UCLA – Page 13 – Me and the Doods.com

Don’t Poodle My Doodle!

You might say that I have a Doodle obsession but even I know they’re fancy mutts and not a recognized breed. From Goldendoodles, to Labradoodles to Schnoodles, they have become increasingly popular. This morning was a perfect example. Elbee and Gus joined some of their colleagues for Christmas caroling at UCLA. Out of around 20 dogs, almost half were Doodles of some sort.

ELBEE Hold the phone. Fancy yes. Mutt, really?

Aside from being a combination, they come in so many sizes, shapes and colors it would be almost impossible to judge a standard of the breed like they do at dog shows. Speaking of dog shows, yes, I’ve been known to watch them occasionally.

ELBEE Occasionally? She’s a fanatic! She and her friend Dennis text so much when there’s a show on television that it’s like they’re doing color commentary.

Okay, dog shows are my guilty pleasure. On Thanksgiving, I was watching the National Dog Show when I saw the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. It wasn’t a new breed. It was a new breed of judge! Generally they’re a little older.

ELBEE Her peeps.

They also tend to be quite reserved and conservative. Imagine my shock when out walked a judge who looked like the singer Pink. She was wearing a red jumpsuit and had a leopard print tattoo down her exposed arm. She was fabulous.

ELBEE She couldn’t text Dennis fast enough.

But I digress. I was talking to Marsha, groomer to the Doods, about their popularity. She said that people have recently come into the shop asking if she knows how to do a specific “breed cut” for a Doodle. In other words, they don’t want her to Poodle their Doodle.

For the record I don’t have her Poodle my Doodles but it has nothing to do with breed. I love their hair longer and a little shaggy. So do the patients in the hospital, especially the kids.

THE DOODS Just a coincidence that it looks like hers.

It’s no secret, however, that I diva my Doodles. I have more combs, brushes and hair products for them than I do for myself. They are so used to attention in the hospital and on our walks, that they seem to take it personally if someone doesn’t compliment them or, heaven forbid, ignores them.

This week at the adult day health center, their “divadom” reached new heights. The sun was shining when we went in, but it was raining when it was time for us to leave. Not wanting the dogs to get wet, three of the wonderful women on staff became their personal umbrella holders!

ELBEE Dreams do come true!

Stanley, at six months, is well on his way. Of all the places I’ve taken him to socialize, the hair salon seems to be his favorite. He thrives on the attention and the atmosphere of preening and pampering.

Charley posed for this photo as part of a special event at UCLA. Stanley posed for this photo just because he could.

Jack and Shane, Hope and Healing

After one of the most devastating weeks in Southern California history, I felt almost frivolous writing a post. Countless people are reeling in the aftermath of the incomprehensible mass shooting. Thousands of others are dealing with the destruction from the massive wild fires. Even though I am miles away from the flames, the air is getting smokier and smokier as I sit here to write.

I decided to share a story of triumph over adversity. I hope that it will provide a note of inspiration in these difficult days.

My dear friend Jack Barron lives and breathes animal therapy. I don’t think he’s ever met a dog that he didn’t like or couldn’t win over. I first met him many years ago when he was teaching a Pet Partners work shop. Then, when I started bringing Charley to UCLA, he became the greatest mentor that anyone could ask for, providing insight, encouragement and support.

Jack now lives up in Oregon with his wife Kathy and two beautiful Labrador Retrievers, Shane and Annie. Shane has been a hard working therapy dog since 2010 and his half sister Annie since 2014.

In September, after a few months of unexplained symptoms, a biopsy revealed that Shane had nasal cancer. Jack didn’t throw in the towel. Instead he began fighting. There’s no one a dog could want in his corner more than Jack.

After several days at Washington State University, Jack and Shane left for the highly recommended Flint Animal Cancer Center at Colorado State University. Following another series of tests, including his 3rd CT scan, it was determined that the only chance for Shane was surgery to remove the tumor and all of his nose. Although Jack said, “It was difficult to look at images of other dogs that had undergone this type of surgery,” he knew that it had to be done.

On October 8th, Shane had what was believed to be a successful surgery. Still, his recovery was a difficult journey, involving further operations and hospital stays. Now he is back home in Bend recuperating in the comfort of family.

What makes this story so positive, aside from Shane recovering, is what Jack plans to do when Shane returns to work. He feels that with his facial deformity, Shane can be an inspiration to people who are dealing with similar problems. Dogs don’t judge themselves or others. For Shane, the loss of his nose is a non-issue. He just wants to love and be loved. That’s a very strong message to share.

From the Pretty Silly to the Profound

This week the Doods and about twenty of their costumed “co-workers” brought Halloween to the kids at UCLA Mattel Children’s Hospital. Dressed as everything from superheroes to ballerinas to cowboys, the dogs cheered up so many young patients and their parents. Even the staff got into the festive mood.

ELBEE I would have made a great Superman so why was I wearing those bouncy things on my head. And Gus was a pumpkin! Really? A pumpkin?

By the way, awhile ago Gus was thinking of renting an apartment with Tommy, his Bichon buddy, to get away from Stanley. Well I’m also thinking of relocating. Tommy’s person Donna dressed like a shepherd and let Tommy and his new sister Finley be her sheep, ergo no silly costumes. I wonder if she has an extra room.

GUS I think I’m going with him. Finley is little and cute and it seems like she kind of likes me. Plus, I don’t know if it’s my imagination but Stanley seems to be getting bigger every day. I’m concerned.

The Halloween excitement was actually a welcome change of pace from some very challenging visits that Gus and Elbee had done only a few days before. At UCLA, a palliative care specialist had tracked us down for an elderly woman who was desperately requesting a dog visit. She was in extreme pain but when Gus put his paws on the side of her bed, it seemed to bring her immediate comfort.

At Providence Tarzana Hospital, a rabbi asked us to stop in to see a young woman who was battling cancer. She was having an emotionally rough morning. Clearing it with the doctor, I brought the dogs in to see her. As Gus cuddled on the bed with her and Elbee stood by her side for petting, she was relaxed and chatting. The woman’s mother was visiting at the time and her relief was almost palpable.

That same morning, one of Tarzana’s palliative care specialists asked if we’d stop in to see the family of a man who was dying. They didn’t think he’d make it through the day. As we got to the door of the room, we were greeted so warmly and appreciatively by a man and a woman whom I believed to be the patient’s son and his wife.

For the next few minutes, we quietly talked as they interacted with the dogs. There was a sense of calm and connection. When it was time for us to leave, we all hugged goodbye. It was such a natural reaction that it was hard to believe only a short time before we had been total strangers.

Stanley and the Gentle Barn

At a June PAC luncheon, I was incredibly moved by the words of guest speaker Ellie Laks, the founder of the Gentle Barn, “a sanctuary where animals heal and children learn to hope.” This week a group of us from UCLA went out to Santa Clarita to visit. The experience did not disappoint.

Rescued from deplorable conditions, a mix of animals from cows, pigs, horses, sheep and goats to turkeys and chickens live in a bucolic setting. Treated with love, kindness and caring, they have learned to trust again.

I felt as if I was seeing a reflection of the best and the worst of mankind. The animals had been mistreated by people, but Ellie and her wonderful crew have brought them hope. Their names, like Blessing and Magic, are a reminder of the positive work being done. Somehow, they also contribute to a sense of peace and spirituality.

There was another part to the day that made it even more special for me. Ellie encouraged us to bring our dogs so I had Stanley with me. I was a little nervous about bringing a puppy but felt it would be a great opportunity for socializing and training. I also truly believed he could handle it. To my delight, he was so good that he surprised not only me but everyone else.

When we first arrived, he barked at a donkey standing by a fence. In his defense, he’d never seen anything that looked even remotely like a donkey. It was the last time he barked all afternoon!

Not only was he comfortable with the other dogs in our group, he was fascinated by the barn animals. When we went into the enclosure with Forgiveness, a three thousand pound genetically altered cow, he stopped briefly as if to assess, and then moved closer. He showed more curiosity than fear.

It was the horses that really caught his fancy. He went almost nose to nose with Hiro, a horse that is totally blind. There was something so gentle in their interaction. Later, standing by the outside paddock, he tried to climb through the fence to get closer to the others. He even made friends with the donkey.

Ellie was so impressed with Stanley’s temperament and judging by the photo, he was pretty impressed with her too. She said that he was the most amazing puppy she’d ever seen and felt he’d do great work. Since she is an animal guru with such empathy for them and such intuition, I could not have asked for more.

Stanley may continue to bite Elbee’s ears, counter surf, and shred newspapers but I will hear her words in my head and believe that he has something special to offer. With luck, he will one day walk bravely into the hospital by my side.

Elbee and Gus Do Cocktails

In 2008, Charley and a Golden Retriever named Abby took part in the opening celebration for the Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center. Charley and Abby are gone now, but I will never forget how they charmed the crowd.

This week, Elbee and Gus worked a celebration for the tenth anniversary of the hospital! I admit that I was feeling nostalgic. As we got out of the car, we were greeted by a young woman who explained that she had met Charley at the student athlete event the night before he passed. She still had fond memories of him. The nostalgia grew even stronger.

ELBEE Don’t get me wrong. I adored my big brother, it’s just that last week was a trip down memory lane. She needs to snap out of it.

Before heading down to the main event, we all took photos outside with a very special addition to the UCLA program, Blue Moon, a miniature therapy horse. Gus kept sniffing as if trying to figure out what kind of dog it was.

ELBEE Sometimes the little guy is clueless. Besides I think she kind of had a thing for me.

I’m not sure if Elbee and Gus “charmed” the crowd, but they certainly caused a stir. It never ceases to amaze me how the dogs can change the energy in an entire room. They’re like entertainment on four paws. One guest, obviously from out of town, saw the dogs in their festive party collars and Elbee in his pigtails and laughingly said, “Welcome to L.A.”

ELBEE I have mixed feelings about the pigtails.

When therapy dogs work an event, they’re enthusiastic and rarely let on if they’re getting tired. They keep going as long as anyone wants to interact with them. Unlike some of us, they never pull a “houdini” and disappear. Oops am I giving away secrets.

When I sensed they needed a break from mingling, I let them settle in front of the bar. A few of us (I’m totally sharing the blame) thought it would be cute to put wine glasses down in front of them. Since I really never thought of them as drinkers, it was strange how natural they looked with their glasses of champagne.

ELBEE I think I’ve acquired a taste.

At home later that night, I realized just how hard they had worked. They both fell asleep on their backs and were snoring, something they rarely do.

ELBEE That’s personal. Does this woman have no boundaries!

The Good, the Bad and the Dodgers

As far as Jewish holidays go, Yom Kippur is a biggie. It’s a day of atonement, reflection and remembrance. In the spirit of the new year, I have a confession to make. On the eve of Yom Kippur, I watched a Dodger game with the Doods.

ELBEE Really? She has to bring us into this? Okay, I admit that we’re fans. I love Kershaw.

A couple of years ago, in another questionable call, my friend Donna and I took Gus and his buddy Tommy into UCLA on the holiday. Despite the fact that the dogs were doing good work, we felt so guilty that Donna referred to us as “Yom Kippur felons.” How was I ever going to justify watching the game?

Feeling really guilty, I texted a close friend to ask how bad a sin it was on a scale from one to ten. He said that it was only a one because it was such a pivotal game.

What I was actually planning to write about today, before I decided to confess, were a few special moments that have taken place in the UCLA lobby recently. In the light of my Yom Kippur “oops,” let’s hope they’re also redeeming moments.

A woman, holding her little boy’s hand, brought him over to see the dogs. From his bald head to his downcast eyes and sad demeanor, it appeared that the child was going through difficult treatment. When I asked if he’d like to help the dogs do a trick, he shyly nodded yes. After I whispered the command to him, his sweet voice rang out and he giggled as the Doods performed. The only smile bigger than his was his mom’s.

Next, a man approached who seemed like a paparazzi. I know that seems weird for a hospital. He started taking pictures of the dogs. Then he wanted photos of me with the dogs. Turns out that he had heard about the PAC program where he lives in Connecticut and was very excited to meet some of the members. He couldn’t wait to show the photos to his friends back east. It was like the Hollywood tour.

Then we ran into someone whom the Doods and I have worked with in the neuropsych units for years, even going back to Charley. I wasn’t sure what he meant when he thanked me for comforting his wife on our previous visit. Seeing the puzzled look on my face, he explained that she was the woman in the waiting room who’d thought that Gus was an angel. ( See my post: I Thought I Saw an Angel). I was so touched by the beautiful coincidence that it brought tears to my eyes.

And for any of you baseball fans who were wondering, Chris Taylor hit a walk off home run in that game and the Dodgers won!

THE DOODS Oy Vey!

Diva Doods…Born that Way?

After writing about the divadom of the dogs last week, I started wondering if it was a Doodle thing or if it could possibly be me.

I’ve admitted that as a child, I was a total nerd. I considered posting one of my nerd photos here as proof, but that would be oversharing even for me. Finding bodybuilding as part of a long and difficult recovery from a near fatal car accident was like a rebirth. It turned me into somewhat of a diva.

ELBEE Somewhat?

I went from being terrified of speaking in front of a group of people to blowing kisses to the audience. I went from visibly shaking on stage to flexing my triceps for more applause. And while I’m being totally honest, yes, those old habits die hard. Last week, I was in the lobby of Providence Tarzana Hospital with the Doods, when someone called out, “Didn’t you used to be a bodybuilder?” I probably should have been embarrassed but instead, it was all I could do not to flex.

ELBEE & GUS Thank heavens she restrained herself.

Speaking of flexing, I was in the kitchen when I heard a song on tv that reminded me of my glory days. Ariana Grande was singing “Natural Woman” as a tribute to Aretha Franklin. By coincidence, I had used that same song for a routine in a long ago competition. I got so nostalgic, I figured since no one was watching, I’d hit a few poses.

ELBEE & GUS We were watching and we were disturbed. Stanley, on the other hand, is scarred for life.

Maybe that’s why I feel like the Doods and I are such a good fit. I’m a reborn diva and they were born that way. Recently, Elbee and Gus took part in a People Animal Connection photo shoot at UCLA. The PAC dogs were doing pictures for birthday cards and for the annual calendar. I guess you could technically say there were costume changes involved.

ELBEE The pictures are fabulous but I’m a little disappointed. When I heard “costume changes,” I was expecting Bob Mackie and bling.

Stanley showed glimpses of his inner diva at Elbee’s last vet appointment. (A Pack of Diva Doodles).Then it resurfaced in puppy class. Katie, the trainer, asked to use Stanley to demonstrate how your dog should return to you when called, sitting nicely and not jumping all over you. At first Stanley went for the jump but after only a couple of times of Katie turning her back, Stanley came bouncing over and sat perfectly.

Usually when the dogs do something right in class, people will nod or smile. Not with Stanley. I’m not sure if it was the cuteness factor or his enthusiasm, but everyone in the room applauded. As Marsha, the groomer, commented when I told her about it, “Stanley had his first real diva moment.”

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.

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.