Therapy Dog

The sweet voice on the other end of the telephone said: “Hello, I got your name from LCOL D**** and I need your help.  My dog (I have three) was hit by a car during Christmas break and he has lost bladder control and I can’t say goodbye.  He needs someone to squeeze his bladder for him and put his mangled foot into a boot to outdoor exercise.  Will you come?”

I made time immediately for a visit the next day.  She greeted me and sat with me to explain my job.  “Toffee” is the youngest family member and is joined by “Butter” and “Chase”.  His left back foot was scabbed and the toes had been separated from his paw but were still attached. The boot was needed for balance.  She put it on over his bandages and baby sock and we went outside.  He struggled to the lawn and stood still while she bent over him and squeezed his bladder from both sides until he was empty. She praised him and let him stay with the other two for a few minutes.  Once in, Toffee found his bed and collapsed in its softness.

Toffee had also lost control of his bowels, so I would find his bedding soiled most of the days. She would clean up after him when she got home.  I told her “Not on my watch!”

His mistress, a Captain in the U S Air Force, (and employed at the base clinic), taking classes herself, and married (her husband also active duty), had very long days.  Could I come Monday, Wednesday and Friday?  Could I start tomorrow?

Of course.

Butter, the senior lady of the house is a lab and a couch potato.  Chase is a mixed short hair bundle of love with excess energy. Toffee is a mixed short hair rescue with the sweetest personality and his hair is absolutely the color of freshly pulled toffee (like honey in the sunlight). His eyes were bright and trusting.

I do not have a degree in anything remotely medical.  I have never taken a Red Cross training course or CPR.  All I have is an abundance of empathy and the willingness to help someone every day.  I call it “positive stress”. My life energy is about serving and I think God allows for my service to include his animal kingdom.

And so we began: Butter, Chase, Toffee and I met three times a week for his “therapy”. Most days, the pups would be lounging in the screened porch. Dog beds, automated water dispensers and food bowls, toys, extra towels and blankets were scattered about in their side of the outdoor living room.  A basket of gauze, ointment, tape, scissors, baby socks, disinfectant spray and Toffee’s boot was kept on the coffee table.

They knew it was treat time when I walked through the front door.  That pleasant duty was always followed by a search for accidents.  The cleaning supplies and fresh doggie bedding were kept in her laundry room and I had been given permission to use them, which I did.  Occasionally, I’d start a load of wash to ease her burden.  No problem.  It’s what I do.

 Some days were better than others for him.  I was drawn into his sweetness and soon began to look forward to our therapy sessions.  When I awakened on a Tuesday or Thursday I would find myself disappointed that I couldn’t go to spend the lunch hour with them.

Weeks passed into months and I had the pleasure of staying with them for a long weekend and while out one day, I witnessed his trying to relieve himself.  He was successful and the “turd” was marked by a hastily made placard (stick with a paper plate). I called his owner (on vacation with relatives), interrupted her lunch and said “Toffee turded” on his own, absolutely on his own. Cheers erupted from the whole gang on her end of the line.  I cried.  He just looked at me, but he was smiling.

It was still a few weeks until he tried to pee on his own.  He felt the urge.  I waited, he waited…and he peed.  We celebrated the moment.  I did a happy dance. Butter knew something wonderful had happened and wanted a treat.  I called the owner again and left a voice mail.  I drew smiley faces all over the journal page. His nerve systems were healing.  His brain and his nervous system were reconnecting.  He was going to be okay.

I think he knew he was going to be okay way before any human had an inkling.  Certainly, the vet did not know, the surgeon did not know.  I think his mistress had faith and prayed for is recovery but she did not know. All she had was unconditional love for her companion. All she knew to do was ask for my help. And I did not know anything when I arrived but Toffee has taught me things I could not learn elsewhere.  Those intangible things that fill my soul that I could not find in books or lecture halls, NPR radio stations, documentaries on the television or long lunches with the girls.

He has regained control of his bodily functions.  He will live with his physical limitations; only he doesn’t know he has any.  We recently celebrated our 1^st year anniversary together-just the four of us. It was nothing formal, but a kind of sitting on the lawn with three dogs in your lap celebration.; petting everyone at once and receiving their kisses on every exposed inch of my legs, arms, neck and face. It strikes me funny how therapeutic our days together have become.  I know in my heart that healing has taken place.  I know in my heart that I am renewed.  I feel happier, I live happier.  I AM HAPPIER.

Now I ask you:  ”Who received therapy?”