Puppies – Me and the Doods.com

Halloween in July

This week’s post was nearly finished but then an unexpected grandkids/dogs encounter was too much fun not to share.

My daughter Danielle, her husband Jay and their kids Bella and Ryder arrived from San Jose this morning. Bella loves the dogs. Seven year old Ryder, not so much. He’s never been a fan of dogs, especially large, long-haired ones that crave attention. Doodles do not like to be ignored.

Ryder’s reaction has always been one of sheer terror. We had to make sure that he and the dogs stayed in totally separate parts of the house or we’d hear a lot of yelling. Over time, he’d kind of gotten used to Gus and even nicknamed him “Cloud.” Big Stanley was still “Pain in the Butt.” Then giant Henry joined the pack.

You can only imagine the chaos today with the three dogs wanting to greet everyone and Ryder wanting to go home. For awhile we kept them as far apart as possible. Then Jay, who hadn’t seen Henry since he was a slightly goofy puppy, was so taken with how calm he’d become, he thought that Henry might be the way to help Ryder overcome his fear.

It was a process, but with Jay’s encouragement, Ryder ended up sitting quietly with Henry and petting him. Eventually, I’m truly not sure how it happened, Ryder was in the bedroom with all three. With Bella’s help, I started showing some of the dogs’ silly photos to Ryder. Then I brought out their basket of props, always a hit with the children we visit in the hospital.

Before I knew it, my grandkids were putting funny glasses and headbands on themselves and on the dogs. They got very excited when I asked if they wanted to see the special dresser where I kept the dogs’ holiday costumes.

As soon as Ryder found the Halloween drawer, he was ready for a photo shoot. He started pulling out accessories, planning it all. He even ran upstairs to find more. It was incredible to watch him.

Since Danielle is an excellent photographer, we enlisted her to do the honors. Against her will, she agreed. She kept apologizing to the dogs as I dressed them up and mumbled about reporting me to PETA. I think I also heard the words, “crazy grandma.”

Getting them all in front of the fireplace was a little chaotic but there was so much laughter. Watching Ryder go from screaming about the dogs to posing with all three with a smile on his face was a little miracle.

Oh Henry

A few weeks ago, I wrote about making easy New Year’s resolutions. What I want to add is that you need to be flexible. There is no shame in dropping one or making it more user friendly.

Henry was the focus of two of mine. One seems to be going in the right direction. The other one, not so much. The resolution to bench press him may take a little more effort than I thought. I’m back in the gym, building up my strength, but to lift a dog that tall may be awkward.

ELBEE Oh and I suppose it has nothing to do with his weight.

The resolution to turn him into a certified therapy dog is going much better. I have taken him so many places recently and have used each one as a chance to work on his skills and his socialization.

His vet appointment was the perfect training opportunity. As soon as we walked in, he had to use a bit of self-control to keep from playing with the other dogs. The scale, where he weighed in at eighty pounds, was great for practicing his sit and stay.

ELBEE Bench press that!

In the small exam room, Henry, startled when the vet walked in, barked once or twice. After that, it was smooth sailing. Dr. Sanders was like his new best friend. Henry gave him his paw and looked into his eyes as if he had something to share. When Dr. Sanders took him into the back to finish his checkup, Henry pranced by his side.

I also brought him down to the wound care center where my husband works. The staff has been incredibly helpful in training Henry, and Stanley before him. The visit didn’t disappoint. Henry greeted everyone like old friends. He nuzzled them, sat for petting and posed for photos. It was a lovefest.

I was also fortunate enough to have the opportunity to bring him into the lobby at UCLA for a practice run. To be honest, I was a bit nervous. The lobby is huge, busy and noisy but my friends from PAC, who’d met Henry several times, felt that he was ready.

They were right! He mingled with everyone, had no reaction to the wheelchairs that passed by and even performed a trick or two. A few times, I heard the words that always warm my heart, “He made my day.”

To see Henry join his “brothers” Gus and Stanley as an official therapy dog would be, perhaps, my greatest New Year’s resolution ever.

Another Gentle Giant?

This week I took Henry down to the wound care center where my husband Doug works. The staff was so helpful in training Stanley for the hospital and now they’re doing the same for Henry. It’s a great way for the dogs to get used to a medical setting.

Henry loves everyone there and they love him. It’s been several months since his last visit so they were very surprised to see how much he’d grown. To my delight they could also see a real improvement in his socialization. In the past he’d been a bit shy, but on Friday he was calm and sweet with everyone.

Sometimes I forget how little he used to be. Doug and I were looking at some of his baby pictures and found it hard to believe that tiny puppy was the same dog.

Recently, a friend remarked that Henry is almost as tall as I am. As you can see, she was correct. Apparently as he’s been getting taller, I’ve been getting shorter. It’s an age thing.

ELBEE Hey, she said it. I didn’t.

I’ve even started on a monthly medication to help these old bones. For the sake of convenience, I’ve decided to take it on the same day that I do flea and heartworm prevention for the dogs. It’s a win/win.

ELBEE That is way too much information.

Continuing with Henry’s socialization, I took him hiking with my friend Mary. She has always been incredibly supportive of my work with the dogs and loves when people stop to visit. She brags about them almost as much as I do.

It was a beautiful morning with lots of people enjoying the cool weather. Henry wanted to meet everyone. The moment he spotted another hiker, he’d stop and stare in their direction. I’d ask if it was okay for him say hello and all I heard was “of course.”

His interactions were very gentle and sweet. He even did a bit of the “lean,” like Charley, my very first gift of a therapy dog, used to do. Charley taught me so much about healing and unconditional love.

Toward the end of our walk, we were chatting with a woman while she was petting Henry. As he sat quietly by her side, looking up at her with his soulful eyes, she said softly, “He’s a gentle giant.” That was music to my ears because that’s how people used to refer to Charley.

Hiking & “Healing” with Henry

In the past, I’ve shared that Yom Kippur is a biggie in the Jewish religion.

ELBEE And I’ve shared that I don’t think “biggie” is the appropriate term for the holiest day of the year.

It’s a day of atonement, reflection and remembrance. Traditionally observant people fast and spend most of the day in temple. Over the years, I have failed miserably at the traditional part. I guess I’m kind of a Yom Kippur rebel.

ELBEE Oy! So much for atonement.

The signs were there when I was a kid growing up in Syracuse. My closest friend, who shall remain nameless, and I went to Sabbath school, Judaism’s answer to Sunday school. On more than one occasion we tried to ditch services and were led back to the rabbi’s study by Eddie Rifkin one of his student spies.

ELBEE She remembers his name but not what she had for lunch yesterday?

In my defense, I’ve tried services at different temples, and even on Zoom, but nothing makes me feel as spiritual as being in the mountains. And isn’t that what religion is about…connecting with something larger than ourselves?

This year I headed up a trail with Henry by my side. He is the most at ease in the mountains since Charley, my very first therapy dog, so there was comfort in having him with me. One woman we met said, “He’s got such good energy.” That was music to my ears since I’m hoping one day to bring him into the hospital.

We came to the Nike site, a park on Dirt Mulholland that was actually a lookout post during the Cold War. There is a tower with beautiful panoramic views.

As I sat up there with Henry, gazing at the ocean in the distance, memories washed over me. I could feel the spirits of my parents, my brother Stan and my wonderful friend Eileen, all precious to me and all gone too soon. I thought of so many others who are physically gone but who are still a part of my life. As always, there was incredible sadness but also a sense of healing and love.

On another morning I had a random encounter that also speaks to the power of the universe. I was walking into Tarzana Hospital with Gus when a woman called out, “That’s the cutest dog I’ve ever seen.” She was absolutely delighted when I told her he was a therapy dog. She had worked in hospice care and truly understood the benefits of animal therapy.

She shared that she had been drawn to hospice care because her brother had died of colon cancer at 45. Totally taken aback, I quietly said, “My brother died of colon cancer at 47.” We just stared into each others’ eyes. The universe had brought two strangers together for a special moment of connection in this disconnected world.

Thank You Brian

Have you ever had one of those weeks when nothing seems to go right? Word of advice, if you’re having one, don’t watch the news. To add insult to injury, I had a bad hair day and took a selfie in my baseball hat that says, “bad hair day” across the front.

ELBEE She is the queen of bad selfies and why did she do that to poor Henry?

Fortunately, I had a hair appointment and things started looking up. I’m sure I get that from my mother. As a little girl growing up in Syracuse, I still remember her weekly ritual. Rain, shine or snow, but maybe not blizzard, she went for her wash and set. It was before blow drying was a “thing.” It always made her happy.

My hairdresser and dear friend Brian, not only makes my hair look fabulous but he’s also very spiritual and uplifting. Sitting in his chair is like a combination haircut/therapy session. He’s caring and kind with a sense of humor, a winning combination.

Recently he did something for an elderly client that speaks to his heart. The woman had taken a cab to the salon but got so confused when it was time to go home. that Brian decided to drive her. When she was safely in the house, her mind cleared and she thanked him.

Brian and his partner Daniel are both dog lovers and have helped me with socializing the Doods. With the people, noise and distractions, the salon is a perfect place to train them for working in the hospital. Stanley even had an early photo shoot.

A few days ago when I stopped in with Henry, I was delighted to see how comfortable and sweet he was with everyone Actually, it wasn’t his first meeting with Brian. That was when he was only about four months old. What a difference a year makes!

There is a sign on a small table in the restroom of the Syndicate, that I have always loved. It is a drawing of Audrey Hepburn with a quote about empathy.

That sign makes me think about how our dogs function with such pure empathy. They offer a lesson of love for all of us.

What a Difference a Cloud Makes

In case you hadn’t noticed, What a Difference a Cloud Makes is my third title in a row that’s a play on a song. I think the weather made me do it.

ELBEE I don’t know if I’m impressed or horrified.

Speaking of songs, this morning my packet of Truvia said “SHARE YOUR VOICE.” Does that mean there’s still hope for my singing even though I’m tone deaf?

ELBEE No!

I complained so much about the heat, I really want to celebrate the break in the weather. I had almost forgotten how much fun it is to go for a walk with the dogs without having to worry about the hot sidewalk and the sun. Plus everyone seems so much friendlier and happier.

ELBEE That’s because they’re not sweating and on the verge of heat stroke.

For the past few days, Doug has been walking Gus and I’ve been taking Stanley and Henry out together. With two dogs that size next to me, I have lots of interesting encounters.

One man said, “Oh you have ponies.” A couple of people looked a little surprised and said “Good for you.”

ELBEE That was an age crack.

A quiet, older Russian man who smiles when we pass each other, made a heart sign with his hands and softly told me, “I’ve seen them five times. They make me very happy.”

My friend Linda, a true dog lover, was driving by when she saw me with the “ponies.” She stopped and came over. I knew that she had been going through a very rough time and hoped that Stanley and Henry could help.

One of her two beloved older dogs passed recently. Then three days later her other dog went missing. Despite her best efforts, she hasn’t been able to locate him. It’s almost as if he has gone in search of his best buddy.

Stanley and Henry immediately sensed her distress. Dogs may not be able to articulate what they’re feeling, but they are so incredibly intuitive. They began leaning on her and nuzzling her, encouraging her to pet them.

At one point they took a break to wrestle, something they do when they’re really trying to get your attention. Then they went right back to comforting her.

They may be big and energetic but they were very gentle. Henry even gave her a soft kiss on the face. They could feel Linda’s pain and were doing their best to make it go away. There is nothing like the unconditional therapy we receive from our wonderful animals.

Linda put it beautifully when she messaged me, “Kisses to Stanley and Henry, my two healers.”

A Moment in the Park

I was going to write something much lighter this week but then I had an experience with Henry that almost moved me to tears. We were at a neighborhood park for his obedience class but what he did goes far beyond your basic sit and stay.

After beginning class in a small area of the park, we were working on loose leash walking around the playground and the basketball court. Suddenly, Henry started to pull toward a tall, slim casually dressed young man who had an impressive head of curly, shoulder-length dark hair.

The man, who was standing in the shade by the bleachers with a few other people, smiled when he saw Henry coming toward him. On a constant mission to socialize Henry and totally breaking class protocol, I asked if Henry could say hello to him. He answered “of course” and began petting him. We chatted for a bit, I even complimented his plaid tennis shoes, and then I went to catch up with the class.

About five minutes later, I was surprised to see the man standing right next to us. As I turned to him, he quietly said that he wanted to tell me how much the interaction with Henry had meant to him. He was so earnest and sincere, I forgot that I was at an obedience class in the middle of a park.

Without elaborating, he told me that he was at a low point in his life and really struggling. When Henry came over it was as if a weight had been lifted off of him for a few moments. I could tell how desperately he wanted me to understand. Before he headed back to his spot by the bleachers, he shared that nothing like that had ever happened to him with a dog.

At the end of class, I walked over to say goodbye and to let him pet Henry again. He thanked me profusely. He felt as if the universe had reached out to him. I was so deeply touched by his expression of gratitude. Because of the presence of a dog, this man had opened up to a stranger and felt comforted.

This morning, by coincidence, I picked up a packet of Truvia sweetener that read, “Be the reason that someone smiles today.” Henry you were that reason. Thank you!

Happy Birthday Stanley & Henry

This was a big week for the Doods. Henry turned one on the 16th and Stanley will be turning four tomorrow, on the 23rd. I have friends who celebrate their dogs’ birthdays by buying them In-N-Out Burger, serving them doggie cakes or arranging parties at the park.

I didn’t go quite that far, but I did hang a banner and put them in festive accessories.

ELBEE She forgot to mention that she took Henry to be neutered and to have a cyst removed from his tail! Happy birthday!

I confess. You may have noticed that he’s wearing an e-collar with his tiara and sunglasses.

I was a nervous wreck when I took Henry in for his surgery but he handled it like a trooper. He was raring to go when I picked him up the next morning and yes, he was wearing the e-collar or, as some call it, “the cone of shame.”

ELBEE It’s actually an Elizabethan collar named after ruffs worn by wealthy English landholders during that era. Hey, I dabble in history.

Surprisingly, Henry didn’t have a problem with it. It was almost as if he forgot he had it on. He just wanted a little extra attention. Unfortunately, he was bumping into doorways and chairs and into me and my husband. We have the bruises to prove it.

As a backup, in case there were problems, I had bought a ZenCollar, an alternative to the “satellite dish.” It’s made out of fabric and is inflatable.

The label said it would protect your pet as well as “shins, furniture and walls.” It would also restore “doggy dignity.”

Even though Henry was doing fine in the e-collar, after a few days of recovery, I thought he’d be more comfortable in the Zen version. It took him a few tries to figure out how to lay down with it on but then he looked positively relaxed.

Since the collar seemed to be working so well for Henry, I wondered why not give it a try. Couldn’t hurt and might work for me too. I mean who doesn’t want to find their Zen.

ELBEE I’m embarrassed for her.

There’s Something About Henry

ELBEE I almost didn’t comment about her stealing another movie title but I couldn’t help myself.

When we met Henry last summer, I knew that life was going to be different. I just didn’t know how different. Bringing a new dog into the pack always makes things more interesting. Bringing in a Great Pyrenees/Standard Poodle mix makes it even more interesting than I could have imagined.

Now at eleven months and eighty pounds, it’s hard for me to remember him as that tiny puppy who slept in his crate and chased Gus around the yard. I kind of forget his size until we’re out for a walk and someone reminds me.

I’ve heard a range of comments from, “Why don’t you put a saddle on him?” to “He’s really nice, he looks like he should be meaner.” Yesterday someone remarked, “He’s so big and you’re so small. Good thing he’s well behaved.”

ELBEE Trust me. He’s not that well behaved. It was a moment.

At Petco, a sales girl, helping me find a harness for Henry, fell in love with him.

ELBEE Mr. Perfect still pulls on the leash.

And wouldn’t you know it, her boyfriend’s name was Henry. When we got in line to pay, to everyone’s delight, the woman behind us had a Golden Doodle in a cart who looked like an adorable mini version of Henry with white hair and big tan spots. The salesgirl, who was now the cashier, said, “This is my best day ever working here.”

Yesterday, I was picking up food at CPK and had Henry in the back seat.

ELBEE Apparently, someone still isn’t cooking.

As the waitress brought my order to the car, Henry stuck his big head out the window. She immediately started laughing and petting him and didn’t want to go back inside.

Even the police like Henry. We were on a busy neighborhood street that has a lot of blind curves. An officer was across the road on his motorcycle, doing security for a film site. When he saw Henry, his face lit up and he waved.

Always on a mission to socialize Henry and get him used to new things, I figured the uniform and the mortorcycle would be great practice so I threw caution to the wind and ran over. When I had to cross back, I realized just how busy the street was. The officer, very kind and concerned, stopped traffic and led us over safely. Technically, Henry and I had our first police escort.

ELBEE Seriously?

Happy Birthday Gus!

For me, the month of March is an emotional milkshake.

ELBEE Is that a thing?

It was in March of my senior year in high school that my dad passed. My brother Stan’s birthday was March third. Although he’s been gone over twenty-five years, his laughter still resonates in my life

Charley, the gentle giant, and my first therapy dog, died suddenly in March of 2017, the morning after working a student event at the Wooden Center. He lives on in countless memories.

For instance, last week, when I was walking Gus and Stanley in the neighborhood, a man stopped his car to share a story. Years ago he’d been at a UCLA football game at the Rose Bowl when Charley and I walked onto the field during half time. He’d been so surprised to see us that he’d never forgotten it.

ELBEE That was the night they directed her to stand on the ten yard line. When she asked where it was the man said “next to the nine yard line.” And hello! My birthday was March eighth and no one who ever met me has forgotten me.

On a purely positive March note, Gus turned eight on the twenty fifth. What better way to celebrate the occasion than doing what he does best…cheering people up. Along with Jen, the manager of PAC, Gus, Stanley and I paid a visit to the internal medicine residents at UCLA Olive View Medical Center.

We met on a shaded, grassy area outside of the hospital. From the moment the first few doctors approached, everyone was positive and welcoming. Residencies can be extremely stressful but you’d never have known it from watching everyone interact with the dogs.

When I announced that it was Gus’s birthday, the atmosphere became even more festive. It was a regular party. With a little encouragement, everyone sang Happy Birthday and applauded as Gus danced. They laughed when I brought out the sunglasses and tiaras.

ELBEE She’s never met an accessory she didn’t like.

Despite all of the fun, there was a serious undertone. I could see how much the visit meant. It reinforced what our therapy dogs can accomplish simply by being present and loving. Since COVID, they have had an even more important role in comforting, not only patients and their families. but hospital staff as well.

A doctor rubbing Stanley’s belly told me how much she needed the time out from the demands of her training. Several simply hugged Gus and Stanley and smiled. My favorite moment was when a doctor, with a big grin on his face said, “This is the greatest day of my whole residency.”