Ellen Morrow – Page 28 – Me and the Doods.com

Stanley and the Gentle Barn

At a June PAC luncheon, I was incredibly moved by the words of guest speaker Ellie Laks, the founder of the Gentle Barn, “a sanctuary where animals heal and children learn to hope.” This week a group of us from UCLA went out to Santa Clarita to visit. The experience did not disappoint.

Rescued from deplorable conditions, a mix of animals from cows, pigs, horses, sheep and goats to turkeys and chickens live in a bucolic setting. Treated with love, kindness and caring, they have learned to trust again.

I felt as if I was seeing a reflection of the best and the worst of mankind. The animals had been mistreated by people, but Ellie and her wonderful crew have brought them hope. Their names, like Blessing and Magic, are a reminder of the positive work being done. Somehow, they also contribute to a sense of peace and spirituality.

There was another part to the day that made it even more special for me. Ellie encouraged us to bring our dogs so I had Stanley with me. I was a little nervous about bringing a puppy but felt it would be a great opportunity for socializing and training. I also truly believed he could handle it. To my delight, he was so good that he surprised not only me but everyone else.

When we first arrived, he barked at a donkey standing by a fence. In his defense, he’d never seen anything that looked even remotely like a donkey. It was the last time he barked all afternoon!

Not only was he comfortable with the other dogs in our group, he was fascinated by the barn animals. When we went into the enclosure with Forgiveness, a three thousand pound genetically altered cow, he stopped briefly as if to assess, and then moved closer. He showed more curiosity than fear.

It was the horses that really caught his fancy. He went almost nose to nose with Hiro, a horse that is totally blind. There was something so gentle in their interaction. Later, standing by the outside paddock, he tried to climb through the fence to get closer to the others. He even made friends with the donkey.

Ellie was so impressed with Stanley’s temperament and judging by the photo, he was pretty impressed with her too. She said that he was the most amazing puppy she’d ever seen and felt he’d do great work. Since she is an animal guru with such empathy for them and such intuition, I could not have asked for more.

Stanley may continue to bite Elbee’s ears, counter surf, and shred newspapers but I will hear her words in my head and believe that he has something special to offer. With luck, he will one day walk bravely into the hospital by my side.

Elbee and Gus Do Cocktails

In 2008, Charley and a Golden Retriever named Abby took part in the opening celebration for the Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center. Charley and Abby are gone now, but I will never forget how they charmed the crowd.

This week, Elbee and Gus worked a celebration for the tenth anniversary of the hospital! I admit that I was feeling nostalgic. As we got out of the car, we were greeted by a young woman who explained that she had met Charley at the student athlete event the night before he passed. She still had fond memories of him. The nostalgia grew even stronger.

ELBEE Don’t get me wrong. I adored my big brother, it’s just that last week was a trip down memory lane. She needs to snap out of it.

Before heading down to the main event, we all took photos outside with a very special addition to the UCLA program, Blue Moon, a miniature therapy horse. Gus kept sniffing as if trying to figure out what kind of dog it was.

ELBEE Sometimes the little guy is clueless. Besides I think she kind of had a thing for me.

I’m not sure if Elbee and Gus “charmed” the crowd, but they certainly caused a stir. It never ceases to amaze me how the dogs can change the energy in an entire room. They’re like entertainment on four paws. One guest, obviously from out of town, saw the dogs in their festive party collars and Elbee in his pigtails and laughingly said, “Welcome to L.A.”

ELBEE I have mixed feelings about the pigtails.

When therapy dogs work an event, they’re enthusiastic and rarely let on if they’re getting tired. They keep going as long as anyone wants to interact with them. Unlike some of us, they never pull a “houdini” and disappear. Oops am I giving away secrets.

When I sensed they needed a break from mingling, I let them settle in front of the bar. A few of us (I’m totally sharing the blame) thought it would be cute to put wine glasses down in front of them. Since I really never thought of them as drinkers, it was strange how natural they looked with their glasses of champagne.

ELBEE I think I’ve acquired a taste.

At home later that night, I realized just how hard they had worked. They both fell asleep on their backs and were snoring, something they rarely do.

ELBEE That’s personal. Does this woman have no boundaries!

Therapy Doods, Past, Present and Future?

UCLA is planning a People Animal Connection tribute wall so we were asked to select a few photos of each of our dogs. Looking back at pictures of Charley, then Elbee and Gus, opened a floodgate of memories. There were lighter moments like parades, Christmas caroling and photo shoots.

There were more serious moments. The little boy in pediatrics who smiled for the first time in a week. The anxious family members in the surgery waiting room who laughed as Gus did his “dance” for them. The nurse who was helped through a difficult day by a short time out with Elbee.

Then there were the spectacular moments. The sixth graders from Compton who learned about anti-bullying from the dogs. The mourners at a candlelight vigil for the murdered UCLA professor who were comforted by Charley and Gus. The disturbed child in the neuropsych unit who went from smashing her head against the wall to sitting on the floor teaching Elbee how to take a bow.

Although each therapy dog has its own unique style, they all have so much in common. Whether they’re gentle giants like Charley, class clowns like Elbee or cuddlers like Gus, they all come from a loving place. They trigger positive and often unexpected responses, expecting nothing in return. There’s no judgment. Countless times I’ve heard someone in the hospital say, “You’ve made my day,” and I know they weren’t talking about me.

ELBEE She’s got that right. Please, you didn’t think I was going to be quiet for this whole post.

Recently I saw two cartoons that so simply reinforced what I’ve been trying to say.

In 2006 when I first walked into Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center with Charley by my side, little did I realize where this journey would lead me or how breath taking it would be. Thanks to Elbee, yes Elbee, and Gus this journey continues. Scrolling through the photos and recalling so many cherished moments, made me realize just how much I am hoping that Stanley will someday be walking next to me, making his own magic.

Each time he greets someone new with a wagging tail, I’m sure we’re on the right path. When he sits in my lap and wants nothing more than affection, I applaud his temperament. Then he barks for attention, steals one of my shirts or jumps up on someone and I wonder if we’ll ever get there.

Seriously, I know what a long process it is, but I really do think he’s been making great strides. Speaking of strides, he is now leash walking not only better than you know who, but also than Gus.

ELBEE I didn’t see that one coming. And was that a pun?

GUS That’s it. I’m hiring a professional dog walker.

They Like Him! They Really Like Him!

So many people ask about Stanley. They’ve never actually met him but feel as if they know him.

ELBEE Maybe because she’s been oversharing about him since the moment he was born.

I am happy to say that at four months, I can give a cautiously optimistic update on the little guy. Although at thirty pounds and taller than Gus, I can’t really call him the “little guy” any more.

GUS I’m so confused. I could swear that I was towering over him and now we’re eye to eye. Am I shrinking? I know that Pack Leader is but she’s a lot older than I am.

Looking at these photos, it’s easy to see how much he’s grown. He was around ten pounds when we brought him home in July and this week he’s weighing in at thirty.

In this picture with Marsha, the groomer, his legs look so long, a friend commented that she wished hers were like that.

It would be nice if I had a better recollection of the other Doods at this stage so I’d have a more accurate frame of reference. I should have kept puppy books, just like the baby books I had for the daughters. To be honest, I wasn’t that great at those either. I may have exaggerated from time to time or made up a few things here and there. Hey, I had three kids under the age of five and a half.

ELBEE And once again, we know why she wasn’t mother of the year.

As for Stanley’s behavior, he has some quirks but his evil twin with the sharp teeth is making fewer and fewer appearances. For instance, he has put those long legs to work counter surfing, something I’m sure he picked up from Elbee.

ELBEE No comment.

He has also developed a fetish for my tee shirts and steals them out of the closet, something he picked up from Gus.

GUS No Comment.

On the bright side, Stanley is hanging so naturally with the pack whether relaxing or interacting. He spends hours playing with Gus, his former nemesis. He’s learned commands from Elbee. He even got Riley, our 15 year old Golden, to run a few laps around the yard with him. They like him! They really like him!

His leash walking may be what has surprised me the most. Last night I took him for a short walk in the neighborhood. Since that was pretty uneventful, today I upped the ante and took him on Ventura Boulevard, one of the busiest streets in the San Fernando Valley. I didn’t know what to expect but tried to do the calm, assertive “dog whisperer” thing. I was shocked when it actually worked.

He was freakishly good, staying calmly by my side. He sniffed all over the place but barely pulled on the leash unlike a certain other dog who shall remain nameless. (It begins and ends with “e”). He initially reacted to the traffic but then ignored it. There were hints of Charley. I figured that either I’m a fabulous trainer or he’s a genius.

ELBEE Is she serious?

The Good, the Bad and the Dodgers

As far as Jewish holidays go, Yom Kippur is a biggie. It’s a day of atonement, reflection and remembrance. In the spirit of the new year, I have a confession to make. On the eve of Yom Kippur, I watched a Dodger game with the Doods.

ELBEE Really? She has to bring us into this? Okay, I admit that we’re fans. I love Kershaw.

A couple of years ago, in another questionable call, my friend Donna and I took Gus and his buddy Tommy into UCLA on the holiday. Despite the fact that the dogs were doing good work, we felt so guilty that Donna referred to us as “Yom Kippur felons.” How was I ever going to justify watching the game?

Feeling really guilty, I texted a close friend to ask how bad a sin it was on a scale from one to ten. He said that it was only a one because it was such a pivotal game.

What I was actually planning to write about today, before I decided to confess, were a few special moments that have taken place in the UCLA lobby recently. In the light of my Yom Kippur “oops,” let’s hope they’re also redeeming moments.

A woman, holding her little boy’s hand, brought him over to see the dogs. From his bald head to his downcast eyes and sad demeanor, it appeared that the child was going through difficult treatment. When I asked if he’d like to help the dogs do a trick, he shyly nodded yes. After I whispered the command to him, his sweet voice rang out and he giggled as the Doods performed. The only smile bigger than his was his mom’s.

Next, a man approached who seemed like a paparazzi. I know that seems weird for a hospital. He started taking pictures of the dogs. Then he wanted photos of me with the dogs. Turns out that he had heard about the PAC program where he lives in Connecticut and was very excited to meet some of the members. He couldn’t wait to show the photos to his friends back east. It was like the Hollywood tour.

Then we ran into someone whom the Doods and I have worked with in the neuropsych units for years, even going back to Charley. I wasn’t sure what he meant when he thanked me for comforting his wife on our previous visit. Seeing the puzzled look on my face, he explained that she was the woman in the waiting room who’d thought that Gus was an angel. ( See my post: I Thought I Saw an Angel). I was so touched by the beautiful coincidence that it brought tears to my eyes.

And for any of you baseball fans who were wondering, Chris Taylor hit a walk off home run in that game and the Dodgers won!

THE DOODS Oy Vey!

Diva Doods…Born that Way?

After writing about the divadom of the dogs last week, I started wondering if it was a Doodle thing or if it could possibly be me.

I’ve admitted that as a child, I was a total nerd. I considered posting one of my nerd photos here as proof, but that would be oversharing even for me. Finding bodybuilding as part of a long and difficult recovery from a near fatal car accident was like a rebirth. It turned me into somewhat of a diva.

ELBEE Somewhat?

I went from being terrified of speaking in front of a group of people to blowing kisses to the audience. I went from visibly shaking on stage to flexing my triceps for more applause. And while I’m being totally honest, yes, those old habits die hard. Last week, I was in the lobby of Providence Tarzana Hospital with the Doods, when someone called out, “Didn’t you used to be a bodybuilder?” I probably should have been embarrassed but instead, it was all I could do not to flex.

ELBEE & GUS Thank heavens she restrained herself.

Speaking of flexing, I was in the kitchen when I heard a song on tv that reminded me of my glory days. Ariana Grande was singing “Natural Woman” as a tribute to Aretha Franklin. By coincidence, I had used that same song for a routine in a long ago competition. I got so nostalgic, I figured since no one was watching, I’d hit a few poses.

ELBEE & GUS We were watching and we were disturbed. Stanley, on the other hand, is scarred for life.

Maybe that’s why I feel like the Doods and I are such a good fit. I’m a reborn diva and they were born that way. Recently, Elbee and Gus took part in a People Animal Connection photo shoot at UCLA. The PAC dogs were doing pictures for birthday cards and for the annual calendar. I guess you could technically say there were costume changes involved.

ELBEE The pictures are fabulous but I’m a little disappointed. When I heard “costume changes,” I was expecting Bob Mackie and bling.

Stanley showed glimpses of his inner diva at Elbee’s last vet appointment. (A Pack of Diva Doodles).Then it resurfaced in puppy class. Katie, the trainer, asked to use Stanley to demonstrate how your dog should return to you when called, sitting nicely and not jumping all over you. At first Stanley went for the jump but after only a couple of times of Katie turning her back, Stanley came bouncing over and sat perfectly.

Usually when the dogs do something right in class, people will nod or smile. Not with Stanley. I’m not sure if it was the cuteness factor or his enthusiasm, but everyone in the room applauded. As Marsha, the groomer, commented when I told her about it, “Stanley had his first real diva moment.”

A Pack of Diva Doodles

The good news is that Stanley is having moments of acting like a regular dog instead of a crazy puppy. We didn’t kick him out despite all of the people sharing about how perfect their puppies were. It reminded me of when Jennifer, the oldest daughter, was an infant. Yes, I’m naming names. I don’t think she can sue me for this.

She wasn’t the easiest baby on the block. While I was practically incoherent from sleep deprivation, other new moms were bragging about how their babies were sleeping through the night and never had colic. I figured they were all lying.

ELBEE Has anyone noticed that pack leader has issues with sleep deprivation?

I realized something about Stanley. He has been a member of a pack from day one. He moved from his birth pack straight to the Morrow pack. It’s like he skipped kindergarten and went right to first grade. As anyone who has skipped a grade can tell you, it can be challenging, especially if you look older and are still chewing shoes.

Fortunately, Stanley has made some real progress at being accepted. Gus, who was not his biggest fan, runs around and wrestles with him. I’d almost go so far as to say they’ve become buddies. Even more amazing, Elbee seems to have become his role model.

ELBEE I am a fabulous role model.

I wanted to see if I could put that to good use so I did a little experiment. When he and Stanley were sitting together, I told them both to stay, confident that Elbee would but that Stanley probably wouldn’t. To my surprise, after only two or three tries, it worked. Stanley didn’t move until I called them both to come. Wonder if I can get Elbee to work on the leash walking.

ELBEE She doesn’t pay me enough.

Stanley has quickly picked up something else from his “brothers.” He loves attention and refuses to be left out or ignored. If you pet one of the others, he will find a way to get in on the action. Uh oh! Do I have another diva in training?

ELBEE AND GUS Let us pray.

Our last vet visit at VCA was a perfect example. Elbee had an appointment. Stanley was just along for the ride. There was all kinds of excitement as soon as Dr. Hughes Sanders, whom the dogs adore, walked into the room. When he sat down on the floor to examine Elbee, Stanley nudged his way in next to him, pushing Elbee to the side. He obviously thought that it should be his appointment.

When that wasn’t enough, he put his paws on Dr. Sander’s shoulders. Just to seal the deal, he started licking him. He probably should have been stopped but he was so funny and so cute that we both ended up laughing.

ELBEE And she wonders why she has trouble training him. By the way, I am the pile of white fluff on the floor. I am also a saint.

Controlled Chaos

ELBEE Isn’t that title an oxymoron?

Yes it is but it’s also what I should have named Stanley. He’s moved into the toddler phase. I’d forgotten how challenging that can be. One minute he’s so adorable, sweet and cuddly that I can’t believe I’ve found the most perfect puppy. The next he seems to be Stanley’s evil twin.

It reminds me of the time when one of the daughters (not naming names) was a toddler. We were in a children’s shoe store where she was happily draping purses over her arm. As soon I suggested she put them back, it was as if the child from The Exorcist had arrived.

Which brings me to a few questions. Why does he want to eat shoes when we buy him the most expensive chew toys on the market? Why does he want to jump in the dirt right after a bath? Why does his energy kick in when ours is gone?

GUS Tell me about it. He’s exhausting.

I also wonder why Stanley thinks that 5:30 a.m. is the perfect time to go out to pee. I’ve been so tired that I feel as if I’ve taken leave from my normal life. I even forgot my granddaughter Bella’s birthday. Actually, I didn’t forget the birthday. I sent cards and gifts. I just forgot to call on the day of because I have totally lost track of the date.

ELBEE Hello? Calendar!

I think it’s tougher with a large puppy. It’s like a kid who looks older so you expect more. They can also get into more trouble. The other night my husband left a newspaper on the table assuming it was safe. He didn’t realize that Stanley had grown enough in the last hour or two to be able to stand up, grab it and rip it to shreds.

ELBEE That was impressive.

A couple of things happened to put it all in perspective. First, I took Stanley to a puppy class for socialization and very basic training. He was great. He was almost well behaved. He was friendly with the other dogs. But what made me feel even better was the reaction when Katie, the teacher, started giving suggestions for dealing with teething, nipping and potty training. Every puppy owner in the room sat up at attention. I was not alone.

Then I heard an interview with Bo Derek, a total animal person. She said that when she has a new puppy, she takes off three months, like canine maternity leave. Who knew I had so much in common with her.

ELBEE And just call me Lassie.

I Thought I Saw an Angel

This week Gus soloed at UCLA. Since he’s still wrestling with giving up his position as baby of the family, I figured he could use the extra attention and adulation. With the humid weather, his hair was fabulous so he didn’t disappoint. I’m also happy to report that he seems to be doing much better with Stanley.

ELBEE He’s totally faking it.

GUS He’s right. I am.

The younger kids in our first neuropsych unit had been waiting for Gus. They welcomed him as if he was a visiting celebrity. A couple even had gifts. Two boys gave him drawings of Golden Retrievers that they had cut out of coloring books. I don’t know if it meant more to them or to me.

From the kids to the teens to the adults, Gus was in his glory. He cuddled. He did tricks. He rolled over for belly rubs. He was so cute and comforting that no one wanted him to leave. I don’t want to tell you how many patients and staff members said that it was fine if I needed to go but that they’d like Gus to stay for the day.

ELBEE That’s just sad.

After our regular groups, we had two encounters that once again confirmed the inexplicable power of therapy dogs. I often write about these quiet moments because I truly believe that they are the heart and the essence of what they do.

One of the staff asked if we’d stop in to see an elderly man with dementia who only responded when the dogs were visiting. When we entered his room, he greeted us with a gentle smile. I brought Gus over for him to pet, not really knowing what to expect.

To my surprise, for the next ten minutes we chatted about everything from special dogs in his life to places we had each lived. At one point he looked at me and said, “You’re a native Californian, aren’t you?” When I responded, “No, I was born in the Catskills, raised in Syracuse,” he knew all about the weather. It was very hard for me to grasp that without Gus, there would have been no conversation, no clarity.

Once we made our way downstairs, we stopped in the surgery waiting room. As soon as we walked in, a woman approached and said she was so happy to see us. She shared that she had watched us walk by twice that morning. The first time was when her husband was in surgery, the second was right after the doctor had assured her that everything had gone well. In almost a whisper, she confided that as soon as she’d laid eyes on Gus, she truly believed that she’d seen an angel.

You Are What You Eat

You might be surprised to know that years ago, as part of a fitness anti-drug show, I wrote a rap song called You Are What You Eat. I’ll only share the first verse. “When you get up in the mornin’ and you gotta move swift, don’t forget about breakfast. Breakfast, desayuno, petit dejeuner, no matter how you say it there is no way, to skip this meal at the break of day.”

ELBEE Oy vey, I find this disturbing in so many ways but I can’t get the song out of my head.

I’m almost embarrassed to admit that there were a few dance moves involved. That was especially challenging for someone who, as a kid, was a ballet school drop out. In case you’re wondering why I’m writing about something so random…

ELBEE That’s exactly what I was wondering after I recovered from picturing the dance moves.

Stanley was a very picky eater when I brought him home. Forgetting that he was adjusting to so many changes, like leaving his family, I started obsessing about his nutrition. It’s such a key to puppy development, especially in a larger dog. In the midst of worrying and not sleeping, the song just popped into my head and stayed there.

Before I knew it, his appetite kicked in. Now it seems like he’s always hungry. At mealtimes, he sprints over and waits impatiently with the pack. Since each dog has his own spot, I put Stanley’s bowl inside his fence, concerned that the others might steal his food. Boy was I wrong on that one. Stanley is the thief. We can’t let him out of his pen until they’re all finished or he’ll devour anything they’ve left.

GUS I have a confession. I eat as slowly as possible to keep Stanley caged up. I’m getting used to him but I need my space. (See: I Vant to be Alone)

Apparently, Gus has another confession to make. Yesterday, while I was getting ready to leave, their food arrived from Chewy.com. I pulled the thick, heavy cardboard box into the front hallway so that no one would steal it. I’ve done this countless times before and the dogs have never done anything more than stare longingly at the carton.

To my surprise, when I arrived home, the box was ripped to shreds. There were pieces of cardboard all over the floor and some of the food bags had been torn open. Stanley was in his pen so he was off the hook. There was no doubt in my mind as to the culprits. I’m sure it was Elbee with Gus as his wingman. I think with Stanley’s newfound appetite, they’re protecting their interests.

ELBEE AND GUS She can never prove it. We set up Riley to take the fall.