Category: Doodles

ELBEE Isn’t that an old movie title?

It may be hard to believe that an admitted Halloween Scrooge like myself is writing a second post about the holiday. Thanks to the dogs it turned out to be a very good one. Walking Stanley, I saw a skeleton that made me rethink my issues with skeletons.

Look closely. Long blonde hair and a glass of wine!

Gus and Henry, along with several of their PAC colleagues, brought the magic of Halloween into Mattel Children’s Hospital.

ELBEE Did she actually say the “magic” of Halloween?

Meeting in the lobby is always a bit chaotic with dogs and people greeting each other. The group photo is a challenge. Gus and Henry were very patient about being dressed as pumpkins but Gus hid his face during the picture taking.

We broke into smaller groups and went floor to floor for trick or treating. The canines in costume brought so much happiness as they paraded through the hospital.

Kids smiled as we walked by their rooms. There was joy and relief on the parents’ faces as they watched their children. Countless staff members told us how it was  just what they needed. The visits were not only a gift to the people in the hospital but also to each of us holding the leashes.

That afternoon I had a moving conversation with someone making a delivery to the house. It was a thirty two year old man, who, after meeting the Doods, shared a very special story with me.

When he was seventeen, he spent three months at Children’s Hospital. Apparently, he didn’t have much family because he had few visitors and was very lonely.

He said that when the therapy dogs came in, it completely changed the way he felt. They cheered him up and, for a time, took away the loneliness. Though it was years ago, he remembered it as clearly as if it was yesterday. He still had the dogs’ trading cards.

Listening to him was such an important reminder of what therapy dogs can do. I never for a moment take their work for granted but his story filled me with so much gratitude. It was the best Halloween treat.

 

What do footballs and maps have in common? Before I address that burning question, I have something to share with my fellow seniors.

I saw a disturbing sign this week when I was driving in a local neighborhood. The speed limit was posted at 25 mph so I assumed it was for a nearby school. I was wrong. When I looked again, I saw the smaller sign that read, “SENIOR ZONE!” It was in front of One Generation, an “adult enrichment” center.

ELBEE That’s a euphemism.

Now for the answer you’ve all been waiting for. What do football and maps have in common? I simply don’t get either one. I’m good with baseball and basketball, but football goes right over my head. My teenage grandson tried explaining it to me but he gave up.

ELBEE That is not how you hold a football.

In college, at Syracuse, I used to go to the games because everyone went to the games. I remember bright chrysanthemums with blue pipe cleaner S’s on them but I couldn’t tell you one thing that happened on the field. I even dated a player  but that didn’t help.

ELBEE  He was fourth string.

As for maps, they are just confusing. Of course with Waze and navigation in our cars, we really don’t need maps but when it comes to the brand new tower for Tarzana Hospital, it’s huge and you’re on your own.

I’ve taken a couple of tours and have had someone show me and Stanley around. I was even given a colorful, totally confusing map.

This week I went in with Gus and the map but neither one was much help.

ELBEE Is she kidding? Poor little guy.

Thank goodness there were lots of signs and lots of nice people pointing us in the right direction. It was wonderful to run into familiar faces as well as some new ones like the nursing students who were delighted to be meeting a therapy dog for the very first time.

Everyone is adjusting to the new setting. They were as happy to see me and Gus as we were to see them. Gus turned on the charm. He danced to their applause. He smiled as they gave him belly rubs. He patiently wore his Halloween accessories as he posed for selfies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The beauty of the dogs is that no matter where they are, they bring the magic with them. New hospital or old, lost or in familiar settings, they offer comfort, love and joy. They don’t need maps!

 

It’s still several days until Halloween but decorations have been popping up all over the neighborhood. Walking the dogs, I’ve seen lots of holiday creativity, not all of it good. Some of it is just too creepy for me.

 

ELBEE She’s a Halloween Scrooge.

 

I’m more a fan of cute decorations, like smiling pumpkins and happy ghosts. I can deal with  spiders if they’re fuzzy and funny.

I have a real issue with clowns. When I was a kid, my dad, who was a Shriner, would take my brother and me backstage at the Shrine circus to meet the clowns. It was supposed to be a treat. They terrified me.

ELBEE They still do.

I can’t believe my youngest daughter Danielle has this clown, who is the stuff of nightmares, hanging from her house and my grandkids like it.

Skeletons and gravestones just don’t do it for me either. And I don’t understand all of those arms and legs sticking out of the ground.

 

 

 

 

 

Yesterday, walking with Henry, I thought I was dealing quite well with the Halloween craziness. Then I saw this foot hanging from a tree.

It got worse. Someone had put what looked like a dead body on their lawn, right next to the sidewalk. It took creepy to a whole new level.

Fortunately after seeing the “body,” Henry and I had two very positive encounters. We stopped to visit a couple who were doing some major yard work. The wife loved Henry. As he leaned gently against her, she said, “He should be a therapy dog.” When I told her that he was, she smiled and said that he was giving her just the therapy she needed.

As we headed up the street, an elderly man in a big straw hat was coming slowly down. When he saw me and Henry, he called out, “Whenever I see you walking your dogs, the world doesn’t seem as bad.”

Happy Pre-Halloween. And here’s to cute decorations and costumes.

Walking Henry, I saw this sticker on the back window of a car.  It inspired me to keep writing about random positivity.

I’ve noticed that in the midst of all the chaos in the world, people are reaching out to each other. A friend, who was cruising the aisles in Home Goods, began talking to another woman about the benefits of a particular product and then showed her the shelf where it was on sale. This led to a conversation about crafting and eventually about life. Another shopper, who happened to be observing, told them she was struck by their “affection and respect.” She thought the two strangers were old friends.

I had a similar encounter in the market.

ELBEE Trust me she was not shopping for anything to cook.

I was unsuccessfully looking for something in the freezer section when a woman next to me and I agreed that they always seem to stop carrying our favorites. Just like my friend in Home Goods, we quickly ended up in a deep, supportive conversation.

My husband had an experience that speaks even more to the kindness that people are showing each other. He was in the drive-thru line at a fast food restaurant.

ELBEE I told you she doesn’t cook.

When he went to pay, the server at the         window told him that someone in the car ahead of him had taken care of his order. He was surprised and touched by the simple act of generosity.

Whenever the dogs work, they teach me even more about kindness and positivity. With the help of “Aunt” Carol who is an extra handler for Gus, he and Stanley visited UCLA together on Wednesday.

As we walked into our regular Resnick neuropsych units the usual level of excitement was doubled. There was so much joy. From the kids under twelve to the teens to the adults to the staff, no one could resist two cute, loving Doodles. It was the best medicine.

There are always those special moments that I think about on my way home from the hospital. Wednesday was no exception. A seemingly shy boy told me how much he loved the dogs. Then he asked very quietly if I remembered him. The look on his face was so sweet when I assured him that I did.

In an adult group, a young woman was petting and brushing Gus and Stanley as we all engaged in casual conversation. Suddenly, she got very serious and earnestly shared that they were the first thing that had worked for her since she’d been in the hospital. Nothing had reached her like the dogs. With a smile, she added, “I feel so much better.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Despite all of the current negativity in the world, or maybe because of it, I have been making a more concerted effort to find the positive. It’s a way to navigate through things beyond our control. It’s not to downplay darker events but rather to find the space to breathe by appreciating even the smallest moments of kindness and consideration.

Once I started, I found more and more to appreciate. For instance, in a senior moment, I had deleted the app for the gym from my phone. The young woman working at the desk was great about helping out and didn’t laugh at me once.

ELBEE She’s paid not to.

When I thanked her for being so nice, we got into a conversation about positive energy. We agreed that it truly attracts more of the same.

Dogs bring positivity without even trying. Walking Henry in the neighborhood, I passed a local taco truck. The owner, with a big smile on his face, called out, “Hola Enrique.”

On another street, a woman sweeping the sidewalk in front of her house told me that she was doing it so that our “four-legged friends” wouldn’t get all sorts of things in their paws. It was such a simple, thoughtful thing to do.

While Gus and Stanley have been busy with their hospital visits, Henry has been doing special events. Last week, along with Labs, Bubbles and Opal, he worked Stay, Sip, Snack with PAC at UCLA. It was a chance for members of the staff to take a much needed time out with the dogs.

You could hear the joy in the room and almost feel the relief as doctors, nurses and other hospital staff, petted and hugged the dogs. I lost count of how many times I heard, “You can’t believe how much I needed this.”  No one wanted to leave.

Another positive for me was a visit with Jack Barron, my amazing mentor in all things dog therapy. He and his wife Kathy have moved to the east coast so I don’t see him often. Stanley and I stopped by to say hello on our way back from UCLA.  From the time I began my  journey with Charley in 2006, Jack has offered guidance, encouragement and support. I can never thank him enough.

ELBEE Now she’s going to take a left turn into crazy.

It may not fit the theme of this post but I wanted to share a photo that I took in the large entryway of the house where Jack was staying. Not sure if it’s technically a sculpture, but, I think you’ll agree, he is random and positively, creepy.  See how I tied that in!

It’s hard to believe that last week was my four hundredth post! A part of me thought it was time to wrap it up. Then, some very supportive friends encouraged me to keep going. I was touched when they told me that they enjoy my words with their Monday morning coffee.

ELBEE She’s like a doughnut.

Writing has allowed me to preserve so many precious memories. It’s almost overwhelming when I look back. It’s also what I need to write a book, something that others  have suggested.

My journey began in 2006 but my first post was in September of 2015. It was at the urging of Barbara Valentine, a friend, who, after a special visit from Charley and Elbee, my first two therapy dogs, convinced me to start a blog. Gus had just begun his “career.”

ELBEE She had no idea what a blog was.

Charley and Elbee are gone but their legacy lives on with Stanley, Henry and Gus, who is now the senior pack member. They all continue to amaze me.

Thanks to the Doods, I have done parades, hospital galas and sadly, even a candlelight gala for a murdered professor. I’ve met six graders from Compton in an anti-bullying group, high schoolers interested in health care professions and campers with special needs.

Without the Doods I would never have had the chance to chat with Sully Sullenberger, the hero from the miracle on the Hudson. I would not have met Clayton Kershaw and Mookie Betts from the Dodgers nor told manager Dave Roberts that I was a “grandma groupie.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

ELBEE That was just embarrassing.

On a serious note, over the years, all of the dogs have shown me miracles. How do you explain a man who awoke from a months long coma and said that all he remembered was the presence of the dogs on his bed? More than once I have heard that a patient smiled for the first time in weeks. A young woman in neuropsych hugged Gus and whispered that he was the first thing that had made her want to live in a long time.

Friday, Gus had a special moment at Tarzana Hospital. On pediatrics, a nurse asked us to visit a patient with cerebral palsy.  The boy’s reactions were hard to read but his mom’s face lit up as soon as we walked in the room.

I placed Gus on the bed where he relaxed and cuddled up next to the patient. When Gus gently placed his head on the boys chest, I saw the trace of a smile on his face. That glimpse of happiness truly speaks to the quiet power of therapy animals.

 

September 21st was World Gratitude Day. Normally that would have led me to make a list of all of the things that I’m grateful for like my family, the mountains, and the dogs.

ELBEE Not necessarily in that order.

Instead, I found myself thinking about a few very special and personal encounters I’ve had lately, all facilitated by the dogs.

At UCLA, I was visiting the adult neuropsych unit with Stanley. As we were leaving, a young woman who had been in the group, quietly told me that the last time I was there, she’d sobbed after we’d left because the dog, I believe it was Gus, had such a deep impact on her. She eventually ended up getting an emotional support dog that has completely changed her life. It’s true she was back in the hospital, but knowing her dog was waiting at home was making her fight harder to get better.

 

 

 

 

 

Walking Henry in the neighborhood, I ran into a woman, a total Dood lover, whom I’ve known casually for years. As Henry leaned against her and she rubbed his ears, she said, “I’m not sure if you know this, but when my son was younger, he had major drug issues.” She continued that he’d been really struggling at a rehab center in Malibu when they began bringing in all sorts of therapy dogs. They changed everything for him. He told his mom that the dogs had truly helped in his recovery.

At the gym, I was talking to an extremely upbeat young man whom I’ve connected with thanks to our mutual love of dogs. We always share stories and photos. When he heard about Henry taking part in a suicide prevention conference, his demeanor suddenly changed.

He confided that several years ago, his thirteen year old cousin, the same age he was at the time, had committed suicide. I told him about my mother. We looked at each other and without saying another word knew that we each understood and cared.

I believe that the dogs provide a bridge that enables us to open up and relate to each other on a more profound level. I am deeply grateful to be a part of this, simply by sharing them with others.

 

 

 

This week Henry and his PAC colleagues Opal and Toto worked a suicide prevention conference in Los Angeles. It was for a network that includes everyone from mental health professionals to researchers and even survivors. They work in different ways to fight suicide, focusing on “hope, recovery and well being.” Their sign says so much, “The Hero In Each of Us.”

As I walked from the parking garage to join the large group gathered on the patio of the downtown office building, I was a little nervous and expecting the mood to be somber. I had even debated about bringing the dogs’ props. I thought they might be inappropriate.

ELBEE She had them in her bag just in case.

I needn’t have worried. As soon as the dogs came in, there was so much excitement that it felt like a party. The pups completely changed the atmosphere. When lots of the attendees wanted to take selfies with them, I brought out the sunglasses that I had stashed in my purse.

On a serious note, the comfort of having the dogs there allowed people to open up and relate to each other. I had chosen to bring Henry because, although he doesn’t have the experience of his “brothers,” he has this special ability to connect with people. Plus, a gentle giant is very difficult to ignore.

As he leaned in for back rubs, people petted him and shared stories. I kept hearing the words “appreciation” and “gratitude” for the three dogs. Opal and Henry worked so hard, they needed a moment.

Unfortunately, suicide has closely touched my life. In March of my senior year of high school, my dad died of a brain tumor, just short of his forty-sixth birthday. When he passed, something in my mother died too.

My father was the quintessential extrovert. He didn’t walk into a room. He made an entrance. He emceed the shows at my grandparents’ summer resort in the Catskills, telling jokes and singing. My mother was truly the wind beneath his wings, long before that sentiment was expressed in song.

She never recovered from the loss of my father. She remained loving and kind but was never herself again. I’m sure she stayed for me and my brother. Years later, when Doug and I were married, she probably thought that I could lean on him and my brother could lean on the two of us. It was time to say goodbye.

 

 

 

 

 

Growing up in Syracuse, the only photo shoots I ever remember were for school pictures. In a moment of misguided nostalgia, I just checked my high school yearbook. That is a photo which I’m never going to post.

ELBEE Trust me, she’s doing the right thing.

When my daughters were younger, I remember sessions for school, for sports for holidays or just because. I have the photos around the house and treasure the memories.

I would have continued to have very few photos of myself but fate intervened. When I was pregnant with Danielle, my youngest, I was a passenger in a head-on car accident. I broke all of the bones in my face so it was years before I even wanted to see a camera.

Then I made up for lost time. As part of my recovery, bodybuilding happened. I have so many photos of that era it’s almost embarrassing, but it’s really fun to hear my daughters explaining to my grandkids what grandma was doing.

ELBEE Please tell me she’s not digging into the archives.

ELBEE Too late.

The point, which I’m finally getting to, is that ever since Charley, my first therapy Doodle, the dogs have had more photo shoots than all of the family put together. They have posed for special events, trading cards, calendars, even catalogs.

 

 

So recently, when UCLA wanted Gus for some sort of shoot for social media with costumes, props, tricks and whatever else worked, I didn’t think twice about it

Arriving at the location, Gus went to meet everyone and then, of course, rolled over for belly rubs. When the cameras came out and we set him on the backdrop, he knew it was time to be fabulous.

He wore glasses, a tie, and a special hat. He got the diva fan treatment.

 

 

 

 

 

On the back of Gus’s trading card it says that his favorite treat is cheese so guess who had his own personal cheese platter.

GUS Does America’s Next Top Model take dogs?

I was definitely not supposed to be a part of the photos but I have a confession to make. Over the years, I have become such a stage mother that I can’t help myself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

ELBEE She even asked if they had hair and makeup for Gus but I don’t have a problem with that.

 

 

 

Some people have live-in housekeepers. I could use a live-in geek squad since I’m not a whiz on the computer. The other day, I was so desperate, I put Gus on the job.

Ironically, a few hours after I wrote that, our internet went out for two days. Was the universe sending me a message or does AT&T just have issues?

It happened to be August 26th, National Dog Day. I know I’m a little late to the party, but I think we all know that every day is National Dog Day, especially for Doodles.

Thursday of that week, Gus and Henry, joined by Toby and Maddox, took part in the monthly pet visit station at UCLA, a special one for the special day. The four gathered outside the main hospital entrance to greet staff, families, patients, basically anyone who walked by.

So often I find myself writing about joy in describing events with the dogs. This was no exception. Virtually every face lit up when they saw them.

I lost count of how many times I heard “I needed this,” or “this made my day.” A cardiac surgeon came over for a reprieve from his demanding schedule.

When he squatted down to pet the dogs, Henry started backing up trying to sit in his lap. He doesn’t quite understand that he’s eighty pounds and will even do this to someone sitting on the toilet.

ELBEE TMI

Fortunately, the doctor was a very good sport.

A frail looking young woman in a hospital gown, pulling her IV pole, slowly walked over to see Gus and Henry. She  looked very sad when she first approached but began to smile and talk softly as she petted and hugged them. She told me how happy it made her to see all of the dogs when she came outside.

I responded that I was so glad we were there at the right time to meet her. She looked me directly in the eyes and said, “It was a blessing.”

A few minutes after she went back inside, Jen, the director of the People Animal Connection, who was on “Purell patrol” at the door, came over.

ELBEE Those glasses look strangely familiar.

The patient’s mother had been watching the interaction with the dogs and quietly shared with Jen that her daughter had spent a lot of time in the hospital. This stay was going to be three weeks. The smile on her daughter’s face was the first one she’d seen since she’d been readmitted. She asked Jen to be sure to let me know how grateful she was in case she didn’t get a chance to tell me herself.