Puppies – Page 6 – Me and the Doods.com

I Thought I Saw an Angel

This week Gus soloed at UCLA. Since he’s still wrestling with giving up his position as baby of the family, I figured he could use the extra attention and adulation. With the humid weather, his hair was fabulous so he didn’t disappoint. I’m also happy to report that he seems to be doing much better with Stanley.

ELBEE He’s totally faking it.

GUS He’s right. I am.

The younger kids in our first neuropsych unit had been waiting for Gus. They welcomed him as if he was a visiting celebrity. A couple even had gifts. Two boys gave him drawings of Golden Retrievers that they had cut out of coloring books. I don’t know if it meant more to them or to me.

From the kids to the teens to the adults, Gus was in his glory. He cuddled. He did tricks. He rolled over for belly rubs. He was so cute and comforting that no one wanted him to leave. I don’t want to tell you how many patients and staff members said that it was fine if I needed to go but that they’d like Gus to stay for the day.

ELBEE That’s just sad.

After our regular groups, we had two encounters that once again confirmed the inexplicable power of therapy dogs. I often write about these quiet moments because I truly believe that they are the heart and the essence of what they do.

One of the staff asked if we’d stop in to see an elderly man with dementia who only responded when the dogs were visiting. When we entered his room, he greeted us with a gentle smile. I brought Gus over for him to pet, not really knowing what to expect.

To my surprise, for the next ten minutes we chatted about everything from special dogs in his life to places we had each lived. At one point he looked at me and said, “You’re a native Californian, aren’t you?” When I responded, “No, I was born in the Catskills, raised in Syracuse,” he knew all about the weather. It was very hard for me to grasp that without Gus, there would have been no conversation, no clarity.

Once we made our way downstairs, we stopped in the surgery waiting room. As soon as we walked in, a woman approached and said she was so happy to see us. She shared that she had watched us walk by twice that morning. The first time was when her husband was in surgery, the second was right after the doctor had assured her that everything had gone well. In almost a whisper, she confided that as soon as she’d laid eyes on Gus, she truly believed that she’d seen an angel.

You Are What You Eat

You might be surprised to know that years ago, as part of a fitness anti-drug show, I wrote a rap song called You Are What You Eat. I’ll only share the first verse. “When you get up in the mornin’ and you gotta move swift, don’t forget about breakfast. Breakfast, desayuno, petit dejeuner, no matter how you say it there is no way, to skip this meal at the break of day.”

ELBEE Oy vey, I find this disturbing in so many ways but I can’t get the song out of my head.

I’m almost embarrassed to admit that there were a few dance moves involved. That was especially challenging for someone who, as a kid, was a ballet school drop out. In case you’re wondering why I’m writing about something so random…

ELBEE That’s exactly what I was wondering after I recovered from picturing the dance moves.

Stanley was a very picky eater when I brought him home. Forgetting that he was adjusting to so many changes, like leaving his family, I started obsessing about his nutrition. It’s such a key to puppy development, especially in a larger dog. In the midst of worrying and not sleeping, the song just popped into my head and stayed there.

Before I knew it, his appetite kicked in. Now it seems like he’s always hungry. At mealtimes, he sprints over and waits impatiently with the pack. Since each dog has his own spot, I put Stanley’s bowl inside his fence, concerned that the others might steal his food. Boy was I wrong on that one. Stanley is the thief. We can’t let him out of his pen until they’re all finished or he’ll devour anything they’ve left.

GUS I have a confession. I eat as slowly as possible to keep Stanley caged up. I’m getting used to him but I need my space. (See: I Vant to be Alone)

Apparently, Gus has another confession to make. Yesterday, while I was getting ready to leave, their food arrived from Chewy.com. I pulled the thick, heavy cardboard box into the front hallway so that no one would steal it. I’ve done this countless times before and the dogs have never done anything more than stare longingly at the carton.

To my surprise, when I arrived home, the box was ripped to shreds. There were pieces of cardboard all over the floor and some of the food bags had been torn open. Stanley was in his pen so he was off the hook. There was no doubt in my mind as to the culprits. I’m sure it was Elbee with Gus as his wingman. I think with Stanley’s newfound appetite, they’re protecting their interests.

ELBEE AND GUS She can never prove it. We set up Riley to take the fall.

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.

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.