Pets – Page 23 – Me and the Doods.com

Socializing Stanley

At his young age, Stanley has already experienced rejection. No, not from Gus who tolerates him now. As I shared last week, Gus was ready to move out. He was hoping to get an apartment with his UCLA buddy Tommy the Bichon. Problem was that after Tommy checked realtor.com., they realized that they couldn’t afford to get a place with their joint non-salaries. Not to mention that a lot of places don’t allow dogs.

ELBEE Isn’t that species profiling?

Believe it or not, Stanley booked a commercial! Not just any commercial but a commercial for a Mercedes van. He immediately had visions of glory.

ELBEE The little guy doesn’t even know what a Mercedes is. HE had visions of glory?

Then just a day or two before the shoot, I received an e-mail that he was too young. He had missed the cut off age by about a week. To distract him from this disappointment, I started socializing Stanley. This is crucial for any puppy, but especially for one that I hope will follow in the paw prints of his big brothers.

ELBEE Oh and I’m sure he was bitterly disappointed about the commercial.

Therapy dogs need to be comfortable with all sorts of people in all sorts of situations. As I had with the others, I became a woman on a mission. He’s not allowed out for walks before all of his vaccinations, so I carried him everywhere.

We stopped in at the health club. We met friends at Starbucks. I reintroduced him to his groomer Marsha and introduced him to my “groomer” Brian. We checked out the clothes at dog friendly stores. Even his appointment at the vet became an opportunity to socialize.

No matter where we went, the reactions were the same. Huge smiles, squeals of “he’s so cute,” followed by arms reaching out to hold him. He snuggled up to each and every person. He loved the attention.

There was none of the puppy nipping or craziness. He was like the lawyer daughter who as an adolescent told me that she could be well behaved at home or when she was out but not both. Apparently, Stanley has chosen to be super puppy when he’s out.

There was another positive that I had been hoping for. Several people were curious as to why I had chosen the name Stanley. Of course that was my chance to tell them about my late brother Stanley whom I’ve written about so often. What I miss about him the most in these troubled times is his sense of humor. He was one of the only people I’ve ever known who could make me laugh until I cried.

ELBEE Or peed.

The Dog Days of Summer

ELBEE She should have called this “Ramblings from a Sleep Deprived Woman.”

I’ve come to the realization that a puppy is an infant and a toddler all rolled into one with a touch of bipolar disorder on the side. One minute Stanley is cuddling in my arms. The next he’s attacking a shoe like a Tasmanian devil.

It’s ironic that the “dog” days of summer, that hot miserable time of the year, when even dogs just want to lie around, may be the most difficult time to train a puppy. Take housebreaking for example. I have to convince Stanley to go out into the yard instead of into the air conditioned family room to “go potty.” On the bright side, once he pees, he runs back into the house like an olympic sprinter.

This past week has been even more “dogcentric” than usual. Part of raising a puppy, especially one that I hope will become a therapy dog, is spending time together. Stanley and I have bonded.

ELBEE Bonded? She was taking selfies with him in the kitchen!

Aside from bonding, integrating him into the pack has been a priority. When we lost Charley, there was a major shift in the dynamic of the pack. (A Different Dynamic ). Now with Stanley’s arrival there is another huge change.

With one slight exception, which I’ll get to shortly, things have gone pretty well. Stanley loves Riley, our very tolerant fifteen year old Golden. Similar in color, when Stanley snuggles close to him, it’s hard to see where one ends and the other begins.

Elbee has been the biggest surprise. I’m not sure if it’s his age or that he’s passed the diva torch to Gus, but he has been incredibly patient. Not only does he let the little guy crawl on him, but he lets him lick his hair and kind of twist it into braids.

ELBEE Don’t ask.

Gus has had a much tougher adjustment. It seems that it’s hard, even for dogs, to give up their position as the baby of the family. At best he tolerated Stanley’s arrival but in the last couple of days, I’ve seen a definite change. Not only does he let Stanley rest next to him, but he actually initiated a game of chase. I was able to get this group picture without having to photo shop Gus into it.

GUS I’m almost starting to like Stanley but it was touch and go for awhile. I thought about trying to contact my Bichon buddy Tommy from UCLA. He has an annoying new three year old sister so I figured he might want to move out and get an apartment with me.

Meet Stanley Jason Doodle

ELBEE OMG he has a middle name and I barely had a first name

GUS She always refers to me as Gus, formerly known as Cedric. Is that a middle name?

Friday I went to meet Stanley! As nervous, okay as neurotic, as I’ve been about finding the right dog, Billy, the breeder, put me at ease from the moment I arrived. He took me into the yard to introduce me to the pups and the parents, Nugget and Yetti. It was the most wonderful controlled chaos. Despite the overload of cuteness, it didn’t take long to narrow it down to two of the males.

They were both adorable, but as soon as I held future Stanley, the words of my amazing trainer friend Gina popped into my head. She told me “Hold the puppy on its back in your arms. If he relaxes right away and you can almost feel the body go limp, that’s the one.” As he snuggled against me, I knew.

A short time later, with goody bag in hand and reassurance from Billy to call him if I needed any help, I set off with Stanley to meet the pack. Since it’s best to introduce a new dog on neutral territory, I had made arrangements with my friend Tracy, honorary aunt and Dood sitter extraordinare for a canine meet and greet. We had decided that I would leave Stanley with her at my husband’s office and bring down the others, one at a time.

First I brought Elbee, thinking that he might be more difficult. To my surprise, he was great, calm and gentle.

ELBEE Helloo! I’ve been through this before. I totally get it.

Gus, on the other hand, was slightly less than thrilled. It was as if he knew that he was losing his position as the baby of the family. I also think that Gus has become somewhat of a “closet” diva. With his hair, the celebrities that he’s met, and all of the attention, I’m not surprised.

GUS I’ve tried to keep it to myself but look at me. I’m fabulous. Plus I’ve learned from the best.

After so many trips to the office that it felt like the movie Groundhog Day, I finally arrived home with a pretty copacetic pack. Gus is still in a bit of a snit, especially with his newly embraced divadom but is doing better. By the way, Riley, our fifteen year old Golden, is so over it.

I will have lots more to share about training a puppy. It’s not for the faint hearted. For now, while I’m somewhat coherent, let me say that Stanley’s temperament is a gift. When I took him out to socialize, he comforted and cuddled. Marsha, the groomer, said that he “sucked out all of her stress.”

Last night, Nicole, the middle daughter (who has already introduced Stanley on Facebook), felt the presence of his namesake, my funny brother. She said that he was looking down and laughing, enjoying the dog’s name and all of the chaos. I have to wonder. Did my brother Stan send me a special puppy.

The Calm Before the Puppy Storm

If all goes according to plan, Stanley will be joining the pack next week. After so many dogs I should be completely relaxed but that hasn’t been the case. Instead, I’ve been so obsessed, you’d think that I had just given birth.

ELBEE I’m surprised she hasn’t had a puppy shower.

It’s only been four years since Gus came into our lives but I feel as if I’ve forgotten everything I ever knew about training a puppy. It’s kind of how clueless I was when I had the oldest daughter. We were leaving the hospital and I remember asking the doctor what I should do with her when I got her home. The poor man looked really nervous.

ELBEE And you wonder why mother of the year has been off the table.

I’ve been reading articles, calling my trainer friends for advice, buying puppy things on line. I tried to tell myself that it was because I’ve been involved with Stanley almost from the time he was conceived. As I shared in an earlier post, I happened to e-mail Billy, the breeder, only a few hours after he’d finished delivering the litter. Not only did he email photos of the newborns, but he even sent a video of one of the births. That was a first for me!

I’m sure the real reason is that I’m hoping for the right Stanley to join Elbee and Gus on the journey that began with Charley. It’s not only about finding a pet, it’s like a job interview. Is he cut out for the work? Does he have any special skill sets?

ELBEE Is she serious?

With Charley, I lucked out. I’d read about therapy dogs and developed an interest but wasn’t specifically searching for one. How serendipitous that a stranger at the vet commented on his amazing temperament and led me to the UCLA program. Elbee was more of a challenge. I was sick during his formative months so had to work harder to catch up on his training. I might have given up if not for the cheerleading of Jack Barron, my mentor at UCLA.

ELBEE Thank goodness he recognized fabulous.

When Gus’s original owner had to rehome him, several people wanted the adorable ball of fluff. Fortunately, Gina, the amazing trainer who picked him out, knew that he was born to be a therapy dog so I won the jackpot.

Will I get lucky again? Will I find another puppy that was born to be a therapy dog or will he need a little more encouragement? Will Stanley have the right heart and temperament? When I go to meet Stanley will I find him or will he find me?

ELBEE I hate to be a buzzkill but has Pack Leader forgotten that wonderful Stanley will be peeing all over the house and eating her shoes?

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.

What’s in a Name?

We haven’t met the new puppy yet but he already has a name. Actually he had a name before he was even born.

ELBEE May I remind you that I was named by the receptionist at the vet because no one in the family could agree on my name. She didn’t want to put “Blank” on my chart so she wrote “Little Brother.” I won’t lie. It still stings.

The name is Stanley after my brother who passed away from cancer over twenty years ago. Stanley was one of my favorite people on the planet. I’m funny but he was so funny he could make me laugh until I cried.

ELBEE Excuse me. If she’s funny then I must be the world’s greatest four-legged stand up comic.

As a television director, he knew how to put everyone from the talent to the craft services at ease. People gravitated towards him. He had the gift of making you feel important, but he didn’t like a lot of fanfare for himself.

Shortly before his death, he told me that he didn’t even want a funeral. Not quite believing we were having that conversation, I convinced him to let me do something for his friends. He agreed to a casual gathering in a park. It turned out to be such a perfect day of remembrance. His buddies went so far as to set up their weekly poker game with an empty seat at the table for him.

Stanley would not have wanted a memorial plaque or a commemorative bench in the mountains, but having a puppy named after him would have suited him just fine. He loved dogs. He was like the Jewish dog whisperer. It’s the most appropriate tribute I could give him. Somehow this just felt like the right time to do it.

The daughters, who adored him, completely understood. They were immediately on board. By the way, shout out to them for looking after me since the burglary. Sometimes it’s nice to have daughter/mothers.

The husband, remember he wants to be included, took a little more convincing. He loved my brother but not his name. When I suggested he could call the dog Stan or Stan the Man, he was good with it.

I’m hoping that with training, a little luck and a special namesake, the puppy will join Elbee and Gus on their rounds. How wonderful to honor my brother with a therapy dog named after him.

Even better, the dog’s name often becomes a topic of conversation when we’re visiting with patients and families. Talking about Stanley the dog will be a perfect way to keep the memory of Stanley the man alive. It will be my private way of celebrating someone who was such an important part of my life. I can almost feel his spirit looking on and laughing, the laugh that I have missed for so long.

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.

Breaking and Entering

Wednesday morning, I headed up into the mountains. I had just made it to the top of the butt burner when my cell phone rang. A man identifying himself as a sheriff deputy told me that there was a burglary at my house.

At first I thought it was a crank call. Unfortunately it wasn’t. After finding out that he “thought” the dogs were okay, I turned around and, despite being a devout non-runner, started running down the trail like a lunatic. At the same time I was making frantic phone calls to neighbors, security and family.

When I pulled up in front of the house, the scene was surreal. There were cars all over the street, as well as officers from the sheriff’s department and LAPD, most in plain clothes. I was a little confused because I hadn’t seen this kind of response to other burglaries in the neighborhood.

It turns out they’d received a tip and had been on surveillance. Then I heard something even crazier. Driving home from the trailhead, I’d been listening to a news report about a high speed police chase that had just ended with the arrest of one of three burglary suspects. Turns out that the pursuit had started at our house!

Once inside and smothered by some much needed dog love, I headed up to the bedroom, the only room that had been touched. It was completely ransacked. Even worse, they had smashed a sliding glass door to get in and there was glass everywhere. The dogs hadn’t prevented them from entering the house but fortunately their barking had kept them in one room.

Later in that very chaotic day, I received a call from the police that they’d recovered most of our things. After an hour or two at the station, I couldn’t wait to head home and collapse. This time when I drove up, the law enforcement cars were gone but there was a news van right in front of the house!

I admit that I’m not one to shy away from a news van, but this was pushing it, even for me. I did the interview and to the embarrassment of the daughters added a bit of humor, my way of coping.

In the back of my mind, I knew that my friends would be disappointed in me if I didn’t get the dogs on camera. Elbee was at my feet so I simply picked up Gus. I ended by saying that it was a good thing they were therapy dogs, because I was going to be needing a lot of therapy the next day.

By the way, the Doods have been there for me but Elbee really doesn’t get the whole boarded up door. He keeps sitting there waiting to go out to his favorite spot on the deck.

After dealing with the aftermath of these dirtbags (sorry) who had seriously upset my sense of well being, something happened that reaffirmed my faith in humanity. A man called to say that he’d found my cell phone. Apparently, in my panic to get home from the mountains, it had fallen out of my pack. Waiting for me at the trailhead, this kind stranger simply returned the phone and refused to accept a reward.

I have also been touched by the number of friends and acquaintances who have reached out in love and support. I realize that there are many people that I may not see or even talk to very often but each one holds a very special place in my life and in my heart.

Signs

We are surrounded by signs, in the neighborhood and in the universe. Walking with the Doods, I see so many postings for missing pets. They’re usually dogs and cats or an occasional bird but I’ve seen one for a “friendly” monitor lizard and another for a snake. Really?

I also see signs for jobs, estate sales and lessons. I don’t know whether to learn to dance, sing or swim.

THE DOODS We’d suggest the singing lessons. Just a thought.

There are also messages on homes and businesses. I’ve lost count of how many I’ve seen that say “Beware of Dog.” One house had a “Beware of Dog” sign and another that said, “Celebrate Life.”

ELBEE Is that a mixed message?

Then there’s this unique sign in the window of a local barber shop. (I did a tiny bit of editing.)

There are more subtle signs in nature like the floating butterflies. They remind us that the pets we’ve lost are still watching over us. In March, I shared that when I was in the mountains, standing under “Charley’s tree,” he gave me a sign that it was time to look for a new dog. Unfortunately, he didn’t include directions for finding it.

After searching all sorts of rescues with no luck, I searched my conscience. I decided, that despite my own guilt and the guilt that countless people laid on me, I was going to look for a puppy. After all, I was hoping it would grow up to honor Charley by doing amazing things. I still had no luck.

Then, all of a sudden, the universe started sending me signs. Marsha, the groomer, texted that she had just met a four month old Doodle whose demeanor reminded her of Charley. Even better, the breeder was local. That was so important to me because with all of the terrible “animal on plane” stories lately, there was no way I was going to ship a dog.

ELBEE Ship? As if! I’d insist on at least business class.

The signs just kept on coming. The breeder has the same name as one of the daughters. Plus she went to UCLA!

ELBEE She forgot to mention that it’s Jennifer, the same as the non-dog loving daughter. Is that a sign?

I found out they were expecting a litter in late spring, so immediately got on the waiting list. Despite the fact that I’m terrible at waiting, I managed not to bombard them with phone calls.

About a week ago, not really sure when the puppies were due, I casually emailed just to see how things were progressing. Billy, the husband, got right back to me with the most exciting news. He had been up until 4 in the morning delivering the pups! He usually doesn’t announce the litter for 48 hours so I had an exclusive! If that isn’t a sign, what is?

Stay tuned for more puppy updates. I even have a name picked out, but like the royal family in England, I’ll announce it later.

ELBEE Oy vey

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.