What a sugar cookie, this charming dog of mine. Micron does his stuff at a meet & greet booth for the Miami Valley Pet Therapy Association. It was a beautiful weekend to work the crowds for our neighborhood’s annual Fine Arts Festival.
Fine Art, indeed. The dog has a gift.
Hey, Dad? Here, let me have your hand.
With fingers outstretched, a hand is placed atop the dog’s warm and softy furred head.
A smile.
He looks just like Goldie, Dad.
A nod. The smile broadens.
The hand is making smooth stroking motions, fingers feeling the long hair on the dog’s ears . . .
And then Micron starts up a vigorous slurping party with his tongue on the guy’s hand and the moment is gone.
Oh! This dog and his tongue, I say, fishing into my bag for the hand sanitizer. Ugh, I’m so sorry. Here I have some. . .
No, it’s ok, says the son. Goldie used to do the same thing. Dad would let her do that after he came home from work. It was how he relaxed. See? Look at his face.
I do. His head is held high, the unseeing eyes focused on nothing, but his mind’s eye is bringing back memories of his Goldie for him. This is a man who has known the love of a golden retriever.
And in this frozen little niblet of time, he is happy.
Thank you, says the son.
It’s my pleasure, I say.
Because it’s true.
And so goes our mvPTa volunteer work as a pet therapy team at Hospice of Dayton. We still have oh-so-much to learn at this gig, but our mistakes so far have been blessedly few.
I’ve learned that just because a family wants desperately for your team to visit, the patient may not always agree. Some may even have a fear of dogs that we need to be in tune to.
Micron’s learning that some other therapy dogs actually have a need for a little personal space and don’t want his tongue up their left nostril right now, thank you very much.
And we’re both learning those things that you just can’t get in a training session. The truths that can only be reached by the experience of it all.
Every room we enter has a person with a life story. We don’t know any of the chapters they’ve written, but we do know that if we make it into their story it will not be anything more than a few words surrounded by parentheses (we saw a dog today). But that’s ok, really. We’re not after any big picture stuff here.
All we have to offer is a moment of peace of mind or to be able to open up a happy memory that’s been put away in deep storage. To bring a distraction to the heavy thoughts of the day.
That we can do, Micron and I.
Good Dog, Mikey, I say.
Micron looks at me and wags his tail. It’s my pleasure, he says.
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| A group photo from last year’s CCI Summer Camp event. Who’s that pup not in a Down? Guess. |
I’m reminded of Henry Ford’s quote about that hot car of the days of yore, the Model T.
“Any customer can have a car painted any colour that he wants so long as it is black.”
And how ’bout yellow, Mr. Ford? I’m kinda liking the black and yellow choices of things. A glossy black coat is a thing of beauty, to be sure. But ah, the ever happy color that is yellow. So many shades to enjoy, from a light parchment to warm caramel. Sometimes with a hint of auburn in those deeper hues.
Right, I stopped talking about the Model T after that memorable quote and moved right into the topic of dogs.
It’s true we get a limited color choice with the Canine Companion for Independence pups. With our labs and goldens, and crosses of both breeds, the genetics don’t offer up much diversity in coat color. Instead we see personalities that are unique to each furry one of these canines. Taking a moment with the photo at top, you will see each black and yellow critter up there has their own look about them, as well. The shape of the head and how it’s held. Ears up for attention or a relaxed flat to the head posture. A couple of the furries are completely focused and ready for the next command from their handler. Others are waiting for the most joyful of words, Release, so to continue their play session.
Body language is helpful in understanding personalities too, don’t you think? Like guess who’s been told he’s the Golden Child around our house about one too many times? That would be the little lord Yaxley who, at that moment, didn’t see the need to conform to the masses. In the little guy’s defense, he was a young fella when this photo was taken, just six months old for his first big outing. Honestly, I was just happy he didn’t break his Stay while still in the afterglow of puppy playtime.
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| Preparing to line up for the Memorial Day parade. That’s boxer Cheech behind Micron. |
Now this pet therapy gig is a whole ‘nuther animal, so to speak. Micron met his new therapy peeps during the Memorial Day parade celebrated at the Dayton VA Medical Center. We joined up with the Miami Valley Pet Therapy Association to honor our local veterans and to give out some free doggie lovin’ along the parade route.
More than just black and yellow dog fur sticking to folk’s shirts here. Our pet therapy friends are as wonderful as they are diverse.
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| Once you can move your eyes from Grace, the great dane, enjoy the collie in a patriotic tutu. |
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| Flash the goldendoodle is a popular pup in the Northmont Library’s children’s reading program |
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| Beamer proudly sports the nation’s colors. |
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| The adorable Sophie has been blind since birth. She brings smiles to folk at our local hospitals. |
The morning was gorgeous, but to my dismay, turned out to be a steamy hot one. I completely misjudged how the mighty Micron would handle the heat of the day. [sigh] A lesson for me. This dog o’mine spends most of his day relaxing in a climate controlled environment and I do believe I’ve turned him into a delicate orchid or something. We stopped short of finishing the parade and relaxed with a bowl of water under a shade tree to enjoy the event as spectators. And thank you, thank you to a fellow handler for sharing your cold packs to give relief to my panting dog.
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| ‘Scuse me, won’t you? My limo is here. It’s air conditioned, right? |
Moving into some air conditioning seemed a logical next step, so we accepted an invitation to join a couple of other pet therapy teams to visit some of our country’s best in the VA assisted living center.
‘Scuse me, sir?. We ask a fella in the visiting area. I have a dog with me today who wants to say hi to you. Do you like dogs?
The fella looks up from his lap, sees Micron standing there with his tongue hanging out the side. He says, Yeah, I do!, which is all the invitation Micron needs. He’s all over this guy, tail wagging and head resting on his lap. As another therapy team approaches, we hear stories about times in the Navy and life during the months at sea. Memories of youthful adventures told with smiles and laughter. And Micron is listening.
I think we’re off to a good start here, with this pet therapy gig.
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| Whaja mean I have a cliffhanger? |
I mean it Micron, try not to embarrass me . . . EEP! Micron spies his friend, Bubba’s Mom, from across the parking lot and rushes to greet her. I follow him, mostly because I’m still holding the leash. My goofy, silly, glorious dog never met a person he didn’t want to lick, but he does have his favorites. And Bubba’s Mom is right there at the top.
This is a evening of celebration for Micron and me as we prepare to graduate as a Therapy Dog Team with Miami Valley Pet Therapy Association.
Not only our friend, but Bubba’s Mom was also one of our instructors over the past ten weeks of training. We cross the parking lot together to walk into the event with all the honor and dignity this occasion warrants.
Just kidding. As the door is held open for us, Micron throws his furry body mass into the room and declares, All right, hoomans and dogs! The party starts . . . NOW!
Yep, he’s excited to be here tonight.
You know what are the two most ineffective words in the English language are?
Calm down.
Think about that a sec when you’ve said that to someone in a tizzy fit. Or been the recipient of the ersatz advice. Has it ever worked? Right, the answer is no.
And it didn’t work this time either. So as soon as I can stuff my hand in my pocket, I grab a dog biscuit and wave it in front of Micron’s nose like smelling salt. Whew, he’s back. Oh, Food Lady, he says, I didn’t know you were here.
We make it to our seat and Micron flings himself to the floor. Wow, he says suddenly I’m so exhausted. How ’bout you? I begin to respond in kind, but goober dog sees another friend from class and here we go again.
In class, he was noted as “engaging.” That’s such a nice word. It’s so much more becoming of the big guy than when I use the term “the squirrel factor” for his love-of-life behavior.
We are recognized with nineteen other therapy teams. Many of our graduates were rescued from shelters. Even more amazing, one dog has risen above her humble beginnings as puppy abandoned on the side of the road in cardboard box. A couple of rather confident cats in the celebration as well.
Each pet’s brief bio was shared with all in attendance. Our task was to write a two to three sentence to describe our partner. Was this a such a challenge for everyone else, I wonder. How do I describe Micron in a mere three sentences? A moment pondering, then came up with this.
The mighty Micron is a lab/golden cross; a lover of life and licker of people. Micron has been the go-to dog at P&G Pet Care for post-meeting de-stressing. He’s completely jazzed to be graduating and is looking forward to expanding his client base outside of the office.
With the help of a semi-colon, we fit within the three sentence threshold. I would remain frustrated with so much more to say, but really, once we walked in the door it was pretty apparent who Micron is.
He’s engaging.
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| Oh, oops. Covered up my photo badge. No matter, it looks just like me, ugh. |
We send off our congratulations as well, to our classmates Harley, Kaylee, Suzy, Tully and their partners. And a big Way-to-Go to new instructor, Janet, and evaluators Lisa and Angela. Thanks for being there for us every week to help develop us into Therapy Teams. And that Micron and I gave you some solid challenges to hone your skills upon. Well, you’re welcome.
What’s next, you ask. Ah, that’s a good question. We’ll be meeting with our esteemed mentor soon to find out. New adventures coming up, the stuff of life.
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| Getting measured for his custom-made cape. |
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| Um. That ain’t right, Micron. |
Ah, Test Anxiety, my old college friend, I say. There you are, big guy. I kinda was expecting you to show up. But really thought I’d run into you on drive over here. (Or perhaps drive over you, says the inside voice.)
Yeah, I was running late, he says, slipping into the passenger seat. Sorry about that. I know how much that freaks you out.
Yep, you know me well, I say. Hey TA, it’s nothing personal, of course, but I’ve trying to avoid you. How did you know where to find me this morning?
I’m a savvy fella, he says with a wink. But you told just about everybody and their second cousin at work. And posting it on Facebook kinda cinched it.
Gotcha. That makes sense, I sigh, making a mental note to unfriend this guy. Oh man! You didn’t tell the Jinx about this, did you?
Test Anxiety laughs, Of course I did, you silly, quivering thing. What’s an event like this without a little Jinx? And you’ll love this! I called Lack O’Grace as well. We’re like a team of super heroes, the lot of us. Glory cannot be won without a challenge or two, my girl. Without us at your side, life is just an easy A, now isn’t it?
Right, I can always count on you guys to tie my shoelaces together. I say. Hey TA buddy, I’ll just be a few minutes here. How ’bout you sit back and relax in my comfy Toyota. The Car Talk guys should be on NPR now, so I’ll turn the radio on for . . .
Oh ho! Not a chance, chickie. TA declares in his booming voice. You’ll need me at your elbow the whole way. And oh, I nearly forgot to remind you that you shouldn’t have tanked up on that last cup of coffee. Oops, you didn’t notice how much you needed to go until I said that, right? Ha, ha, you should see your face! You always make me laugh.
Micron is in the back seat observing this exchange and is left wondering why I’m talking to myself. People are weird, he thinks. But I like how their toes taste.
You know, I’ve always wanted to believe I would do well on the trivia game shows. My sad little noggin is filled with so much useless knowledge that trying to have a deep thought requires an air hammer to pound through that concrete layer of trivial nonsense.
My brain cells are kicking around chunky detritus like daddy-long-legs are not spiders and the brontosaurus was a case of mistaken identity. You’ve heard of a murder of crows? How about a conspiracy of ravens? It’s said that Paul McCartney referred to his muse as Martha and named his dog after her. Which led to the song Martha, My Dear. Oh, this can go on and on. I’m damaged goods, to be sure.
Right, but put me in the hot seat of a trivia contest and then ask my middle name. Cue up Mr. Test Anxiety. I would stammer until the buzzer sounded and then shout out in panic something random like, Abby Normal! Which would be helpful for Young Frankenstein trivia. By the way, did you know Aeromsith’s song Walk this Way was inspired by a line in this classic movie? No? Well, then tell your brain cells to move over and make room for this factoid. It’ll likely stick with you for awhile.
So anyway here we are, Micron and me. Walking up the ramp into Gem City Dog Obedience like the pirate’s plank over the great murky depths. You’re going to do great, I say a little too shrilly. [ahem] You’ll be just fine, my handsome fella.
And we’re ready for our certification test to be a Pet Therapy Team. Over the past ten weeks, we’ve trained and practiced and desensitized ourselves to the kryponite of stuffed toys. Nothing left to do but take a deep breath and . . . ack! can’t breathe . . . can’t breathe.
Holy cow, I gotta relax. What is the matter with me anyway? This is a cake walk. Micron’s got it down cold. Oh great, now I want some cold cake. mmm Chocolate cake with fudgy frosting. Oh hi there, Miss Stress Eating, you’re back already. I thought we took care of our business this morning?
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| Got me a job! |
We follow the directions as given by the evaluators. We demonstrate the walk on lead, sit, stays, downs, handling and then other challenges unique to a successful pet therapy team. A couple of burps along the way mostly involving me holding the leash too tight (relax, chick. . . ) and then that one heart-stopping moment as Micron does what he does best. He does a Micron.
That dog never met a stuffed toy he didn’t like.
But a quick verbal correction by me and . . . we’re done.
Talk about the hot seat. I’m directed to a metal folding chair to await the verdict of the evaluators. A delightful lady takes the seat next to me and strikes up a conversation. Micron? That’s an unusual name, she says to me. How did he come by that? Is this part of the test, I wonder? I feel panicky. Is there a wrong answer? Relax, chowderhead, and breathe. She’s just being friendly. So we pass the time of day until the decision is announced.
Donna? Congratulations, you two passed.
We did? We did! whoooot! Micron, my love! mmmwah!
Take that, Mr. Test Anxiety. Go lumber back to your dark cavern in the back of my noggin. I don’t want to see you again until, well, never. But just so you can mark your hellish calendar, take note that we’ll need to take the re-certification test in two years.
Micron and I will be graduating at the Miami Valley Pet Therapy Association’s ceremony on Friday, May 18 at Delco Park in Kettering, OH. Free and open to all. Come celebrate with us if you can.
I hear there will be cake.
Go. Do. Be Dog. 