At Work

One of the great pleasures I have volunteering my time as president of Bright Spot Therapy Dogs, Inc. is evaluating many of the dogs and their owners who become members of the organization. Every dog is different, no two are a like.  When people ask me, What makes a good therapy dog? – well beyond the firm requirements that a therapy dog must be non-agressive, predictable, and controllable; must be well-socialized and happy while visiting – beyond those requirements, therapy dogs come in all sizes, breeds, and mixed breeds.  And, they run the full range of personalities…  sweet, jolly, quiet, exuberant; some with a repertoire of tricks to entertain; others a snuggle or kiss.  They definitely are all different – and it is my pleasure to meet them and their owners who are equally as different (as human beings are).  But, all who become involved with this type of work have at least one thing in common… we all want to share our beloved canine pals with others to brighten their day.  When I leave the test facility after a morning of evaluations, I leave very happy…  I’ve met some really great people and wonderful dogs.

Today, I met a sweet, quietly friendly golden/mix named Sally. She delighted the residents with kisses on their hands and made the rounds of the folks in the physical therapy room, giving each one a chance to pet her.  Her owner spoke with each person, engaging them in conversation.  We moved across the hallway to the large activities room where many of the residents had gathered for a game session.  Sally, again, made the rounds, weaving through walkers and around wheelchairs.  She did an excellent job making people happy and passed her evaluation to become a Bright Spot.

As we made our way back to the lobby, my next applicant was waiting her turn.  Leila was a robust American Mastiff. Leila was an extrovert.  She radiated jolliness throughout her entire body!  She had staff coming out from their offices to pet her and hug her.  She just loved every minute of it!  She had a smile on her face everywhere we went.  The male residents were especially fond of her and asked the owner questions about the breed…  all the while they petted her and she gave them her paw.  Leila presented herself very differently then did Sally and each was equally well-received by the waiting residents.

Lots of people were made happy today – and Bright Spot Therapy Dogs, Inc. now has two new terrific therapy dog teams!

Even James couldn’t get through to Constance today… She was fully dressed and in bed. But, she was not huddled, awake, under a pile of blankets.  She lay on her back, facing the ceiling, her eyes closed, and in a very deep sleep.  I checked with the nurse to see if she had been medicated – but no, she simply was unresponsive.  They told me that she is often like this.

I spoke her name softly, then louder.  I told her that her friend James was here to see her. Nothing…

Many of the folks we had passed in the hallway wanted to visit with James. So, we left Constance’s room – having decided to wait awhile, then come back.  James made the rounds of folks gathered around the nurses’ station on the Dementia unit.  Lots of smiles and petting.  Though, some folks stared straight ahead, not even noticing our presence.  When James had finished greeting the folks there, we headed back into Constance’s room.  But, more of the same.  Then, suddenly, she lifted her hand.  I motioned to James to put his head near her raised hand… she then placed it on his head and pet his head and ears.  She moved her mouth, as though wanting to say something, but couldn’t.  Her eyes, still closed, showed motion.  That was it… I was hoping she would rally, as she always has in the past.  But, not today.  That’s all right.  We’ll be back next week.

Due to bad winter storms and the facility being shut down to visitors due to illness, James and I haven’t been to visit our hospice patient in four weeks. She was so happy to see James.  She said she had been missing him but knew that we couldn’t come in the bad weather.

The thing about visiting with hospice patients… since I visit just once a week, I often see dramatic changes.  Today, since we hadn’t visited in a month, I knew things would be very different.  Although her face still lit up when she saw James come through the door, she was lying in bed, visibly in pain.  She told us she had been having a rough time.  She shrugged, saying, This is it, nothing I can do about it.

So she could be close to James and pet him, I set a chair next to her bed where he sat with his head resting on the bed rail. She smiled and pet his head.  A peaceful, happy time for her.  We had to leave when the aid came in to change and reposition her – something they now have to do regularly.  She said good-bye, petting James, all the while smiling.

The purpose of these lessons is to work one-on-one with a professional dog trainer to help  Annie overcome her feelings of fear – fear of strange dogs, people, and places.  It would be great if working through this would help Annie enough to feel comfortable with doing therapy dog visits with me.  This may or may not happen – but either way, the work is necessary to help her become a well-adjusted, happy canine.  There is much work to be done.  Some scenarios work fine…  Annie has no fear of strange people coming into our home – but that’s because she’s surrounded by her canine family members who make her feel secure.  The same is true when we’re out walking…  if I’m walking James along with Annie, she’s fine when approaching another person – and even pretty good with another dog.  You can almost see her mind thinking, Oh, James is going right up to that person and her dog.  They’re greeting each other.  Must be OK.  On the other hand, if Annie is out walking with me alone, she puts her brakes on and refuses to move as the person and dog come within about 20 feet.  This, actually, has improved… she used to apply her brakes as soon as she caught site of a person and dog walking in the distance.  We are taking baby steps to improve this further.  And, slowly we’re making progress.  Patience.  I’m willing to be very patient.

Last week, our trainer lent us a book titled On Talking Terms with Dogs:  Calming Signals by Turid Rugaas, a Norwegian dog trainer. It is excellent.  A short read, with photo examples of dogs employing their calming signals.  I read it a second time before returning it – and ordered a copy for my reference library.  I have been using the calming signals with Annie – and with James and Trudi.  Very effective.  I would recommend this book to everyone.  Reading it gives you an excellent understanding of how dogs communicate with one another.

This week, the strange training room space and unknown person (our trainer) are no longer a problem for Annie. She went right in the door, looked around, tail wagging; walked right up to the trainer, tail continuing to wag, as much as to say, Hi, I’m here and I’m happy to be here!

When James and I exited from the elevator taking us to the second floor, I did a quick scan of the area where folks are seated around the nurses station – hoping to find Constance among them.  But no, she was, as usual, in bed under a heap of blankets, and lying in the fetal position.  Today, though, she was not fully clothed, but was still in her pajamas.  She had been told that her daughter was coming to take her out to lunch – and she had refused to get dressed.

James and I entered and Constance beamed from ear-to-ear.  James, it’s you.  You’re here.  James is my friend. She asked me to have James come up on the bed and lie next to her.  As he lay down beside her, he have her some kisses.  Oh, she just loved that!  It’s wonderful to see how she responds to the dog.

Our visit was cut short by the aid who came in, saying we had to leave because she had to get Constance dressed; her daughter was coming in 15 minutes. I don’t want to see my daughter.  She’s mean.  I don’t want to go to lunch with her.

I feel so badly for the daughter who comes faithly to visit her mother; eat with her; fix her hair; bring her things from home.  She is doing the very best she can.  What a terrible disease…

Annie getting used to the stuffed dog and some equipment on the floor

Since Annie’s agility class was cancelled due to lack of sign-ups, I decided to move forward with plan B. I had been thinking of working with a private trainer for quite a while – and decided this would be a very good time to move forward with that plan.  Yes – private instruction is expensive, but this investment made wisely with a good trainer will pay off in the end.  I expect Annie, now 3, will be around for a long time to come (if her great grandma Trudi – 15 1/2 is any indicator), so I owe it to her to do whatever I can to help her become a well-trained, happy dog.  Certainly, the investment in time is a given for me… I love spending time with my dogs and working with them.  As for the money involved, this is where my priority lies and I’d rather spend it on Annie’s training then on a new outfit or a dinner at an expensive restaurant (I’ll do that later to celebrate Annie’s great outcome!).

I had met our trainer at an orientation she gave for folks planning to take any of the group training classes at the training center. I liked her right away – the way she approaches her training, her manner, her soft spoken voice.  It all seemed to click for me and I felt Annie would enjoy working with her.

After our first meeting today, my initial impressions were confirmed. The three of us had a great session in the training center.  Annie has to work on overcoming her fear of new places, new people, and strange dogs.  Working one-on-one with a good instructor like the one we have will be of great benefit.  Our plan is to meet weekly for an hour, adding new experiences each week.  Our instructor has high hopes for Annie – and so do I.  I could tell that Annie left feeling relaxed and happy.  Progress already made.

James and I arrived at the room she shares with another person… there was Constance, in bed –  fully dressed, including shoes – huddled beneath a pile of blankets.  Very typical.  Standing directly in front of her, I softly spoke her name.  She slowly opened her eyes and looked blankly at me.  But her gaze quickly turned to James – and it was then that the broad, beaming smile appeared on her face.

Constance pushed the blankets aside and swung her legs over the side of the bed, inviting James up to lie down beside her. She put her arms around his neck and hugged him, all the while smiling and saying, “James is my friend.  James comes to see me.”

We stayed like this for about 15 minutes.  I was about to ask the aid to help me get Constance up on her walker so she could take James for his walk down to the end of the corridor and back.  Getting her to ambulate is something she ordinarily refuses to do.  But, just at that moment, her daughter came in.

This was a wonderful meeting. I introduced myself – and James.  She replied by saying, “This is James.  My mother talks about James all the time.  She tells me how he visits her every week.”  All the while Constance beamed.  “Yes, this is my friend James.”

It is the visits from the dog that trigger her memory. She still maintains that her daughter never visits her, though the aids confirm that she comes all the time.  It is the dog she knows and calls by name.  She has no idea who I am.  Dogs can make a big difference in the lives of those living with dementia.

I have always felt badly when I’ve had to tell Constance it was time for us to leave.  But, today, she wasn’t left by herself. Her daughter was there talking with her, getting ready to go downstairs with her for lunch, then after she planned to do her hair.  We left Constance smiling.  I was very happy to have met her daughter.  She is trying the best she can.  And, she thanked me for making my visits with James.

It’s my birthday today.  The birthday card that one of my daughters sent me said: … enjoy doing whatever makes you happiest… Well, I can’t think of anything that would make me feel happier than my visit today with Constance.  The broad smile that appeared on her face when James came into view was enough to make me melt.

James!, she cried.  And, looking at me she said, See, I remembered his name! Today, Constance took James for a walk all the way down the corridor and back, holding his leash in her hand along with holding onto her walker.  She’d stop every so often to talk to James and pet his head.  Then she’d say, Come on James, let’s keep walking. When finished with the walk, the three of us sat together in comfortable chairs and she started to tell me how much she loves animals; how she loves James.  She then put her arms around James’ neck and hugged him, saying, James is my friend. Then she looked at me, put her arm through my arm and said, And you’re my friend, too.

We sat making conversation for a good long visit – Constance beamed the entire time.  When it was time to leave I told her we’d be back to visit next week.  Good, she said, I’ll see you and James next week, then. What a great way to spend the morning of my birthday!

I was not surprised when our hospice patient told us that she had had a bad week.  She didn’t look well – and it was difficult for her to communicate.  This is how it goes…  there are good weeks and bad weeks; good days and bad.

Inspite of her pain, she grinned from ear-to-ear when she saw James and invited him up on her bed so she could pet him easily.  She chatted with us, but with great difficulty.  We kept our visit fairly short.  She thanked us for coming and said, I’ll see you next week!