birthdays – Me and the Doods.com

It’s My Birthday and I’ll Hike If I Want To

ELBEE Why does that title make me want to sing?

Several years ago, I began the tradition of doing a challenging birthday hike. The first one was up a really steep local trail nicknamed the “butt burner.” After a few years, I realized that July was not the best month for that.

ELBEE Her daughters put it a little differently. “Mom, are you insane?”

I thought about changing my birthday to November but then came up with a much simpler plan. I’d hike from the San Fernando Valley to the sea, going from the heat to the ocean breezes. It’s worked out pretty well so far but this month there has basically been a national heat wave. I briefly reconsidered, then, decided to go for it.

ELBEE Guess what her daughters had to say about that.

I’m happy to report that I’m home safe and sound, except for a few cuts and bruises, and did not have to be rescued by helicopter. That will never happen because the first thing they do is give your age on the news. Then people comment, “What was that old lady doing up there in this weather?”

For some reason, that reminds me of an annoying commercial. A gray haired woman of a certain age, whatever that means, says, “Age is just a number and mine is unlisted.” I should try out for that. I can be annoying. By the way, thank you to my granddaughter Bella who finds me “entertaining” rather than annoying.

Back to the hike. It was wonderful, tiring, but wonderful. The views, as always, were a gift. There was such a feeling of freedom. Being in the mountains for my birthday gives me time to reflect.

ELBEE Once again she asked a total stranger to take her picture.

There is a sense of challenge when I start out in Reseda and a sense of accomplishment when I arrive at Temescal Gateway Park. For the moment, aging is on the back burner.

As he did last year, my husband Doug picked me up at the “finish line,” with Henry along for the ride. It’s like a birthday present. It’s also a sweet part of the tradition. He even brought the silly sunglasses.

GUS & STANLEY Sorry to break the mood but we feel very left out. Why didn’t Doug bring us? We’re extremely festive.

Everything’s Coming Up Roses

Usually when I write about a birthday, it’s for one of the Doods.

ELBEE Or for herself

This time it’s for my husband Doug. He’s not a big fan of birthdays but the people he works with love to celebrate. Although it’s the Tarzana Wound Care Center, I truly think of it as simply a care center. Everyone on the staff is so warm and welcoming.

They all love it when any of the dogs visit so I decided to bring Stanley to the party. They were extremely helpful when I was training him for his Pet Partners testing. Now that he’s been volunteering in the hospital for a few years, it feels like a full circle moment whenever we come in.

Stanley didn’t disappoint. There was so much joy when he arrived, it was as if he was the guest of honor. The birthday accessories didn’t hurt either. Even Doug wore a “celebrate” headband.

Gus and Henry are also favorites. Recently, when the center was short staffed for a day, I came in to help out with assistant Gus in the morning and assistant Henry in the afternoon. Let’s just say that the dogs were more helpful than I was.

ELBEE Amen to that.

There were a lot of pleasantly surprised patients that day. One woman was visibly distressed when she walked in. As soon as I brought Gus into the waiting room, I could see her body language relax.

As for the roses in the title, anyone who knows my husband well, knows how much he loves roses. He grew them for years. A few weeks before his birthday, rose bushes started appearing all over the area outside of his window at the wound center. We were convinced that someone was planting them as a very special, birthday surprise.

Turns out it was just a happy coincidence. The building manager thought it would be a nice touch.

ELBEE Get ready. Here comes the Debbie Downer part of her post.

A few nights ago, someone dug up two of the rose bushes and stole them. Speaking with a man who works security in the neighborhood, I found out that’s a “thing” now. The next morning, a little old lady, not me, with a pair of clippers was caught taking enough roses for a huge bouquet.

ELBEE So guard your rose bushes.

On a more positive note, thank you so much to the entire staff at the center. You touch me with your kindness. And a very happy birthday to my husband Doug. You are an amazing human being who has dedicated your life to helping others. The Doods and I love you.

Connection & Coincidence

I recently read an article that said the key factor that determines life satisfaction and health isn’t money or even achievement. It’s “warm connections with other people.” As a basic loner who got even more so after Covid, I knew I was in trouble.

ELBEE Sad but true.

**Greeting people at the wound care center**

To make matters worse, it was a years long study by a Harvard psychiatrist. On the bright side, he determined that even casual connections can have real benefits. That’s where the dogs come in. Thanks to them, I interact with more people in an hour than I might in a week.

For instance, a few days ago I had a wonderful conversation with a man at the gym who always seemed very nice but generally kept to himself. Somehow, we got onto the subject of dogs.

ELBEE Maybe because someone asked her in a loud voice “Aren’t you the crazy dog lady?”

He smiled when he heard that and quietly told me he volunteers at a shelter. I commented on how difficult that must be and thanked him for doing it. Then, of course, I shared about the Doods. What are the chances that his thesis was on the human/animal bond. To make it even crazier, he’d gone to school in Ithaca, just outside of Syracuse, my hometown.

As we chatted about New York, I mentioned that I was born in Liberty, a small town in the Catskill Mountains. Growing up, I’d spent summers there at my grandparents’ resort. I couldn’t believe it when he told me that he spent his summers in the Catskills too! His family stayed at Grossingers, only a few miles away. I still don’t know his name but we had a warm connection of nostalgic coincidence.

The ending of this post is kind of a P.S. that wrote itself. My husband Doug and I decided at the last minute to go to the gym last night at a very random time. Talk about coincidence. As we walked in, I saw the man I’d been writing about. He had been just as amazed about our conversation and had shared it with his girlfriend.

By the way, his name is Ian and his thesis was more specifically about animal assisted therapy, exactly what the Doods do.

On a totally different note, a belated happy birthday to Stanley who turned five in May and to Henry who turned two.

ELBEE Belated? Seriously?

Gus Brings the Love

There is always a sense of joy and privilege, responsibility too, when you take a therapy dog to work. Every time is special but there are some days that just stand out.

On Wednesday, when I visited UCLA with Gus, he was at the top of his game. He was having a great hair day, at his fluffiest best. His tail never stopped wagging as we greeted countless people on our way to the elevator.

When we reached our regular Resnick neuropsych units, there was the usual air of excitement. Everyone, staff and patients alike, were as happy to see Gus as he was to see them. It almost looked as if he was smiling. But as the morning went on, Gus had some interactions that epitomized the profound emotional power of therapy dogs.

A very talkative teenage girl was telling us about her animals at home. She was incredibly engaged with Gus, brushing him, hugging him, giving him belly rubs. Still, I could tell she had severe problems. I noticed several cuts on her arms and she kept repeating that she didn’t ever want to forget anything about Gus. When we were leaving she said very quietly, “This is the first thing that’s made me want to live in a long time.”

In another group, I was sharing some of the dogs’ accessories. I put on Gus’s birthday headband and asked if anyone was celebrating. No one said they were but a few minutes later, one of the boys whispered to me that it was his birthday. He very seriously told me that he didn’t want anyone to know because he didn’t celebrate birthdays. I asked if he was okay with Gus and the headband. With the trace of a smile, he said “Yes, that was okay.”

When we went into one of the day rooms, a young man, whom I believe is severely autistic and generally non-verbal, was on a sofa with his one-on-one aid, keeping his distance from everyone. At first he didn’t want Gus to come any closer but after a few minutes the aid indicated that the patient had changed his mind. I walked over and gently lifted Gus up in front of him. He smiled as he awkwardly petted him. Then I heard him say two words,”soft” and “remember.” He was the same young man, who, a few months earlier, with encouragement from other patients, had petted Stanley.

Driving home later, I was thinking about the magic I had just witnessed and somehow it brought to mind my late brother Stan who was an amateur magician. His business card said “How’d Ya Do That?” As I glanced at Gus, asleep on the seat, that’s exactly what I wondered.

I Made It!

The title of this post was prematurely optimistic. I wrote it the night before I set off on my annual birthday trek to the beach. To be honest, the day didn’t start off all that well.

First, hoping for a pep talk to get me going, I asked my husband Doug how I was going to do it. His response was, “I don’t know.” Then I accidentally sprayed 70 sunblock in my mouth.

ELBEE She doesn’t realize that at her age, the sun-damage ship has sailed.

Walking from my car up to the trail, it was already so warm that I asked myself, as I always do, if it would be possible to change my birthday to January.

ELBEE Or maybe start a normal tradition like going out to dinner.

At the beginning of the Temescal Ridge Trail, I shared with a random stranger that I was about to start my birthday hike and asked him if he’d mind taking my picture.

ELBEE Aren’t all strangers random?

Coincidentally, a few months ago when I was up in the mountains, a man running by called out, “Aren’t you the lady I saw walking to the beach on her birthday last summer?” He had been one of my photographers! I don’t know if I should have been flattered or concerned that he remembered me.

I have to rely on the kindness of strangers because I am not the queen of the selfie. The best one I took on Saturday, unfortunately, proves my point.

Despite the heat, I was comforted by being in the mountains. The views are picturesque. There is a sense of peace and tranquility. Most of the people I ran into seemed to feel the same way. There was a true sense of camaraderie.

The Hub Junction is kind of a landmark in the Santa Monica Mountains. It’s a little wooden pavilion that provides shade and a place to rest. Of course when I got there I had to ask another stranger for a photo but I also took one of my own, three bikers with dogs in their baskets.

GUS, STANLEY & HENRY Why doesn’t she take us?

ELBEE Hello? Aside from the obvious, she can’t even ride a bike.

The last half hour of the hike is a welcome downhill into the Palisades. The only problem is that it’s narrow and a little rocky so requires a bit of concentration. By the time I navigated my way into Temescal Gateway Park I was delighted to see Doug waiting for me by the car. What made it even better was big sweet Henry with his head out the window ready to offer some comfort and love.

Happy Birthday Stanley & Henry

This was a big week for the Doods. Henry turned one on the 16th and Stanley will be turning four tomorrow, on the 23rd. I have friends who celebrate their dogs’ birthdays by buying them In-N-Out Burger, serving them doggie cakes or arranging parties at the park.

I didn’t go quite that far, but I did hang a banner and put them in festive accessories.

ELBEE She forgot to mention that she took Henry to be neutered and to have a cyst removed from his tail! Happy birthday!

I confess. You may have noticed that he’s wearing an e-collar with his tiara and sunglasses.

I was a nervous wreck when I took Henry in for his surgery but he handled it like a trooper. He was raring to go when I picked him up the next morning and yes, he was wearing the e-collar or, as some call it, “the cone of shame.”

ELBEE It’s actually an Elizabethan collar named after ruffs worn by wealthy English landholders during that era. Hey, I dabble in history.

Surprisingly, Henry didn’t have a problem with it. It was almost as if he forgot he had it on. He just wanted a little extra attention. Unfortunately, he was bumping into doorways and chairs and into me and my husband. We have the bruises to prove it.

As a backup, in case there were problems, I had bought a ZenCollar, an alternative to the “satellite dish.” It’s made out of fabric and is inflatable.

The label said it would protect your pet as well as “shins, furniture and walls.” It would also restore “doggy dignity.”

Even though Henry was doing fine in the e-collar, after a few days of recovery, I thought he’d be more comfortable in the Zen version. It took him a few tries to figure out how to lay down with it on but then he looked positively relaxed.

Since the collar seemed to be working so well for Henry, I wondered why not give it a try. Couldn’t hurt and might work for me too. I mean who doesn’t want to find their Zen.

ELBEE I’m embarrassed for her.

I Hope Something Good Happens to You Today

Walking with the dogs, I saw this sticker on a car window.

ELBEE She got the photo off of the internet so that the people wouldn’t see her skulking around their driveway taking pictures.

It really inspired me. Right now, more than ever, we need to send each other positive messages.

Coincidentally, on the neighborhood page, which at times can be not so neighborly, someone had posted a photo of sidewalk chalk art that read, “thanks for the music.” It was to show appreciation for a neighbor who had to resort to front yard rehearsals during COVID.

The sticker made me think about how fortunate I am that good things happen to me every day when I’m with the dogs. Instead of guilt by association, I get “good” by association. With Gus and Stanley back to work, I feel the same overwhelming gratitude that I have each and every time we’ve returned over the past two years.

At the adult day health center, the man who only smiles when the dogs are there, met me and Gus at the door with the sweetest grin on his face. It’s almost like our little secret. He stayed with us as we made our way through the room and never stopped smiling.

Stanley was visiting the teen neuropsych unit at UCLA when a girl who was sitting on the floor next to me very quietly shared that he reminded her of Charley, my very first therapy dog. She had been a patient several years earlier and said that she’d never forgotten him.

**Stanley & Gus in their official** **Tarzana Hospital bandanas**

At Tarzana Hospital, a nurse told she didn’t know how she’d have made it through the morning without some dog love. A woman outside a patient’s door just wanted to hug Gus. Her aunt was very ill and also had severe dementia so visiting her was extremely stressful. Gus gave her the strength to go back into the room.

Now I’m hopefully going to make something good happen to you by giving you a laugh.

ELBEE That terrible segue made me laugh.

Last week I wrote about the dogs’ quirks, including that Henry sprints across the yard after he poops.

HENRY Why is she bringing that up again?

Hearing the story, a friend told me an even better one. She had a Dachshund with a very strange habit. Every time it pooped, it would run three circles around it!

And how about this photo of Gus, who turns eight this week, playing peekaboo under Henry who is ten months today!

Hello Henry

On July 17th, for a “big” birthday, tired of receiving mail about hearing aids and life alert bracelets, I did a solo hike in the Santa Monica Mountains from the San Fernando Valley to the beach. The walk gave me such a sense of freedom and helped me put things in perspective.

ELBEE But she is still having random strangers take her picture.

Despite the daughters’ concerns, I didn’t get lost or have to be rescued by helicopter.

ELBEE That’s because there were signs.

The next day, my husband Doug and I drove through the San Bernadino Mountains to pick up my very special birthday present, Henry, an eight week old Great Pyrenees/Poodle mix.

I had spoken to Annie, the breeder, at length about my hopes for Henry so she knew that temperament was crucial. She assured me the puppies had a head start on socialization because her six children held them every day.

As we went down the drive to her house, she was standing there holding him. It was love at first sight. When we sat on the porch and she handed him to me I remembered the advice I’d received from my friend Gina, an experienced trainer. When I’d gone to get Stanley she’d said “If you pick him up and he just relaxes in your arms, that’s the one.”

I can’t tell you how happy I was when Annie handed him to me and he cuddled in my lap. He did the same thing with Doug. We couldn’t have asked for our initial meeting to have gone any better.

Instead of heading straight home, my husband dropped me at his office, then went to pick up Gus and Stanley so we could introduce them on neutral ground. When they arrived, Henry grabbed Stanley’s leash and tried to drag him around and Gus was bit of a diva but fortunately there was no real drama. It was more like mutual curiosity.

GUS & STANLEY We were totally blindsided.

It’s hard to believe that was only a week ago. He’s already part of the pack, although I think he’s on probation.

He’s exhausting, which puppies are by definition. We’re working on potty training, not eating the furniture and not pulling Stanley’s hair. And if this post is a little off, it’s because yours truly has been getting up at the crack of dawn to let him out.

On the other hand he is sweet, confident, and adorable. With time, patience and a little luck, I hope he will grow into a life of love and service like his “brothers.”

Doug and Stanley

I was going to take this week off in honor of my big birthday, but then Doug, my husband, and Stanley had a moment that I really wanted to share.

ELBEE Her first birthday card was from a hearing aid company saying that she might want to stop in if that tells you anything.

Starting as far back as Charley, Doug has been supportive of my work with the dogs, but it wasn’t until recently that he became a true believer. Over the years, as a surgeon at Providence Tarzana, he saw faces light up when the dogs were in the hospital and he heard special stories about their visits.

Back when we were still taking polaroids, one of his elderly patients clutched a picture of Charley to her chest as she was wheeled into the operating room. When she awoke in recovery, the photo was the first thing she asked for.

When I’d bring one of them to his office, the whole atmosphere would change. Patients in the waiting room would forget they were waiting.

In the past few years the dogs have become very popular in the clinic where my husband is working. He had a birthday recently, and although he’s not big on celebrations, the staff insisted on a little party, of course with Gus and Stanley in attendance. They made everyone’s day.

GUS & STANLEY We were the center of attention. It was fabulous.

Despite having seen the dogs in action for so long, it was a quieter moment that turned my husband into a true believer. We were watching America’s Got Talent when it happened.

ELBEE Yes, that is their guilty pleasure. She still thinks she’s going to be discovered. Oy!

With three adorable children waiting in the wings, a tall, handsome 51 year old man was sharing his story. He revealed that his wife had been killed in the helicopter crash that had taken Kobe Bryant and eight other people. When he began to sing an emotional version of “Take a Look at Me Now,” it brought everyone, including Doug, to tears.

Stanley, who was relaxing on the outside deck, suddenly came running into the bedroom. With the hot summer weather, he loves to cool off out there and generally has to be convinced to come inside. That evening, somehow sensing what was going on, he went right to my husband and began leaning on him. Like Charley before him, Stanley was offering the “comfort lean.”

The look of amazement on Doug’s face said it all. As he stood there with Stanley pressed against his legs, he felt his intuition and his pure desire to help. In an unexpected setting, he had experienced the magic of dog therapy.

This One’s for You Stan

On one of my Ventura Blvd walks with Gus and Stanley, we passed a store window that was filled with origami cranes. The shop had been vacant for months and then had housed a temporary exhibit for local artists. Now these ethereal paper birds were hanging on copper chains.

It was part of the Memorial Crane Project started by artist Karla Funderburk. She created the art installations for the purpose of honoring loved ones lost to COVID-19.

In the Japanese culture, the crane is a symbol of good fortune and longevity, but also of hope and healing during difficult times. These hand made birds are her way to commemorate those lives and to help us mourn and heal collectively.

ELBEE Someone has been busy on Google.

The delicate birds, as well as a wall of remembrance, are in the windows of well-trafficked locations. At first the artist was making the cranes on her own, but as word spread, more and more people joined in. Her goal is to have a memorial display in each state. Sadly, it would take years and years to make a bird for each life that has been lost.

ELBEE I’m sorry to break the mood but I love the name Funderburk.

On a more personal note of remembrance, my brother Stan’s birthday was March third. I’ve written about him often since he was one of the most special people in my life and one of the funniest.

He has been gone almost twenty five years but I still light a candle on his birthday. After being so moved by the window display, I considered changing things up and folding some paper cranes in his honor.

ELBEE Origami is not in her skill set.

Instead, on his birthday, Gus, Stanley and I did a Zoom call with the kids and the teens in the neuropsych units at UCLA. Although you never know how it’s going to go, this one turned out to be so much fun.

It was just one of those visits where the patients were engaged and having a good time. They laughed at the dogs’ outfits. They were great sports. They agreed to sing for Gus’s dance and my silly “dance” with Stanley. They applauded. Okay, I milked the applause. It felt as if my brother’s spirit was with me, as if he was smiling down.

Recently, going through some old boxes, I found a poem that a friend had written for him when he was waging his battle with cancer. I want to share the closing lines.

“Why this has happened to you many people have contemplated, But one thing is for sure, your life will always be celebrated.”

Happy birthday Stan. I celebrate you.