Covid-19 – Page 3 – Me and the Doods.com

I Can Still Bench Press the Dogs & Other Things I’m Grateful For

In this uncertain world where watching the news can give you stomach pains, I thought it would be a good idea to focus on the positive.

ELBEE That is way too much information.

First, thank you to my husband Doug, my daughters, sons-in-law and grandchildren. My life would have so many empty spaces without you. A shout out to Jennifer for doing Thanksgiving. I am grateful that we could be together and that all I had to bring were my fabulous stuffing and sweet potatoes.

ELBEE Seriously?

Thank you to Doug for his steady support during the pandemic and for coming to terms with the fact that Henry is getting larger by the day

I truly appreciate the friends in my life. COVID-19 made it difficult for us to see each other but I always knew you were there. When you shared that my writing was bringing you joy, you brought me joy.

I am also grateful for the memories of family and friends who are gone but whose loving presence guides me. I will always hear the laughter of my brother Stan and my dear friend Eileen.

The mountains are still my spiritual space, my sanctuary. Standing on an overlook with the ocean in the distance gives me peace. Thank you to my mountain friends. We may not know each others’ names but I treasure our camaraderie.

I want to acknowledge the older couple who have made it their mission to clean up trash on the trails. I frequently see them coming down with bags full which is inspiring but sad at the same time.

Thank you to the bike riders who have finally gotten bells and actually say “thank you” when you move over to let them pass instead of trying to run you down.

ELBEE She can’t get past her issues with the bikers and that last statement is a bit sarcastic for a gratitude list.

I am deeply grateful that I have been able resume in-person visits with Gus and Stanley. A year and a half of Zoom calls was better than nothing but seeing them interact with patients, family and staff is heartwarming. I have been so touched by the incredible welcome back that we have received at UCLA and at Tarzana Hospital.

I feel so fortunate to be able to continue on this therapy dog journey that began fifteen years ago with Charley and then Elbee. The Doods have taught me about kindness, healing and unconditional love. They have filled me with gratitude.

ELBEE Finally it’s about us.

And I can still bench press them!

HENRY I didn’t sign up for this.

ELBEE I feel your pain.

Lead with Kindness

The Doods are truly back in action. After the stress and uncertainly of the past year and a half, it’s so gratifying to see them doing what they do best.

On Wednesday, Stanley and I visited our regular neuropsych units at UCLA. The teens, who can be tough to reach, were amazing. One of the boys, who’s very familiar with the props and pictures I’ve been using since Zoom, offered to help. He asked the other kids to name the dogs’ favorite game and even held up this photo.

When we were leaving the floor, two of the therapists, whom I’ve known for years, really wanted me to understand how deeply moved they were to have the dogs back. With tears in their eyes above their masks, they shared that some of the positive behavior that I see so routinely, only happens when the dogs are there.

For the first time in over a year and a half, I took Gus into Tarzana Hospital. Although we did see a patient or two, we were there for the staff. From the security guards to the administration to the medical personnel, we were surrounded by happiness.

As we moved from one nurses’ station to another, with Gus cuddling and performing, I heard the phrase that has become so familiar. “Thank goodness you’re back.”

ELBEE We’ll let her think they were talking about her.

On Saturday, Stanley and his PAC buddy Herman worked a job fair at UCLA, something that would have been impossible only a few months ago. It reminded me of how much joy they can bring to any event.

People came by to chat, to take photos (several selfies), to share their own dog stories. The job market is a serious issue, but the event was festive and Stanley and Herman made it even more fun.

ELBEE I saw Stanley handing out his resumé.

Driving past an elementary school in my neighborhood this morning, I noticed this marquis:

**Character Trait of the month: KINDNESS**

It made me think how the dogs bring out the best in people by leading from a place of kindness. Now, in these still difficult times, we truly need to do the same.

A simple encounter at the market brought that home even more. I was pushing my cart out the door when a man who was entering moved over to give me room to pass. I said “thank you.” He looked at me, smiled and said “thank you!”

Here a Henry, There a Henry…

With COVID and the current outbreaks of leptospirosis and canine influenza, I’ve been very cautious about taking Henry out. Now that we’re vaccinated, I’m making up for lost time.

I’ve started taking him all over the neighborhood. It’s funny how some people will look at us strangely, as if something’s off.

ELBEE Could it be her 80’s hair?

Some don’t seem to recognize me without Gus and Stanley.. Others will kind of hesitate before asking, “Where are they?”

Socializing with a large, sometimes goofy, puppy can be very interesting, especially if that puppy likes to stop and stare at people.

HENRY Is she talking about me?

ELBEE Yes. Get used to it.

Thanks to Henry, I met some very nice neighbors around the corner. In the past we’ve just smiled and waved but the other morning Henry stopped in his tracks to watch them unloading groceries from their car. When it became obvious that he wasn’t going to move until they paid attention to him, they started laughing and walked over.

As I introduced him, they immediately said, “That’s our grandson’s name.” That led to talk about families and then, of course, the conversation turned to dogs. They had lost theirs several months ago and were thinking it was almost time for a new one. Meeting Henry gave them a little more incentive.

And what’s the chance that the next day I’d meet someone else with a grandson named Henry? Up until now the only Henry in my life was one of my oldest and dearest friends (we go back to junior high) whose real name is Elliott but whom I call Henry. That’s a whole different story for another day

ELBEE I’m on the edge of my seat.

It was a woman I’ve known casually for years. I usually stop to chat when she’s outside gardening. As we walked by, she called out, “Who’s the new one?” I answered “This is Henry.” She smiled and said, “That’s my grandson’s name.”

She was curious as to what kind of dog he was. When I told her he was a mix of Poodle and Great Pyrenees, her smile grew even bigger. Coincidentally, her grandson Henry’s family had recently gotten two Great Pyrenees.

Her grandson was so happy with the dogs that he began his Bar Mitzvah speech talking about them. He felt that it was very special to have them together because they would always have companionship and love. When his speech turned to Noah’s ark, he said he believed that Noah led the animals two by two not just to reproduce, but to keep them from feeling alone.

As she was telling me the story, I thought how great it was that something as simple as the name Henry could lead to such meaningful conversations. His demeanor also helps. He’s a little calmer and more watchful like the Great Pyrenees who are often used to guard sheep.

HENRY What’s a sheep?

Happy Halloween Henry

ELBEE Hey, who doesn’t love a little alliteration.

This week, several of the PAC teams took part in the UCLA Medical Center Halloween festivities. The Doods have done this as far back as Charley and Elbee.

Last year, with COVID, the PAC dogs did a virtual celebration with several teams on Zoom. It was fun sharing the screen and interacting, but there’s nothing like actual contact.

This year was so special because we were back in person. It was time to bring out the pumpkin costumes!

ELBEE I thought those looked familiar.

When I decided that I was going to wear one of their multi-colored wigs, I had an issue. Does one put it on at home and drive all the way to UCLA or does one put it on right before walking in. I asked one of my daughters her opinion and she suggested that one not wear it at all.

ELBEE I’m with her.

I also had a wig for Stanley but since he wasn’t in the mood, “Aunt” Carol, who always helps at Halloween, had the pleasure of wearing it. We both looked fabulous.

From the moment we met in the lobby with our dogs dressed as lions, pumpkins and even a hot dog, there was so much laughter. As we posed for a group photo, people walking by forgot their problems and stopped to capture the moment on their phones.

When we went up to the floors, the response was even better. I had almost forgotten how special it is to see a child’s face light up when a dog walks into their room or to feel the relief of their families. One very sick young man had only a slight response but his dad was almost in tears.

The hospital staff has been incredibly happy about the dogs returning. Our Halloween visit was no exception. I lost count of how many nurses, in quiet asides, told me what a physical and emotional toll the past year has taken. The dogs were the best medicine.

In my usual spirit of honesty, I have something to get off my chest. It’s about my singing.

ELBEE Singing? That noise she makes is not singing and it has nothing to do with this post.

When a friend sent me photos of myself in the mask and wig, I realized that I was unrecognizable, just like the contestants on The Masked Singer, one of my guilty pleasures. I could have burst into song and no one would have known it was me! Maybe there’s still hope.

And Happy First Halloween Henry!

Me and My Shadow

ELBEE It’s ironic that someone who is such a bad singer has a propensity for using song titles.

This post was going to be about Henry following Stanley around like his shadow, the same way that Stanley shadowed Elbee. To be honest, I was surprised that he followed Elbee rather than Riley, our late, very patient Golden Retriever.

ELBEE I resent that. I was a mentor extraordinaire.

Henry runs laps, plays tug-of-war and has spirited wrestling matches with both Gus and Stanley. Still, he seems to take his cues from Stanley. Even his brief puppy time outs are usually lying next to or on top of Stanley.

It’s so helpful with his training. When I’m about to head out the door with the dogs and I tell them to wait, he looks to Stanley for guidance. When someone comes into the house, instead of getting carried away with puppy exuberance, he mimics Stanley’s attitude.

As I said, that’s what I was planning to write about. Then, instead, goaded by Elbee’s voice, I began going off in a different direction. It may also be due to the stress of watching the Dodgers play.

Actually, the title song of this post, aside from relating to the dogs, has very sentimental meaning for me. My dad used to sing it when I was a kid.

We spent summers at my grandparents’ resort in the Catskill Mountain. It was like Dirty Dancing without Patrick Swayze. On weekends, my dad would emcee the hotel shows. He would often sing when he was onstage. Goodnight Irene and Me and My Shadow were two of his favorites. I can still picture him.

For so many of us, special songs entertain and bring back memories. Music has been found to be very therapeutic. At UCLA, before COVID, there was sometimes a woman in the lobby playing a harp. Leaving the neuropsych units with the dogs I would often chat with another woman who was waiting to go in and play keyboards for the patients.

There is so much laughter whenever I have the kids sing while Gus is dancing or Stanley is dancing with me. I wonder if I could take it a step further. If I really practiced, maybe took lessons, could I improve my singing? After all, my father and brother could each carry a tune. Then I could integrate it into my hospital visits with the dogs. It would be a win/win situation.

ELBEE Only if the patients were hard of hearing.

If We Ever Needed Therapy Dogs…

A recent Los Times Angeles article spoke about how front line workers are currently reporting high levels of stress and anxiety. To cope with the emotional exhaustion, they are using everything from therapy to support groups to meditation. It was no surprise that many are turning to dogs for comfort. Some nurses are even certifying their own dogs to help each other out.

The article was reflective of what’s happening at UCLA. The patients, of course, are happy to have the dogs back. A boy in the neuropsych unit quietly shared that he had known all of the Doods since Charley and how much the visits meant to him. A man being wheeled to the elevator on a gurney smiled and waved. So did the orderly pushing him.

It’s that orderly and others on staff who need the support more than ever. Over the past few months, I’ve written about the warm welcome back to the dogs but the situation has intensified. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard nurses and doctors say, “Thank goodness the dogs are back.” People on staff have hugged Gus and Stanley as they’ve looked up and said, “I don’t know how I’d have gotten through the day without this.”

During my last visit to UCLA, I stopped in the volunteer office with Stanley. The reception was warm and loving. When I mentioned how touched I was by the reaction of the staff, one of the volunteers said she knew exactly what I meant.

She happened to be in the hall when someone from the People Animal Connection walked by with her dog. Immediately, a group in hospital uniforms gathered around simply to have a moment. The volunteer saw such emotion, such joy and relief, that it brought tears to her eyes.

Over the past fifteen years I’ve often shared the wonder I feel at being a part of what Charley, Elbee, Stanley and Gus have been able to accomplish. They have taught me about unconditional kindness. They have shown me miracles.

The pandemic has brought my appreciation of their abilities and my sense of responsibility to new levels. Knowing what the dogs can do and then seeing it taken away when it was most needed was so difficult.

Watching them help the healing process in this new, uncertain world, I feel a deeper sense of gratitude. I am also inspired to hang in there with Henry as he finds his place.

On a totally separate note, if the Dodgers had lost the series in San Francisco, there wouldn’t have been enough therapy dogs to comfort me!

Traditionally Nontraditional

In the past I’ve written about my exploits on Yom Kippur, a biggie in the Jewish religion, the holiest day of the year.

ELBEE I don’t think that “exploits” is the appropriate term here. And “biggie?”

It’s a day of atonement, reflection and remembrance. Traditionally observant people fast and spend most of the day in temple, some stream services on line. Nontraditional people watch Dodger games, hike and take their dogs to the vet. Perhaps I should explain.

GUS & STANLEY She really should.

The Dodgers are in a tight race with the Giants in their division so they need all the fan support they can get. It was the eve of Yom Kippur, barely dark out, so I was almost in the clear. And would they have won without me watching?

In the morning I hiked up to my favorite overlook in the Santa Monica Mountains, my sanctuary, my spiritual place. As I sat on a boulder, with hawks soaring over the canyon, memories washed over me of some very special people who left us way too soon.

My parents passed in their forties so I see them as young and vibrant. I can picture my dad emceeing shows at my grandparents’ Catskill resort. I can see my mother’s knowing smile when I was up to something. I think she realized that I was going to marry Doug before I did.

In the silence of the mountains, I can almost hear my brother Stan’s laughter. He could light up a room. A TV director, he put everyone in the studio at ease, from stars to stagehands. He passed away from cancer at forty seven.

My dearest friend Eileen is another person I celebrate on Yom Kippur. We loved, understood and supported each other. Since Eileen’s ashes are in the ocean along with my brother’s, her kids and I have made it a holiday tradition to drive to the beach and place flowers in the sand for them. It’s our way of saying Yizkor, the prayer for the deceased.

Since I am not going to lie about Yom Kippur, I have another confession.

ELBEE She’s probably hoping to get dispensation from a rabbi.

Instead of making the pilgrimage to the beach, I took all of the Doods for their vaccines. In my defense, with COVID and lots of people adopting pets, it’s very difficult to get an appointment, let alone three. I made them weeks ago and had no idea they fell on the holiday.

When my cousin Janet shared that she had watched services on line, I felt a slight twinge of guilt. When she admitted that while she was watching she was also texting, knitting and drinking coffee, I felt so much better.

Perspective

Henry, our newest addition, is a great puppy but he is still waking up before the sun. The other morning, while I was feeling like a sleep deprived zombie, I received a very important text.

At first I assumed it was from a relative or friend on the east coast because of the time difference. Instead it was from my dear friend and hairdresser extraordinaire, Brian, letting me know that he had an appointment available to color my hair.

ELBEE Shocker, she’s not a natural blonde!

I think I surprised Brian when I texted back a short time later to confirm. Hey, it’s my hair! I added that I thought we were both up way too early. Brian’s response was so positive it almost made me look at daybreak from a different perspective.

He wrote, “I love the mornings. God gives us the peace before the day unfolds, kinda like we ease into the chaos.” Could I possibly convince myself that it was fun to get up with Henry when it was still dark out?

ELBEE Probably not.

During a recent visit to UCLA, I had not so much a change in perspective as a greater awareness of what our dogs can accomplish. COVID has forced us to do countless Zoom calls over the past year and a half, and even to cancel planned visits, so it’s very special when we can actually go into the hospital.

As Stanley and I walked into our regular units in Resnick Neuropsych the joy was almost palpable. The kids under twelve and then the teens were so responsive. They shared stories about their pets. They sang when Stanley and I danced. They played along to “who wore it best” when I put silly sunglasses on me and Stanley. It was if they were just hanging out and having fun.

Then I noticed an older boy trying to help a younger one who seemed to have more severe problems. He was encouraging him to join in and to pet Stanley. It was a stark reminder that we were in a hospital and that the kids were dealing with serious issues.

That particular day, more than one therapist took me aside to tell me how grateful and relieved they were to have the dogs back. They said it was just not the same without them. The dogs relax the kids and bring out a much different energy… an energy they don’t usually see.

I have never taken the positive behavior of the kids for granted. When they chatter and laugh, it’s music to my ears. Still, hearing from the professionals who are treating them, puts it in a much larger perspective. It confirms how important the dogs are in the healing process. It fills me with a sense of gratitude and wonder.

Every Day Is National Dog Day

Last Thursday was National Dog Day but anyone who has ever loved a dog knows that everyday is National Dog Day.

ELBEE That’s a given.

Dogs have been a part of my life as far back as I can remember. In my early pictures there always seemed to be a dog in my stroller.

ELBEE I hate to judge but she was a pretty unattractive toddler. Her mother put them there so that people could say “how cute,” without having to lie. Remember, it was before photoshop.

About fifteen years ago, my love and respect for dogs rose to a whole new level when Charley, my first therapy dog, came into my life. I will never forget how brave I felt walking into UCLA with him by my side or the smiles that greeted us. Thinking about his first bed visit with a woman waiting for a heart transplant still fills me with wonder.

Over the past month or so, sitting outside early in the morning with Henry has given me time to reflect. It’s very peaceful and quiet. I think about Charley and Elbee who are gone.

ELBEE We are gone but never will be forgotten if I have anything to do with it.

I also think about Gus and Stanley who have done so many Zoom calls over the pandemic that I’ve lost count. A few weeks ago when restrictions were slightly lifted, I was so grateful to take them in to see the kids in the neuropsych units in person. Two of those visits have stuck with me.

One was with a teenage girl who had lost her dog and started crying as soon as she saw Stanley. He immediately walked over and began leaning on her and kissing her face as she wrapped her arms around him. The other was with a teenage boy who was simply missing his own dog and had a similar interaction.

What really brought it home to me was their response the next time I came in and brought Gus. The two teens lit up at seeing him. Then each of them quietly shared with me how much Stanley had helped them.

The other morning, as the moon was setting, I had my own therapy dog moment. Tired from getting up so early with Henry but getting a kick out of watching him wrestle and run laps with Gus and Stanley, I made a huge mistake.

I started to read the newspaper which seems to be filled with nothing but depressing and anxiety provoking stories. Somehow the dogs sensed the change in mood. They stopped romping and cuddled around me.

Inspired by moments like that, I celebrate them every day. They are kind and loving heroes.

When Life Hands You Lemons, Make Lemonade

ELBEE Where does she come up with these titles?

Over the past month or so, after having been out of the hospital for over a year, Gus and Stanley were allowed to visit their regular neuropsych units. COVID protocol had changed some things but what absolutely remained the same was the rush of joy when the dogs walked in.

Then last week we took a giant step backwards. With the Delta variant raising its ugly head, we (the husband included), decided it was not really safe to bring them in. It made me so sad because the smiles, and even the tears, of some of the kids had reminded me how much it meant to them to see the dogs in person.

Talking to Jen, the manager of the People Animal Connection, I asked if we were still doing Zoom calls. I surprised myself because I am the same person who had so many problems with the technology.

ELBEE She had a Zoom meeting with a large group of nurses with no audio.

When Jen assured me that it was no problem, I had a brilliant idea. Why not take advantage of the situation and include Henry. Who wouldn’t like to see a three month old puppy? I was truly going to make lemonade out of lemons.

ELBEE Oy

On Wednesday morning when I logged in for the call, all three of the dogs were sitting in the usual spot on the bedroom floor in front of my laptop. I had Henry on a leash, assuming I would need that to keep him with us.

ELBEE The truth is she didn’t want him running around and peeing.

I needn’t have worried. Henry follows his “brothers” everywhere and stayed right with them, vying for screen time. Who knew he had an inner diva! If I thought my early calls were chaotic, they were a snooze fest compared to Henry joining in the fun.

This turned out to be a positive. From all of the virtual visits we’ve done over the past year, I’ve learned that the kids enjoy it a lot more when the dogs are acting up. They’d rather see them wrestling than doing a perfect sit. Having Henry on the call was a gift. He even made the teens laugh.

And here’s the Henry update that you’ve all been waiting for. He went for his checkup this week and now weighs in at 25 pounds of adorable puppy.

My granddaughter Samantha bonded with him in July and August. What a difference a month makes!😄