In her former life, Ellen Morrow was a carpool mom and award winning bodybuilder. Today she is a nationally certified therapy dog handler who volunteers at UCLA Medical Center and Providence Hospital with her GoldenDoodles. She's also the mother of three grown daughters who all think she's a little crazy or in the words of a friend, "a little unconventional." She is also an avid hiker who has survived a rattlesnake bite!
I wasn’t going to write about my daughters today. Oh who am I kidding. Of course I was. Some things are just too easy. When I told them that “meandthedoodsandthedaughters” had a nice ring to it, they said that so did a want ad for a new mother. Totally not fair since she wouldn’t have to deal with diapers, teenage rebellion or the cost of college. Plus she would get grandchildren as a bonus. Grandchildren who, by the way, love the dogs.
My daughters have also accused me of replacing each one of them with a dog. Although that was never my intention, it has worked out exceptionally well. It certainly made the whole empty nest syndrome a lot easier than I expected. This from a woman who cried like a baby when I dropped them off at nursery school.
One morning Nicole was over and suddenly asked, “if one of the dogs was drowning and I was drowning, who would you save?” My first response was, “Can I have a few minutes to think about it?” When that didn’t cut it, I asked if I could save them both. Not surprisingly that didn’t go over very well either. Then I said, “Of course I would save you.”
CHARLEY I happened to be eavesdropping when that whole conversation was taking place. I admit that I was quite upset when I heard that answer but then she turned to me and winked.
The Doods We’d like to say kudos, bravo and woof to our self appointed pack leader on her last post. In our humble opinion (well, Charley is humble) it was insightful and accurate. We’ve talked among ourselves and think her daughters may be a little jealous of us.
Now that the Doods have weighed in, here’s the good news and the bad news. All three of my daughters read my last post about dogs being better than children. Here’s the really bad news. Mother of the year is definitely off the table. Danielle (yes, I’m naming names) fell back on the old saying, “if you can’t say anything nice.” I’m going to cut her some slack because she has a two year old and a four month old. I’m sure if she wasn’t sleep deprived she’d have had some wonderful things to say.
On facebook she asked (or begged) for her sister Nicole to chime in. Nicole suggested they write their own blog called, “Our crazy blonde mom who looks like her dogs.” They shot that one down because they were afraid I’d like it. They were correct.
Me, Nicole and the Doods
Since Nicole is the one who actually likes the dogs, I asked if she’d mind sharing the post, meaning with friends. Instead she shared it with Jennifer, the oldest, and the one who pretends that she hates the dogs. Jennifer’s response was, “Lets see the dogs take care of her in her old age.” She did have a point.
Jennifer really surprised me one day when she told me that her friends had been looking at the blog and cracking up. I was so flattered, assuming they’d been reading it. She said, “no mom, they couldn’t understand about the movie with Charley and the whole thing about you and the dogs looking alike, so I just showed them the pictures. They were laughing so hard they were crying.”
Okay, there is a similarity
GUSYes, I’m in a shopping cart. Don’t ask. Elbee told me that to be funny, Danielle sent her a video of a man dancing with his dog and asked if any of us could do that. Now she wants to take lessons with me. Oh no!
First I’d like to apologize to my three wonderful daughters in the hopes that this post won’t put me out of the running for mother of the year.
Here are my top twelve (trust me there are more) reasons that dogs are better than children:
When you’re housebreaking/potty training a dog you can reprimand it for having an accident without his shrink hearing about it years later.
Dogs go through the “terrible two’s” in the first few months of life and generally don’t throw tantrums in the middle of department stores. (You know which daughter you are).
You can leave a dog at home alone in a crate without someone calling child protective services.
Same goes for leaving them in the car as long as it’s not hot out and the windows are open.
You can walk a dog on a leash without someone questioning your parenting skills.
You can educate your dog in a class at the park instead of at Harvard.
They eat out of one dish.
They don’t date.
They don’t drive and crash your car.
They don’t judge.
They love you unconditionally and don’t question your wardrobe choices.
They don’t borrow your clothes.
GUSMy big brothers said that she finally got it right and told me to give her a high five for all of us. I feel pretty special even though I’m still a little confused.
Recently a friend, oh who am I kidding about 10 friends and a few strangers, e-mailed, face booked and instagrammed me about O.D.D., obsessive dog disorder. Am I really that obvious?
As you can see from the illustration, it said to share. So why not over share with all of my fabulous fellow dog lovers
I’ve always suspected that I have undiagnosed A.D.D. or as they called it when I was a kid, “can’t you ever sit still and pay attention?” It got so bad in high school after my father died that someone (I’m not naming names) nicknamed me Flea! But O.D.D. was something new. The dogaholism that I confessed to in my first post was a real thing.
While I was reading the symptoms all I could think was, “if the shoe that the dog hasn’t chewed fits, then wear it.” I couldn’t even be offended. I was kind of the role model for O.D.D. I was also kind of proud.
Let’s consider. I definitely have more than one dog and run in to greet them before anyone else. (Apologies to my grandkids). I would step over the dogs before I would make them get up and be uncomfortable. As for dog toys, I tripped over two of them and a dog when I was getting up to go to the bathroom the other night.
ELBEE She tripped over me the other night and I’m hard to miss. It wasn’t the first time either. I probably shouldn’t have laughed but she didn’t get hurt. All I could think of was that expression I’ve heard the kids use, “Have a nice trip. See you in the fall.”
I’ve also admitted that an ulterior motive in having therapy dogs is that it gives me an excuse to spend way more time with them and actually get credit for it.
As for the way they eat, I won’t even discuss the number of places we go for their food, vitamins and supplements. I do feel guilty that I don’t cook for them. I have a few friends that do, but they’re way more Martha Stewart than I could ever hope to be. I’m a little envious.
What they didn’t mention on the list is that we spend more time and money on grooming and pampering our dogs than we do on ourselves. I have huge baskets filled with their combs, brushes and sprays. Mine fit in one cupboard. They go to the “salon” way more often than I do too. Maybe I need to rethink this.
We O.D.D. people also find conversations about our dogs to be endlessly fascinating. If we run into each other out walking our packs, it’s over. We spend so much time talking about our dogs and sharing cute photos, we should just meet at Starbucks instead of pretending that we’re exercising.
For the record, I would like to close by saying that I’m out and proud with my O.D.D.
CHARLEY Excuse me, why are people making fun of O.D.D.? I think it’s very noble and appropriate behavior. I myself suffer from a bit of O.P.D. (Obsessive People Disorder). I just don’t like to be alone and I have a question. Why is it okay for PL (as we refer to our fearless, self-appointed pack leader) to be obsessed with us but when I follow her around I’m considered a stalker. I think I’m going to tweet about it.
RILEYAllow me to introduce myself.My name is Riley. I’m a senior citizen and a well respected Golden Retriever who lives with the Doods. I’m also Charley’s uncle. I’m very fond of them, but it’s not always easy, especially with that young one Gus, who thinks he’s my personal trainer. He makes me run around and play with him which helps me stay young, but he is a mischief maker.
Take a look at this picture of me surrounded by shredded toilet paper.
Now I ask you, does that look like something a dog of my age and sophistication would do? I was framed and I think we all know who was responsible. It was a certain goofy, almost two year old Doodle who thinks he’s funny. Gus may have passed his therapy dog test and act like a little angel but chewing up paper is his department. Personally, I think it’s a ridiculous habit. I didn’t even do it when I was a puppy.
What really gets me, is the way he set it up. He knows that being almost thirteen, I tend to do a lot of napping. He waited until I was asleep, got a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom and chewed it up all around me until it looked like confetti. Then, when Ellen, our self-appointed pack leader came home, she found me in this unfortunate situation and ran for the camera. How embarrassing is that! Gus, of course, was in the other room watching television.
In case you need more proof, take a look at this photo.
Caught in the act!
Do you see all of those orange feathers? They were supposed to be part of Charley’s Halloween costume but Gus tore it to shreds. At least he didn’t get a chance to pin it on anyone else. I admit that in the case of the feathers, I was on his side. No self-respecting canine like my nephew Charley should be decked out like a day-glo chicken.
Testing for Pet Partners with Gus was stressful but it was nothing compared to my very first ever testing. I’d never studied or taken a test with a dog, not even one as smart as Charley.
It wasn’t that the test was going to be tricky or full of surprises. Everything had been explained and illustrated in the workshop and in the huge book we were given (and which I read more than once and highlighted). It was just so different from anything I’d ever done. I certainly didn’t want to let Charley down, or worse, explain to my laughing children why I’d failed. Then, just as I was getting it together, someone told me that if you’re nervous, your emotions travel down the leash to your dog. Great! I had to worry about upsetting him with my issues.
In the weeks before the test, I drove the family nuts with my concerns, questions, and need for support. When I made the mistake of telling the kids that the evaluation would begin as soon as I left the car, they had a field day with that information. They convinced me that people with walkie-talkies (cell phones weren’t big yet) would be hiding behind trees and reporting on my behavior. If Charley or I did anything wrong, our mug shots would be sent to testing central.
After all of their kidding and practically doing skits at my expense, I was totally surprised when we arrived at the testing site on the UCLA campus. A friendly girl named Heather, who was in plain site, walked up and greeted us. When I asked about spies, she assured me there were none, and looked at me as if I was insane.
When the evaluation began, my genius dog sat down at my side and gazed up at me. The examiner said, “That’s perfect. Just what we want to see, a connection between handler and dog.”
CHARLEY Pardon the interruption but obviously he didn’t realize that I was looking at her as if to say, “Get a grip!” Yes, nerves do travel down the leash. I am normally very calm but she was ruining my chi. And for the record, she really did make me stay up all night and listen to that book.
As I explained with Gus, the testing is part obedience and part aptitude. Charley breezed through the basic obedience. He walked calmly by my side on a loose leash with all sorts of distractions around us. Nothing phased him. There were people going by in wheel chairs and walkers. Others were yelling and staggering before they came over and asked if they could pet him. I, on the other hand, jumped about a foot off the floor when someone dropped a book behind us. When it was time to have the evaluator brush him, someone else hug him and a few people pet him at the same time, he acted as if he was at the spa.
We only had one little snag. There is an exercise on the evaluation called “neutral dog.” Two handlers approach each other from several feet away, shake hands, say, “what’s up?” and continue walking past each other. Charley wasn’t supposed to show more than casual interest in the other dog.
As luck would have it, the neutral dog was a cute Golden Retriever and Charley has a thing for cute Golden Retrievers. He did everything short of ask her for a date. If I had to guess, I’d say he got her phone number. Fortunately we were only scored down a point.
I was overjoyed when we passed the test. It was partly because Charley was my very first, official therapy dog but even more so it was because we were considered a team. As a non-athletic kid who’d never done sports, this was my very first team and I was kind of like captain!
Hey I had to do something to celebrate
CHARLEY Captain? Are you kidding me? Her nerves were so bad at testing, I was ready to have a bowl of wine, and I rarely drink. And I think we all know who’s captain. By the way, I did get the cute Golden Retriever’s phone number.
In the spirit of the new year, I have yet another confession. I like to write until I make myself laugh. I guess that makes me the arbiter of my own humor which is probably not a good thing. And while I’m over sharing, I admit that I prefer it when the Doods take over the blog. I told the daughters that I felt as if I were channeling them. If you recall, when these same daughters were children, I told them that our dogs talked to me. Good thing a friend told my grandchildren that I was not crazy, just unconventional. Maybe that should be my epitaph. “She was unconventional.”
Back to the main topic of the day…Gus, my newly minted therapy dog and the second youngest dog volunteering at UCLA. Oops I’m bragging again. Coincidentally, Gus passed his Pet Partners evaluation with a perfect score on the same morning that my grandson was born. I am well aware that I should not put these two events in the same sentence, probably not even in the same post, but I got the call as I was stuck in L.A. traffic on the way to testing.
Since I have never completely overcome my childhood as a nerdy, over achiever, any kind of testing is stressful for me. When I had to renew my drivers license, I read the book six times and took notes. Even though Charley and Elbee have tested every two years and I knew exactly what to expect, I was still nervous going in with Gus.
CHARLEY He was lucky she didn’t make him pull an all-nighter like the first timewith me.
The evaluation is part obedience and part aptitude, mine and the dogs! To make matters worse, the handler (that would be me) and the dog are scored separately. Theoretically, Gus could outscore me or even worse, pass the test when I failed. These are both secrets I would carry to my grave and would definitely not share with my daughters. In my next post, I will tell you what a field day they had the very first time I was getting ready to test Charley.
Let me just say that Gus breezed through the evaluation. He was 25 pounds of sweetness and confidence and made me look good. It’s amazing how well it reflects on you if your dog is well behaved, kind of like with your children. That reminds me. When one of my daughters was a teenager, she offered me a deal. She could behave at home and make my life peaceful or behave out in the world so that other people would think I was doing a good job of parenting, but there was no way she could do both. I’m not naming names but it was the lawyer.
Thank goodness that’s over
GUSDo you see that picture? That’s exactly how I felt after the Pet Partner’s evaluation. The test was no problem but calming you-know-who down was exhausting. My big brothers warned me. I should have listened. Thank goodness I don’t have to do it again for two years!
Good news. Me and the Doods are back from holiday hiatus. I confess, I have never been a fan of the whole season. Thanksgiving I can deal with but it’s all downhill from there. It actually gives me anxiety. Well, there used to be one slight problem with turkey day too, aside from dealing with the giblets, whatever they are. When my girls were little I decided that it was a great time to take the family portrait for the family card. As they got older, that turned out to be one of my worst ideas except that now I enjoy seeing them try to take their own family photos.
One time I was in a store in August, yes August, saw Christmas displays and started hyperventilating. I’m not exactly Scrooge, but this year I found a couple of solutions for dealing with my issues. The first was the Hallmark Channel. I watched so many happy holiday movies that I almost overdosed on Christmas spirit.
The Doods were my other salvation. Unlike some family members (you know who you are), they enjoyed watching movies with me. We didn’t exactly share a bowl of popcorn but it was very cozy. When things got too hectic, I practiced total avoidance and took them hiking in the mountains. When I felt guilty about my bad attitude, I took them into the hospital to cheer up the patients. As a bonus, Santa was visiting in the hospital too so I got extra holiday points.
Have the Doods found religion?
The most Christmasy thing the Doods and I did was an event at UCLA. About twenty human/canine teams from the People Animal Connection plus a bunch of really talented singers walked all around the hospital caroling. I’m one of those people, like my dear friend Lillian, who loves sing-a-longs but can barely carry a tune so this was perfect. The dogs sounded better than I did. On the other hand, Marilee, the woman who led the caroling, has a beautiful voice. I tried to stand by her and lip synch so people might think it was me.
I brought Charley and Gus this year since the little guy recently passed his national therapy dog certification. (Am I a bad person for fake singing and using every excuse possible to brag about my dogs?) They encourage us to make the dogs look festive and you know how much I love to dress them up. I bought them each an adorable sweater, and decked them out in tinsel and jingle bells.
I must admit we had one particularly moving moment. When our human/canine choir was in the emergency room, I made eye contact with a patient lying in bed in one of the side admitting rooms. It was an older woman who was singing “Silent Night” along with the rest of us. I lifted Gus up and when she saw him and Charley she got the biggest smile on her face. It was like just the two of us singing together and she couldn’t hear me. It was a Christmas miracle.
If you could only see the whole outfit!
GUSI have been quiet long enough. There’s only so much even a sweet dog like me can take. Do you really think we wanted to watch all of those movies? Although I did enjoy the one about the Golden Retriever. As my big brothers will tell you, treats and petting can be very persuasive. As for those “adorable” sweaters, Charley’s had a sad looking snowman on the back and mine said “ugly Xmas sweater.” Is that supposed to be funny? Next year I’m sending Elbee in my place!
I love dressing up my dogs. From hairdos to shirts to sunglasses, I think it’s all adorable. A good set of pigtails or a “man bun” is so cute. If I can get them in headbands, it makes my day. One of the benefits of having therapy dogs is that I can totally justify dressing them up when they visit the hospital on holidays.
Apparently the Doods are not on the same page and have some issues with it. Once again they have barked me into submission and will be today’s guest bloggers. Much as I adore them, they are very pushy.
Need I Say More?
CHARLEY As the senior Dood I have been forced into way more than my share of ridiculous outfits. Take Halloween for instance. Should a dog with my level of intelligence and sophistication be forced to wear a headband with orange bouncy things on it. This year she put all sorts of unnatural color in my hair in case, heaven forbid, the psychedelic wig I was wearing fell off. To add insult to injury, she put matching colors in her hair. I have worn antlers for Christmas and some sort of red and blue sparkly things for the fourth of July. I’ll be honest, I felt in my element when Elbee and I were dressed up like doctors for a UCLA photo. You know I could probably make it through medical school. I also thought I looked quite dapper in a red sequin tie I wore to a Red Cross Benefit. Overall though, I must say I’m very glad I do yoga and meditate to help me cope.
Doctor DoodsReally??
ELBEE Charley really has had more than his share of humilitation, but you would not believe how many times I’ve had my hair in pigtails when I would prefer a nice mohawk. I recently had minor surgery on my back and that was apparently an excuse to put me in one of her black tee shirts. She got the idea from a dog friend who told her that it would keep the house from looking like a crime scene. Really?? As if that wasn’t enough, she had to take a photo of me wearing the shirt and sunglasses. What is with all the glasses? I agree with Charley, that the scrubs and a stethoscope for our doctor photo were definitely a step up. I’ll also admit that I’m a little jealous of the red bowtie. I look excellent in red. But would you look at the picture below and tell me why we had to wear candy canes on our heads to visit Santa? And by the way, why were we visiting Santa?
GUS I’m not even two and I’ve already had hairdos, glasses, shirts and hats. I’m a kid. Cut me some slack with the dress up. Do you see this picture? What am I a referee? From what my big brothers have told me, Ellen is going to be taking us caroling at UCLA this weekend and it involves “outfits.” Elbee was eavesdropping and heard her excitedly telling a friend that she’d gotten us Christmas sweaters for the event. I don’t know which will be more embarrassing…the sweater or the fact that I can’t sing.
Being in the Hollywood Christmas Parade and doing my fabulous wave was a huge moment for me, especially since I grew up in Syracuse, N.Y. where I’m not even sure if they had parades. What could be better? I’ll tell you what…being in a Hollywood movie!
I received an e-mail about a casting call for dog/people look alikes. That was almost too easy. When I showed up with Charley, the casting director burst out laughing and called me a “bowser.” I wasn’t sure whether or not to be offended. I mean, had I gone too far wearing a royal blue shirt and putting Charley in a royal blue scarf? Was it all the product I’d put in our hair?
Ms. Venice Beach
Turns out that it was a very good thing. A few weeks later we were called and asked to come down to the Venice Boardwalk for filming. A return to the site of my bodybuilding glory and prior 15 minutes of fame! Coincidence? I don’t think so.
GUSI’m the new kid on the block and I’m confused. Who or what is that?
CHARLEY I wish I could explain but there are just no words. And this is our self-appointed pack leader. I’m concerned.
The first day we arrived, I had to park in the main lot with all of the extras, walk quite a distance and then get on a bus to go to the location. Once we got there, Charley took over. Within a few hours, everyone from catering to extras to crew knew Charley and assumed that I was his leash holder. People were actually waving to him and calling out his name. He was thriving on the attention. I was surprised he wasn’t giving out paw prints.
I don’t know how he did it, but somehow we went from being extras to having a “major moment,” as a friend called it, in I Love You Man, a DreamWorks picture. Charley probably had his own major moment with the director while I was picking up his dog poop. And they call people with umbrella holders, “divas.”
In our cameo, we’re walking along the beach when our co-star Jason Segel points us out to our other costar, Paul Rudd, and says, “Look at those two. You know those people who look like their dogs? I call them bowsers.” Okay so we weren’t exactly costars, we were a punchline. My daughters were so proud.
What I probably shouldn’t over share is that my wonderful dog and I ended up on the gag reel. By the time we filmed our scene on the second day in Venice, my diva dog was worn out from interacting with all his fans and wasn’t in the mood for his close up. The assistant director asked if it was okay to get Charley a little pumped up. I stupidly said, “sure.” He got him so pumped up that Charley stood up on his hind legs, wrapped his front paws around me and started humping me.
Charley:Just because I’m a therapy dog doesn’t mean I don’t have a sense of humor. That was perhaps one of my finest moments.
