dogs – Page 20 – Me and the Doods.com

A Gift of Remembrance

Friday morning the husband sent a cryptic text, “You need to come to the wound care center today.” Even for someone who sends short messages with no emojis, that was brief. When I asked which dog, he replied, “Either.”

I was taking Gus to Providence Tarzana to visit and figured, since the center is just next door, that he’d be the logical choice. Gus has still been mourning Elbee so I hoped that going to work would help to cheer him up just like it did Stanley.

From the moment we entered the lobby, he was on. His tail started wagging. The Gus “smile,” that we’ve seen very little of lately, was back. By then, the staff knew about Elbee so they all made a special effort for Gus. It was mutual therapy.

One patient visit really stood out. An adorable toddler, carrying her special stuffed animal, was in the Pediatrics hallway with her parents. Seeing the delighted look on her face at the sight of Gus, I had him dance for her, wave and play peek-a-boo. All of a sudden, giggling, she tried to give him her toy. The parents were amazed because she never shares it with anyone!

Of course there was the other patient who was happily petting Gus and taking pictures when suddenly she looked at me and asked if he was straight. I could only imagine what Elbee would have had to say about that one!

As we left the hospital and headed over to the wound care center, I assumed it must just be a hectic day when they needed a little dog love. Instead, after warm greetings and condolences about Elbee, the staff gathered around us as someone carried out a huge basket. At first I thought it must be a cake or maybe flowers, but when I saw what was inside, I started to cry.

There was a stone plaque with a poem that read:

“Missing your unconditional love and playful paws, we are now apart. You’re gone from our lives, but never from our heart.”

There were also three smaller stones. Each had paw prints and a date of passing. One said “Charley.” One said “Riley,” and one said Elbee. They were hoping we would put them in the yard near Charley’s bushes.

Charley burrowed under the purple flowering bushes on the morning that he left us. I knew the end was near for Elbee when he wanted to lay in the same place. As with the stones, there is beauty, peace and sadness in Charley’s bushes. There is also the immeasurable comfort of remembrance.

By the way, I just heard from Elbee informing me that the sentence above should have read “there are beauty, peace and sadness.”

The House Is Strangely Quiet

When I’m upset, I often go up into the mountains to work things through. Climbing the steep trails gives me a sense of peace, a sense of clarity. This week, however, was different. After losing Elbee, I found solace in the support of family, friends and countless people who had interacted with him at work. There was an outpouring of love. There was also a sharing of Elbee memories that made me happy and sad at the same time.

A therapist at UCLA commented that “he did things that none of us can do.” A friend who had seen him working in the ICU was amazed by his “understanding.” With tears in her eyes, a nurse said that she would miss the special moments when Elbee would come directly over to her as if to say hello.

Unfortunately, Gus and Stanley can’t share stories or express their feelings but it’s obvious that they’re both grieving. There are no games of tug or races around the yard.

The house is strangely quiet without Elbee. It’s not that the other two don’t bark, but Elbee was like the bark leader. He always had a lot to say. Gus and Stanley are moping around without him. They miss his voice and his presence.

Stanley is taking it particularly hard. He seems lost. Elbee, in a dog way, was his mentor. He taught him to heel and to do a perfect stay. He would tolerate the puppy behavior as Stanley pulled him around by his ear.

When I took Stanley to the groomer this week, everyone there said that they could feel his sadness. It was like an aura around him. We decided that taking him to the hospitals might help. He’d get lots of attention and would be distracted.

At UCLA most of the people we interact with were aware of what had happened. They were saddened by the loss but they’d had some time to process it. They were kind and caring. They showered Stanley with affection.

Going into Providence Tarzana was more difficult because many on the staff hadn’t heard about Elbee. They were learning about it from me. Several burst into tears. I was on the verge of losing it myself. Focusing on Stanley gave me room to breathe.

One of the other things that touched me this week was how many people were fans of the Elbee of my blog and how funny they thought he was. They didn’t want his voice to disappear. I suddenly asked myself, “Is it any stranger to hear him talking to me from above rather than from the couch in my office?” The oldest daughter does not need to answer that question.

Earlier in this post I was about to write that the past several days felt like an emotional cocktail. I immediately thought “Oh, Elbee would have had a field day with that one.” I promise he’ll be back when the time is right.

Goodbye Elbee and Thank You

On Sunday, Elbee was his usual, energetic, over the top barking self. Suddenly, on Monday, he was lethargic and not eating, usually one of his favorite activities. After visits back and forth to the vet, he had surgery on Thursday night and they found an inoperable tumor. Sadly we had to let him go.

I had a weird virus when he was a puppy and couldn’t start training him as early as I’d hoped. Missing some of the crucial stages, there were times I was about to give up but friends encouraged me to stick with it. I’m glad I did.

Elbee was that crazy, full of life character who seemed as if he’d live forever. His unique personality made him a favorite of so many. Once you met Elbee, you couldn’t forget him. My fifteen year old grandson said, “He’s my favorite animal to have ever lived.”

Elbee leaves a legacy of special moments. For instance, there was the little girl that he visited in the neuropsych unit. Within minutes she went from being out of control, smashing her head on the wall and crying, to sitting on the floor with Elbee, teaching him how to take a bow after he won her over with his tricks.

There was the teenage boy in another psych unit who was disruptive and yelling, not wanting to join the group gathered around Elbee. After some time, he actually lay down on the floor and hugged Elbee. Then I heard him whisper, “I love you.”

At an adult health center, a man with severe depression who only smiles when the dogs are there, fell in love with Elbee. When Elbee would put his paws on a chair and bend his head as if “saying his prayers,” the man always felt as if the prayers were just for him.

Somehow Elbee’s alter ego developed a life of its own in my blog. He inspired my writing. I could hear his voice and knew what he was going to say. In the strangest way I felt as if I was channeling him. It gave me such artistic freedom.

His sarcastic remarks kept me in check. His honesty was refreshing. His thoughts made me and other people laugh. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard, “Elbee is so funny.”

Now I have to day goodbye to the real Elbee and the Elbee of my imagination. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Thank you Elbee for being a larger than life character, for inspiring me and others and for making us laugh. Thank you for all of the amazing work and the healing that you did so selflessly.

Stanley and Gus are lost without you and keep waiting for you to come home. I take comfort in knowing that you’re home with your brother Charley and with your dear buddy Riley.

Hospitals, Hiking and Birthdays!

Four of the things that matter the most to me are family, friends, the Doods and hiking.

THE DOODS Not necessarily in that order and we are not responsible for this photo.

For my birthday this week I wanted to do something special. Instead of lunch or a party, I brought Stanley into UCLA for the second time. It turned out to be the best present I could have given myself.

I lost count of our lobby visits. The big, white shaggy muppet was back and drawing people to him. Then he met some of the staff from the neuropsych units who had heard about him and seen endless photos. They gave him a warm welcome.

We even went into Maddie’s room, the family surgery waiting area, for the first time. Like I had with Charley so many years ago, I followed the smiles around the room. Driving home, I had such a sense of joy and fulfillment. I knew that I had made the right choice for the day. The huge bouquet of roses from the husband didn’t hurt either.

But I needed part two of my celebration. Often I have done the “butt burner” on my birthday. It’s a really challenging local trail which, by the way, is not fun in July. Instead I decided to hike from the valley to the sea, about 8 or 9 miles. I had done it lots of times before but not in quite awhile and not alone. Hey, some people go skydiving. This was very tame in comparison.

THE DOODS That’s a great consolation.

Some family members, who shall remain nameless, thought it was crazy. Friends said “way to go.” The husband offered to pick me up as a gift. It was also just a couple of days from the date that my brother, Stanley’s namesake, passed away years ago so I knew he’d be watching over me and laughing.

There was a feeling of freedom while I was hiking. I took in the breathtaking views. I set my own pace, had time to reflect. I scrambled up a couple of side trails and only had to ask for directions twice.

I stopped someone to take the photo on the left below as I was starting out. Then I asked someone else at the Hub Junction, a well known meeting place along the beach route, to take another one.

ELBEE I don’t know which is more disturbing, that she’s doing the walk or asking strangers to take her picture.

I had such a quiet sense of accomplishment as I hiked into the park at Temescal Canyon where my special “driver” was waiting. The hike had been a little longer than I had remembered and the weather had been a bit warmer than I expected but just like taking Stanley into the hospital, it had been perfect. Happy birthday to me.

ELBEE Aye, Dios Mio and I don’t even speak Spanish.

Expect the Unexpected

Going to UCLA with one of the dogs always brings the unexpected. As soon as we enter the lobby we have all sorts of interactions, some calm and low key, some emotional and others just light and fun. Sometimes I find out that a simple encounter had much more impact than I realized. Wednesday was no exception.

I walked into the hospital, Gus bouncing along by my side with the usual smile on his face. Once I tie on his blue PAC bandana, he’s ready to take on the world. I think that like Elbee and Stanley, he enjoys solo encounters, being the center of attention. It’s his time to shine.

Three women came over to see him, saying how adorable he was. One of them, who is now a dog trainer, told me that she had been involved with PAC in its early days before she moved out of state. She was a huge fan of pet therapy. Another one of the women, who was hugging Gus, commented on how much better he was making her feel. Then, to my shock, she looked at me and quietly shared, “My husband just passed away.”

I later leaned that she had been visibly distraught when she’d first come downstairs. Gus was somehow the support that she needed. He was providing a serene space in the midst of heartbreak.

Shortly after saying goodbye to the three women, Gus and I found ourselves surrounded by about ten people. Being a teaching hospital, UCLA often has groups of students or faculty passing through. When they first spied Gus I heard a collective chorus of, “OMG he’s so cute.”

With that kind of an audience how could I resist. Out came the tricks. Gus is so familiar with the routine that he started doing some of them on his own. I asked him to dance and before I knew it, he was waving and playing peekaboo. He finished to a round of applause.

As I took him outside for a short break before we headed up to our regular neuropsych units, I was struck by the difference in the two impromptu visits. The three women, especially the wife of the man who had just passed, needed a few quiet moments of comfort. For the upbeat group, it was an entertaining break in their day.

I was trying to put it all in perspective but Gus and his fellow therapy dogs, don’t have to think it through. It’s simply what they instinctively do. The only tell tale sign of how much they give is how tired they are at the end of a work day.

Someone recently sent me this photo of what therapy dogs may actually be feeling.

ELBEE Sorry to break the mood but I believe it’s called a meme and I only feel like that at home.

Okay, maybe I am guilty of oversharing with the Doods.

Stanley Is on Probation…the Good Kind

Stanley did his first official visit to UCLA Medical Center last week. It’s kind of a probationary period to be sure that he’s ready for the big time like patient visits and possibly the neuropsych units.

ELBEE Oh, it’s probation not parole. I couldn’t figure out what I had done wrong and kept trying to get my record expunged. I never thought that being funny was a misdemeanor.

Being able to practice in the lobby and other public areas of the hospital is such a gift. On the day that he passed his test, just for fun, I had taken him to meet a few people on staff. Now with his acceptance letter from Pet Partners, it was for real.

I was so proud but also a little nervous as we entered the front doors. With the high ceilings, the noise and the chaos it can be a bit overwhelming. Stanley immediately put my fears to rest. He strutted at my side like a pro.

ELBEE It’s amazing how often we have to do that. She is very high maintenance.

As one of his first tests, I walked him over to meet Virgil, the security guard who is a big fan of Gus’s. Not only did Stanley sit for Virgil to pet him but then he nudged against him. It was love at first “lean.”

With his size and fluffy muppet appearance, Stanley is hard to miss. One person after another approached. He interacted with people of all ages as if he’d been doing it for years. From toddlers to seniors in wheel chairs, Stanley was receptive and sweet, no jumping, no barking. I lost count of how many times I heard the words that are always music to my ears, “He just made me so happy.”

There was a moment right after we arrived when it truly became real. Erin, from the People Animal Connection, saw Stanley and asked why I hadn’t put on his hospital bandana. I guess part of me wondered if it was too soon. Fortunately I just happened to have Charley’s old scarf in my purse.

ELBEE What a surprise!

As I tied it around Stanley’s big shaggy neck, it struck me that he was really an official therapy dog. It was a simple gesture but as it had been with Charley, Elbee and Gus, it was a symbol of the journey ahead. And once again I was lucky enough to be holding the leash.

The Water Bottle

ELBEE “The Water Bottle” Is she serious?

The other morning, I was in the mountains taking advantage of June gloom. I love the cool weather before the heat sets in. I love seeing the last hurrah of the spring wildflowers through the mist.

ELBEE I actually agree with her on this one. I find it refreshing and I think it’s good for my already fabulous coat.

I had hiked up to one of my favorite overlooks above the main trails. It’s a peaceful spot that’s popular with the “regulars.” On clear days, there are spectacular ocean views. One man goes up there to practice tai chi. I sometimes get inspired to do push ups on the rocks. I’ve walked all the dogs up there and have even taken selfies with Elbee.

ELBEE Please don’t remind me. I was a mess from hiking. And do you like how she just happened to drop in the push ups. Although at her age, I guess I should say “way to go.”

STANLEY I wondered what she was doing.

I was enjoying the view when suddenly I saw a water bottle under the bushes. The curmudgeon in me was immediately annoyed that someone had littered. Littering, especially in the mountains, is one of my pet peeves. Years ago, when I used to take inner city high school students hiking, I was known for the “litter lecture.”

As I looked closer at the bottle, I noticed a white label on the side. In tiny printing it said, “Amber (German Shepherd) May Her Soul Rest In Peace. June 13, 2019.” The owner went on to write that this was one of her favorite spots.

Over the years, I’ve seen all sorts of memorials on the trails. There are man made rock formations, small wooden signs and strategically placed benches. At a mountain park that was a military installation during the Cold War, there is even a faded water bowl with the name Bosco on it.

But I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as simple and as heartfelt as the bottle. The water was left there for other dogs who, like Amber, were enjoying the mountains with their owners. It wasn’t litter. It was remembrance.

When I went back a few days later, the bottle was gone. Okay, I admit that the anti-litterbug in me was a tiny bit relieved. Still, I thought of Amber. I feel as if her soul, like those of so many other dogs who loved the mountains, is running free up there. It’s the place that I feel closest to Charley.

Training a Therapy Dog…Marathon or Sprint?

Last Sunday when I was hiking, there was a trail race going on in the Santa Monica Mountains. Entrants had a choice of a 5K or a half marathon. I watched from the top of a hill but, being a devout non-runner, would have chosen neither. If for some weird reason I ever get inspired to run, I just break into a 50 yard jog and that takes care of the urge.

Hearing that, it may be shocking to find out that I ran the L.A. Marathon. Yes, the L.A. Marathon. Okay, it was years ago and I walked most of it but it was still one of most challenging things that I’ve ever done, other than training Elbee. Just kidding.

ELBEE Not funny.

But I finished before dark and even have the medal hanging on my desk chair.

ELBEE That’s a marathon medal? I thought it was a piece of cheap costume jewelry.

It also made me think that training a therapy dog really is a marathon. Initially it’s a puppy sprint. You have to get through the peeing everywhere, the not sleeping, the chewing shoes and in some cases furniture. Then after a few months, it’s time for obedience training.

ELBEE Is it just me or is going from a mountain race to the marathon to training a puppy the most convoluted reasoning you’ve ever heard?

Once Stanley mastered sit, stay and down, the real endurance run began. Just like cheering crowds offer support along the marathon route, I’ve had lots of support along the way with people cheering us on, hoping that he’ll follow in his big brothers’ paw prints.

There is one group in particular that has gone above and beyond…the staff at Providence Tarzana Wound Care Center. Most of them knew Elbee and Gus from the hospital and had heard lots about the “huge puppy.”

Then on a day that my husband was working there, he called to ask me to bring Stanley down. A patient had heard about him and was really anxious to meet him. From the moment we walked into the waiting room, it was like training central. As a bonus, Stanley had his first elevator ride on the way up to the office.

It was so much fun and he was such a hit with the staff, and with the patient, that we’ve gone back again. One of the nurses even went so far as to borrow a walker so that he would be used to it for testing. I’m not saying he was perfect, that’s him “signing in” at the desk, but I couldn’t ask for more enthusiasm and for better practice conditions.

When, fingers crossed, the day comes that Stanley and I cross the testing finish line, they will have helped us get there. Hopefully I can repay their kindness by bringing him in to comfort patients as an official therapy dog.

Happy Birthday Stanley

It’s hard to believe that Stanley turned one this week. I’m having such guilt about not throwing him a party but I did sing “Happy Birthday.” The only problem is that the way he was staring at me and tilting his head back and forth, I think I may have been hurting his ears.

It seems like just yesterday that I was falling in love with the tiny puppy cuddled in my lap. Now I could probably fit in his lap

GUS Do dogs have laps?

ELBEE No they don’t.

Watching him go through different ages and stages has been a fascinating journey. I don’t remember the other Doods changing so much from month to month. It’s probably because I’ve been writing about him. Let’s be honest, if I didn’t have baby books for the daughters and they asked me trick questions like “at what age did I walk?” I’d have to make up the answers. Just kidding.

ELBEE Way too much oversharing. Not kidding.

GUS Do I have a babybook?

There have always seemed to be two Stanleys, the sweet well behaved one and the totally trying one. From toddler to teen, he could be cuddling one minute and then carrying on like a silly puppy the next. At one point, when he was being disruptive in class, I even asked the trainer what was wrong with him and she replied, “Oh he’s a teenager.”

I’m not saying he’s perfect, far from it, but the last month or so has been a real calming period which is fortunate because he is a big boy! He plays beautifully with Gus and Elbee, seeming to realize that his size can be intimidating. He follows me and the husband around the house, just wanting to be near us. When we come home, he’s the picture of sheer quiet joy, no mouthing, no barking.

When we’re out walking, he’s showing more impulse control. I can see there are times when he’s ready to jump on someone but then somehow stops himself. We met a woman in a wheelchair and he just leaned against her while we talked.

On the other hand, he is a huge attention seeker. If I start to brush one of the other two, he will push them out of the way so that I’ll brush him. If someone is not giving him the attention he thinks he deserves, he has a ridiculous go to move. He starts spinning around yanking on his own leash, or on Gus’s if he’s with us. Unfortunately, it works. People usually start laughing and are immediately engaged.

I was afraid I had another diva in the making but I suddenly realized that he was the definition of a ham, someone who says and does silly things to get attention. I confess, he gets it from my side of the family.

His namesake, my brother Stanley, was a ham in the very best sense of the word. Whether it was an audience of two or two hundred he would have them eating out of his hand. My father was the ultimate ham. When I was a little girl we’d spend summers at my grandparents’ hotel in the Catskills. My dad would emcee the shows and entertain the guests. He was that guy…the one everyone knew and loved.

When, with luck, the day comes that Stanley is a therapy dog, being a ham may be a good thing. He can shower people with love and kindness and then leave them laughing.

The Grandma Train

Other than being a mother to the daughters and to the Doods

ELBEE Not necessarily in that order

being a grandmother is one of the greatest gifts in my life. Lately though, I’ve been getting all sorts of signs that I may have missed the grandma train.

First, I saw three annoying yentas on tv pitching their show, Bubbie Knows Best. I’m an annoying yenta. Why wasn’t I contacted?

ELBEE I can’t disagree with her. Not even an audition? I’m stumped.

Then I saw a review for a book titled, Stories for My Grandchild. Ok, I admit that I was a little jealous that I hadn’t written it but that’s not what really got to me. The author was described as an “influencer!” What is an influencer and how exactly do you get to be one? Do you need a YouTube show? Don’t I influence people?

ELBEE The only thing she’s influenced me to do is to get therapy.

Then I saw another book called Nanaville, “witty advice on modern grand parenting (spoiling the kids is out!)”. Really? I was at Target with my grandkids and assured them that it was my job to spoil them. Maybe it’s time for another book.

As if all of this wasn’t enough, then there was the conversation between my daughter and her daughter. I won’t mention which daughter. I’ll only say that she’s the one who has the most vivid memories of my bodybuilding days.

Not only did I compete when they were young and I was young. I went back and did masters when I was in my forties and they were in their teens. It was a little odd to hear voices in the audience yelling out, “Mom, flex your abs.”

THE DOODS This is way too much information.

My ten year old granddaughter was complaining about something in her life, some typical childhood drama. That’s when the daughter informed her that her childhood was nothing compared to what she went through. Warming up to the subject, she explained how grandma, with a perpetual fake tan, would get up on stage in a bathing suit and flex her muscles. My granddaughter kind of knew but had never had it explained so graphically.

With all of this oversharing, I might as well put up this photo taken backstage at a competition. And yes, the daughters were with me. If you look at the cap, you’ll see that I was a Dodger fan even then. Coincidentally, I’ll have Dodger news next week.

ELBEE I’m sure that’s the first thing people noticed but nice tie in to her Dodger post.

On a serious note, I want to say thank you to the daughters for filling my heart with joy and for making me a grandma. I also want to wish a happy Mother’s Day to all of the special women in my life for caring and sharing. And to my mom, who has been gone for so many years, I miss you and I’m thinking about you. The daughters would have loved you.