therapy dogs – Page 10 – Me and the Doods.com

Call Me Pollyanna

ELBEE If she’s Pollyanna then call me Santa Claus.

I was very touched to receive unexpected messages from friends who told me how I’d helped them navigate this past year. I guess sharing my crazy, unpredictable journey through COVID let people know that they were not alone.

ELBEE I think oversharing would be more appropriate.

This week with restrictions lightened there has been an air of cautious optimism. Yet attitudes still range from “I’m ready to go to dinner and a movie,” to “I’m wearing a mask forever.”

The uncertainty is its own challenge. At the market all of the “keep your distance” markers are gone. Masks are only mandatory for those who aren’t vaccinated but how do we know? How do we move forward? How can I help?

ELBEE I’m so confused.

I thought the best way was to get in touch with my inner Pollyanna and share some positives.

For instance, take this sign that I saw on a street leading up to the hiking trails.

ELBEE Notice how it’s cropped. You don’t want to know what else was posted.

I saw a notice on someone’s lawn to clean up after your dogs. To my surprise, they provided a roll of poop bags.

ELBEE I have to admit that was considerate although a bit embarrassing.

This art work, painted on a wall in the mountains, has remained untouched for years. Normally it would have been defaced. I guess it’s technically graffiti but it’s a timeless message and so fitting right now.

Kudos to the security guard who stays tirelessly at her post keeping watch on the delivery area of a local golf club. She has a smile and a wave for everyone who walks by. She has become a favorite of Gus and Stanley.

Lately, I began wearing two random, mismatched heart necklaces. It somehow felt right. I had them on last week when the husband and I met the oldest daughter and our granddaughter Samantha at the Huntington Library in Pasadena. The art gallery was closed but the beautiful gardens were in full display.

On our way out we stopped in the gift store where we saw a simple but perfect necklace. It was a thin chain with the word “love” in the middle. Samantha and I each got one and promised we’d think about each other when we wore them

Since things were going so well with the necklaces, and Samantha is an expert at TikTok, I asked her how she’d feel about making a video of me and Stanley dancing. The look on her face said it all. I guess despite the love and the necklace, grandma doing the fox trot with her dog was not something she really wanted to share with all of her friends.

Our Pandemic Journey

My friend Donna, human mom to Gus’s buddies Tommy and Finley, said that my blog over the past year has been like a journal of the COVID experience. I started looking at old posts and realized just how much the pandemic had influenced almost everything that I’d written.

This opening paragraph from “The Universe is Knocking” on March 6, 2020, is my first real acknowledgment of what was happening. “The universe truly seems to have gone crazy this week. COVID-19 is causing fear, chaos, and plain old stress. People are in masks. Market shelves are empty. Restaurants are closed.” Still, I was almost naive about the extent of what was to come.

For a time, with all of the death and devastation, I felt it might not be appropriate to write my posts, but friends encouraged me to keep at it. They needed the break and sometimes a lighter perspective.

For instance, in the spirit of honesty, I wondered if the masks were making us look younger.

ELBEE That’s a no brainer. When she hikes maskless now she’s getting more of those “good job” comments reserved for old people on the trails.

I shared photos of the touching and sometimes funny chalk art that popped up. It was a way for people to communicate while still staying distanced.

When the shelter in place orders went into effect, the time we’d all spent with our dogs in the past paled in comparison. Gus and Stanley couldn’t go into the hospital but they became my personal therapy dogs 24/7. I even used them in my exercise routines.

GUS & STANLEY It was exhausting.

I wrote quite a bit about Zoom. As if reality wasn’t hard enough, all of a sudden “virtual” reality was a thing. Gus and Stanley began doing regular Zoom visits with the kids in the neuropsych units at UCLA while I, like so many others, struggled with technology.

Having them just sit in front of the computer wasn’t going to cut it, so out came the hats. sunglasses and ties. No trick was too silly if it made the kids laugh. On the bright side, would I ever have danced with Stanley if not for those visits?

ELBEE Probably.

Over the past year, aside from sharing the positive moments, I have also been honest about the emotional challenges. Depression, anxiety and insomnia have been much more prevalent. We are all trying to cope.

Now that we are slowly coming-out of it, there is still so much confusion and uncertainty.

ELBEE Like do you put on make up if you’re not sure if you’re going to be wearing a mask?

Seriously, as this difficult journey is winding down, let’s continue to offer each other compassion and support. Let’s lead with love and kindness.

(Photo by Doug Morrow😀)

Subway in the Basement

One morning, while the Doods were at the “spa,” I received a text from Jen, the groomer, that she wanted to talk to me about Gus. Of course I panicked, thinking that she had found something wrong.

As it turned out, she was concerned about his mental health. This was before any in-person visits were possible and Gus was missing his work. He wasn’t himself. Like so many people who were suffering from anxiety and depression after the ever changing challenges of COVID, Gus seemed to be having the same issues.

ELBEE I got him to call a mental health hot line but they didn’t speak dog.

It made perfect sense. Our pets have had a strange year just like we have. We’ve spent lots of time with them but their normal interactions have been limited. This is especially true for therapy dogs who thrive on attention.

Gus loves seeing the kids in the hospital.

He has also enjoyed his share of celebrity encounters. How many dogs sit in Metta World Peace’s lap or hang out with Laker girls?

GUS Those were the days.

As restrictions began to ease, I was very excited about bringing Gus to one of the first pet visit stations at UCLA Medical Center. It was going to be held in the Peace Garden right outside the lobby.

ELBEE As I recall, she’d already taken Stanley to one. Poor Gus.

From the moment we walked in, his little tail started wagging. He was back in his element. When we met up with others from PAC, especially his Bichon buddy Tommy, he was more himself than he’d been in a long time. I don’t know if he was happier to see the dogs or the people.

I wish I could say that this was the most successful pet visit station ever but because of the restrictions that are still in place and the gradual transition, the event couldn’t be publicized. It was like a party where the guests don’t show up because they didn’t receive invitations.

ELBEE Thank goodness it wasn’t catered.

Still, for me, Donna and Sharon, it was a relief to be doing something normal with our dogs. There was almost a sense of nostalgia. The few people who found us were delighted. “This made my day” was music to our ears.

We ended the morning doing something that under regular circumstances wouldn’t be worth mentioning. A few of us went to get sandwiches from the tiny take-out Subway shop in the basement of the hospital.

ELBEE This is a total snooze.

It’s kind of an informal tradition after visiting with the dogs, and something that we haven’t been able to do in over a year. Who knew that a simple lunch with dogs and friends could be so comforting?

ELBEE And who knew that comfort food was turkey and provolone on wheat?

For the Children

UCLA has partnered with the Department of Health and Human services to help care for the migrant children who are being temporarily housed at the Long Beach Convention Center. The People Animal Connection was offered the opportunity to provide pet therapy with weekly visit stations.

Last Wednesday, I hitched a ride with Jen Dobkin, the director of PAC, and took Stanley down for an experience that neither Jen nor I will ever forget. On the way there we were both nervous, not knowing what to expect. Once we arrived, I was glad we were together as we worked our way through security and COVID testing.

When we were finally led to a grassy area outside the center, the magic began. Groups of kids, between the ages of four and seventeen, came out to meet Stanley and Kelda a sweet Lab mix who was there with her owner Constance.

There was so much excitement as they gathered around the dogs. Once they knew that I could speak a little Spanish they had all sorts of questions in Spanish. What kind of dog was Stanley? How old was he? Could he speak Spanish?

Those were my cues. I shared that Stanley had just turned three this month and if they’d sing Feliz Cumpleaños, we’d dance for them.

ELBEE I think all of the Zoom calls have gotten to her.

Not only did they sing but they clapped along as Stanley put his big paws on my shoulders and we “danced.” They laughed when I put on his sunglasses and birthday tiara. They applauded when I told him “siéntate,” and he immediately sat.

ELBEE She used hand signals. I don’t know it that’s brilliant or shady.

They gave him water out of a small sports bottle, then gently wiped his beard with a towel. One little boy kept looking at Stanley and then at me. Suddenly, with a grin, he reached up and touched my hair. It was one of those funny, quiet gifts.

Group after group came out to visit, over 150 kids in all, one more enthusiastic than the next. They were appreciative when we gave them the dogs’ trading cards. They gently brushed Stanley with the soft baby brush that I use with kids in the hospital. Not once did I hear “you’re taking too long,” or “it’s my turn.” They gave each other space to pet him and rub his belly when he rolled over.

No matter the age, they were all so patient. As Jen said later, there was no whining. I am deeply grateful that being in the moment with the dogs temporarily helped them forget their difficult circumstances.

For reasons of privacy, we were not allowed to take any photos but it was impossible not to take mental pictures. The images of those wonderful children, who are going through so much but who felt such joy with Stanley and Kelda, will stay with me forever. I will always hear their laughter.

The Power of Connection

Surprisingly, even after this year of Zoom and FaceTime, I’m still struggling with social media. The dogs are better at it than I am. My dreams of being a grandma influencer are history.

ELBEE She can’t tell a hashtag from a hash brown and thinks that tweeting is something birds do.

My tech support team which consists of Ryder and Bella, my five and seven year old grandchildren, has threatened to quit.

Samantha, my twelve year old granddaughter, who can make a Tik Tok video as easily as I can blow my nose, has patiently tried to help.

ELBEE That is a horrible analogy. Speaking of noses, the only time she’s gone viral is when she’s had a cold.

What I do appreciate, even with my limited presence and expertise on social media, is the opportunity it provides to connect with one another. Through Facebook, I’ve reconnected with cousins that I haven’t seen in years, even ones who live across the world. I’ve heard from college friends and from hospital people who miss the dogs.

The most gratifying part of writing my blog is the response from friends who express how much they relate to what I’ve overshared. They tell me they feel the same way or that I’ve made them laugh. Over the past several months, we may not have been able to share a hug but we’ve stayed together.

The Zoom calls have kept the kids in the neuropsych units connected with Gus and Stanley. When they applaud the dogs’ tricks or tell me about their own pets, I know it’s working. The calls will never replace in-person visits, but they do fill a void.

Last week, more that ever, I realized that social media can offer a very special form of connection. With her blessing, I reached out to let others know how my daughter Nicole, an ICU nurse, was dealing with the aftermath of COVID. She wanted her fellow front line workers to know that they were not alone.

It was touching to see how people responded. They sent messages of love and support. They expressed gratitude for the work that she’d done. They asked if there was any way that they could help. It meant so much to her and to me.

Connection is always important but during difficult times it is crucial, whether in person or on social media. People cope differently, but reaching out to each other is one way to heal and move forward

It is also at the heart of what our therapy dogs do. Whether snuggling, rolling over for a belly rub or sitting quietly by our sides, their simple presence speaks to the power of connection.

A Morning of Love and Gratitude

Wednesday, for nurse appreciation day, six of the PAC dogs, three in Santa Monica and three in Westwood, did in person hospital visits. Normally, it would have been considered a special event, but since it was the first time the dogs had been back in over a year, it was a cause for celebration.

From the moment I checked in with Stanley and met up with his “co-workers,” Kennedy and Oliver, in the outdoor courtyard, there was a pervasive feeling of joy. The dogs were just as excited to be back as everyone was to have them back.

I spoke with several of the nurses and no matter their specialty, they shared how difficult the pandemic has been. It was even apparent from their tone of voice. Hard working and dedicated, nurses have always been heroes but this past year they have become super heroes. They were grateful to have us there. I felt gratitude at having the opportunity to say thank you.

As one person after another interacted with the dogs, I saw pure delight. They all smiled as they took photos, petted and hugged the dogs. The stress temporarily melted away. Over the last several months I’ve written about the dogs doing Zoom visits, but that morning I was overwhelmed as I was reminded of their simple in-person power.

Stanley also had a touching moment with a patient. A young man, who, I believe, was going through extensive cancer treatment, and his dad walked outside to see the dogs. Total dog lovers, we all laughed when the boy said he’d really question a relationship if his sweet dog growled at the girl. Despite the light conversation, Stanley sensed what the boy was going through physically and spent the whole time giving him the “lean.”

Later in the day, I was telling Nicole, my middle daughter who is an ICU nurse, about the visit. After an incredibly trying year taking care of innumerable COVID patients, she truly understood the emotion of the morning.

Going through a rough time herself, she asked me to share this message. She wants to reach out to others who are coping with the aftermath of the past year. She’d like them to know that what they are going through is real. There is no shame in reaching out for help.

Last weekend, after a few particularly difficult days with multiple unexplainable symptoms, she came to sleep over. As she, my husband and I put it all together, it became clear that she has a form of PTSD. It was almost a relief to have figured it out.

Acknowledging what she is dealing with, she is getting help and has developed coping mechanisms. She wants her fellow nurses and other front line workers to know that they are not alone. Offering each other love, support and understanding is an important step in moving forward.

The Dog Princess

This weekend for the first time in over a year, we hugged Danielle, the youngest daughter, her husband and their kids. They drove down from San Jose to visit. We have done a ton of FaceTime during the pandemic but in person was so much better.

Seeing us was supposedly the reason for the trip but something else tipped the scale in our favor. Jason Mraz, Danielle’s favorite singer in the entire world, was doing a drive-in concert in Anaheim.

ELBEE She has been to see him so many times that he probably considers her a stalker.

As a bonus, grandma and grandpa could babysit while they were at the show, a plus for them and for us. There was only one major flaw in this whole plan. Five year old Ryder is not a fan of big dogs.

Ironically, a few years ago, pre-Stanley, when his sister Bella was only four and Ryder was too young to really care, we had a very similar situation. Gus, who is small, cute and cuddly won her over almost without trying. Elbee on the other hand, looked like a Yeti to her. There was a lot of yelling.

ELBEE I have never really gotten over that.

Things might have stayed chaotic if my older granddaughter, Samantha, hadn’t come over and given Elbee a huge hug. Then she somehow convinced Bella that it was okay to be in the same room with him. She even got her to pet him.

I am delighted to share that Bella, at seven, is now a total animal lover. She was incredible with the dogs. Gus, of course, wasn’t a problem but she was comfortable with Stanley too. He became a Bella lover and started following her all over the house. We even did a special photo session.

ELBEE These made the daughter question her grandparenting skills.

When they first arrived, her brother Ryder was happy to see Gus but wanted nothing to do with Stanley. He would have preferred to have him banished to the yard. There was one brief moment when he sort of petted him but as soon as Stanley showed the least bit of excitement it was all over.

STANLEY I was so confused. People usually love me.

Ryder did a self-imposed exile. This photo may look like he’s in jail but it was at his request. It was to keep Stanley out of his territory

Now if you’re waiting for the miraculous happy ending where Ryder turns it around and becomes Stanley’s best friend, keep waiting. To put it mildly, he’s still not a fan of big dogs.

As they were leaving this morning, he called goodbye to Gus and told him that he could come visit any time. Stanley was not mentioned in the invitation. Fortunately, Stanley has a special friend in Bella who named herself the “Dog Princess.”

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.

A Special Virtual Visit

I started a different post a few days ago but then had an experience that I really wanted to share. I learned that the dogs can work “virtual” magic.

It’s hard to believe but it’s been a year since the Doods and I began doing Zoom calls with the kids in the neuropsych units at UCLA. The visits were initially pretty challenging as we all adjusted to the technology and the distance. Then, little by little, they developed a certain rhythm.

This week was no exception. Gus and Stanley were ready to Zoom, dressed in the finest that the Dollar Store has to offer.

ELBEE She has started wearing some of their accessories.

CHARLEY I’m concerned.

Once the patients were engaged, laughing and asking questions, I had the dogs do some of their tricks. I asked the kids to sing along when Gus was dancing and when Stanley was dancing with me. Since they really miss hugging the dogs, I’ve learned the sillier the better to capture their attention. It touched my heart when one of the boys asked if I could bring them in to see him.

Then Gus and Stanley started showing off and stealing screen time from each other. They have it all figured out. From the moment they see my laptop on the floor, their inner divas come out. It’s a little chaotic but seeing them wrestle is probably more interesting than watching them do a perfect sit.

ELBEE I would have been such a Zoom influencer.

After the groups, Robbie, the wonderful therapist whom I’ve known since starting with Charley, asked if we would do an individual visit. It was with a teenage girl who wouldn’t participate in the group calls but had a passion for rescuing dogs. When the patient was told that I truly wanted to hear about her rescues, she agreed to an iPad visit.

Although she generally distances from others and barely engages, seeing me sitting with Gus and Stanley, somehow encouraged her to open up. For the next ten minutes she shared very personal stories of dogs that she’d rescued.

Not until we’d said our on-line goodbyes did I find out just how special the visit had been. I learned that the teen has severe issues and can be very aggressive. She has a one on one aide with her in the hospital.

I had seen none of that as she talked so sincerely to me and to Gus and Stanley too. It reminded me of what our therapy dogs can accomplish, even remotely. For a few minutes, a troubled teen who loves animals saw mine on the screen and forgot her problems as she told me about the dogs in her life.