hiking – Page 3 – Me and the Doods.com

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.

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.”

Happy Tears

With the world slowly reopening, Gus and Stanley have returned to work, doing what they do best. Every time I watch their interactions, I am reminded of what a gift it is to share them in person. After months of trial and error the Zoom calls were almost fun but there is nothing like the smile on a patient’s face when a dog walks into the room.

Aside from the overall joy and positivity, there are always moments that stand out. Gus, along with his UCLA “co-workers,” Winston and Izzy, visited the migrant children who are still being housed at the Long Beach Convention Center.

Groups of kids were brought outside, their situation temporarily fading away as they played with the dogs. Gus loved being the center of attention. Then I walked him over to see a young girl who was off to the side with a bandaged leg, sitting in a wheel chair. As he leaned against her and she petted him, he took a break from the excitement. He just wanted to stay right next to her.

The woman who was assisting the girl looked up at me and said, “He’s knows she’s in pain and he wants to help.” Hearing that, the child suddenly got tears in her eyes.

This past week a few teams were back at UCLA visiting their regular units. While Gus cheered up patients and staff in neuropsych, his best buddy Tommy was in the Pediatric ICU with his person Donna.

Working with critically ill children takes a toll, so those nurses really need the stress relief. They are incredibly appreciative of the dogs. One of the nurses, who remembered Tommy from prior visits, was so happy to see him that she teared up as she hugged him.

A few days ago, hiking down a trail, lost in thought, processing all that’s been going on, I met a man who was walking up with a very sweet Pit Bull. Since it was getting warm and I was almost done, I asked if he needed any extra water for his dog. He assured me that he had plenty, then added “Thank you for your kindness.

This stranger said it so simply and so sincerely but isn’t that what it’s all about. We may choose to be kind to each other but the dogs do it without hesitation. Their pure kindness is truly a gift of love and comfort.

There’s Something About Stanley

Charley, my first therapy dog, passed away four years ago. After charming everyone at a UCLA student athlete event, he spent a restless night. In the morning he lay down under some purple flowering bushes and was gone in twenty minutes. He had such grace and dignity.

Charley was my canine mentor. He was by my side when I began my therapy dog journey fifteen years ago. He really showed me the way. He was such a kind empathetic creature, the epitome of the gentle giant. No one who met Charley ever forgot him.

About to turn three, Stanley, has developed a strong resemblance to Charley, not only in appearance but in his demeanor. I’ve lost count of how many people have mistakenly called him Charley. It has struck such an emotional chord in me.

I took him to the bank recently and he stayed calmly by my side, walking a few steps at a time as we socially distanced. One of the tellers, who has known all of the Doods, forgot how many years have gone by and called out “Look it’s Charley.”

Lately I’ve been doing a lot of hiking with Stanley. It’s in the mountains that I truly appreciate his comforting presence. It reminds me of the sense of freedom that I had with Charley.

As another big shaggy dog, Stanley also draws a lot of attention. I have had so many conversations with people who would have said “hi” and walked on by if I’d been alone.

Two women, who were laughing because our hair looked the same blowing in the wind, stopped to chat. Of course I told them about being in I Love You Man with Charley because we looked so much alike.

ELBEE She just can’t help herself. I think she’s still hoping for a sequel with her blink and you missed it cameo.

What really impressed them was the way that Stanley calmly and protectively leaned against me as we were talking, something that Charley used to do. They fell in love with him and shared how much he had cheered them up. I have always treasured the “lean.”

In this time of uncertainty, not knowing what the new normal is going to bring, there is a change in mood. Following months of isolation, people are reaching out to each other. Stanley has become a bridge to reconnection.

This week he surprised me again by giving me a “hand shake,” something that I thought was unique to Charley. When I reached for his paw, he curled it around my hand and squeezed gently. It was as if it was a message from my first gentle giant.

Snakes, Bikes and Unrelated Coincidences

On one of the first warm days this spring I was hiking in the Santa Monica Mountains with Shelli and Ann Marie, two of my slightly younger friends.

ELBEE She could be their mother.

All of a sudden, when we were almost at the top of a steep, single-track trail, we heard a very loud, unmistakable rattle in the brush. I am not a fan of rattle snakes but I’ve encountered so many over the years that I don’t freak out. I’ve even forgiven the one that bit me on the ankle.

ELBEE Unlike the first time when she screamed and ran a half mile in the other direction.

My friends, on the other hand, basically freaked out. To give you an idea, at the end of the hike Shelli’s Fitbit showed that her heart rate was the highest for the three minutes post rattle.

They were ready to turn around and run back down. As senior hiker and self-appointed hike leader, I told them that wasn’t an option. It was too far, too rocky and the snake had relatives.

Promising that we’d stay on wide trails, I convinced them to follow me up to dirt Mulholland which is so open that the snakes can’t really hide. That’s when the bikers started flying by without bells. Unlike the snakes, who are very polite, they don’t give you a warning. (You know who you are.)

ELBEE She has such bike issues.

Shelli and Ann Marie, still in fear of seeing another rattling reptile, had no problems with the speeding lunatics and thought I was overreacting. That changed after our encounter with a visibly distraught woman coming up a narrow side trail.

When we stopped to see if she needed help, she said that a bell-less bike rider had flown past her, scaring her and almost causing her to fall. As we chatted and she calmed down, my friends were very sympathetic and I seemed like much less of a curmudgeon.

ELBEE Maybe.

Fortunately, thanks to the dogs, who weren’t even there, the hike ended on a very positive note. As were heading down to our cars, a young woman walking by stared at me for a moment and then asked, “Do you have two big fluffy white dogs?” My friends started laughing.

It turned out that years ago, when she’d had been seriously ill, I’d brought Charley and Elbee to see her at Tarzana Hospital. She’d never forgotten them. Of course, I had to tell her about Gus and Stanley and just happened to have their trading cards with me.

In another coincidence, when she saw UCLA Health on the cards she said she that she was going to be starting a job there. She’d recently completed her PhD in psychology and was going to be working in neuropsych at the hospital…our regular units!

ELBEE What are the chances?

And speaking of coincidences, a few days later, hiking with Stanley, I saw this poor snake that had been run over by a bike!

ELBEE Now that’s ironic, sad, but ironic.

My Epic Fail

In the past few weeks, with cautious optimism becoming more pervasive, people are really reaching out. Even with masks and distancing, when I’m walking with Gus and Stanley we have so many interactions that it’s almost like it was before COVID turned life upside down. More than ever, it makes me look forward to the day that we can return to in-person hospital visits.

A film crew we passed said that Gus and Stanley were just the break they needed.

GUS & STANLEY Unfortunately, when they told her what show they were filming, she said “I didn’t know that was still on.” We were so embarrassed. It could have been our big break.

An elderly woman, walking with her daughter on her way to physical therapy, stopped and said she’d rather get dog therapy. Another woman asked if she could take a picture of the dogs for her kids.

ELBEE Sorry but I fail to see how this socializing is a fail.

Here’s the problem. People are putting a positive spin on this past difficult year by sharing the things that they’ve accomplished. Some of us have not been quite as productive.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard that someone has taken up a new hobby, from photography to knitting to painting. I have no new hobbies. I tried going back to yoga but got nauseous doing it in front of the computer. Then I gave meditation a shot but kept falling asleep. I was told that was avoidance.

Other people have told me how they’ve totally cleaned house. They’ve gone through closets, old photos, cupboards. I’ve barely cleaned out the refrigerator.

As for cooking, I didn’t realize that I knew so many gourmets. They even grow their own herbs. My friend Shelli texted a photo of an absolutely beautiful meal that she’d prepared. I texted back a photo of Gus and a take out container.

One area where I have improved over the past year is hiking. More than ever the mountains have been my escape, my healing place, my sanctuary. It’s also my favorite place to do push-ups. Not to brag but some of my younger hiking buddies have referred to me as the “beast.”

ELBEE I’m sure that her being a senior has nothing do to with that.

I’ve also reached a new level of connection with Gus and Stanley. Okay, I admit that some friends have taught their dogs so many new tricks that they’ve received on-line certificates. I haven’t taught Gus or Stanley one new trick but I have bench pressed them.

We’ve done so many zoom calls together that it would be difficult for me to do one on my own. To top it off, with all of the time we’ve spent together over the past several months, I now speak dog.

GUS & STANLEY No, she doesn’t.

Can You Headstand?

Staying in shape during the pandemic is often difficult. The isolation and stress can lead to a real lack of motivation. To make it worse, regular fitness centers are closed. I’ve seen pilates classes in parking lots and martial arts in back alleys. Neither one screams “come join us.” Though I was a fitness instructor for many years, it’s even hard for me to push myself.

GUS & STANLEY What about the expression “Trainer, train yourself?”

CHARLEY Sorry boys but I believe the expression is “Physician, heal thyself.”

Fortunately, I have some weights at home and am still doing more pushups than the average prisoner but it’s really the call of the wild that saves me.

ELBEE Call of the wild? Marked hiking trails in the Santa Monica Mountains with ocean views

I’m very lazy about stretching. My friend Mary, on the other hand, is great about doing yoga. She can go through an hour’s worth of poses. Although I took yoga for years, when I tried a couple of classes on line, I got nauseous.

As we were talking and I was trying to find out how she gets herself to do it, a thought occurred to me. I wondered if she could still do a headstand, a point of pride among us seniors. When I asked, she matter of factly replied, “I do one every day.” The seed was planted. It had been a long time but could I still do one?

A few days later, as I was waiting for the dogs’ Zoom call with UCLA to start, I still had headstands on the brain. With my ADD, it’s hard for me to just sit and wait, so I thought what better time to try a headstand.

I texted Jen, the director of the People Animal Connection, who would be running the meeting and said “I’m trying to do a headstand.” Instead of texting back, “Are you crazy?”she replied, “I CAN do a headstand.” A few minutes later she texted that she’d just done one in the middle of her office. Fortunately, she was alone.

To my surprise, after a few, well several, tries, I made it. I was using a dresser as a security blanket but I was upside down

For some time, Jen and I have been discussing how we can make Zoom calls with the patients more interesting. We considered singing but we’re both terrible. Were we on to something with the headstands? Was AGT next? Granted she is much better and doesn’t need to use the dresser, but I’d be content to be backup headstander.

After the meeting, we were again on the topic of making our calls more engaging. I remembered Jen mentioning something about piano. When I asked if she could play, she said that she’d taken lessons as a child but now only played her kids’ tiny toy piano.

As a child, I had taken ballet lessons. Suddenly inspired, I jumped up and did a few pirouettes and port de bras. Maybe I still had it.

GUS & STANLEY We thought she was having a seizure.

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner

Thanksgiving morning I woke up bright and early and did one of my favorite things.

ELBEE It wasn’t making a turkey.

GUS & STANLEY “Bright and early?” We were up first and we like to sleep in.

Much as I hate to admit it, Elbee is right. I am not a big fan of preparing turkeys. I was thrilled a few years ago when I found out you could purchase them precooked.

Instead, I went for a hike. Due to COVID-19, no family or friends were coming to dinner. We were going to be celebrating with the dogs. There was no big table to set, no turkey and sides to prepare, so I had plenty of time.

As I made my way up a steep trail, I felt the sadness of it all. Like so many other people I would miss having everyone together, talking and laughing. I would even miss the noise and chaos of the dogs competing for attention from the grandkids.

As I so often do, I felt the mountains lift my spirits. I enjoyed the views, watched hawks soaring overhead, did a few pushups.

ELBEE She had to throw that in.

Being out in nature, helped to put things in perspective. It comforted me. This one yellow bush sunflower in the midst of the browned out vegetation seemed to be a sign.

When I came back down to reality, I prepared a few things for me and the husband. I made my famous stuffing and decadent sweet potatoes. There was only one snag in the menu, Pollo Loco was closed and we had to pick up Kentucky Fried Chicken.

ELBEE The truth comes out.

Before we sat down to eat, when I would normally would have been a stress case trying to get all of the food on the table, I took Gus and Stanley for a walk. As we made our way through the neighborhood, it was strangely quiet for a holiday. It reminded me of the silent school yards in the beginning of the pandemic.

There were few cars parked on the street, few extra lights on. There was little laughter coming from the houses. I saw one family celebrating in their garage, all in masks. I smelled a few barbecues.

Just as the sadness of it was hitting me again, two women walked by on the other side of the street. One was elderly, using a walker. The other seemed to be her helper. They both waved and commented on how cute the dogs were.

As we chatted from a distance, the older woman wanted to know all about them. Naturally, I had Gus dance and Stanley do his silly peek-a-boo. She was completely taken with them. When we said goodbye and began to move away, she called out, “Thank you so much. You have really cheered me up.” Once again, the dogs brought the power of gratitude into focus.

My Friend Dennis

My friend Dennis is kind, understanding and a good listener. Best of all he is really funny. He is the one who came to my defense and told my granddaughter that I was “unconventional” when the oldest daughter told her that I was “cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.”

Right now he is a COVID-19 warrior. He battled the illness at home for a week and then in the hospital for several days. It made it very real when someone close to me, someone I love and care deeply about, was directly affected. I hear disturbing stories from Nicole, the daughter who is an ICU nurse, but this put a face on the virus.

I am his honorary bubbie. On the countless hours that we’ve spent hiking we’ve talked about anything and everything. There is no judgment. We adhere strictly to the unspoken rule that “what we say on the trail stays on the trail.” He does trail pushups with me whether he wants to or not. When I’m about to yell at a biker who has flown by with no bell, Dennis tells me to let it go into the universe.

ELBEE I can’t believe she’s still having biker issues.

Of course, he is also a dog lover. We text so much during Westminster that we could be doing color commentary. Last year he lost his 19 year old Italian Greyhound who could probably have rivaled the Doods for being the most spoiled dog in town.

Speaking of the Doods, Dennis has known them all. He has supported my work with them and cheered on my writing about them. The picture on the left is a throwback photo from a Red Cross Gala with Dennis and Charley, my very first therapy dog. The one on the right is with Stanley when he was still just a big puppy on one of his first official hikes.

**Dennis & Charley, My First Therapy Dog**

**Dennis & Stanley, My 4th Therapy Dog**

What has impressed and amazed me throughout Dennis’s difficult journey is his attitude. He has stayed positive as he has dealt with each challenge. He doesn’t give in to self pity. When the daughters checked in with him, he was appreciative. When the youngest sent him a get well video from her kids, he said that it cheered him up.

He has also maintained his sense of humor. We joked when the hospital served him chicken soup, that it was “Jewish penicillin.” When he felt well enough, He sent funny memes and silly texts from his hospital bed.

Dennis is home now but still toughing it out. COVID is very demanding. Still, his main complaint this week was that his cable was out which made binge watching his favorite shows impossible.

I have a special request for anyone reading this post. I would really appreciate it if you would take a moment to send love, positivity and healing energy to my fabulous friend Dennis.

Is There a Virtual Dress Code?

Annual award luncheons have been off the table during the pandemic.

ELBEE Was that supposed to be “punny?”

Last Friday, UCLA Health put on a very special virtual celebration to honor their volunteers. They brought more than 140 people together on line, not only to recognize their contributions during normal times, but also to spotlight all that they’ve been doing during the pandemic.

With videos, guest speakers, entertainment and award presentations, they acknowledged the time and effort that have been so tirelessly donated over the past several difficult months. From hand-made cards and special baskets to virtual dog visits and music therapy, there has been a concerted effort to bring comfort and positivity into the hospital.

Although virtual events are certainly a far cry from the real thing, there is a bright side. You save time and money because there’s no driving or parking involved. I took advantage of the opportunity to hike up into the mountains. I knew that if I got home late, I could shower after the meeting, another plus.

ELBEE Too much information

Getting dressed was a little tricky. Hair and makeup were a no brainer. And of course I had to put on earrings to be sure my piercings hadn’t closed up. It was the outfit that was a problem.

When I do visits with Gus and Stanley, I wear a cute shirt, long pants and shoes in case I have to get up and have them perform. Sitting on the bed for this virtual celebration, I figured I had some leeway. Why not relax and go barefoot with shorts.

Speaking of Stanley, that’s kind of where things took a wrong term. Usually, whenever I log into a meeting, Stanley is right there with his big shaggy head, vying for screen time. On Friday, instead, he just lay sprawled out sleeping at my side.

While Stanley was snoring next to me, an associate of UCLA who offers sessions in mindfulness, came on screen to lead us in a short meditation. I was pretty excited about that. With the pandemic stress and my ADD, it sounded like something that could really help.

Unfortunately, that’s when Stanley threw up on the bed. Now there’s something that can only happen at a virtual event. I tried to do a quick clean up but I’d like to see anyone focus on their breathing after that.

Also, I’m sure that when I jumped up to get cleaning supplies, a few people noticed my outfit or lack of. My cousin made me feel much better. Her friend was doing the same “dress great from the waist up outfit” for a virtual funeral service. Imagine her surprise when she had to stand up for a prayer!