Angel on a Leash (13 page)

It's not easy for the children when they are here, and many of them, sadly, will not be cured. Families face challenges that go beyond the sick children. The disease creates tremendous stress in so many ways within the family unit—between spouses; with healthy siblings, who can feel overlooked; with jobs; with finances; and more. What it really comes down to, however, is this, a straightforward mantra that I hear all the time from Bill Sullivan, the president/CEO of Ronald McDonald House New York: “When a child is sick, the parents are sick.”

Those perfect words of Bill Sullivan echo constantly in my mind as I work with the kids and my dogs. If I can make the kids smile, I can make the parents smile. If I can keep the kids' attention for a while, I give the parents a break and maybe even give them the chance to visit with other parents and talk about their challenges, share some knowledge, or at least offer some support and encouragement.

This is a very special place, and I am proud to say that Cheri has been its chaplain and director of family support since 2006. Bill Sullivan is one of my favorite people and the kind of CEO that every health care facility needs. Cheri was one of his first hires when he became president, and he is constantly extolling the importance of what she brings to the House.

One of the things that she brought was a therapy dog program—dogs had never been allowed in the House before. She named it Angel On A Leash, as part of our organization, and the program at the House has been a stellar example of how to do things right and what therapy dogs can bring to a health care facility. Mr. Sullivan, the people on his board, and the Ronald McDonald House staff began as interested observers of the work that the therapy dogs and their human partners do, and they have become the program's greatest fans and supporters—and that helps the program be successful and effective.

The dogs are a big hit. Ronald McDonald House wants to create a family atmosphere, and for many of these families, the dogs help do just that. Many of the families leave their own dogs behind when they come to the House, and that often gives special meaning to the visit and a starting point for conversation. Their dogs are part of their families, and the kids miss them. As it is with patients in any setting, it is often easy to identify those who have dogs—their confidence in approaching them, the way they pet or scratch them, the way they engage them.

“I have a dog,” said Laura as she petted my Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, Angel, one evening.

“You do? What kind of dog do you have?”

“A big one,” she answered.

I looked up at her father. “A black Lab,” he said.

“What's his name?” I asked Laura.

“Max.”

“Max is a big dog. Angel could probably run right underneath him, couldn't she?”

Laura kept her hands on Angel. “Yes,” she said, nodding quietly.

Cheri and Ronald McDonald House have strict rules for the program, which is so important. The rules are for the dogs and their people and are made first and foremost with the children in mind. Those rules include vaccine protocols and annual health checks for the dogs, registration of each team as a Delta Society Pet Partner, proof of age for the dog, and at least one year of experience as a team visiting in another health care facility. The dogs that visit as volunteers probably have stricter requirements than the human volunteers do! And the human part of the team has to meet the volunteer requirements for the facility, as well—health checks, background checks, orientation, and more.

The dogs are at the House as part of the care program. While the dogs can be entertainers, a therapy dog program is not the circus; this is not what therapy dog work is about. Therapy dogs are a serious part of the services that a facility has to offer its patients and, in the case of Ronald McDonald House, their families as well. Everyone has to play by the rules for the program to be credible and for the children and families to get the most out of it.

The dogs must be trained, and, more importantly, their human partners must be trained, too. The handlers need to protect their dogs at all times, and they need to protect the patients as well. The human half of each team needs to be attentive and anticipatory, always ready for the next challenge, whether it is a child who is a little too enthusiastic, or a dog who is about to step on someone's sutures. I need to be ready for every move that my dog is about to make. To do that, I need to know my dog and I need to be attentive at every moment.

For example, I try not to use treats to motivate my dogs in the facility for two reasons. First, it can make them a little excitable, which often leads to problems, as excitable or overly eager dogs can seem to get themselves into trouble. Second, I don't want my dogs to be looking at me all the time for treats; I want them watching the patients and paying attention to the people in need.

On our “Ronald House” visits, we like to set up in the front lobby, where we have a shot at everyone coming and going as well as people who are just hanging out. The lobby works well because it's easy for all concerned. The kids can be as involved as they want to or when they feel like it. Sometimes we catch families coming back from checkups or treatments or hospital stays. Sometimes they are checking in; sometimes they are just enjoying some downtime. Sometimes they just look down into the lobby from the second and third floors and see the dogs, and they come down to join us.

These kids often are coming back to the House after a tough day or a tough time in the hospital. If they have had some treatment or another round of clinical trials or surgery or a bone-marrow transplant, they may not feel well at all. Sometimes they just keep going to the elevator and on up to their rooms. Most of the time, though, the kids want some of what the dogs have to offer.

“That's the first time he has smiled today,” say many parents as they watch their children interact with the dogs. And then the parents break into smiles themselves.

Sometimes a child will ask to take a dog for a walk. “Can I hold the leash?” We're ready with a double-leash setup in which the handler keeps control with one leash and gives the other one to the child, and off we all go.

Sometimes a child needs that walk for physical therapy. Christina, a young girl from Greece, was battling spinal cancer and was reluctant to take a step. One night, she grabbed Teigh's leash, left her crutches behind, and off we went around the lobby—slowly, but Christina nonetheless moved under her own power, with Teigh and me in tow. It may not have been a miracle, but it wasn't something that she had been doing, either.

Christina's physical therapist was there that night. “I have been trying to get her to do that for a week,” the therapist told me. “In five minutes, the dog got her to do what I have been begging her to do since last Monday.”

This came as no surprise to me. The dog makes things fun. A range-of-motion exercise can be painful and boring, but put a dog in front of the child, put a brush in her hand, and watch what happens. She brushes the dog and does the exercise that the therapist has been looking for, and she does it with a smile on her face.

Another time, we put the dog a few steps away from Michael, a heretofore reluctant walker, and watched him take a few steps to the dog to deliver a treat. “We have been working on him for weeks to do that, and it never happened,” his mother told me.

Again, we aren't claiming to be miracle workers, but the dogs can motivate the patients in so many ways, creating fun situations that make the kids want to work.

I brought Teigh to the House one evening for his regular visit, but he had just undergone minor eye surgery in which the doctor removed a little tumor from his eyelid. He was all sutured up and wearing one of those “cones” around his neck so he couldn't scratch at the sutures.

Well, that was a night that we all had something to talk about. To begin with, the kids got it. A lot of them have had their own surgeries, after all. So they were particularly gentle and sympathetic as they heard the story of Teigh's surgery.

“Was it cancer?”

No surprise that this was the first question. I explained that, yes, it was a little growth, and they had gotten it all.

“Good, they got all of mine, too.”

“Can he see?”

I told them yes, pointing out that in spite of the sutures, his eye was open. I explained that the growth had been bothering his eye and that he had been starting to scratch at it.

“What is this for?”

I explained that the cone would keep Teigh from scratching at the area.

“Was he asleep?”

I assured them that he had been asleep for the procedure and showed them where the IV had gone into his leg.

“Me, too, when they did mine.”

“Do his stitches itch?”

Apparently, because he acts like they do.

“Me too, it makes me crazy!”

So, these little exercises don't have to be physical. Talk to the dog.

“Can you say hi to Belle?” I asked.

Josh, who never talks, is suddenly babbling away, relatively speaking: “Hi Belle.”

I asked him if he had dogs.

“Yes, I have Chihuahuas.”

“What are their names?”

“Taco and Chico.”

“What color are they?”

We talked for several minutes. His mom was standing behind him, beaming. “He doesn't talk to anyone.”

George, a young boy from Greece, initially wasn't sure about dogs. The first time he saw Belle from across the room, he stayed there all night. The following week, he snuck up on us, touched Belle, and then ran back across the room, where he stayed for the rest of the evening. The next week, he was hanging with us for the duration. It wasn't long before he was asking for the leash and the chance to walk her himself.

Cheri tells me that a kid will often peek into her office during the day. “No ‘Hello, Chaplain Frei, how are you today?' she says. It's ‘Are the dogs coming tonight'?”

Most evenings, the dog will draw a crowd, and that creates a couple of dynamics. First, the handler, responsible for his or her dog's safety and well-being, needs to be sure that the dog is tolerating it all. Each dog is different. Teigh and Belle, and now Grace, are Brittanys and sporting dogs—they put up with the pokes and prods and body slams, the screams and all of the other noise.
I think it's just the nature of the breed; that's what makes them great family dogs and great hunting dogs, unflappable.

As a handler, you need to know your dog. Angel, my little princess of a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, needed some adjustment time and a little more protection. She has come to love it all, too, but I still have to be protective of her. She loves the kids, but she doesn't love having six of them in her face at once. The bottom line is that she is a wonderful, gentle, unimposing presence with the children, who need someone to hug or pet or talk to.

Many of the kids are “regulars” for the therapy dog visits, even when they may not be feeling great. We always need to be sensitive to the fact that a child may have just had some type of treatment that hurts while it's helping. Maybe today he is wearing a mask because his white cell count is low. Maybe this horrible disease has gotten the best of her today in her daily battle. So tonight, they just don't feel like hanging out with us.

I know that Laura, George, Anthony, Maria, Dylan, Andrea, and so many more kids would always put in appearances with us every Tuesday night, no matter how their days had gone.

“Jessie St. Louie” is the way that Bill always greeted one of the kids, an eleven-year-old girl from St. Louis. Jessie loved the dogs and was always there for the therapy dog visits whenever she was in town. She also got to know Uno, the inimitable Beagle that was Best in Show at the 2008 Westminster show. Uno visited the House with me, first as a celebrity and then as a therapy dog. He was registered with me as his partner after we went through the training together with Michele Siegel. When
Uno and I went to St. Louis so he could throw out the first pitch for a Cardinals game in the summer of 2008, we took Jessie on the field with us for some help.

The following February, Jessie was part of a Westminster presentation on the floor at the Garden. Uno was being recognized for all of his adventures in the year after going Best In Show, which included visiting the White House and Walter Reed Army Medical Center, riding on a float in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, visiting Ronald McDonald Houses all over the country, and much more. Jessie was included as one of Uno's special friends.

Jessie was a warrior, as are all of these kids, but she packed more into her life than any healthy person could have done. Rock stars, wrestlers, professional athletes—they all knew and loved Jessie. When she passed after her nine-year fight with neuroblastoma, she left with a full resume.

Dylan came to the House from Australia. He arrived in 2005 after his parents had been told that he had six months to live. He's been a special kid to us, and his family—his older brother, Cain, and his parents, Melissa and Tim—have been the heart and soul of the House over these years. Dylan is always there for the dogs, and the dogs are always there for him. Once, after a very difficult and painful oral surgery, he was hurting. His mom suggested that he take Teigh for a walk to see if that would help. He did, and he reported that the walk got his mind off of the pain.

Andrea was fighting a tumor that involved her vertebrae, and she gradually was being paralyzed. That didn't stop her from making every therapy dog night, though.
She was a special friend of Angel and Mr. Gruffyd Babayan (the Brussels Griffon who visited with handler Gay Cropper), and she got a big kick out of Uno.

Andrea and Dylan had a private audience with the Pope when he visited New York City in 2008, and the two of them were pictured in the
New York Post
with Angel as they talked of their anticipation of meeting His Holiness.

Dylan battles on; sadly, Andrea passed in 2010. Too many of them do.