Category: Doodles

Generally, my New Year’s resolution is not to make any resolutions. It’s a recipe for success, preferable to setting yourself up for failure by making resolutions you can’t possibly keep. However, this year, I made one resolution. I decided to confront my emotions and write a tribute to my late, loving, therapy dog Gus.

It has turned out to be one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. Losing a dog is very painful. Losing a miracle worker like Gus is devastating. Eleven years ago, when he was an adorable puppy, a family rehomed him with us. All the mom said to me was “give him a good life.” Gus had a wonderful life beyond my expectations. Being part of it was an honor and a privilege. I am so grateful.

Whether comforting patients in the hospital, visiting a special needs camp, doing demos for “Dogs a Science Tail” at the California Science center, or meeting with an anti-bullying group from Compton, he never failed to reach people. When he stood on his hind legs and danced with a smile on his face, everyone smiled back. He had a warm energy that no one could resist, not even the Laker girls. He was a star.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A little over a month ago, something seemed off. On a Friday night, worried that Gus was constipated, we called the vet to ask what to do. When we said that his belly was distended, we were advised to take him to emergency. They kept him overnight and the next day, after several tests, gave us the heartbreaking news. He had a very large inoperable tumor in his abdomen. After much discussion, we knew that we had to say goodbye.

In tears, my husband Doug and I drove to the hospital and waited for him in a small room. After a few minutes they brought Gus in, tired, but his usual sweet self. We hugged and petted him. He  took a treat from Doug.  Then he came over to where I was sitting on on the floor and rolled over for his favorite belly rub. That was our last interaction.

Stanley and Henry have not been themselves since Gus has been gone.  At first they seemed to be waiting for him to come back. When he didn’t return, their sadness was almost palpable.  

Gus was funny and the mischief maker. If my fanny pack was dragged across the room, I knew that Gus was the culprit. He  was often the instigator in running and wrestling games with the other two but they were always gentle with him. He was such an integral part of the pack, it’s as if a piece of the puzzle is missing. I will never again see him cuddled against his big “brothers.”

One day, a few years ago,  as Gus and I walked into Maddie’s Room, the surgical waiting area at UCLA Medical Center, a woman waved us over. She quietly shared that she’d seen us walk by twice that morning. The first time was when they were taking her husband to 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 laid eyes on Gus, she truly believed she’d seen an angel.

On November 22, 2025, sadly, Gus crossed over the rainbow bridge and became a real angel. How do you deal with losing an angel on earth?

 

 

Seeing “volunteer” Gus at the photo shoot for the UCLA calendar made me think about the wonderful work he has done over the past several years. As always, I felt such gratitude that Gus had come into our family.

In 2014, Jack Barron, my mentor in all things dog therapy, called to ask if we had room for another dog.  A family was giving up a Teddy Bear Doodle who was adorable and sweet-natured.

They had never owned a dog before and had no idea of the commitment involved. Sadly for them, but happily for us, they realized it would be best to rehome him. When the mom gave him to me, she simply said, “Just give him a good life.” So far, at 11, the little Dood with the big heart has had a great life.

Some of his hospital encounters have been heart breaking. A teenage girl in the neuropsych unit, who had scars on her arms from self-harming, was hugging Gus as she whispered to me “He’s the first thing that’s made me want to live in a long time.”

Some have been magical. A mom asked that we come in to visit her year old son who was blind. He smiled as she softly rubbed his hands over Gus. Things were going so well, she gently put his feet on Gus’s back. It was then she shared that it was the first time he had ever interacted with a dog.

Aside from the incredible joy and healing he has brought to so many, Gus seems to have a propensity for celebrity encounters.

He and his coworker Opal were volunteering as stress busters during UCLA finals when surprise, the new chancellor Julio Frenk was sitting on the library couch. I had seen him introduced on the news only a few nights before. Gus took a shine to his lovely wife Felicia Knaul.

Several years ago, Gus “made rounds” on pediatrics with Kenta Maeda, who was then a Dodger. He posed for a photo with former Laker, Brandon Ingram.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ELBEE Is it a coincidence that they each left after meeting him. Just a thought.

 

Dodger manager Dave Roberts, whom I told that I was a “granny groupie,” is still here! And so is Clayton Kershaw whom Gus stared at like a lovestruck fan.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He had an up close and personal meeting with Metta World Peace, formerly known as Ron Artest, who played in the NBA for 19 seasons. He has become an advocate for mental health after dealing with his own issues. During the event, he asked if he could hold Gus in his lap while he filmed a short video. Gus was so relaxed, he fell asleep.

Gus also posed for a group photo with former NBA players, A.C. Greene and Robert Horry. Horry was very funny.  Trying to be polite, I said, “I hope you don’t mind the dog being right here.” Horry responded, “I hate dogs,” then burst out laughing and said “I love them.”

Gus has had two or three meet and greets with Laker girls. Judging from the look on his face these may have been his all-time favorites.

Not sure if this one counts. Gus and some of the other dogs from the People Animal connection were in a Fourth of July parade. Gus kept walking at the heels of a tall man in a pink t-shirt. It was none other than Ben Affleck.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With all of the stress and anxiety I hear about when talking with people lately, I was moved to share a recent bittersweet but deeply touching encounter. It’s about Charley, my first therapy dog. A gentle giant, he was beside me when I took my initial tentative steps on this journey.

It began as I was walking with Henry on a busy street where they were doing some repair work. We were resting in the shade when a tall man with a grey beard came over to visit. He was casually dressed and wearing a baseball hat but I could see from his vest that he was part of the construction crew.

A dog lover, he was drawn to Henry, who is hard to miss. He told me that he just had to come over to meet him. We immediately bonded and began chatting like old friends about our pets and our       families He showed me photos of his 4 dogs and 2 daughters.

Naturally, I told him that Henry, following in his “brothers'” paw prints, was a therapy dog. That’s when the man suddenly began talking about his beloved brother who had died from cancer at only 55. Shortly before his last major surgery, a therapy dog had come to visit and brought so much comfort.

Curious, I asked which hospital and was surprised when he said Tarzana. I inquired about how long ago, and he answered 2010. When I quietly shared that I had been volunteering there at the time with Charley, the man’s face lit up. In the most excited voice, he said “Charley! Oh my God Charley!” With tears in his eyes, the man told me that he still had a photo of Charley with his brother. That’s when I teared up too, knowing that Charley lives on in so many cherished memories.

Hiking last week and seeing the spring flowers bravely pushing through the areas that had been burned, I began thinking about Mother’s Day and felt inspired to write a post to reach out to my fellow moms and grandmas.

 

 

 

It’s a few days late, but hey, life gets in the way. Whether your child is a toddler, a teen or an adult, whether your child is here or sadly gone, I hope you had a special day.  There are challenges in being a parent but there are also blessings, like grandchildren.

My daughters, Jennifer, Nicole and Danielle, have enriched my life in ways I would never have imagined. They have truly filled my heart. As I’ve gotten older, there is such joy in knowing them as adults. It also takes some the edge off of aging. I may not be able to remember what I had for breakfast but I can remember the moment that I first held each of them in my arms and the first time they smiled. By the way, you know you’re old when your daughters ask you about menopause.

ELBEE Trust me, she’s old and that is oversharing.

I lost my own beautiful mom Norma in1969 when she was only 46. My dad, who was incredibly funny and charismatic, died of a brain tumor when I was in high school. My mom couldn’t recover from his death. Once I was married, she felt it was time to join him. She never met my girls but she would have loved them and they would have adored her. Although, she left this world years ago, her spirit is always with me.

I am also, like the woman I saw in a t-shirt the other day, a “dog mom. ”

ELBEE Why didn’t she put us first?

I have been a lifelong dog lover. I say lifelong because even when I was a toddler, there were dogs, often different ones, included in most of my photos.

ELBEE She was such an unattractive kid, I think her sweet mom put dogs in the pictures so people could say “aw, how cute” without having to lie through their teeth.

When my daughters were young, the dogs were kind of a casual part of the family. When the girls grew up and moved out, the dogs stepped up and filled the empty nest. I even wrote a post called, “The 12 Reasons Dogs Are Better than Children.” For instance, dogs don’t judge, they don’t date and they don’t question your wardrobe choices. They will also pose for any picture.ELBEE Apparently, she’s still going for strongest granny in the gym.

To my fellow dog moms and to moms everywhere of every kind, from step to honorary to surrogate, remember that Mother’s Day is every day. It’s in the love, the respect and the understanding that we all share.

 

 

 

Every time I work with the dogs, there are moments that make me more grateful than ever for what they can do. Recently, Stanley and Henry had interactions that were bittersweet but exemplified the magic of therapy animals.

Henry and I were visiting an adult neuropsych unit at UCLA. Things always turn more positive as the dogs walk in, but lately, with the world as challenging at it is, I’ve felt more of a heaviness in the mood. Still, the dogs seem to be able to reach even patients with severe issues.

I was sitting on the floor chatting with a group of young adults. Henry was lying calmly in the middle as they petted and brushed him. Suddenly, an attractive  woman in our circle got extremely agitated. She began crying and yelling for her anxiety meds.

That immediately got Henry’s attention. I could almost see the concern on his face. He began inching towards her and put his head on her knee. Then he gently crawled into her lap. I was concerned because of his size, but she assured me it was fine. Before I knew it she was hugging Henry and had stopped crying.

At Tarzana Hospital, a nurse asked me to bring Stanley in to see a medical patient who was suicidal but who loved animals. She hoped the dog would help. I walked into the room and was greeted by a full-time aide sitting on a chair by the door.

The patient was in tears and really didn’t seem to want a visit. Stanley slowly approached and softly leaned against her. She tentatively reached for him. A few minutes later as she hugged him, he licked her face. She immediately stopped crying. I told her he rarely does that, but she said she loved it. I think he sensed her need.

That led to a conversation about her pets and her love of animals. I could tell that the aide was touched. Just as Henry had done when he put his head in the patient’s lap, Stanley was offering quiet comfort.

After I began writing this, Henry had another tender moment. At the request of staff, we went to see a woman who recently had her leg amputated below the knee. The nurse had noticed that the woman watched Animal Planet almost non-stop so thought the dog would be a welcome surprise.

It was an elderly, somewhat disheveled woman, with a heavy accent sitting on the side of her bed. Her face lit up when she saw Henry. She asked me to bring him closer and closer. She wanted to give him a kiss.

I was nervous because of the plastic device where she’d had surgery but I needn’t have worried. Henry was truly a gentle giant. After she kissed his head, he looked at her with such sweetness in his eyes. The dogs speak volumes without saying a word.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After my post a few weeks ago, friends said how much it had helped them to have some of their feelings put into words. They inspired me to reach out again. There’s comfort in sharing when we’re all having such difficult experiences. I’ve lost count of how many people have told me that they can’t watch the news.

Something else drew me to the computer. On March 3rd, my brother Stan would have turned 76. Although, sadly, he passed away from cancer more than 25 years ago, he lives on in my heart. I can still hear his laughter.

Funny, gregarious, kind, he drew people to him. Even though he was a television news director, and covered all sorts of stories like the fires, I think he would have been shocked at the recent tragedies.

Fortunately, the Doods have been helping to navigate the craziness. Without saying a word, they offer a sense of well being and they inspire people to connect, even in unexpected situations.

For instance, my brother’s namesake Stanley brought some love to a woman in the waiting room at the vet’s office. We were there because Stanley had lost a dew claw and had to be seen.

ELBEE He should have gotten acrylics.

The woman was sitting by herself with her head down. Suddenly Stanley began leaning against her. With tears in her eyes, she told me how much he had helped her. She had just had to put down her adored eighteen year old Chihuahua. She said that if Stanley hadn’t put his head in her lap she would have totally lost it. We hugged when it was time for her to leave.

Neighborhood walks with the dogs have led to some unusually deep conversations. I met a cute, casually dressed young woman whom I learned was married to an orthodox rabbi. When we began to talk about family, we were surprised to find out that both of our father’s had died of brain cancer.

The next day, when I was out with Stanley and Henry, a man in his driveway came over to say hello. We both lamented that the mountains were still closed. And what are the chances that he was a doctor who studied brain injuries at USC. Ironically, his father had passed from brain cancer too.

ELBEE The man also realized that he may have gone to high school with her daughters so he’s obviously a lot younger than she is.

The national guard members, keeping people out of certain areas in the mountains after the fires, have benefited from dog therapy. We’ve gotten to know a few of the regulars. Last time we walked up a street where they were posted, not only did they greet us warmly, but they asked to take photos with the dogs.

It was a brief timeout from stress. I hope this post is too.

 

 

With the wildfires raging in Southern California, and the general chaos in the world, writing has been almost impossible for me. As time goes by and I find out how many people I know have lost their homes, it has become even more personal and more difficult to know what to say or do.

 

 

 

 

 

Supportive friends suggested that I simply put down what I was feeling.  It would be a way to connect with people, something we desperately need to do right now. This morning I got another sign. My packet of Truvia said,  “Empathy Empowers.”

ELBEE Yes, she’s till getting inspiration from artificial sweeteners

I realized that if I could reach out to offer a bit of empathy or to share the kindness I’ve witnessed, then that’s what I needed to do. For me and so many others, human connection is one of the best ways to relieve anxiety.

The mountains, my happy place, are another way that I cope. I know I shouldn’t complain with all of the devastation, but I have been going through hiking withdrawal. Understandably, most of the popular trails have been closed since the fires began. Not only are there signs announcing that the areas are off limits until further notice, the National Guard has been positioned on many local streets to keep people from heading up there.

 

 

 

 

 

Walking Stanley and Henry, I have chatted with some of the men and women who, by the way, are not allowed to leave their posts during their 12 hour shifts. They have all been so kind and appreciative of the dog therapy too.

Most of them have come in from other areas like San Diego and are not familiar with the local mountains. Of course, I can’t help myself, and tell them all about our local trails, the beauty, the serenity, the ocean views.

A few days ago, to my surprise, one of the guardsman, said it would be okay if I wanted to go up a short trail to dirt Mulholland. It was as if he sensed my need. He added that at the top, I could only go to the right. I would have been grateful even if I had to stand in one place.

I was overwhelmed just being up there. As I walked for a few minutes, I was overcome with emotion. I wasn’t in an area that had been burned but it was browned out from the clearance and the work that had been done to contain the fires. It was also muddy from the rain. The enormity of it really struck me.

This photo with Henry was taken a week or so before the fires when we had no idea of what was to come. It was just a perfect Sunday for hiking. I was happy to be up there but I will never again take the privilege of being in the mountains for granted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Having made the mistakes of going to the market on New Year’s Eve day (not a lot of cheerful shoppers), and watching the news, I thought we could all use some positivity. Some of the best holiday presents have been courtesy of the Doods.  There were random, funny moments and others that touched my heart. They weren’t gift wrapped, but they were special.

ELBEE You try gift wrapping with paws.

My nine year old “art director” grandson Ryder, who was responsible for the Thanksgiving photo on the left, insisted on one for Christmas the next morning. Again it was chaotic but joyful. Not sure why he decided to include me.

ELBEE Me neither

 

 

 

 

 

 

On a special note, the stocking on the fireplace has a photo of Charley, my very first therapy dog. I used to wear it on my belt when we went into UCLA for Christmas. Almost impossible to believe that the journey began in 2006.

I was walking on busy Ventura Boulevard with Stanley and Henry when a passing car slowed down and the driver rolled down the window. He called out, “Those are the best looking dogs in Tarzana and Encino.” The next day a passenger in a car pointed at the dogs and began applauding. Both encounters  made me grin. I haven’t gotten applause since my bodybuilding days!

ELBEE And that’s ancient history.

One of the most wonderful gifts was a visit that Henry did with a six year old boy and his mom at Tarzana Hospital. Sitting up in his bed, the boys eyes widened as we stepped into the room. His first question was “Will he bite?” I told him that Henry was very gentle and even had to take a test so that he could come to see him. With the hint of a smile he, he asked “Are you sure?”

Then he had me come closer. When I put on some of Henry’s Christmas accessories and had him wave and play peek-a-boo, the patient started laughing and petting him. To my surprise, he wanted great big Henry on his bed. As Henry cuddled next to him, I assured him it was okay to give him a hug and that’s just what he did.

The best part of all may have been the reaction of the boy’s mom. She was taking photos and sharing the visit with family on her phone. Then, with tears in her eyes, she quietly told me how grateful she was that we were there. Her son had been in pain and so unhappy before we came in. She couldn’t believe what had transpired.

Instead of making New Year’s resolutions, which I would probably break anyways, I want to express my gratitude to the Doods for all of the miracles they have shown me and for all of the love and positivity they have brought into my life and so many others.

 

 

Since I stopped writing my weekly blog, I realize there are times I miss oversharing. Also, selfishly, I don’t want to forget special moments.

This post is a few weeks late for Thanksgiving, but do we really need one particular day to celebrate gratitude? It was inspired by my grandkids and the Doods.

ELBEE Not necessarily in that order.

Dogs truly are man and woman’s best friends. Despite knowing everything about us, they are faithful, loyal and loving without judging.

ELBEE Trust me. We judge.

As for grandchildren, they are one of the perks of having kids. They bring so much joy without all of the responsibility. They may judge me a little but will write things off to my being “crazy grandma.”

For instance, I have an unfortunate habit of laughing hysterically at inappropriate times, like funerals. During Thanksgiving dinner, 9 year old Ryder requested we go around the table and tell what we were grateful for, something we have often done in the past. Then he added that it was because he wanted to see grandma crack up. Yes, it’s one of those serious moments where I feel on the spot and lose it. Trust me, I didn’t disappoint.

Ryder used to be terrified of dogs even though he’d never had a negative interaction. A year or so ago, Henry with his soulful eyes and gentle demeanor, somehow reached him. On the back of Henry’s UCLA trading card, his greatest accomplishment is listed as “Helping Ellen’s grandson overcome his fear of dogs.”

 

 

 

 

 

Ryder has gone from overcoming his fear to really being comfortable with the dogs. On Thanksgiving he decided that he wanted a holiday picture with them. His sister Bella, a very willing participant, was included. Knowing my stash of dog accessories, he couldn’t wait to dress up, or should I say decorate, everyone. He actually was the “art director” for the photo that motivated this post.

It touched my heart to watch Ryder, who used to run away from the dogs or scream when they came too close, picking out headbands and glasses for each of them. It was such chaotic delight.

I also have to give kudos to Stanley, Gus and Henry for their patience. It may be the magic of their therapy dog energy that made it all possible.

 

 

 

Yesterday, after picking up Gus, Stanley and Henry from their wonderful groomer Jen, I headed to the gas station. They looked beautiful after their baths, big and fluffy. Gus was in his special spot in the front seat. Stanley and Henry in the back. It was a perfect day so I had the windows and sunroof open.

As I was trying to pull into the station, a car, halfway out, was blocking the driveway. I was starting to get really annoyed.

ELBEE Annoyed? Is that what she calls it?

Then I noticed that the driver, a bald man, probably around 60, was looking over and making a heart sign with his hands. He began smiling and gesturing toward the dogs. Then, laughing, he pointed to my hair and his own hairless head. It was such an unexpected, fun moment.

I took these photos when we got home to show his point of view.

 

 

 

 

 

I felt moved to share this simple story because I think we all need some positivity right now. There is so much stress and dissension in the world, that this fleeting encounter was a welcome time out for me and I hope it will be for you too.