PAC – Page 10 – Me and the Doods.com

And the Guilt Goes On

On Yom Kippur, not only was Stanley my partner in crime, but he stepped up to a big challenge, visiting the neuropsych units for the first time. Being unpredictable, it’s a more difficult environment. Stanley handled it almost like a pro.

CHARLEY Of course he did. We were keeping an eye on him.

And yes, I’m obviously still trying to justify going in on the holiday.

ELBEE Oy vey. She needs to let it go.

My biggest concern was the kids under twelve, who often have a very high energy level. Stanley, at 16 months, is still a kid himself, so I could imagine him reacting to that energy. Somehow, he took it all in but managed to keep himself in check. With their giggly encouragement, he gave them “kisses” which he doesn’t usually do.

In the adult unit, before going in to see our group, we were asked to do a private visit with a patient who didn’t want to come out of his room. We walked in to find a very quiet, seemingly shy, young man wearing sunglasses. He spoke so softly that it was difficult to hear his voice, but as he petted Stanley I saw the trace of a smile on his face.

A few minutes later, while we were interacting with the patients gathered in the day room, I suddenly saw the young man standing in the doorway. Apparently, wanting to see Stanley again had given him the incentive to come out of his room.

The teens in the eating disorders unit, some who have been in and of the hospital for years, have a very special kind of love for the dogs. They always joke around and tell me it would be absolutely fine if I wanted to take off but leave the dog with them for the day.

ELBEE They’re not joking.

Stanley and I were on the large recreation deck with two of the girls from the unit. There was activity swirling around us but we were in a corner talking baseball. One girl was a Dodger fan. The other was rooting for Washington. She said she’d think of me when they won. We don’t need to discuss that any further.

Suddenly, I felt a tiny stick lodged in the fur near Stanley’s paw. The girls immediately started to help me remove it. As we sat there working on it together, it struck me how beautiful and simple it was. We were just three people helping one big dog.

ELBEE Let us pray that this takes care of her Yom Kippur guilt for the year.

**My Post Hospital Therapy Session With Stanley**

The Yom Kippur Three Strikes Law

Wonder if there’s a three strikes law for Yom Kippur, a day of atonement, reflection and remembrance, a biggie as far as Jewish holidays go. If there is, I am definitely going to Yom Kippur jail.

ELBEE Where does she come up with this stuff?

This is the third time I’ve been to UCLA on the holiday. It always seems to fall on my regular day. Is it a test that I’m failing miserably? The last two times I’ve gone with my friend Donna who referred to us as “Yom Kippur felons.” She would bring her Bichon Tommy, Gus’s buddy. This year she couldn’t make it so Stanley and I were on our own

ELBEE Does Donna have inside information on the three strikes law?

CHARLEY Did she even ask Stanley about his religious affiliation?

There really is strength in numbers. When you have someone aiding and abetting, you can share the guilt. Being there alone was a challenge. Fortunately, just as I was starting to question my decision (again) there were signs that I was doing the right thing.

As we walked by Maddie’s room, the surgery waiting area, a volunteer came running out and said that a family was having a very rough time and could use a dog visit. Their faces lit up when they saw Stanley. After a round of hugging and petting, they were relaxed and happy. Even if it was only for a few moments, they’d had a chance to breathe.

Outside of the ICU, a woman approached who was delighted to see us because she needed some dog love. As Stanley leaned against her while we chatted, she jokingly confided that her dog was a “brat.”

This went on all morning so by the time we left the hospital, I figured I was safe. Still, not able to leave well enough alone, I pushed it once more. How could I not watch the final game in the Dodger’s series against Washington. In my defense, it was almost sundown when the game started so I was sort of in the clear. When tragically they lost, I felt a tiny twinge of guilt.

On a serious note, on Yom Kippur I light candles in remembrance of some special people who, although they are gone, are still such a part of my life. My dad and my mom. It’s hard to believe she left us 50 years ago this week. My funny brother Stan. My dear friend Eileen. Too many others.

As I watch the candles flicker, I am comforted by memories of them. A part of me hopes that I’m making them proud, but an even bigger part of me hopes that I’m making them laugh.

Belly Rub

After the pet visit station at UCLA last week, Stanley and I were asked to do a room visit. Told that it was a “priority,” I felt a little concern. After all, you never know what you’re going to find when you knock on a patient’s door. It could be a child who smiles for the first time in days. It could be someone critically ill who is reaching out for a measure of comfort.

This time it turned out to be the best possible circumstances. “Priority” was a teenage girl who loved dogs, especially large ones, and had really been hoping for a visit. When I walked in with Stanley, the patient, her mom and a cousin got so excited you would have thought it was a surprise party, which, I guess in a way, it was.

Asking if she’d like Stanley on the bed, I got a resounding “yes.” I spread out a sheet and then helped Stanley step up gently. To the patient’s delight, he settled into her lap, well, the part of him that would fit in her lap.

What happened next was the highlight of the morning. Stanley has been taking a tricks class where some of the tricks are taught while a few are “caught” behaviors. This means if your dog sneezes or does something else regularly, you give it a name, reward it and it becomes a trick. For instance, Gus does an adorable little dance which, believe it or not, I didn’t teach him.

ELBEE Hello? If you’ve ever seen her moves you will absolutely know that Gus taught himself.

Stanley really doesn’t have a lot of caught behaviors but rolling onto his back for a belly rub is one of them. It’s his go to move if he wants attention, is in trouble or just relaxing. I whispered to the patient to ask Stanley if he’d like a belly rub.

That’s all it took. He sprawled out on his back, long legs in the air, just waiting for his belly to be rubbed. Everyone, including two nurses watching from the doorway, burst out laughing.

As happens on those very special visits, the hospital faded away. Thanks to a big, goofy dog, we were just a group of people, strangers moments before, putting problems aside and sharing a laugh. As a therapist at the hospital said to me recently, “the dogs do things that we simply can’t do.”

The New Generation

Once a month the UCLA People Animal Connection holds a pet visit station. A few of the dogs in the program gather on the patio to meet and greet all of the people going in and out of the hospital.

This week it happened to be three puppies visiting and it was a party. Stanley and I worked along with Laura and her two poodles, Kennedy who is Stanley’s age and Jackie who is slightly younger. People were enchanted with their cuteness quotient, sweetness and energy. Stanley’s only problem was that he didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to play with Kennedy.

STANLEY I still don’t get it.

Whether staff, family, patients or visitors, faces lit up seeing the pups. A man from Ohio, who was involved with the air transport of organs for transplant, was waiting on the patio for quite some time. Having had a chance to observe all of the interactions, he came over to tell me that he felt as if every hospital should have a therapy dog program.

Stanley, looking like a huge muppet, was in his glory. He was finally getting enough attention. There were lots of comments about his incredibly long eyelashes. Several people jokingly asked me if he used Latisse. One woman whispered to me that we were a magical team.

ELBEE I think I just threw up in my mouth.

There was something else that made this visit station very special. Over the past year or so the People Animal Connection has lost many of the “old guard,” dogs who did amazing work as long time members of the program.

Laura’s poodle Apollo was legendary for bringing a young girl out of a coma. My boy Charley was legendary for getting a catatonic woman to smile and pet him. Elbee was recognized for calming down an out of control little girl who was a danger to herself and others.

In this photo, Stanley is sitting in front of the classic PAC poster which includes not only the current dogs, but also pictures of Apollo, Charley, Elbee and some of the others who have left us. It was fitting and deeply touching that the three dogs at the monthly UCLA pet visit station were following in the paw prints of their big “brothers” and “sisters.”

I’m sure that somewhere all of the wonderful PAC dogs have reunited. There is comfort and joy in knowing that they are watching over us and guiding the new generation.

Say “Cheesy”

Before I get to the main topic, the dogs’ photo shoot for the People Animal Connection calendar, I need to vent about a more sensitive issue…aging. When Gus and I were at UCLA this week, one of the therapists and I started chatting about age. She was feeling old but felt much younger when I admitted how old I was. She was kind enough to say that she’d had no idea.

A short time later, Gus and I were visiting with a group of kids in the neuropsych unit when a very quiet withdrawn little girl suddenly began talking to me quite earnestly. She told me about a skin remedy mixing blue berries with yogurt. In the past, someone had told me that blueberries helped with tear stain on dogs so I foolishly assumed she was talking about Gus. She said, “No, I meant for you.”

ELBEE I can’t stop laughing.

I have one more issue to discuss.

CHARLEY Yes, I’m here with Elbee and let me say it’s so great to have him home. However, I can’t believe she’s still having all these issues.

Someone on the news said that there are so many seniors in this country now, they’re referring to us as the “silver tsunami.” I’m not sure how I feel about being compared to a natural disaster.

ELBEE So far I love this post.

Picking up my reading glasses and moving on, the photo shoot was last Sunday. Gus is a pro but it was Stanley’s first time. I confess that I’m still a total stage mother. They had costumes for the dogs but where were hair and makeup?

I also admit that I told my daughter and granddaughter they couldn’t come up to visit that day because the dogs had the photo shoot? Is that so wrong?

ELBEE No, that’s awesome!

Gus and Stanley were dressed in Christmas regalia for December. I’m not quite sure about that large thing on Gus’s head but he was such a good sport. Stanley got off easy with a cute sparkly headband and red and green collar.

After the calendar pictures, Stanley had to sit for his UCLA trading cards. It was an emotional moment for me because Julianne, the photographer, has also taken pictures of Charley, Elbee and Gus, maybe under the same lights. It brought back memories.

Stanley still had one more to go. For his final shot of the day, he had to pose with yours truly because a picture of the team goes on the back of each card. At first he was such a trooper and stayed patiently at my side.

ELBEE I can feel his embarrassment.

After a few more minutes, however, he was totally done and sprawled out on the floor. He looked so comfortable that I decided to join him.

ELBEE & CHARLEY We’re split on whether this was cute or just sad.

We’ll Be Here All Week

I started this post before Elbee passed and then, in the pain of losing him, put it aside. I decided to share it this week including the last Elbee remarks from when he was next to me instead of keeping an eye on me from above.

After Stanley somehow made it through intermediate obedience (okay we took it twice), I signed him up for a beginning tricks class. The tricks, like shake, crawl and spin, are useful tools in the hospital. For instance, the dogs don’t go in to see patients who are in isolation so instead of just passing by, Gus can dance in the doorway and Elbee and Stanley can wave. You’d be amazed how that brings out the smiles and the laughter.

ELBEE There’s a little more to it than being a useful “tool.” Someone likes to get in on the act.

He may have a point. I’ve shared that my father and my brother Stanley were hams in the best sense of the word. At my grandparent’s Catskill Hotel, my dad was “that guy” like in the movie Dirty Dancing. He emceed the shows, told all the jokes and sang while he and my mother were on the dance floor, not easy to pull off.

He was so charming and charismatic that it sometimes got him into trouble. My aunt was getting married and my dad was part of the wedding party. As he sauntered down the aisle in tophat and tails, the guests at the wedding began applauding and shouting “It’s Lester the entertainer.” Not the best thing before Here Comes the Bride.

As a kid, I was incredibly shy and would cringe when my dad tried to have me come out on stage with him. It took years and my recovery from a near-fatal car crash to bring me out of my shell…way out. I guess I inherited the recessive ham gene. It just took a lot longer to show itself.

ELBEE Apparently she also inherited the flexing gene.

Stanley Who are these people? I’m so confused.

The other day Gus and I were entertaining a group of people in a waiting room at Providence Tarzana, milking the applause, when someone suddenly said “You should be on America’s Got Talent.” What a great idea. I can’t believe I’d never thought of that.

ELBEE And I’ve never peed on the carpet.

What I can’t believe is that she chose to use that as my last earthly comment.

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.