The Doctor is In (Bed with Me, getting mud on my sheets)

Sirius has been making me crazy lately because he seems to have an issue with my watching figure skating; I'm beginning to wonder if he's jealous of the attention I give it, but I've come close to losing my patience with him once or twice, which is ironic because I am also spending a lot of time thinking about how dogs actually help relieve stress.  Usually anyway.  He's testing my theory in an inopportune way.  And I was thinking about it of course because, like most of us, we're all in a state of mourning in the wake of the school shooting in Parkland, Florida this week.

While we all know we are not even close to the level of shock, disbelief, anger, sadness to a level you just want to scream to make it stop grief that the immediate families of the victims are feeling, we all do feel a sense of loss.  We mourn the young lives lost.  We mourn that erosion of our own sense of security.  We worry about our own families safety a little more in light of just one more mass shooting.  We feel shaken.  Helpless.  And angry.

So what could I possibly write about in a happy, fluffy tailed little blog about dogs that could possibly compare to our broken hearts as a nation?

Well, it's to tell you that we do not have to grieve alone.  We have helpers in our pets.  Studies have shown time and again that being with a pet can reduce stress.  I read recently on an article published by the Today Show that there is a trend for funeral homes to provide therapy dogs with the permission of the mourners.  I think that is a stunning idea: had I known of such a place when living in Texas, they would have absolutely gotten my business.  Because, unfortunately, I have first hand experience with the worst kind of loss.

And I can tell you, and as some of you know, while I used a lot of tools (I've made the bold statement before that hockey saved my life - maybe a bit over dramatic, but I won't step away from it) to help me move on, it was my pet family that stayed with me in those early, surreal days and was a comfort when nothing else was.

For that reason, one of the articles I came across struck a particular chord when it stated, "...pets don't judge us; they just love us."  And that was so true, because I was a mess.  And it was hard to be supportive of me long term - not all of my human friends could do it.  When I went back to work, people were noticeably uncomfortable around me.  I don't judge them for that.  It's uncomfortable: you don't know what to say or what not to say.  For my part, as a mother, you try hard to be strong and show the world how okay you are after losing a child.  But you're not, and when you're supposed to be the strong one, who is going to come to your rescue when that strength is breaking down?  Well, the dogs did.  They would huddle around me, forming a protective circle, as I sat on the back porch in the sweltering Texas summer and just stared.  If I would break out in tears at seemingly nothing, they'd stay there and wait until it passed.

All except Cheyenne, who was a notable exception - she was fine during the numb periods, but would flee the scene and hide under the porch if I cried.  I also remember her getting out of the fence a few times - it was just too much for her to see us that unhappy.  Her time to shine was when she and I came alone to Pittsburgh and she was my one and only companion - she was on her A game then.  But she also did her part when she went with me to Mother's nursing home.  Not a trained therapy dog, she somehow innately had the patience needed to walk the gauntlet back to my mother's room.  I say it that way, because it would take forever to get down the hall during the early evenings or weekends when a lot of the residents were out of their rooms - they all wanted Cheyenne to stop and say hello.  They all wanted to pet her.  And she took it patiently and kindly.  She was wonderful with my mother, of course, which is why I brought her.  Particularly since my mother, in the fog of her last days, couldn't really pet her and would spend her visits patting her head repeatedly,  After a while I would have personally found that irritating, but she was on duty and stayed by Mom's side.

But it's no wonder that all those people wanted contact with Cheyenne.  She was better than any of their pills in those moments.  Dogs can help reduce blood pressure (not sure if I can state this as scientific proof, but despite liking rich food, I have excellent blood pressure), can reduce harmful levels of hormones and elevate helpful ones (Sources: Today Show and HowStuffWorks).  But more than any scientific chemical reaction this or that, I am absolutely here to tell you that I have never had a dog tell me I should just get over it when I was sad, angry, confused or scared.  I can't say the same for all the humans in my life.

So, if you're like me, and you have muddy paw prints on your recently changed sheets, and if you're having a hard time concentrating on figure skating because your dog thinks play time with him or her is more important (which it is), then just know you're lucky that you have the best therapist money can buy right there with you, and when you're trying to make sense of something so insensible, your dog is ready to listen.

Generations of dog therapy