PAC – Page 12 – Me and the Doods.com

Therapy Puppy

This week Elbee and Gus were as excited to go to work as I’ve ever seen them. it was as if they were being let out on parole.

ELBEE It was. Parole from Stanley. I’m sick of him braiding my hair and biting my ears.

Since Stanley’s arrival, the Doods, the husband and I have all been putting in extra hours to train him. As good as he is, it’s exhausting. He’s loving and sweet but will try to eat almost anything that he can get his sharp little teeth into. At the risk of jinxing it, the housebreaking is going well. Still I have to ask myself, is he getting trained to go outside or are we getting trained to take him there.

It made me think about when the daughters were babies and I was a sleep deprived zombie. I couldn’t even leave them in a fence in the kitchen. I have to admit, the rewards that have come later, like grandchildren, have made up for every sleepless night and every shirt that was covered with spit up.

Going into the hospital reminded me of the rewards that come from having therapy dogs. As I’ve shared so often, simply walking in the front door and watching the smiles is a reward in itself. Then there are always those little moments. This week was no exception.

In the lobby of UCLA, a woman approached, holding an adorable pigtailed toddler. She said that her daughter was afraid of dogs because she’d had a bad experience. She was hoping that meeting therapy dogs might help. Not sure how it happened, but within minutes the little girl was sitting on the floor, petting Elbee and Gus, giggling in delight. When we had to leave for our units, she burst into tears!

A few days ago, Stanley had his first healing moment. I took him to see my dear friend Roberta who, after three years, is still bravely battling a brain tumor. Her husband called to say that she really needed a Dood visit. Unfortunately, Elbee and Gus were at the groomer so I hesitantly suggested bringing Stanley.

I needn’t have worried. Roberta was at the dining room table when we arrived, so I carried Stanley over and placed him gently in her lap. He sat there calmly. When I put him on the floor, he got a little puppyish, so I picked him up for a brief time and let him join us at the table. Surprisingly, as I put him down again, he crawled under my chair and lay patiently as we chatted.

When it was time to leave, a kind young woman who is helping Roberta, walked us out to the car. Not completely familiar with the work of therapy dogs, she couldn’t believe the difference Stanley had made, how much happier Roberta had been while he was there. With an amazed look on her face, she told me that the visit from Stanley had been a blessing.

When Ordinary Becomes Extraordinary

There is a certain rhythm to working with the Doods but then, and always to my surprise, something extraordinary happens. A recent day at UCLA started out in the usual fashion. Gus bounced out of the car in front of the hospital, tail wagging, greeting everyone in his path.

After stops in the lobby, the volunteer center and administration, we made our way up to neuropsych on the fourth floor. The kids in our first unit were so exuberant, it was as if the circus had come to town. Barely containing their excitement, they gathered around Gus on the floor, laughing, petting him, hugging him. They couldn’t seem to get close enough. That is, except for one adolescent girl who sat off to the side, her face expressionless.

When we had seen her previously, she had remained that way, “isolative,” as the therapist explained to me, throughout out entire visit. She stayed on the periphery, not reacting or participating. I also learned that she doesn’t like to come out of her room except when the dogs are there.

This week I sensed something slightly different in her demeanor. She was sitting in the same spot, removed from the group, but I saw a flicker of interest when Gus did his tricks. She even inched a bit closer while still keeping her distance from the other kids. When I asked her if she’d like one of his trading cards, she shook her head no. When I asked if she’d like me to bring Gus over to her, I got a barely audible “yes.”

Observing her behavior, the therapist asked if she’d like to take a walk with me and Gus as a special treat. That got a yes, and the trace of a smile. With both of us holding his leash, we started down the hallway together. As we walked side by side, I could feel the girl relax. With a little encouragement she began to pet Gus.

I’m not sure what it is, but there is something about his soft, fluffy coat that captivates and relaxes people. That young girl was no exception. Before I knew it, she was on the floor gently hugging him.

After a few minutes, we continued walking to the end of the hall. When we reached the door and it was time for us to leave, the therapist looked at her and asked if she knew the dog’s name. With no hesitation and with a big smile on her face, she said, “Gus.” Then the therapist asked her if she knew my name. With an even bigger grin, she turned to me and said, “Ellen.” At that moment, ordinary became extraordinary.

Healing

Despite having the best possible outcome, the week since the burglary has been pretty stressful. I’m good in crisis mode, it’s the aftermath where I have a problem. A friend texted me, “hope your nerves and the house are on the mend.” The house was the easy part.

Walking into UCLA with Gus (he and Elbee take turns) was a huge step in the healing process. It was all about him and his wagging tail. In the neuropsych unit, as I watched two potentially aggressive kids hug him with gentle care, I totally forgot about myself.

A visit to the ICU brought things even more into focus. Judi, a dear friend for many years, had asked if I would bring a dog to see “Sandy,” a mutual friend whom I hadn’t seen in a very long time. “Sandy” was making slow progress recovering from a severe stroke. To everyone’s surprise, when I walked in, she immediately recognized me and reached out for Gus. She was so happy, content and even funny, as he rested with her.

In one of those strange coincidences, the patient just a few doors down was the granddaughter of very close friends. The teen had been in a car accident and had suffered broken bones and a traumatic brain injury. As Gus and I visited with her distraught grandpa, nothing else mattered except bringing him some comfort.

Driving home from the hospital, despite the difficulty of the visits, I was the calmest that I had been in days. I had spent the morning in situations where, thanks to Gus, I was able to help other people deal with their stress while forgetting about my own.

On Friday I attended a luncheon for the People Animal Connection that really put the exclamation point on the week. The camaraderie in the room was palpable because in different ways we had all shared the same magical experiences. The guest speaker was Ellie Laks from the Gentle Barn, “a sanctuary where animals heal and children learn to hope.” There was a video tribute to Charley and several other amazing PAC dogs that we lost last year. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room.

It was a quote on one of the luncheon gifts, however, that inspired this post and gave me such clarity. Mahatma Gandhi said, “The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.” My sincere gratitude to Charley, Elbee, Gus and hopefully the new puppy for leading me down this path of service. You are selfless. You are my heroes. You helped me through this week.

Gratitude

There’s something about Gus that makes the kids in the hospital want to keep him. I think it’s the cute, cuddly factor plus he fits in their laps. Even Metta World Peace felt the same way last week. By the way, that’s a tough post to follow.

Awhile ago, a little boy in the neuropsych unit at UCLA very seriously offered me $68.00 for him. I told him that I was so sorry but couldn’t sell Gus for any price. This week two boys in the teen unit really wanted to buy him. When I shared with them about the boy who had offered me $68.00, I was impressed by their reaction. They truly understood how much that amount of money must have meant to him. Then the bidding war started. When I turned down a million, one of them even went up to a trillion!

ELBEE I bet she she was tempted.

The interchange was light and fun. It totally took us out of the hospital setting. It made me think, as I often do, about the priceless work of therapy dogs. They may perform in different ways and in different settings but the heart of what they do is the same.

They offer comfort from pain, whether physical or emotional. They calm and soothe. They may even coax a reluctant smile or an unexpected laugh from someone having a rough day. They distract from a difficult reality

At times the challenges they face are almost incomprehensible. My cousin, whose sons graduated from Majorie Stoneman Douglas High School, told me that a team of Golden Retrievers had been brought in to offer comfort to the survivors of the mass shooting. Sadly, there are so many places in this country where they are needed right now.

There is a mirror with a message on the wall at Providence Tarzana Hospital that speaks so beautifully to the work of the dogs. It says, “Look at who’s making a difference. You have the power to be a healing presence in someone’s life today.” I tried a selfie with Gus but got mixed results.

ELBEE She really should have let me handle the photography.

On this Memorial Day weekend, a time of remembrance, respect and reflection, I feel such gratitude to be on the path where the dogs have led me. It’s hard to believe the journey began in 2006 when my beloved Charley taught me about pure kindness. He was also a mentor to Elbee and especially to Gus.

In the past, I’ve shared my feeling that his spirit still guides us. Nicole, the daughter in the first picture with Gus, took this amazing photo. You may think the halo is the light at a special time of day. I believe it’s Charley’s way of letting us know that he is keeping a loving watch over Gus.

Strike Busters?

ELBEE A few days ago I did something for the first time in my storied career as a therapy dog. I crossed a picket line. I’m not a scab. I’m more like Switzerland. Besides, I’m a lover not a fighter.

GUS Surprisingly, I’m slightly more political than Elbee. Remember, I ran for mayor but I did run as an independent (Gus for Mayor?).

This week, as part of a larger movement, there was a 3-day strike at UCLA Medical Center. It included service employees (e.g. nutrition, housekeeping, security) as well as patient care technicians (e.g. respiratory therapists, radiology technicians). Also involved were healthcare professionals such as pharmacists and social workers. Many nurses were on strike for part of the period.

Wednesday, our scheduled day at the hospital, the strike was going to be in full swing. I was given the option of staying home with the Doods if I felt uncomfortable. After some consideration, I decided to bring them in. It wasn’t at all a politically motivated decision. It was more about bringing comfort when and where it was most needed.

When we arrived at the hospital, the picket line was stretched across the driveway. I admit it was a bit intimidating. Then one of the strikers held up his hand to signal the crowd to let us through.

Our first stop was at the command center in the basement. Several people were sitting in a line of desks against the wall, waiting to deal with whatever problems might arise. After greeting everyone and sensing that they could really use a break, I asked if they’d like to see the dogs do some tricks. I got an enthusiastic group “yes.”

ELBEE Pack Leader can’t resist a captive audience but the little guy and I were fabulous and got a big round of applause.

If I still had any doubts about bringing the dogs in that morning, they faded away as we visited our regular neuropsych units. A girl on the verge of tears gave a shy grin when Gus curled up in her lap. A severely disturbed teen who had barely responded to the dogs on our last visit, smiled and chatted as he interacted with them. Another patient, who knew the dogs well, laughed and called out “encore” after they did a few tricks. From the time we arrived until the time we left, the mood was light and happy.

Once back in the lobby, I lost count of how many staff, patients and family members came over to hug and pet Elbee and Gus. Many quietly thanked us for being there. Even a police officer we met enjoyed a moment of stress relief.

Driving home, I felt very emotional as I thought about the morning. Therapy dogs don’t take sides. They don’t judge. They offer comfort to whomever needs it. They are there to heal, to love, to provide moments of calm. Simply put, they do their job, albeit in a spectacular way.

Gus and the Laker Girls

This week UCLA health held a special event, “Discover the Power of U,” to showcase their innovative mobile stroke unit and their partnership with the Lakers. After a difficult period, with the loss of two young lives, it was nice to have something to celebrate. Gus and his PAC colleagues were invited to take part.

As soon as I received the email saying that we could add some “Laker flare” to our dogs, I immediately got Marsha, Gus’s groomer and colorist, on speed dial. You may know that Gus is a “dye” hard Laker fan. Remember this Halloween photo with Brandon Ingram at Mattel Children’s hospital? (Does this Picture Make Me Look Short?) It was time again to go for the purple and gold.

ELBEE OMG when Pack Leader tries to be “punny,” I cringe.

The atmosphere at the event was festive. The dogs all mingled, charming and entertaining everyone. Even better for Gus, there was kind of a wind tunnel effect between the high rise buildings in Century City so his hair was blowing like there was a diva fan. Someone jokingly asked if he had a Brazilian blowout. Note to self: ask Marsha about Brazilian blowouts for dogs.

ELBEE Okay, I am officially jealous. I love a good diva fan.

Gus was having the time of his life. He has a combination of Charley’s sweetness and Elbee’s love of attention so he was in his glory. With his fabulous gold and purple hair flying in the wind and his Laker t-shirt, he was kissing up to everyone around him. His tail never stopped wagging and I swear he did a few tricks on his own.

GUS I really was on top of my game.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, two of the Laker girls arrived. It was love at first sight. Gus took to them and they got a kick out of his whole getup. They were such good sports. They even laughed when I had him do his little dance for them, kind of an impromptu audition.

ELBEE She may be on to something. Gus can be the first Laker dog and I can be his manager. Forget jealousy, I’m feeling cautiously optimistic.

After a couple hours of preening and posing, Gus was exhausted. As we were getting ready to leave, one of the organizers came over to say goodbye. Laughing she said, “this event was supposed to be about the stroke unit but all I kept hearing about was Laker Gus!”

ME AND ELBEE We both have to admit that we’re proud of the little guy.

Gus, My Personal Stress Buster

Last week, Gus and his buddy Tommy were back on duty as stress busters at UCLA Powell Library. The dynamic duo have been helping students get through exams since 2016 (Who Ya Gonna Call? Stress Busters!).

ELBEE Despite the fact that I am qualified to teach meditation and yoga, I have never been asked to help.

You can feel the mood lighten as the dogs walk though the door. Within seconds they’re surrounded by laughing, chatting students who take a brief break from anxiety…and studying.

It seems there’s always one moment that stands out. This time it was a girl cuddling with Gus and crying. With tears rolling down her face, she assured me, “I keep crying but these are happy tears.”

A few days later I needed a stress buster. It was time for Gus to test for his two year recertification with Pet Partners. The test is straight forward, part obedience and part aptitude. The examiner, with five or six people helping, sets up scenarios that are very much like what we encounter in the hospital. There are no surprises or trick questions.

Nevertheless, and despite the fact that between the three Doods I’ve taken the test probably eight or nine times, I still have issues. The dog and the handler are scored separately so theoretically the dog can get a higher score. Can you imagine if that happened and the daughters got hold of the information? Not to mention, I have test anxiety.

ELBEE No kidding. Last time, she made me so nervous I almost threw up.

Gus, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to know the meaning of anxiety. He breezed though the exercises as if he was at a party. His tail never stopped wagging and I swear he had a smile on his face. When three or four people were petting him at the same time, it was like the more the merrier. I’m proud to say, he finished with a perfect score.

ELBEE Over achiever. And Pack Leader’s score??

After we finished our test, I had the unusual opportunity of watching Gus go through it again. Carol, honorary “aunt” to the Doods and all around great assistant to PAC, went though the certification process with him. She very often helps out with Gus and Elbee at special events so this way it would be official.

I have helped with testing in the past and have watched other people’s dogs. I’ve never had the chance to observe one of my own. It was kind of like going to my daughters’ games when they were playing soccer or basketball but this time I had to cool it with the screaming from the sidelines.

ELBEE Wonder if they can red card her out of testing.

It was fascinating to see the little guy work with Carol. Again, Gus wagged his way through all of the exercises. As someone commented after he finished the second evaluation, he was a “rock star.” I think Carol would agree that he made us both look good!

They Work Hard for No Money

Psychologists often talk about over programming your children with school, lessons, extra-curricular activities etc. It made me think. Is it possible to over program your dog?

Recently, the Doods visited five places over the course of a week, including UCLA Medical Center and Providence Tarzana Hospital. To cap it off, they cheered up my friend Roberta who continues her brave fight against brain cancer.

They say a dog needs a job but did I give them too many jobs? Despite the fact that I may have overbooked them, Elbee and Gus never complained. They were ready to go. There was no judgment, no hesitation… no guilt trip. Actually the only time I get attitude is if I leave them alone for too long.

Whether it was a disturbed child who offered a clumsy hug or a bedridden patient who simply needed them to sit quietly for petting, they knew exactly what to do. Dogs seem to have an innate ability to offer comfort without expectation. Financial consideration aside, how many of us would work simply for a smile or a thank you?

People sometimes say the dogs couldn’t do it without me, but I never lose sight of the fact that it’s always about them. After all, they’re called therapy dogs and I’m called a handler. Okay, if I’m going to be perfectly honest it’s nice to have someone say “bless you” to me when I haven’t sneezed, but I know that I’m in a supporting role.

Since dogs don’t complain it really is the handler’s job to care for and protect them. It’s to make sure they’re happy and not getting too tired. It’s to watch for the look in their eyes, the droopy tail. They do the heavy lifting. The handlers do the security.

Years ago a woman, who was going through orientation to bring her dog into UCLA, shadowed me and Charley. At the end of our “rounds,” she quietly confided that she was a little shy and was afraid she’d have problems interacting with patients. I assured her that with her dog guiding her it would never be an issue.

This morning as I was walking Elbee and Gus, I couldn’t stop thinking about how unselfishly they had worked that week, wondering if I’d done the right thing. Just then, by chance, I met Gilbert, an older man with a very gentle demeanor. He thought he recognized us from UCLA and stopped to chat.

Turns out that Gilbert is not only a dog lover, he also has the utmost respect for them and a belief that they need a purpose, a job. As a volunteer helping the blind, he has come into contact with several seeing eye dogs. He told me that he is amazed at their intuition and all they do for their people. He also shared that he has been studying the psychology of dogs. He confirmed what had just been running though my head. He said they were one of the only species that would put humans before themselves.

It may have been coincidence that we ran into Gilbert, but sometimes the universe works in unusual ways. You cross paths with a stranger and have a brief but meaningful connection. It’s as if the universe can read your mind.

Happy New Year from Me and the Doods

In many ways 2017 was a difficult year. I hope that recapping the work accomplished by the Doods and their fellow therapy dogs will help us all focus on the positives in the world.

From meeting Lakers Brandon Ingram and Larry Nance Jr. as we all brought Halloween to the patients at Mattel Children’s Hospital to helping Santa at Providence Tarzana’s adopt a family day, the Doods and I were fortunate to take part in so many amazing events. Still, I will only write about one as I look back on the year because I want to focus on the quieter, less seen moments. They are the true heart of what our dogs so unselfishly accomplish.

The UCLA student athlete event in March was bittersweet because it turned out to be Charley’s last “job.” He interacted with everyone with his usual grace and sweetness, little Gus by his side. At one point, I had the privilege of walking through the campus hall of fame. As entranced as I was with room after room of gleaming athletic awards and trophies, I was most taken with the portrait of the legendary John Wooden. In retrospect, there is a beauty in knowing that my legendary therapy dog spent his last evening in such a special place.

As I recall meaningful moments, I see the face of the man at the adult health center who was smiling for the first time in a year. I also see the beaming face of the young man whose hands are severely crippled but who loves to have me put treats between his fingers for Gus.

I see anxious parents sitting in the small waiting room outside of the UCLA neuropsych units. Recently, as we were leaving, the mother of a very disturbed young girl told me how much her daughter adores the dogs and how much she talks about them. With a wistful smile she simply said, “thank you for visiting.”

Neither the staff who were watching or I will ever forget Elbee’s interaction with a young patient who had been out of control and screaming, and according to the therapists, “a danger to self and others.” Within a matter of minutes the child went from petting Elbee and applauding his tricks to dropping down on the floor to teach him how to take a bow.

This year there were countless times outside of the hospital when the Doods suddenly brightened someone’s day. We were walking past a market when a teenage boy, who was working outside picking up carts, saw the dogs and got a huge grin on his face. Petting them, he asked if it was okay to give them a hug. When I assured him that it was fine, he wrapped his arms around them and said, “My heart feels warmer.”

My son-in-law Jay, who is wonderful despite being a self-admitted cat person, perhaps put it best. He said that when I’m out with the dogs, “random acts of positivity seem to circle around us.”

Wishing everyone a year of peace, love and positivity!

My Inner Grinch

I have been known to indulge my inner Grinch during the holiday season. I guess you could call it my inner kvetch during Chanukah. And yes, I still binge watch Hallmark Channel movies as an antidote. But I’m afraid I may have weakened. I was about to put up a post that had absolutely nothing to do with this time of year. Then I realized I’d be sharing it on Christmas and I caved.

In retrospect I should have saved the post about caroling at UCLA or the one about the Adopt a Family program at Providence Hospital. Unfortunately, I didn’t think that far ahead. Instead I want to share a day with the Doods that for me epitomizes what this season should be about.

On Thursday morning we went to the Adult Health Center. There was a Christmas tree and there were some decorations but nothing brightened up the large room like Elbee and Gus. It didn’t matter if the participants were old or young, suffering from bipolar disorder or depression, so many just wanted to pet the dogs or hug them. A few followed us around.

An elderly woman who seemed distracted suddenly focused and told me they made her so happy. Another whispered in Spanish that they were angels.

ELBEE Finally somebody got it right.

I also found out that the quiet man who smiled for the first time in a year when he was with the dogs a few weeks ago, only smiles when they’re visiting.

After leaving the center, we drove over to see my dear friend Roberta, the one who has been battling brain cancer. She is a warrior if ever I’ve seen one. Never a complainer, she admitted how rough the treatment has been. After we chatted for awhile, the Doods took over. They love her and she loves them. I know she sneaks them treats whenever I’m not looking. For a brief time they make her forget about everything except them.

On the way home, with my two exhausted dogs in the car, it struck me just how many gifts they had given. Every single one was unselfish and priceless.

The next morning at a yoga class, Rebecca, the teacher, suggested dedicating our practice to some purpose or intent. Surprisingly, the first thought that came into my head was family and not dogs so I was kind of torn.

ELBEE That’s not funny.

Then Rebecca suggested focusing on gratitude and it made perfect sense. I apologize for any cliches or repetition but hey where’s your holiday spirit?

Working with the dogs, especially during this season, has taught me to be grateful. Seeing so many people who are slowed down by illness or injury, I feel fortunate to have my health. I am appreciative that I can write these posts even when I struggle. And yes, I truly am grateful for my family and friends.

I realized that being with the dogs as they help so many people is apparently giving therapy to my holiday spirit or lack there of. Uh oh. Are they killing my inner Grinch?