therapy dogs – Page 17 – Me and the Doods.com

And the Guilt Goes On

On Yom Kippur, not only was Stanley my partner in crime, but he stepped up to a big challenge, visiting the neuropsych units for the first time. Being unpredictable, it’s a more difficult environment. Stanley handled it almost like a pro.

CHARLEY Of course he did. We were keeping an eye on him.

And yes, I’m obviously still trying to justify going in on the holiday.

ELBEE Oy vey. She needs to let it go.

My biggest concern was the kids under twelve, who often have a very high energy level. Stanley, at 16 months, is still a kid himself, so I could imagine him reacting to that energy. Somehow, he took it all in but managed to keep himself in check. With their giggly encouragement, he gave them “kisses” which he doesn’t usually do.

In the adult unit, before going in to see our group, we were asked to do a private visit with a patient who didn’t want to come out of his room. We walked in to find a very quiet, seemingly shy, young man wearing sunglasses. He spoke so softly that it was difficult to hear his voice, but as he petted Stanley I saw the trace of a smile on his face.

A few minutes later, while we were interacting with the patients gathered in the day room, I suddenly saw the young man standing in the doorway. Apparently, wanting to see Stanley again had given him the incentive to come out of his room.

The teens in the eating disorders unit, some who have been in and of the hospital for years, have a very special kind of love for the dogs. They always joke around and tell me it would be absolutely fine if I wanted to take off but leave the dog with them for the day.

ELBEE They’re not joking.

Stanley and I were on the large recreation deck with two of the girls from the unit. There was activity swirling around us but we were in a corner talking baseball. One girl was a Dodger fan. The other was rooting for Washington. She said she’d think of me when they won. We don’t need to discuss that any further.

Suddenly, I felt a tiny stick lodged in the fur near Stanley’s paw. The girls immediately started to help me remove it. As we sat there working on it together, it struck me how beautiful and simple it was. We were just three people helping one big dog.

ELBEE Let us pray that this takes care of her Yom Kippur guilt for the year.

**My Post Hospital Therapy Session With Stanley**

The Yom Kippur Three Strikes Law

Wonder if there’s a three strikes law for Yom Kippur, a day of atonement, reflection and remembrance, a biggie as far as Jewish holidays go. If there is, I am definitely going to Yom Kippur jail.

ELBEE Where does she come up with this stuff?

This is the third time I’ve been to UCLA on the holiday. It always seems to fall on my regular day. Is it a test that I’m failing miserably? The last two times I’ve gone with my friend Donna who referred to us as “Yom Kippur felons.” She would bring her Bichon Tommy, Gus’s buddy. This year she couldn’t make it so Stanley and I were on our own

ELBEE Does Donna have inside information on the three strikes law?

CHARLEY Did she even ask Stanley about his religious affiliation?

There really is strength in numbers. When you have someone aiding and abetting, you can share the guilt. Being there alone was a challenge. Fortunately, just as I was starting to question my decision (again) there were signs that I was doing the right thing.

As we walked by Maddie’s room, the surgery waiting area, a volunteer came running out and said that a family was having a very rough time and could use a dog visit. Their faces lit up when they saw Stanley. After a round of hugging and petting, they were relaxed and happy. Even if it was only for a few moments, they’d had a chance to breathe.

Outside of the ICU, a woman approached who was delighted to see us because she needed some dog love. As Stanley leaned against her while we chatted, she jokingly confided that her dog was a “brat.”

This went on all morning so by the time we left the hospital, I figured I was safe. Still, not able to leave well enough alone, I pushed it once more. How could I not watch the final game in the Dodger’s series against Washington. In my defense, it was almost sundown when the game started so I was sort of in the clear. When tragically they lost, I felt a tiny twinge of guilt.

On a serious note, on Yom Kippur I light candles in remembrance of some special people who, although they are gone, are still such a part of my life. My dad and my mom. It’s hard to believe she left us 50 years ago this week. My funny brother Stan. My dear friend Eileen. Too many others.

As I watch the candles flicker, I am comforted by memories of them. A part of me hopes that I’m making them proud, but an even bigger part of me hopes that I’m making them laugh.

Belly Rub

After the pet visit station at UCLA last week, Stanley and I were asked to do a room visit. Told that it was a “priority,” I felt a little concern. After all, you never know what you’re going to find when you knock on a patient’s door. It could be a child who smiles for the first time in days. It could be someone critically ill who is reaching out for a measure of comfort.

This time it turned out to be the best possible circumstances. “Priority” was a teenage girl who loved dogs, especially large ones, and had really been hoping for a visit. When I walked in with Stanley, the patient, her mom and a cousin got so excited you would have thought it was a surprise party, which, I guess in a way, it was.

Asking if she’d like Stanley on the bed, I got a resounding “yes.” I spread out a sheet and then helped Stanley step up gently. To the patient’s delight, he settled into her lap, well, the part of him that would fit in her lap.

What happened next was the highlight of the morning. Stanley has been taking a tricks class where some of the tricks are taught while a few are “caught” behaviors. This means if your dog sneezes or does something else regularly, you give it a name, reward it and it becomes a trick. For instance, Gus does an adorable little dance which, believe it or not, I didn’t teach him.

ELBEE Hello? If you’ve ever seen her moves you will absolutely know that Gus taught himself.

Stanley really doesn’t have a lot of caught behaviors but rolling onto his back for a belly rub is one of them. It’s his go to move if he wants attention, is in trouble or just relaxing. I whispered to the patient to ask Stanley if he’d like a belly rub.

That’s all it took. He sprawled out on his back, long legs in the air, just waiting for his belly to be rubbed. Everyone, including two nurses watching from the doorway, burst out laughing.

As happens on those very special visits, the hospital faded away. Thanks to a big, goofy dog, we were just a group of people, strangers moments before, putting problems aside and sharing a laugh. As a therapist at the hospital said to me recently, “the dogs do things that we simply can’t do.”

The New Generation

Once a month the UCLA People Animal Connection holds a pet visit station. A few of the dogs in the program gather on the patio to meet and greet all of the people going in and out of the hospital.

This week it happened to be three puppies visiting and it was a party. Stanley and I worked along with Laura and her two poodles, Kennedy who is Stanley’s age and Jackie who is slightly younger. People were enchanted with their cuteness quotient, sweetness and energy. Stanley’s only problem was that he didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to play with Kennedy.

STANLEY I still don’t get it.

Whether staff, family, patients or visitors, faces lit up seeing the pups. A man from Ohio, who was involved with the air transport of organs for transplant, was waiting on the patio for quite some time. Having had a chance to observe all of the interactions, he came over to tell me that he felt as if every hospital should have a therapy dog program.

Stanley, looking like a huge muppet, was in his glory. He was finally getting enough attention. There were lots of comments about his incredibly long eyelashes. Several people jokingly asked me if he used Latisse. One woman whispered to me that we were a magical team.

ELBEE I think I just threw up in my mouth.

There was something else that made this visit station very special. Over the past year or so the People Animal Connection has lost many of the “old guard,” dogs who did amazing work as long time members of the program.

Laura’s poodle Apollo was legendary for bringing a young girl out of a coma. My boy Charley was legendary for getting a catatonic woman to smile and pet him. Elbee was recognized for calming down an out of control little girl who was a danger to herself and others.

In this photo, Stanley is sitting in front of the classic PAC poster which includes not only the current dogs, but also pictures of Apollo, Charley, Elbee and some of the others who have left us. It was fitting and deeply touching that the three dogs at the monthly UCLA pet visit station were following in the paw prints of their big “brothers” and “sisters.”

I’m sure that somewhere all of the wonderful PAC dogs have reunited. There is comfort and joy in knowing that they are watching over us and guiding the new generation.

My Dogs Are “Spoilt”

Recently someone sent me this Spoilt Pet Test. I immediately had an issue with the word “spoilt.” Hey, once an English major, always an English major.

CHARLEY Again with the issues.

ELBEE She googled it! Can you believe?

Yes, I googled it. For those of you who share my concern, some sources said that either was correct but when in doubt to use “spoiled.” Interestingly, another source stated that “spoilt” was the preferred choice in England.

CHARLEY That’s ironic.

The quiz was a no-brainer. I don’t need a test to tell me that my dogs are spoiled. Look at the first statement, “Your pet is allowed to sleep in your bed.” Stanley and Gus have taken over the bed.And they’ve also taken over the sofa.

GUS AND STANLEY We were on guard duty.

Not only have I refused to move if they’ve fallen asleep on me but my foot has fallen asleep because they were on it. Of course they get Christmas presents although I’ve fallen down a little on the birthdays. Yes, I sign cards from them.

We recently cancelled a trip, partially because of them. As for greeting them first, who else runs to the door with tails wagging?

ELBEE Certainly not the daughters

Actually, the quiz doesn’t go far enough. My hair products are in one drawer. Their hair products fill three baskets. The Doods have a chauffeur, that would be me. Also a full time maid who would also be me. Not to mention a personal chef.

ELBEE Putting packaged food in a bowl is not cooking.

On the other hand, the dogs would ace a “Spoilt Human Test.” They’re my constant companions when I’m home. They’re happy with whatever program I put on tv. They’ve become total Dodger fans.

When the husband and I are tired, they lay by our sides. They let us know when someone is walking by the house and when they’re gone. They make us laugh with their antics. When I’m sad they lean against me until I’m comforted.

At work they take my breath away. As a former sceptic, I never take it for granted when they show me miracles. I’ve seen people forget their pain, even if only for a few moments. I’ve witnessed clinically depressed people smiling for the first time in weeks. I’ve seen a schizophrenic little girl hug the dogs and tell them that she loved them. I’ve watched patients emerge from the haze of dementia or catatonia in response to the dogs.

I may wait on them hand and paw but I am happy to do it. They give me strength, a sense of purpose and joy. I don’t mind spoiling them because nobody spoils me the way they do.

Say “Cheesy”

Before I get to the main topic, the dogs’ photo shoot for the People Animal Connection calendar, I need to vent about a more sensitive issue…aging. When Gus and I were at UCLA this week, one of the therapists and I started chatting about age. She was feeling old but felt much younger when I admitted how old I was. She was kind enough to say that she’d had no idea.

A short time later, Gus and I were visiting with a group of kids in the neuropsych unit when a very quiet withdrawn little girl suddenly began talking to me quite earnestly. She told me about a skin remedy mixing blue berries with yogurt. In the past, someone had told me that blueberries helped with tear stain on dogs so I foolishly assumed she was talking about Gus. She said, “No, I meant for you.”

ELBEE I can’t stop laughing.

I have one more issue to discuss.

CHARLEY Yes, I’m here with Elbee and let me say it’s so great to have him home. However, I can’t believe she’s still having all these issues.

Someone on the news said that there are so many seniors in this country now, they’re referring to us as the “silver tsunami.” I’m not sure how I feel about being compared to a natural disaster.

ELBEE So far I love this post.

Picking up my reading glasses and moving on, the photo shoot was last Sunday. Gus is a pro but it was Stanley’s first time. I confess that I’m still a total stage mother. They had costumes for the dogs but where were hair and makeup?

I also admit that I told my daughter and granddaughter they couldn’t come up to visit that day because the dogs had the photo shoot? Is that so wrong?

ELBEE No, that’s awesome!

Gus and Stanley were dressed in Christmas regalia for December. I’m not quite sure about that large thing on Gus’s head but he was such a good sport. Stanley got off easy with a cute sparkly headband and red and green collar.

After the calendar pictures, Stanley had to sit for his UCLA trading cards. It was an emotional moment for me because Julianne, the photographer, has also taken pictures of Charley, Elbee and Gus, maybe under the same lights. It brought back memories.

Stanley still had one more to go. For his final shot of the day, he had to pose with yours truly because a picture of the team goes on the back of each card. At first he was such a trooper and stayed patiently at my side.

ELBEE I can feel his embarrassment.

After a few more minutes, however, he was totally done and sprawled out on the floor. He looked so comfortable that I decided to join him.

ELBEE & CHARLEY We’re split on whether this was cute or just sad.

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.

A Gift of Remembrance

Friday morning the husband sent a cryptic text, “You need to come to the wound care center today.” Even for someone who sends short messages with no emojis, that was brief. When I asked which dog, he replied, “Either.”

I was taking Gus to Providence Tarzana to visit and figured, since the center is just next door, that he’d be the logical choice. Gus has still been mourning Elbee so I hoped that going to work would help to cheer him up just like it did Stanley.

From the moment we entered the lobby, he was on. His tail started wagging. The Gus “smile,” that we’ve seen very little of lately, was back. By then, the staff knew about Elbee so they all made a special effort for Gus. It was mutual therapy.

One patient visit really stood out. An adorable toddler, carrying her special stuffed animal, was in the Pediatrics hallway with her parents. Seeing the delighted look on her face at the sight of Gus, I had him dance for her, wave and play peek-a-boo. All of a sudden, giggling, she tried to give him her toy. The parents were amazed because she never shares it with anyone!

Of course there was the other patient who was happily petting Gus and taking pictures when suddenly she looked at me and asked if he was straight. I could only imagine what Elbee would have had to say about that one!

As we left the hospital and headed over to the wound care center, I assumed it must just be a hectic day when they needed a little dog love. Instead, after warm greetings and condolences about Elbee, the staff gathered around us as someone carried out a huge basket. At first I thought it must be a cake or maybe flowers, but when I saw what was inside, I started to cry.

There was a stone plaque with a poem that read:

“Missing your unconditional love and playful paws, we are now apart. You’re gone from our lives, but never from our heart.”

There were also three smaller stones. Each had paw prints and a date of passing. One said “Charley.” One said “Riley,” and one said Elbee. They were hoping we would put them in the yard near Charley’s bushes.

Charley burrowed under the purple flowering bushes on the morning that he left us. I knew the end was near for Elbee when he wanted to lay in the same place. As with the stones, there is beauty, peace and sadness in Charley’s bushes. There is also the immeasurable comfort of remembrance.

By the way, I just heard from Elbee informing me that the sentence above should have read “there are beauty, peace and sadness.”

The House Is Strangely Quiet

When I’m upset, I often go up into the mountains to work things through. Climbing the steep trails gives me a sense of peace, a sense of clarity. This week, however, was different. After losing Elbee, I found solace in the support of family, friends and countless people who had interacted with him at work. There was an outpouring of love. There was also a sharing of Elbee memories that made me happy and sad at the same time.

A therapist at UCLA commented that “he did things that none of us can do.” A friend who had seen him working in the ICU was amazed by his “understanding.” With tears in her eyes, a nurse said that she would miss the special moments when Elbee would come directly over to her as if to say hello.

Unfortunately, Gus and Stanley can’t share stories or express their feelings but it’s obvious that they’re both grieving. There are no games of tug or races around the yard.

The house is strangely quiet without Elbee. It’s not that the other two don’t bark, but Elbee was like the bark leader. He always had a lot to say. Gus and Stanley are moping around without him. They miss his voice and his presence.

Stanley is taking it particularly hard. He seems lost. Elbee, in a dog way, was his mentor. He taught him to heel and to do a perfect stay. He would tolerate the puppy behavior as Stanley pulled him around by his ear.

When I took Stanley to the groomer this week, everyone there said that they could feel his sadness. It was like an aura around him. We decided that taking him to the hospitals might help. He’d get lots of attention and would be distracted.

At UCLA most of the people we interact with were aware of what had happened. They were saddened by the loss but they’d had some time to process it. They were kind and caring. They showered Stanley with affection.

Going into Providence Tarzana was more difficult because many on the staff hadn’t heard about Elbee. They were learning about it from me. Several burst into tears. I was on the verge of losing it myself. Focusing on Stanley gave me room to breathe.

One of the other things that touched me this week was how many people were fans of the Elbee of my blog and how funny they thought he was. They didn’t want his voice to disappear. I suddenly asked myself, “Is it any stranger to hear him talking to me from above rather than from the couch in my office?” The oldest daughter does not need to answer that question.

Earlier in this post I was about to write that the past several days felt like an emotional cocktail. I immediately thought “Oh, Elbee would have had a field day with that one.” I promise he’ll be back when the time is right.

Goodbye Elbee and Thank You

On Sunday, Elbee was his usual, energetic, over the top barking self. Suddenly, on Monday, he was lethargic and not eating, usually one of his favorite activities. After visits back and forth to the vet, he had surgery on Thursday night and they found an inoperable tumor. Sadly we had to let him go.

I had a weird virus when he was a puppy and couldn’t start training him as early as I’d hoped. Missing some of the crucial stages, there were times I was about to give up but friends encouraged me to stick with it. I’m glad I did.

Elbee was that crazy, full of life character who seemed as if he’d live forever. His unique personality made him a favorite of so many. Once you met Elbee, you couldn’t forget him. My fifteen year old grandson said, “He’s my favorite animal to have ever lived.”

Elbee leaves a legacy of special moments. For instance, there was the little girl that he visited in the neuropsych unit. Within minutes she went from being out of control, smashing her head on the wall and crying, to sitting on the floor with Elbee, teaching him how to take a bow after he won her over with his tricks.

There was the teenage boy in another psych unit who was disruptive and yelling, not wanting to join the group gathered around Elbee. After some time, he actually lay down on the floor and hugged Elbee. Then I heard him whisper, “I love you.”

At an adult health center, a man with severe depression who only smiles when the dogs are there, fell in love with Elbee. When Elbee would put his paws on a chair and bend his head as if “saying his prayers,” the man always felt as if the prayers were just for him.

Somehow Elbee’s alter ego developed a life of its own in my blog. He inspired my writing. I could hear his voice and knew what he was going to say. In the strangest way I felt as if I was channeling him. It gave me such artistic freedom.

His sarcastic remarks kept me in check. His honesty was refreshing. His thoughts made me and other people laugh. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard, “Elbee is so funny.”

Now I have to day goodbye to the real Elbee and the Elbee of my imagination. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Thank you Elbee for being a larger than life character, for inspiring me and others and for making us laugh. Thank you for all of the amazing work and the healing that you did so selflessly.

Stanley and Gus are lost without you and keep waiting for you to come home. I take comfort in knowing that you’re home with your brother Charley and with your dear buddy Riley.