working dogs – Page 14 – Me and the Doods.com

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!

Controlled Chaos

ELBEE Isn’t that title an oxymoron?

Yes it is but it’s also what I should have named Stanley. He’s moved into the toddler phase. I’d forgotten how challenging that can be. One minute he’s so adorable, sweet and cuddly that I can’t believe I’ve found the most perfect puppy. The next he seems to be Stanley’s evil twin.

It reminds me of the time when one of the daughters (not naming names) was a toddler. We were in a children’s shoe store where she was happily draping purses over her arm. As soon I suggested she put them back, it was as if the child from The Exorcist had arrived.

Which brings me to a few questions. Why does he want to eat shoes when we buy him the most expensive chew toys on the market? Why does he want to jump in the dirt right after a bath? Why does his energy kick in when ours is gone?

GUS Tell me about it. He’s exhausting.

I also wonder why Stanley thinks that 5:30 a.m. is the perfect time to go out to pee. I’ve been so tired that I feel as if I’ve taken leave from my normal life. I even forgot my granddaughter Bella’s birthday. Actually, I didn’t forget the birthday. I sent cards and gifts. I just forgot to call on the day of because I have totally lost track of the date.

ELBEE Hello? Calendar!

I think it’s tougher with a large puppy. It’s like a kid who looks older so you expect more. They can also get into more trouble. The other night my husband left a newspaper on the table assuming it was safe. He didn’t realize that Stanley had grown enough in the last hour or two to be able to stand up, grab it and rip it to shreds.

ELBEE That was impressive.

A couple of things happened to put it all in perspective. First, I took Stanley to a puppy class for socialization and very basic training. He was great. He was almost well behaved. He was friendly with the other dogs. But what made me feel even better was the reaction when Katie, the teacher, started giving suggestions for dealing with teething, nipping and potty training. Every puppy owner in the room sat up at attention. I was not alone.

Then I heard an interview with Bo Derek, a total animal person. She said that when she has a new puppy, she takes off three months, like canine maternity leave. Who knew I had so much in common with her.

ELBEE And just call me Lassie.

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.

The Calm Before the Puppy Storm

If all goes according to plan, Stanley will be joining the pack next week. After so many dogs I should be completely relaxed but that hasn’t been the case. Instead, I’ve been so obsessed, you’d think that I had just given birth.

ELBEE I’m surprised she hasn’t had a puppy shower.

It’s only been four years since Gus came into our lives but I feel as if I’ve forgotten everything I ever knew about training a puppy. It’s kind of how clueless I was when I had the oldest daughter. We were leaving the hospital and I remember asking the doctor what I should do with her when I got her home. The poor man looked really nervous.

ELBEE And you wonder why mother of the year has been off the table.

I’ve been reading articles, calling my trainer friends for advice, buying puppy things on line. I tried to tell myself that it was because I’ve been involved with Stanley almost from the time he was conceived. As I shared in an earlier post, I happened to e-mail Billy, the breeder, only a few hours after he’d finished delivering the litter. Not only did he email photos of the newborns, but he even sent a video of one of the births. That was a first for me!

I’m sure the real reason is that I’m hoping for the right Stanley to join Elbee and Gus on the journey that began with Charley. It’s not only about finding a pet, it’s like a job interview. Is he cut out for the work? Does he have any special skill sets?

ELBEE Is she serious?

With Charley, I lucked out. I’d read about therapy dogs and developed an interest but wasn’t specifically searching for one. How serendipitous that a stranger at the vet commented on his amazing temperament and led me to the UCLA program. Elbee was more of a challenge. I was sick during his formative months so had to work harder to catch up on his training. I might have given up if not for the cheerleading of Jack Barron, my mentor at UCLA.

ELBEE Thank goodness he recognized fabulous.

When Gus’s original owner had to rehome him, several people wanted the adorable ball of fluff. Fortunately, Gina, the amazing trainer who picked him out, knew that he was born to be a therapy dog so I won the jackpot.

Will I get lucky again? Will I find another puppy that was born to be a therapy dog or will he need a little more encouragement? Will Stanley have the right heart and temperament? When I go to meet Stanley will I find him or will he find me?

ELBEE I hate to be a buzzkill but has Pack Leader forgotten that wonderful Stanley will be peeing all over the house and eating her shoes?

When Ordinary Becomes Extraordinary

There is a certain rhythm to working with the Doods but then, and always to my surprise, something extraordinary happens. A recent day at UCLA started out in the usual fashion. Gus bounced out of the car in front of the hospital, tail wagging, greeting everyone in his path.

After stops in the lobby, the volunteer center and administration, we made our way up to neuropsych on the fourth floor. The kids in our first unit were so exuberant, it was as if the circus had come to town. Barely containing their excitement, they gathered around Gus on the floor, laughing, petting him, hugging him. They couldn’t seem to get close enough. That is, except for one adolescent girl who sat off to the side, her face expressionless.

When we had seen her previously, she had remained that way, “isolative,” as the therapist explained to me, throughout out entire visit. She stayed on the periphery, not reacting or participating. I also learned that she doesn’t like to come out of her room except when the dogs are there.

This week I sensed something slightly different in her demeanor. She was sitting in the same spot, removed from the group, but I saw a flicker of interest when Gus did his tricks. She even inched a bit closer while still keeping her distance from the other kids. When I asked her if she’d like one of his trading cards, she shook her head no. When I asked if she’d like me to bring Gus over to her, I got a barely audible “yes.”

Observing her behavior, the therapist asked if she’d like to take a walk with me and Gus as a special treat. That got a yes, and the trace of a smile. With both of us holding his leash, we started down the hallway together. As we walked side by side, I could feel the girl relax. With a little encouragement she began to pet Gus.

I’m not sure what it is, but there is something about his soft, fluffy coat that captivates and relaxes people. That young girl was no exception. Before I knew it, she was on the floor gently hugging him.

After a few minutes, we continued walking to the end of the hall. When we reached the door and it was time for us to leave, the therapist looked at her and asked if she knew the dog’s name. With no hesitation and with a big smile on her face, she said, “Gus.” Then the therapist asked her if she knew my name. With an even bigger grin, she turned to me and said, “Ellen.” At that moment, ordinary became extraordinary.

What’s in a Name?

We haven’t met the new puppy yet but he already has a name. Actually he had a name before he was even born.

ELBEE May I remind you that I was named by the receptionist at the vet because no one in the family could agree on my name. She didn’t want to put “Blank” on my chart so she wrote “Little Brother.” I won’t lie. It still stings.

The name is Stanley after my brother who passed away from cancer over twenty years ago. Stanley was one of my favorite people on the planet. I’m funny but he was so funny he could make me laugh until I cried.

ELBEE Excuse me. If she’s funny then I must be the world’s greatest four-legged stand up comic.

As a television director, he knew how to put everyone from the talent to the craft services at ease. People gravitated towards him. He had the gift of making you feel important, but he didn’t like a lot of fanfare for himself.

Shortly before his death, he told me that he didn’t even want a funeral. Not quite believing we were having that conversation, I convinced him to let me do something for his friends. He agreed to a casual gathering in a park. It turned out to be such a perfect day of remembrance. His buddies went so far as to set up their weekly poker game with an empty seat at the table for him.

Stanley would not have wanted a memorial plaque or a commemorative bench in the mountains, but having a puppy named after him would have suited him just fine. He loved dogs. He was like the Jewish dog whisperer. It’s the most appropriate tribute I could give him. Somehow this just felt like the right time to do it.

The daughters, who adored him, completely understood. They were immediately on board. By the way, shout out to them for looking after me since the burglary. Sometimes it’s nice to have daughter/mothers.

The husband, remember he wants to be included, took a little more convincing. He loved my brother but not his name. When I suggested he could call the dog Stan or Stan the Man, he was good with it.

I’m hoping that with training, a little luck and a special namesake, the puppy will join Elbee and Gus on their rounds. How wonderful to honor my brother with a therapy dog named after him.

Even better, the dog’s name often becomes a topic of conversation when we’re visiting with patients and families. Talking about Stanley the dog will be a perfect way to keep the memory of Stanley the man alive. It will be my private way of celebrating someone who was such an important part of my life. I can almost feel his spirit looking on and laughing, the laugh that I have missed for so long.

Healing

Despite having the best possible outcome, the week since the burglary has been pretty stressful. I’m good in crisis mode, it’s the aftermath where I have a problem. A friend texted me, “hope your nerves and the house are on the mend.” The house was the easy part.

Walking into UCLA with Gus (he and Elbee take turns) was a huge step in the healing process. It was all about him and his wagging tail. In the neuropsych unit, as I watched two potentially aggressive kids hug him with gentle care, I totally forgot about myself.

A visit to the ICU brought things even more into focus. Judi, a dear friend for many years, had asked if I would bring a dog to see “Sandy,” a mutual friend whom I hadn’t seen in a very long time. “Sandy” was making slow progress recovering from a severe stroke. To everyone’s surprise, when I walked in, she immediately recognized me and reached out for Gus. She was so happy, content and even funny, as he rested with her.

In one of those strange coincidences, the patient just a few doors down was the granddaughter of very close friends. The teen had been in a car accident and had suffered broken bones and a traumatic brain injury. As Gus and I visited with her distraught grandpa, nothing else mattered except bringing him some comfort.

Driving home from the hospital, despite the difficulty of the visits, I was the calmest that I had been in days. I had spent the morning in situations where, thanks to Gus, I was able to help other people deal with their stress while forgetting about my own.

On Friday I attended a luncheon for the People Animal Connection that really put the exclamation point on the week. The camaraderie in the room was palpable because in different ways we had all shared the same magical experiences. The guest speaker was Ellie Laks from the Gentle Barn, “a sanctuary where animals heal and children learn to hope.” There was a video tribute to Charley and several other amazing PAC dogs that we lost last year. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room.

It was a quote on one of the luncheon gifts, however, that inspired this post and gave me such clarity. Mahatma Gandhi said, “The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.” My sincere gratitude to Charley, Elbee, Gus and hopefully the new puppy for leading me down this path of service. You are selfless. You are my heroes. You helped me through this week.

Signs

We are surrounded by signs, in the neighborhood and in the universe. Walking with the Doods, I see so many postings for missing pets. They’re usually dogs and cats or an occasional bird but I’ve seen one for a “friendly” monitor lizard and another for a snake. Really?

I also see signs for jobs, estate sales and lessons. I don’t know whether to learn to dance, sing or swim.

THE DOODS We’d suggest the singing lessons. Just a thought.

There are also messages on homes and businesses. I’ve lost count of how many I’ve seen that say “Beware of Dog.” One house had a “Beware of Dog” sign and another that said, “Celebrate Life.”

ELBEE Is that a mixed message?

Then there’s this unique sign in the window of a local barber shop. (I did a tiny bit of editing.)

There are more subtle signs in nature like the floating butterflies. They remind us that the pets we’ve lost are still watching over us. In March, I shared that when I was in the mountains, standing under “Charley’s tree,” he gave me a sign that it was time to look for a new dog. Unfortunately, he didn’t include directions for finding it.

After searching all sorts of rescues with no luck, I searched my conscience. I decided, that despite my own guilt and the guilt that countless people laid on me, I was going to look for a puppy. After all, I was hoping it would grow up to honor Charley by doing amazing things. I still had no luck.

Then, all of a sudden, the universe started sending me signs. Marsha, the groomer, texted that she had just met a four month old Doodle whose demeanor reminded her of Charley. Even better, the breeder was local. That was so important to me because with all of the terrible “animal on plane” stories lately, there was no way I was going to ship a dog.

ELBEE Ship? As if! I’d insist on at least business class.

The signs just kept on coming. The breeder has the same name as one of the daughters. Plus she went to UCLA!

ELBEE She forgot to mention that it’s Jennifer, the same as the non-dog loving daughter. Is that a sign?

I found out they were expecting a litter in late spring, so immediately got on the waiting list. Despite the fact that I’m terrible at waiting, I managed not to bombard them with phone calls.

About a week ago, not really sure when the puppies were due, I casually emailed just to see how things were progressing. Billy, the husband, got right back to me with the most exciting news. He had been up until 4 in the morning delivering the pups! He usually doesn’t announce the litter for 48 hours so I had an exclusive! If that isn’t a sign, what is?

Stay tuned for more puppy updates. I even have a name picked out, but like the royal family in England, I’ll announce it later.

ELBEE Oy vey

Gratitude

There’s something about Gus that makes the kids in the hospital want to keep him. I think it’s the cute, cuddly factor plus he fits in their laps. Even Metta World Peace felt the same way last week. By the way, that’s a tough post to follow.

Awhile ago, a little boy in the neuropsych unit at UCLA very seriously offered me $68.00 for him. I told him that I was so sorry but couldn’t sell Gus for any price. This week two boys in the teen unit really wanted to buy him. When I shared with them about the boy who had offered me $68.00, I was impressed by their reaction. They truly understood how much that amount of money must have meant to him. Then the bidding war started. When I turned down a million, one of them even went up to a trillion!

ELBEE I bet she she was tempted.

The interchange was light and fun. It totally took us out of the hospital setting. It made me think, as I often do, about the priceless work of therapy dogs. They may perform in different ways and in different settings but the heart of what they do is the same.

They offer comfort from pain, whether physical or emotional. They calm and soothe. They may even coax a reluctant smile or an unexpected laugh from someone having a rough day. They distract from a difficult reality

At times the challenges they face are almost incomprehensible. My cousin, whose sons graduated from Majorie Stoneman Douglas High School, told me that a team of Golden Retrievers had been brought in to offer comfort to the survivors of the mass shooting. Sadly, there are so many places in this country where they are needed right now.

There is a mirror with a message on the wall at Providence Tarzana Hospital that speaks so beautifully to the work of the dogs. It says, “Look at who’s making a difference. You have the power to be a healing presence in someone’s life today.” I tried a selfie with Gus but got mixed results.

ELBEE She really should have let me handle the photography.

On this Memorial Day weekend, a time of remembrance, respect and reflection, I feel such gratitude to be on the path where the dogs have led me. It’s hard to believe the journey began in 2006 when my beloved Charley taught me about pure kindness. He was also a mentor to Elbee and especially to Gus.

In the past, I’ve shared my feeling that his spirit still guides us. Nicole, the daughter in the first picture with Gus, took this amazing photo. You may think the halo is the light at a special time of day. I believe it’s Charley’s way of letting us know that he is keeping a loving watch over Gus.