were married, she probably thought that I could lean on him and my brother could lean on the two of us. It was time to say goodbye.

 

 

 

 

 

Growing up in Syracuse, the only photo shoots I ever remember were for school pictures. In a moment of misguided nostalgia, I just checked my high school yearbook. That is a photo which I’m never going to post.

ELBEE Trust me, she’s doing the right thing.

When my daughters were younger, I remember sessions for school, for sports for holidays or just because. I have the photos around the house and treasure the memories.

I would have continued to have very few photos of myself but fate intervened. When I was pregnant with Danielle, my youngest, I was a passenger in a head-on car accident. I broke all of the bones in my face so it was years before I even wanted to see a camera.

Then I made up for lost time. As part of my recovery, bodybuilding happened. I have so many photos of that era it’s almost embarrassing, but it’s really fun to hear my daughters explaining to my grandkids what grandma was doing.

ELBEE Please tell me she’s not digging into the archives.

ELBEE Too late.

The point, which I’m finally getting to, is that ever since Charley, my first therapy Doodle, the dogs have had more photo shoots than all of the family put together. They have posed for special events, trading cards, calendars, even catalogs.

 

 

So recently, when UCLA wanted Gus for some sort of shoot for social media with costumes, props, tricks and whatever else worked, I didn’t think twice about it

Arriving at the location, Gus went to meet everyone and then, of course, rolled over for belly rubs. When the cameras came out and we set him on the backdrop, he knew it was time to be fabulous.

He wore glasses, a tie, and a special hat. He got the diva fan treatment.

 

 

 

 

 

On the back of Gus’s trading card it says that his favorite treat is cheese so guess who had his own personal cheese platter.

GUS Does America’s Next Top Model take dogs?

I was definitely not supposed to be a part of the photos but I have a confession to make. Over the years, I have become such a stage mother that I can’t help myself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

ELBEE She even asked if they had hair and makeup for Gus but I don’t have a problem with that.

 

 

 

Some people have live-in housekeepers. I could use a live-in geek squad since I’m not a whiz on the computer. The other day, I was so desperate, I put Gus on the job.

Ironically, a few hours after I wrote that, our internet went out for two days. Was the universe sending me a message or does AT&T just have issues?

It happened to be August 26th, National Dog Day. I know I’m a little late to the party, but I think we all know that every day is National Dog Day, especially for Doodles.

Thursday of that week, Gus and Henry, joined by Toby and Maddox, took part in the monthly pet visit station at UCLA, a special one for the special day. The four gathered outside the main hospital entrance to greet staff, families, patients, basically anyone who walked by.

So often I find myself writing about joy in describing events with the dogs. This was no exception. Virtually every face lit up when they saw them.

I lost count of how many times I heard “I needed this,” or “this made my day.” A cardiac surgeon came over for a reprieve from his demanding schedule.

When he squatted down to pet the dogs, Henry started backing up trying to sit in his lap. He doesn’t quite understand that he’s eighty pounds and will even do this to someone sitting on the toilet.

ELBEE TMI

Fortunately, the doctor was a very good sport.

A frail looking young woman in a hospital gown, pulling her IV pole, slowly walked over to see Gus and Henry. She  looked very sad when she first approached but began to smile and talk softly as she petted and hugged them. She told me how happy it made her to see all of the dogs when she came outside.

I responded that I was so glad we were there at the right time to meet her. She looked me directly in the eyes and said, “It was a blessing.”

A few minutes after she went back inside, Jen, the director of the People Animal Connection, who was on “Purell patrol” at the door, came over.

ELBEE Those glasses look strangely familiar.

The patient’s mother had been watching the interaction with the dogs and quietly shared with Jen that her daughter had spent a lot of time in the hospital. This stay was going to be three weeks. The smile on her daughter’s face was the first one she’d seen since she’d been readmitted. She asked Jen to be sure to let me know how grateful she was in case she didn’t get a chance to tell me herself.