Author: Ellen Morrow

In 2014, Jack Barron, my mentor in all things dog therapy, called to ask if we had room for another dog. A family needed to rehome a Teddy Bear Doodle who was adorable and sweet-natured. There was no shortage of people who wanted him, but Jack felt that Cedric, his name at the time, was meant to be a therapy dog, like Charley and Elbee.

We met him, fell in love, changed his name to Gus and introduced him to the pack. The rest is history. The woman who was giving him up said, “I just want you to give him a good life.” Gus has had a great life so far.

ELBEE Even though Charley’s Uncle Riley was a slacker, I was very fond of him.

He’s turned nine last and has surpassed my expectations. He charms everyone with his positive energy, wagging tail and smiling face. He has affectionately been called “cloud,”and “cotton ball,” and even “angel.”

Looking back at his accomplishments fills my heart. Not only did he pass his Pet Partners test at a year and a half and begin going into the hospital, but he worked so many special events with his “brothers.”

For instance, he and Charley met with an anti-bullying group from Compton to teach a class of sixth graders about kindness. At a candlelight vigil for a UCLA professor who was murdered, they comforted countless mourners.

On a lighter note, Gus was part of the interactive exhibit, “Dogs! a Science Tail,” at the California Science Center. Gus and Elbee had the honor of being at the party for the tenth anniversary of Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center. Charley was at the opening ten years earlier!

He has had the chance to meet Laker girls, former Lakers and a few Dodgers including Clayton Kershaw and Dodger manager, Dave Roberts.

ELBEE Guess who used Gus so she could meet Dave Roberts!

Above all, and I think that anyone with a therapy animal will tell you this, it’s the quiet one on one moments with Gus that have been the most profound. I can still picture the young woman hugging him and crying as she assured me they were “happy tears.” I can hear the teen in Resnick, who had cuts all over her arms, telling me that Gus was the first thing in a long time that she wanted to live for.

I could sense a real sadness in Gus as he gradually lost his first pack. It was fortunate that by the time Elbee left us, Stanley had arrived. Henry was a bonus and Gus bonded with him instantly.

ELBEE Gus was so confused when they kept growing

I’m so very grateful for this copacetic pack and for Gus’s original pack. Above all, I am grateful for the wonder that this huge hearted precious dog has shown me over the past nine years. Happy birthday little giant!

March has always been an emotional cocktail for me.

ELBEE Personally, I prefer a margarita.

On an early March morning of my senior year in high school, my dad, a larger than life personality, lost his fight against brain cancer.

Six years ago this month, Charley, a gentle giant and my first therapy dog, suddenly left us. He worked an event with              student athletes at UCLA, charming the crowd and posing for photos. After a restless night, he walked outside, lay down under some purple flowering bushes and was gone in twenty minutes.

ELBEE This is getting really depressing.

March third was my late wonderful brother Stan’s birthday. Although he’s been gone for over twenty years, I still light a birthday candle for him. On the bright side, Gus is turning nine next week. I’m looking forward to celebrating his therapy dog journey.

ELBEE Hello? Is she forgetting that I have a March birthday?

When Gus was re-homed with us, the woman who gave him up told me very sincerely, “I want you to give him a good life.” So far, he’s had a great life. Every time he walks into the hospital, tail wagging, he lights up the room.

Gus worked with Charley on Charley’s last night. He’s also worked with Elbee and Stanley. With luck, he’ll be showing Henry the ropes.

This time of the year, I often head into the mountains for hope and healing. It’s been difficult with the rain, but that makes me appreciate it even more. The views are spectacular between storms and the wildflowers are bursting into bloom.

I always seem to find random notes of positivity too. Although that is technically graffiti, behind Henry, at least it’s a good message.

Speaking of graffiti, there’s a helipad on dirt Mulholland that’s covered with graffiti, some of it x-rated. The messages come and go but there’s one that has remained. Someone painted it after Kobe’s untimely death.

There’s another sort of March Madness going on right now… the NCAA basketball tournament. I wonder if they were having issues when they came up with that name.

ELBEE I think they were talking about crazy fans like her.

I am so glad to be ending this post on a happy note. After a nerve-racking game last night, the UCLA Bruins are going to the sweet sixteen!

Occasionally, when I’m at the hospital with one of the dogs, someone will ask, “Do you get paid for this?” Anyone who has worked with a therapy animal will tell you that there’s not enough money to equal the rewards it brings.

There are sudden smiles, expressions of happy surprise. There are hearty thank you’s and very quiet ones. There is the joy of watching the dogs take away someone’s physical or emotional pain, even if only for awhile.

Every patient visit can become a special encounter. Last week at Tarzana Hospital, Stanley and I were asked to see a twelve year old boy on pediatrics. As soon as he laid eyes on Stanley, he got so excited and said, “I thought this only happened on television.”

He had a look of wonder on his face the whole time we were there. He applauded Stanley’s tricks and laughed at his accessories as his delighted parents took photos. At first he was content to have Stanley next to his bed but then decided that he’d really like him up on the bed with him. As he petted and cuddled with Stanley, he reminded his parents how much he wanted a dog and how good he was with them.

The boy was so joyful. He really made the visit fun. That’s why it caught me off guard when his parents shared that he was having surgery in a few hours. I was so grateful that Stanley had been there to lighten the load.

When I was at UCLA, one of the therapists told me that a patient who had been discharged had left something for Gus. It was the same special needs young woman who, when she was in the neuropsych unit a few weeks earlier, had wrapped her arms around Gus and then carried his trading card everywhere with her.

She had written a letter to him. The printing was very difficult to decipher but certain words stood out. I could read, Gus” and “love” and “don’t forget.” She had told the therapist that she wanted to be sure that Gus would always remember her. She had also made him a tiny beaded ring that had the words “Gus” and “love.”

There is so much music in the mountains. Some of it comes from me. I often sing to distract myself while I make my way up steep trails.

ELBEE That is not music. She’s tone deaf.

Actually, for me, the sounds of nature truly do create virtual music. Some mornings there are so many birds chirping, it’s like a choir. There are even some wild parrots in one of the canyons who lend their voices. Not to mention the ravens cawing overhead. I’ve always thought the loudest one was Elbee’s spirit animal talking to me.

ELBEE Then why doesn’t she listen?

Sometimes the birds soar so low that you can hear their wings flapping. I’ve shared that one time a hawk flew so low, it’s talons brushed my hair.

ELBEE Personally, I think it was looking for nesting material and got confused. Honest mistake.

The wind adds it’s own notes. You have to listen for the gentle breezes, but on a truly windy day it can be deafening. Since all of the rain, there is also the sound of water rippling in a creek bed that has been dry for years.

Recently, there was literal music in the mountains. I was heading up to one of my regular trails when I heard someone playing the guitar. It was Montana, a singer/ songwriter whom I haven’t seen since before Covid. He loves the dogs and was excited to meet Henry.

What are the chances that as I got closer to the top, I heard a keyboard. A young man was playing on an overlook, enjoying the view and hoping to meet other musicians. I pointed him toward Montana.

This week there have been two special notes. They are silent but add to the harmony. The first is the view of the snow covered mountains in the distance. Like the water flowing in the creek, it’s a rarity but an absolute gift. I’m only sorry for the residents who have to deal with the storms. I remember the blizzards in Syracuse.

The second was on March third, my late brother Stan’s birthday. Although he’s been gone over 25 years, his spirit resonates in me. Walking in the mountains that day, I heard some music that no one else could hear. It was the sound of Stan’s laughter.