Pet Partners – Page 2 – Me and the Doods.com

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.

Looking to the New Year

I’m writing this post as the clock counts down to midnight on New Years eve. I may even do a load of laundry later.

ELBEE That is just sad.

As this crazy year finally comes to a close, like so many others, I’m trying to sort things out. Gus and Stanley are at my side, as they have been so often during the past several months.

It’s hard to believe how normal things were just a year ago and even in January and February. Then in March the realization sank in that life was not normal.

On March 11th I took Gus into UCLA for his recertification. Though it was our regular visiting day in the hospital, after I went to the conference room for his testing, out of an abundance of caution, I skipped our units. Then two days later the dog visits were all cancelled.

At the time we thought it would be temporary. Now here it is months later and we still haven’t been back into the hospital. This has been the year of Zoom and virtual visits, two things I’d never heard of before.

A few days ago, I was walking the dogs in the neighborhood when two little girls on the other side of the street with their dad called out, “Hi Gus and Stanley.” Having only met the girls once or twice before and having socially distanced, I was surprised that they remembered their names.

They giggled as they asked if they could see Gus dance again or Stanley play peek-a-boo. I so wished I could have crossed over and let them hug the dogs.

It made me think about what other Dood things I’m looking forward to when, hopefully, the world turns right side up again this year.

Here are just a few:

The joy in the hospital lobbies when people see Gus and Stanley walk in the door

The noisy excitement of the kids in neuropsch at UCLA as soon as they see the dogs

The nervous or depressed patients who relax when Gus or Stanley cuddles next to them on their beds

The smile of the man at the adult health center who only smiles when the dogs are visiting

The hospital staff, patients and family members who say, “this made my day” as soon as they hug Gus or Stanley

The honor of holding their leashes as, once again, I am privileged to witness small miracles

Every one of their visits will be more special to me. Not for a moment will I take for granted that I have been given the gift of sharing my beautiful dogs, of helping people heal, beginning with Charley so many years ago.

From now on, every visit that we do, whether virtual or in person, will be dedicated to the thousands whom we have lost to COVID-19. May the love that Gus and Stanley give so freely honor their memories.

Thank You for Your Service

Last week, Danielle, the youngest daughter, called to ask about veterans in our family for a project in my granddaughter’s class. As I listed family members who had served, it made me really start thinking about the holiday.

ELBEE Probably because she has too much time on her hands.

My husband was a Lt. Commander in the Navy. My father and a few uncles served in WW II. Another uncle, a career military, was a Colonel in the Air Force.

It brought to mind this photo of my great grandmother Ella, taken in the early forties. There was a newspaper article attached but it has disappeared with time. What hasn’t disappeared is the sense of pride.

She’s holding stars for each of her relatives, including my father, who was representing their country.

This year, the year of COVID 19, has become so much about service. The pandemic, for all its difficulties, has given us time to remember and to reflect.

The Doods celebrated the holiday in the most meaningful way possible. They did a virtual visit with the kids in the neuropsych unit at UCLA. What better way to honor all of our veterans who have served than to make their own contribution.

I dressed Stanley and Gus in the red, white and blue accessories that the dogs have worn for past holidays and parades. There were no parades last Wednesday, but the smiles on the faces of the teens as they joined us on Zoom were a celebration.

“Thank you for your service.” Those five simple words say so much. Someone spoke them to me and the Doods the other day and I was unbelievably touched.

A huge thank you to all of the veterans who have served. This year there are so many others who deserve our gratitude too. Nicole, the middle daughter who, ironically was born at Camp Pendleton, is an ICU nurse. She has given me a deeper understanding of what she and her fellow front line workers are going through. From the bottom of my heart, a sincere thank you to her and to each and every one of them.

Thank you to family and friends who offer love and support, even if it’s just with a text saying “I’m thinking about you.” Thank you to neighbors who reach out to help, offering to pick up groceries. Thank you to the strangers who, masks and all, smile and wave.

A huge thank you to Gus and Stanley for your calming presence. Which reminds me, a shout out to our vet, as in veterinarian.

ELBEE That may be her most inappropriate segue yet.

Last week, with everything so heightened, I panicked when we found a growth over Gus’s right eye. I raced to the vet without an appointment but was fortunate enough to run into her in the parking lot. She took one look and reassured me that it was only a cyst. Treatment was a success and we’re both doing fine.

A Shout Out to UCLA

Someone recently shared the photo on the left with me. Since it made me laugh I wanted to pass it along. Laughter is in such short supply right now. And did you actually think I could let this go by without picking up Stanley, which, by the way, was a little more difficult than bench pressing him.

CHARLEY That’s two weeks in a row she’s started her post with a poop joke. I’m concerned.

On a positive note, I want to give a shout out to everyone at UCLA Medical Center. They have gradually found ways to bring the dog presence back into the hospital.

Little did I know that when I brought Gus to UCLA on March 11th for his Pet Partners testing, it would be our last time there for several months. Shortly after, as COVID-19 took over, the dog visits were stopped. Sadly, it was just when they were needed the most,

Missing our visits and frustrated that we couldn’t help, I was delighted when we were asked to send in photos or videos of the dogs thanking nurses and then other hospital staff on the front lines. These signs are truly from the heart.

Virtual visits came next. As I’ve shared, I really wanted to be a part of them but was totally overwhelmed by the technology. I was so excited when I successfully downloaded (or is it uploaded) Zoom.

ELBEE Oy!

Since the initial visits, the PAC dogs and Blue Moon, the miniature horse, have developed a huge virtual presence in the hospital. They’ve visited with patients, staff, families and students. Whenever there’s a request, the teams show up. Their cardboard cutouts are now part of the decor.

Last week, right before our “meeting” with the kids in the neuropsych units followed by a special patient request, I had technical difficulties. I’ve had them before

ELBEE Many times

but this was major. My router had died. I had no internet connection. It wasn’t a quick fix so I had to cancel at the last minute. There was a part of me that felt terrible about letting everyone down.

Then I realized that in a selfish way, I was going to miss the visits for myself. It made me think of a quote that I saw recently. “Life is better when you are happy. Life is best when other people are happy because of you.”

I would change the word “you” to “dogs.” I couldn’t do any of this without Gus and Stanley. Their antics are what entertain. They see the laptop on the floor and know it’s their time to shine. When a sick child watches wide-eyed as Gus dances or Stanley spins, that moment is purely about their connection with the dogs. That moment is a priceless gift.

Charity Begins at the Corner

Over the years, thanks to the Doods, I’ve been fortunate enough to do so many things in addition to hospital visits. Some, like parades and parties were fun. Others, like the movie I Love You Man that I did with Charley were fabulous.

ELBEE I cannot believe she’s bringing that up again. Maybe it’s because it’s award season and she thinks she should have won an Oscar for best cameo.

I bring it up because, believe it or not, this week two random people asked if that was really me. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.

Some of the events have been incredibly touching. Gus and I recently joined a few other Pet Partners teams for A Magic Penny Volunteer Fair. Located at the corner community center just a few miles from my house, it turned out to be a very special afternoon.

A Magic Penny is a philanthropic organization that believes “through diverse and frequent volunteer events children and their parents/guardians can grow together and connect with the community.” I love their messages of spreading love through service and experiencing joy in giving.

There were several adorable Girl Scouts who had made dog blankets. When I asked which dogs they were for they answered, “homeless dogs, shelter dogs, oh just any dogs who need them.”

Two teenage boys were sitting at a table encouraging people to write personal thank you notes to first responders. With the year we’ve had in California, people were happy to have a chance to express their gratitude.

I spoke with a woman whose son has severe autism and is non-verbal. She is trying to influence businesses to become inclusive for people with serious issues rather than exclusive. Another woman was selling jewelry that she had made but was donating the profits to charity.

Throughout the afternoon, as I learned about all of the good work being done and shared what Gus and the other dogs did, there was such a sense of mutual purpose. And of course Gus was in his element working the crowd.

There was a moment of excitement when a fire truck from the nearby station pulled up in front of the center. It was a special treat for the kids and of course for Gus and yours truly. We had the chance to meet the fire fighters and celebrate their heroic work during the devastating wildfires.

I realize that the positivity in this post may seem a bit over the top even for me. It’s just that in the midst of these difficult and often tragic times, I was grateful to be even a small part of an event that celebrated kindness, courage and generosity.

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.

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.

Gus Does Cocktails…Again

This week, Dogs! A Science Tail opened at the California Science Center. It’s an interactive exhibit that explores the unique bond between humans and dogs. It just screams my name. Not sure how it happened, but I was fortunate enough to be contacted when they were in the planning stages.

ELBEE My reputation precedes her.

To make it even better, Gus and I were asked to take part in the Discovery Ball, a black tie gala that’s the annual fundraiser for the center. This year the theme, of course, was dogs. The guests, in their gowns and tuxes, saw K-9 units and search and rescue teams as they arrived.

As they entered the building, there was a green carpet for photos and an incredible wall with dog puppets handing out champagne. Then there was Gus to meet and greet everyone!

The dog can work a room. Gus used to be the sweet, quiet one. Although he is still sweet, he has totally embraced his inner diva. He danced. He offered up tricks on his own. His tail never stopped wagging and I swear he had a smile on his face.

Several people asked if it was okay to pet him. They were delighted when I assured them it was his job and he might take it personally if they didn’t. When I added that this wasn’t his first cocktail party, they laughed and said, “I can see that.”

ELBEE He’s starting to make me look humble.

It struck me that the contrast in dogs in the arrival space so beautifully illustrated a main theme of the exhibit. From police dogs, to service dogs, to sporting dogs, they interact with us in such different ways. Some you may not touch while they’re working. Others work to be petted. Either way, the strong human/canine bonds of trust, understanding and communication are always there.

On another note, the husband was with me for the evening as my “assistant.” Since he was in a suit and a dress shirt rather than a tux, watching from the edge of the crowd, people assumed that he was security.

ELBEE I would have paid to see that.

Up until that evening, he had only seen Gus as a dog, cute and loving, but just a dog.

THE DOODS Just a dog??

Over the years, he’s had slight peeks at what Gus can do but he’s never had the chance to see him in this kind of setting. He was used to the dog who quietly cuddles with us at home or sits on his ottoman “throne” barking at people who walk by the house. He has never seen Gus captivating an elegant but very appreciative crowd. In the husband’s words, he was “delighted, impressed, and mesmerized.”

This photo of Gus relaxing the next day says it all.