Ellen Morrow – Page 29 – Me and the Doods.com

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.

Therapy Puppy

This week Elbee and Gus were as excited to go to work as I’ve ever seen them. it was as if they were being let out on parole.

ELBEE It was. Parole from Stanley. I’m sick of him braiding my hair and biting my ears.

Since Stanley’s arrival, the Doods, the husband and I have all been putting in extra hours to train him. As good as he is, it’s exhausting. He’s loving and sweet but will try to eat almost anything that he can get his sharp little teeth into. At the risk of jinxing it, the housebreaking is going well. Still I have to ask myself, is he getting trained to go outside or are we getting trained to take him there.

It made me think about when the daughters were babies and I was a sleep deprived zombie. I couldn’t even leave them in a fence in the kitchen. I have to admit, the rewards that have come later, like grandchildren, have made up for every sleepless night and every shirt that was covered with spit up.

Going into the hospital reminded me of the rewards that come from having therapy dogs. As I’ve shared so often, simply walking in the front door and watching the smiles is a reward in itself. Then there are always those little moments. This week was no exception.

In the lobby of UCLA, a woman approached, holding an adorable pigtailed toddler. She said that her daughter was afraid of dogs because she’d had a bad experience. She was hoping that meeting therapy dogs might help. Not sure how it happened, but within minutes the little girl was sitting on the floor, petting Elbee and Gus, giggling in delight. When we had to leave for our units, she burst into tears!

A few days ago, Stanley had his first healing moment. I took him to see my dear friend Roberta who, after three years, is still bravely battling a brain tumor. Her husband called to say that she really needed a Dood visit. Unfortunately, Elbee and Gus were at the groomer so I hesitantly suggested bringing Stanley.

I needn’t have worried. Roberta was at the dining room table when we arrived, so I carried Stanley over and placed him gently in her lap. He sat there calmly. When I put him on the floor, he got a little puppyish, so I picked him up for a brief time and let him join us at the table. Surprisingly, as I put him down again, he crawled under my chair and lay patiently as we chatted.

When it was time to leave, a kind young woman who is helping Roberta, walked us out to the car. Not completely familiar with the work of therapy dogs, she couldn’t believe the difference Stanley had made, how much happier Roberta had been while he was there. With an amazed look on her face, she told me that the visit from Stanley had been a blessing.

Socializing Stanley

At his young age, Stanley has already experienced rejection. No, not from Gus who tolerates him now. As I shared last week, Gus was ready to move out. He was hoping to get an apartment with his UCLA buddy Tommy the Bichon. Problem was that after Tommy checked realtor.com., they realized that they couldn’t afford to get a place with their joint non-salaries. Not to mention that a lot of places don’t allow dogs.

ELBEE Isn’t that species profiling?

Believe it or not, Stanley booked a commercial! Not just any commercial but a commercial for a Mercedes van. He immediately had visions of glory.

ELBEE The little guy doesn’t even know what a Mercedes is. HE had visions of glory?

Then just a day or two before the shoot, I received an e-mail that he was too young. He had missed the cut off age by about a week. To distract him from this disappointment, I started socializing Stanley. This is crucial for any puppy, but especially for one that I hope will follow in the paw prints of his big brothers.

ELBEE Oh and I’m sure he was bitterly disappointed about the commercial.

Therapy dogs need to be comfortable with all sorts of people in all sorts of situations. As I had with the others, I became a woman on a mission. He’s not allowed out for walks before all of his vaccinations, so I carried him everywhere.

We stopped in at the health club. We met friends at Starbucks. I reintroduced him to his groomer Marsha and introduced him to my “groomer” Brian. We checked out the clothes at dog friendly stores. Even his appointment at the vet became an opportunity to socialize.

No matter where we went, the reactions were the same. Huge smiles, squeals of “he’s so cute,” followed by arms reaching out to hold him. He snuggled up to each and every person. He loved the attention.

There was none of the puppy nipping or craziness. He was like the lawyer daughter who as an adolescent told me that she could be well behaved at home or when she was out but not both. Apparently, Stanley has chosen to be super puppy when he’s out.

There was another positive that I had been hoping for. Several people were curious as to why I had chosen the name Stanley. Of course that was my chance to tell them about my late brother Stanley whom I’ve written about so often. What I miss about him the most in these troubled times is his sense of humor. He was one of the only people I’ve ever known who could make me laugh until I cried.

ELBEE Or peed.

The Dog Days of Summer

ELBEE She should have called this “Ramblings from a Sleep Deprived Woman.”

I’ve come to the realization that a puppy is an infant and a toddler all rolled into one with a touch of bipolar disorder on the side. One minute Stanley is cuddling in my arms. The next he’s attacking a shoe like a Tasmanian devil.

It’s ironic that the “dog” days of summer, that hot miserable time of the year, when even dogs just want to lie around, may be the most difficult time to train a puppy. Take housebreaking for example. I have to convince Stanley to go out into the yard instead of into the air conditioned family room to “go potty.” On the bright side, once he pees, he runs back into the house like an olympic sprinter.

This past week has been even more “dogcentric” than usual. Part of raising a puppy, especially one that I hope will become a therapy dog, is spending time together. Stanley and I have bonded.

ELBEE Bonded? She was taking selfies with him in the kitchen!

Aside from bonding, integrating him into the pack has been a priority. When we lost Charley, there was a major shift in the dynamic of the pack. (A Different Dynamic ). Now with Stanley’s arrival there is another huge change.

With one slight exception, which I’ll get to shortly, things have gone pretty well. Stanley loves Riley, our very tolerant fifteen year old Golden. Similar in color, when Stanley snuggles close to him, it’s hard to see where one ends and the other begins.

Elbee has been the biggest surprise. I’m not sure if it’s his age or that he’s passed the diva torch to Gus, but he has been incredibly patient. Not only does he let the little guy crawl on him, but he lets him lick his hair and kind of twist it into braids.

ELBEE Don’t ask.

Gus has had a much tougher adjustment. It seems that it’s hard, even for dogs, to give up their position as the baby of the family. At best he tolerated Stanley’s arrival but in the last couple of days, I’ve seen a definite change. Not only does he let Stanley rest next to him, but he actually initiated a game of chase. I was able to get this group picture without having to photo shop Gus into it.

GUS I’m almost starting to like Stanley but it was touch and go for awhile. I thought about trying to contact my Bichon buddy Tommy from UCLA. He has an annoying new three year old sister so I figured he might want to move out and get an apartment with me.

Meet Stanley Jason Doodle

ELBEE OMG he has a middle name and I barely had a first name

GUS She always refers to me as Gus, formerly known as Cedric. Is that a middle name?

Friday I went to meet Stanley! As nervous, okay as neurotic, as I’ve been about finding the right dog, Billy, the breeder, put me at ease from the moment I arrived. He took me into the yard to introduce me to the pups and the parents, Nugget and Yetti. It was the most wonderful controlled chaos. Despite the overload of cuteness, it didn’t take long to narrow it down to two of the males.

They were both adorable, but as soon as I held future Stanley, the words of my amazing trainer friend Gina popped into my head. She told me “Hold the puppy on its back in your arms. If he relaxes right away and you can almost feel the body go limp, that’s the one.” As he snuggled against me, I knew.

A short time later, with goody bag in hand and reassurance from Billy to call him if I needed any help, I set off with Stanley to meet the pack. Since it’s best to introduce a new dog on neutral territory, I had made arrangements with my friend Tracy, honorary aunt and Dood sitter extraordinare for a canine meet and greet. We had decided that I would leave Stanley with her at my husband’s office and bring down the others, one at a time.

First I brought Elbee, thinking that he might be more difficult. To my surprise, he was great, calm and gentle.

ELBEE Helloo! I’ve been through this before. I totally get it.

Gus, on the other hand, was slightly less than thrilled. It was as if he knew that he was losing his position as the baby of the family. I also think that Gus has become somewhat of a “closet” diva. With his hair, the celebrities that he’s met, and all of the attention, I’m not surprised.

GUS I’ve tried to keep it to myself but look at me. I’m fabulous. Plus I’ve learned from the best.

After so many trips to the office that it felt like the movie Groundhog Day, I finally arrived home with a pretty copacetic pack. Gus is still in a bit of a snit, especially with his newly embraced divadom but is doing better. By the way, Riley, our fifteen year old Golden, is so over it.

I will have lots more to share about training a puppy. It’s not for the faint hearted. For now, while I’m somewhat coherent, let me say that Stanley’s temperament is a gift. When I took him out to socialize, he comforted and cuddled. Marsha, the groomer, said that he “sucked out all of her stress.”

Last night, Nicole, the middle daughter (who has already introduced Stanley on Facebook), felt the presence of his namesake, my funny brother. She said that he was looking down and laughing, enjoying the dog’s name and all of the chaos. I have to wonder. Did my brother Stan send me a special puppy.

The Calm Before the Puppy Storm

If all goes according to plan, Stanley will be joining the pack next week. After so many dogs I should be completely relaxed but that hasn’t been the case. Instead, I’ve been so obsessed, you’d think that I had just given birth.

ELBEE I’m surprised she hasn’t had a puppy shower.

It’s only been four years since Gus came into our lives but I feel as if I’ve forgotten everything I ever knew about training a puppy. It’s kind of how clueless I was when I had the oldest daughter. We were leaving the hospital and I remember asking the doctor what I should do with her when I got her home. The poor man looked really nervous.

ELBEE And you wonder why mother of the year has been off the table.

I’ve been reading articles, calling my trainer friends for advice, buying puppy things on line. I tried to tell myself that it was because I’ve been involved with Stanley almost from the time he was conceived. As I shared in an earlier post, I happened to e-mail Billy, the breeder, only a few hours after he’d finished delivering the litter. Not only did he email photos of the newborns, but he even sent a video of one of the births. That was a first for me!

I’m sure the real reason is that I’m hoping for the right Stanley to join Elbee and Gus on the journey that began with Charley. It’s not only about finding a pet, it’s like a job interview. Is he cut out for the work? Does he have any special skill sets?

ELBEE Is she serious?

With Charley, I lucked out. I’d read about therapy dogs and developed an interest but wasn’t specifically searching for one. How serendipitous that a stranger at the vet commented on his amazing temperament and led me to the UCLA program. Elbee was more of a challenge. I was sick during his formative months so had to work harder to catch up on his training. I might have given up if not for the cheerleading of Jack Barron, my mentor at UCLA.

ELBEE Thank goodness he recognized fabulous.

When Gus’s original owner had to rehome him, several people wanted the adorable ball of fluff. Fortunately, Gina, the amazing trainer who picked him out, knew that he was born to be a therapy dog so I won the jackpot.

Will I get lucky again? Will I find another puppy that was born to be a therapy dog or will he need a little more encouragement? Will Stanley have the right heart and temperament? When I go to meet Stanley will I find him or will he find me?

ELBEE I hate to be a buzzkill but has Pack Leader forgotten that wonderful Stanley will be peeing all over the house and eating her shoes?

A Parade for One

Over the years I’ve celebrated the Fourth of July in lots of different ways. When the daughters were little there were gourmet picnics, brilliant fireworks and patriotic sing-alongs.

ELBEE Excuse me. Is a bucket of Colonel Sanders gourmet? And I heard that one of the daughters got so scared at the first burst of fireworks that she ran half way across a golf course screaming.

Recently, thanks to an old friend, I was reminded of a very special Fourth spent competing at Venice Beach. He sent me a video of a 71 year old female bodybuilder! Was the universe calling to me? Could my glory days of the 80’s be coming back?

ELBEE Judging by her wardrobe, they’ve never left and where does she find these pictures??

I could’t help myself on the photo but I reluctantly came to my senses on the bodybuilding.

The last few years I’ve been in parades. Several teams from the UCLA People Animal Connection took part in the Pacific Palisades celebrations. Walking our dogs past enthusiastic crowds on Sunset Boulevard was so much fun. There was such an atmosphere of unity, joy and patriotism.

It was almost as special as the feeling of flexing in front of a crowd of cheering people at Venice Beach. Just kidding but that video of the 71 year old really got to me.

This year the Fourth was the quietest but most meaningful that l’ve ever spent. The Doods and I went to visit my friend Roberta, the warrior who is still fighting brain cancer. Her accomplishments in education are truly legendary. Even during her illness, with help from her wonderfully supportive husband Ira, her programs have continued to expand. Thanks to them, many students are now graduating from college and going into law enforcement fields such as forensics and criminology.

Sitting at her beautiful dining room table with the dogs at our feet, we talked and laughed. Despite the physical and emotional roller coaster she’s been on, she wanted to know how I was doing. In a testament to her generous, caring spirit, she asked about my family and encouraged my writing. She truly wants people to know that no matter how she’s feeling, the dogs bring her a measure of peace and comfort.

There were no cheering crowds when we arrived at her house on Wednesday, but when Elbee and Gus walked in, it was a parade for Roberta. Hundreds of people couldn’t have appreciated them more than she did. It was the simplest but most powerful parade that I’ve ever witnessed.

When Ordinary Becomes Extraordinary

There is a certain rhythm to working with the Doods but then, and always to my surprise, something extraordinary happens. A recent day at UCLA started out in the usual fashion. Gus bounced out of the car in front of the hospital, tail wagging, greeting everyone in his path.

After stops in the lobby, the volunteer center and administration, we made our way up to neuropsych on the fourth floor. The kids in our first unit were so exuberant, it was as if the circus had come to town. Barely containing their excitement, they gathered around Gus on the floor, laughing, petting him, hugging him. They couldn’t seem to get close enough. That is, except for one adolescent girl who sat off to the side, her face expressionless.

When we had seen her previously, she had remained that way, “isolative,” as the therapist explained to me, throughout out entire visit. She stayed on the periphery, not reacting or participating. I also learned that she doesn’t like to come out of her room except when the dogs are there.

This week I sensed something slightly different in her demeanor. She was sitting in the same spot, removed from the group, but I saw a flicker of interest when Gus did his tricks. She even inched a bit closer while still keeping her distance from the other kids. When I asked her if she’d like one of his trading cards, she shook her head no. When I asked if she’d like me to bring Gus over to her, I got a barely audible “yes.”

Observing her behavior, the therapist asked if she’d like to take a walk with me and Gus as a special treat. That got a yes, and the trace of a smile. With both of us holding his leash, we started down the hallway together. As we walked side by side, I could feel the girl relax. With a little encouragement she began to pet Gus.

I’m not sure what it is, but there is something about his soft, fluffy coat that captivates and relaxes people. That young girl was no exception. Before I knew it, she was on the floor gently hugging him.

After a few minutes, we continued walking to the end of the hall. When we reached the door and it was time for us to leave, the therapist looked at her and asked if she knew the dog’s name. With no hesitation and with a big smile on her face, she said, “Gus.” Then the therapist asked her if she knew my name. With an even bigger grin, she turned to me and said, “Ellen.” At that moment, ordinary became extraordinary.

What’s in a Name?

We haven’t met the new puppy yet but he already has a name. Actually he had a name before he was even born.

ELBEE May I remind you that I was named by the receptionist at the vet because no one in the family could agree on my name. She didn’t want to put “Blank” on my chart so she wrote “Little Brother.” I won’t lie. It still stings.

The name is Stanley after my brother who passed away from cancer over twenty years ago. Stanley was one of my favorite people on the planet. I’m funny but he was so funny he could make me laugh until I cried.

ELBEE Excuse me. If she’s funny then I must be the world’s greatest four-legged stand up comic.

As a television director, he knew how to put everyone from the talent to the craft services at ease. People gravitated towards him. He had the gift of making you feel important, but he didn’t like a lot of fanfare for himself.

Shortly before his death, he told me that he didn’t even want a funeral. Not quite believing we were having that conversation, I convinced him to let me do something for his friends. He agreed to a casual gathering in a park. It turned out to be such a perfect day of remembrance. His buddies went so far as to set up their weekly poker game with an empty seat at the table for him.

Stanley would not have wanted a memorial plaque or a commemorative bench in the mountains, but having a puppy named after him would have suited him just fine. He loved dogs. He was like the Jewish dog whisperer. It’s the most appropriate tribute I could give him. Somehow this just felt like the right time to do it.

The daughters, who adored him, completely understood. They were immediately on board. By the way, shout out to them for looking after me since the burglary. Sometimes it’s nice to have daughter/mothers.

The husband, remember he wants to be included, took a little more convincing. He loved my brother but not his name. When I suggested he could call the dog Stan or Stan the Man, he was good with it.

I’m hoping that with training, a little luck and a special namesake, the puppy will join Elbee and Gus on their rounds. How wonderful to honor my brother with a therapy dog named after him.

Even better, the dog’s name often becomes a topic of conversation when we’re visiting with patients and families. Talking about Stanley the dog will be a perfect way to keep the memory of Stanley the man alive. It will be my private way of celebrating someone who was such an important part of my life. I can almost feel his spirit looking on and laughing, the laugh that I have missed for so long.

Healing

Despite having the best possible outcome, the week since the burglary has been pretty stressful. I’m good in crisis mode, it’s the aftermath where I have a problem. A friend texted me, “hope your nerves and the house are on the mend.” The house was the easy part.

Walking into UCLA with Gus (he and Elbee take turns) was a huge step in the healing process. It was all about him and his wagging tail. In the neuropsych unit, as I watched two potentially aggressive kids hug him with gentle care, I totally forgot about myself.

A visit to the ICU brought things even more into focus. Judi, a dear friend for many years, had asked if I would bring a dog to see “Sandy,” a mutual friend whom I hadn’t seen in a very long time. “Sandy” was making slow progress recovering from a severe stroke. To everyone’s surprise, when I walked in, she immediately recognized me and reached out for Gus. She was so happy, content and even funny, as he rested with her.

In one of those strange coincidences, the patient just a few doors down was the granddaughter of very close friends. The teen had been in a car accident and had suffered broken bones and a traumatic brain injury. As Gus and I visited with her distraught grandpa, nothing else mattered except bringing him some comfort.

Driving home from the hospital, despite the difficulty of the visits, I was the calmest that I had been in days. I had spent the morning in situations where, thanks to Gus, I was able to help other people deal with their stress while forgetting about my own.

On Friday I attended a luncheon for the People Animal Connection that really put the exclamation point on the week. The camaraderie in the room was palpable because in different ways we had all shared the same magical experiences. The guest speaker was Ellie Laks from the Gentle Barn, “a sanctuary where animals heal and children learn to hope.” There was a video tribute to Charley and several other amazing PAC dogs that we lost last year. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room.

It was a quote on one of the luncheon gifts, however, that inspired this post and gave me such clarity. Mahatma Gandhi said, “The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.” My sincere gratitude to Charley, Elbee, Gus and hopefully the new puppy for leading me down this path of service. You are selfless. You are my heroes. You helped me through this week.