Bea's Blog

A patient's best friend: A true story about Bea

2012-01-23T14:47:00.000-05:00

This is a true story about our amazing therapy dog, Bea, retold here with permission from the family. Names and details have been changed at their request.

"Help me. Please help me."

Darlene twisted in the bed, the words falling as fast as raindrops. Alzheimer's disease might have taken the understanding of her surroundings, but not her will to control them. She unsuccessfully tried to sit up.

"Please, Mama, you have to lay down," said her son Jason, for the hundredth time. The move from the hospital to the Hospice House had both exhausted and scared his mother. "Don't try to get up. You need to stay in bed."

Darlene ignored him. "Help me. He'p-me-please." She tugged at the blankets, frustrated.

Jason sighed. If she were in pain, we could give her a pill or something, he thought wearily, but she's not in physical pain. She's lost, and confused, and panicking. "I'm here, Mama," he said, reaching for her hand. "Jason's here. It's alright."

"He'p-me," demanded Darlene.

"We're doing all we can to help you. You're in the Hospice House now. They're taking good care of you. Please, you need to lay down and rest."

From the foot of the bed, Jason's sister Sarah ran a hand across her brow. "Isn't there something else we can do? Something else to give her?"

"She's already had the anxiety meds," Jason answered. "This is actually better. If you think she's bad now, you should have seen her on the ride over."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just feel so helpless," said Sarah, squeezing her eyes shut. "What if -- Could we --"

The door creaked.

Jason and Sarah both jumped. The door swung inward, degree by slow degree. "Hello?" asked Jason.

At ground level, a white, furry head peeked around the door, her eyes inquiring.

"Well, who's this?" he grinned. The smile made him realize he'd been frowning for hours.

"It's Bea, the therapy dog," Sarah said. "They talked about her at the admission meeting, remember?"

"Hi there, Bea. Come on in," he invited.

Bea stepped one paw around the door, then another. She surveyed the room, taking note of the restless patient in the bed. As if in greeting, she walked directly to Sarah and dipped her head. It was almost a bow.

"You sweet thing," Sarah cooed, rubbing Bea's curly fur. "How precious you are."

Bea gave a quick wag in response and stepped toward Jason. She stopped at a respectful distance, waiting for him to make the first move. Jason dropped to one knee and held out his hand. After a quick sniff, Bea nuzzled his palm, ready for a pet. Jason scratched behind her ears, and Bea immediately rolled over for a belly rub. Sarah and Jason laughed.

"He'p?" said Darlene, looking around.

All business, Bea sat up and sniffed the air, her muzzle pointed toward Darlene. Her sensitive nose twitched. She looked at Sarah, then pointed back to the bed.

"I think she wants up there with Mom," said Sarah. "What do you think?"

Jason shrugged. "I dunno. She seems very calm. Want to try?"

Sarah gave Bea a reassuring pat and lifted her. Bea balked at Sarah's grasp, disliking the sensation of being picked up, but went still when she saw her destination was the bed. As surefooted as a tightrope walker, she padded up the blanket, carefully avoiding Darlene and the in-bed medical equipment.

"Help. Please," Darlene told her, her voice rising with -- excitement? Joy?

Jason and Sarah held their breath. Darlene stared at Bea, her eyes wide. Bea waited patiently, her nose twitching. Jason took his mother's hand in his own and guided it across Bea's soft, curly fur.

"Ohhhhh," Darlene breathed. It was a sound of pure happiness.

Sarah gave a half-laugh, half-sob as Bea turned a circle and nested into the covers against Darlene's waist. Darlene settled into her pillow, her hand roaming through the little dog's curls. After a few moments, she yawned. As her two tired children and one attentive poodle watched, Darlene fell asleep.

Bea shot a look at Jason that said, Was that a snore?

Jason gently lifted Darlene's hand and tucked it into the covers. Bea waited until he was finished, then backed away carefully from her sleeping patient. She hopped to the floor and gave a quick full-body shake. Her collar tinkled like a tiny bell.

"Good girl, Bea," said Sarah, smiling.

"Bye now, Bea," grinned Jason.

Bea lifted her chin in goodbye and tiptoed from the room.

"Guess she had to go see her next patient," Sarah murmured.

"Guess so. What a great dog," said Jason.

As if in agreement, Darlene gave a loud snore. She snuggled into her pillow. Jason reached over and turned out the light.

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-25T10:40:00.000-05:00

On behalf of the staff and volunteers at Burke Hospice & Palliative Care, MERRY CHRISTMAS! We wish you a happy, peaceful day full of all good things!

Warmest Wishes,

Lea Hepler
Burke Hospice Media Coordinator
and Bea's Assistant

My holiday memorial

2011-12-24T16:35:00.001-05:00

My counselor here at Burke Hospice is always telling me things like, "Take care of yourself. Things will be different this Christmas, and that's OK. Don't try to do everything just the way you used to."

Well, I decided to take her advice. In my last post, I went over a list of things you can do to remember your loved one's memory during holiday celebrations. I considered each one from the standpoint of, "Which of these activities can I do without stressing myself out?" So I ruled out the balloons because I won't have time to go buy them after work, and I didn't find a poem that really expressed how I felt, and I'm out of time to look for more poems, and when I thought about it, I really didn't want to mess with having lit candles around the house and being worried about someone knocking them over...

So! I settled on two things. One, I asked one of my friends to bring over a stocking and some pretty note paper for writing messages. She said she was glad I'd asked her to help, AND she volunteered to bring her amazing Pup-peroni Chex Mix too. That was a good phone call!

Second, I have decided to use one certain lamp for my memorial light instead of a candle. I do like the idea of the memorial candle, especially since a reader responded to my last post and told me about the Jewish tradition of Yahrzeit candles. Yahrzeit is Yiddish for "a year's time." A candle is lit for 24 hours on the anniversary of a person's passing and some holidays. I liked this idea a lot. It's beautiful, symbolic, and something I can handle without causing a lot of extra stress! So I've plugged my special lamp into one of the timers for our Christmas lights. It will come on at midnight tonight, shine all day, and turn itself quietly off the next midnight. I'll put a favorite picture of us underneath the light. Maybe it will be my new Christmas tradition.

What a relief! The anticipation really is worse than the holiday. Now that's decided, I feel like a weight is off my fluffy shoulders.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night...'s sleep!!!

Yawning,

Bea

The First Christmas after...

2011-12-22T16:24:00.000-05:00

I've been trying to think of a way to honor Ron (see my previous post) at Christmas this year. I haven't felt much like celebrating at all, which our bereavement counselor tells me is normal. She says the anticipation of a holiday is usually worse than the actual day. I think she's right. When I think about it, sometimes I just want it to not come, period! But come it will, and when I think of all that Christmas is in my family... Music, warmth, new chew toys, treats, the post-dinner nap on the couch... Well, I wouldn't have any of that if Ron hadn't rescued me. It seems right to acknowledge him during this holiday of giving and gratitude.

But how? I feel apprehensive and guilty about even saying his name sometimes, as if I'll depress everyone else. (My counselor says these feelings are also normal.) I will feel terrible if I let the day go by without some sort of mention, however. So she suggested some ways to include his memory in our festivities that would help me express my feelings and add to our holidays in a positive way. Here are a few I think would be nice.

Hang a stocking for your loved one. Invite family and friends to write a short note to him or her and place it in the stocking.

Or use long strips of paper for your messages. Fold width-wise, so you have an even thinner strip of paper. "Tie" your messages around the ends of the boughs of your Christmas tree. (Make sure your notes are a safe distance from any Christmas lights.)

Use a recipe book holder or small easel to prop up a favorite photo album, opened to a favorite picture. Use it as your dining table centerpiece, or place on a prominent coffee table or side table. This is a great conversation starter.

Shortly before Christmas, buy a few helium-filled balloons. You might choose Christmasy red and green ones, or your loved one's favorite color. If the weather is right, find a clear area outside and have a balloon release. Say a prayer for your loved one, read a poem, or sing a song... Whatever seems right for you. Release the balloons together, or wait between each person to make a procession in the sky. Hint: Cut the balloon strings short (or don't use strings) to prevent tangles!

Put flowers in a window, at your loved one's seat at the table, in their favorite chair... Choose a colorful arrangement, or use a single rose or lily.

By far, the most popular suggestion I found online was to light a candle in memory of your loved one. It seems like every family has added their own twist to the idea:

Set a place for your loved one at dinner. Light a candle at their seat.

Place a candle in your loved one's favorite place in the house, the same as the flower suggestion above. Pick a candle with their favorite scent or color.

Serving your loved one's favorite dessert? Light a birthday candle on every serving. Say a prayer or read a poem in honor of him or her, and then have everyone blow out the candles at the same time! (A sort of "reverse" of the birthday tradition!)

Combine candle lighting with spoken verse. Ask each person to share a special story as they light separate candles, or use more formal words like the Five Candles ceremony described on this blog.

I love candle light, but I won't be flicking a Bic with my paws anytime soon, either. Be careful with placement of candles around the house, and never leave a candle unattended, no matter how symbolic it is! How terrible would it be to set Dad's favorite chair on fire — or worse — on Christmas Day?

If you have children or pets around, or simply aren't comfortable with candles in your home, forgo the flames altogether and get some of those little battery-powered candles at your local hardware or general store. You could even use one of your lamps. At our first Hospice House, there was one certain lamp the staff would turn on when one of our patients had passed. It was never used otherwise. When you saw its gentle light, even coming from an old incandescent bulb, it felt just as special and symbolic as any candle flame.

Just going over this list has made me feel a little better about Christmas. I even wagged a little when I thought about that dessert thing! Which suggestions do you think would work for your family?

Hanging in there,

Bea

A long hibernation

2011-10-31T16:54:00.000-04:00

It has been a long time since I have put the proverbial pen to paw. I have not felt like writing in a long time. This past spring, my adoptive papa, Ron LaSalle, died after a long battle with cancer. He was 47. In dog years, that's not quite 7. I never thought I would outlive him.

I don't bark much about what happened before I came to Burke Hospice. Suffice to say, I ended up with a poodle rescue organization. That's where Ron found me. He wanted to have a friendly Therapy Dog to live at the Hospice House. Of course, poodles were the obvious choice: good looks, enchanting personality, fur that doesn't bother allergies, etc. Before I had a chance to realize what was happening, I was living at the old Hospice House on Enon Road.

What wonderful days those were! No more for me the cold, lonely floor of a cage; instead, I had a huge new houseful of patients, relatives, visitors, nurses, nurses' aides, social workers — so many people, all with warm, welcoming laps and gentle hands. Every day, they taught me something new. I learned not to bark at hospital beds, wheelchairs, walkers and oxygen tanks. I learned to Sit, not jump. I learned when to doze and when it was best to stay awake.

But the biggest lesson I learned was how to love. Ron didn't just give me a new home; he gave me a purpose. For the first time, I knew what it was to be loved, and how easy it is to give love in return. With each new patient who moved into the Hospice House, I tried to be as kind and loving as Ron and my new family had been to me.

When Ron died, I was overwhelmed with feelings. You know you're going to feel sad. But I didn't feel sad for a long time: I was angry. It was all so unfair! I was growling mad at the cancer, at his doctors, sometimes even at him for leaving me, even though I knew that made no sense at all. I was angry at myself for being angry! I got irritable and I took it out on the people around me.

Sometimes I'd just feel numb. I couldn't believe he was gone. More than once, I would wake up from an afternoon nap and expect him to walk in the front door.

The guilt was worse than the sad and mad combined. It was like my mind went searching for every memory where I should have done something differently. I shouldn't have barked, should have come when he called me, should have given more snuggles while I had the chance. Remembering a pair of his shoes I'd chewed to bits made me so ashamed, I hid under the living room ottoman for an hour.

Finally the sadness overwhelmed me. There were some days when I couldn't pull myself out of bed. Other days, I felt like I was just going through the motions. Sometimes, I would feel fine, only to be crushed by little things like old photographs or pieces of mail with his name on them. I wanted to hibernate. I wondered if I was going crazy.

A few weeks ago, I was in the lap of one of our bereavement counselors while she made calls to check in on grieving people. She was talking to a daughter who had lost her father, a woman who was struggling like me. "You loved him dearly, so of course you're going to miss him dearly," she said. "Everything you're feeling is normal. It's okay to feel what you're feeling, without thinking it's 'bad' to feel that way."

My ears perked up. Normal? I haven't felt normal in months.

She continued, "When you're feeling overwhelmed, use your journal. Find a blank page and write down everything that's running through your head, emotions, memories, whatever, just write it all down. Writing and allowing yourself to feel these things will help you work through your pain."

Writing? I thought about my blog, long gone quiet.

The next day, I sat down with a notebook and began to write. It took a long time to write down that first word. Then they just kept coming and coming. I started writing in the book every day.

This morning, I was feeling kind of down. I decided to mention it in my journal: Today is gray and rainy. I wish the sun was out. I feel a little sad. I miss Ron.

It does help.

A whole New Year

2010-12-29T15:43:00.000-05:00

It's almost that time again, when my human friends stay up waaaay past bedtime to watch that giant lighted ball fall down over Times Square. Why they do that, I have no idea, especially because they only drop it once and no one ever gets to chase it. Doesn't seem like much of a game to me.

Shortly after the ball drop, the humans start talking about "resolutions." If you ask me, the only resolution worth making is "I resolve to give Bea more Snausages," but to date no one has made that one.

Resolutions are one of those human things we dogs just don't get. Humans say things like, "I resolve to spend more time with my family." Then something will happen like you get the flu, or there's a birthday you have to prepare for, or you have to a deadline at work, and boom! All of a sudden you feel guilty about breaking your resolution, and we dogs have to spend the rest of the winter cheering you up about it (in between dropping the kids off at school, choir practice, grocery shopping, getting the car in for an oil change, potluck suppers, midnight trips to the pharmacy… etc., etc., etc.)

Now, a dog resolution would be much more short-term: "I resolve to eat my whole bowl of food in less than 45 seconds!" or "I resolve to pull down that adorable holiday bear in the foyer and chew it to pieces as soon as you can't see!"

Dogs are not much for delayed gratification.

So maybe that's something you can learn from dogs this year: Enjoy the moment. Take time to make yourself happy. Go ahead, it's just as important as all that other stuff. Watch the birds in the snow. Get a cup of hot chocolate -- the really good kind you don't usually splurge on. Look for pictures in the clouds while you're waiting to pick up the kids. Share a meal with each other, not the TV -- even if it's take-out. Give the dog a tummy rub and an extra treat. (That last one is probably the most important.)

Believe me, no one ever says, "I wish I'd gotten the car in for one more tune-up," or "I should have been a better grocery shopper." They hold me in their laps and they say things like "I wish I'd spent more time with my kids."

Think about it: Enjoy the moment. You have a whole new year to practice.

Dear Santa

2010-12-21T16:54:00.000-05:00

Dear Santa,

I have been a very good dog this year. When asked to sit, I sit. When asked to stay, I stay. I would roll over, but it gets my pretty white fur dirty.

I have worked very hard to help people this year. Since January, I have visited over 100 patients at our Hospice House, plus their family members. I help the nurses and CNA’s take care of our patients. They take all kinds of medicines, but sometimes the best one is a wagging tail and a wet nose.

I would like a new sweater, an electric blanket for my dog bed, and a bag of Snausages.

I will leave you an extra dog biscuit next to the tree. Peanut butter—my favorite!

Sincerely,

Bea the Poodle

Things I Am Thankful For

2010-11-25T20:21:00.000-05:00

-My family

-A full belly

-Belly rubs

-14 comfy beds to snuggle on at the Hospice House

-Snausages

-New shirts and bandanas

-Tour groups of playful kids

-Naps after the tour groups leave

-Naps in the sun

-Naps on the couch

-Naps (other)

-Car rides

-Turkey

-Spending time with all my patients and their families

My own mailbox

2010-11-10T11:21:00.000-05:00

My coworkers have their own mailboxes, but mine is the BEST!

Look for my mailbox outside the admin building on Enon Road!

A special mention

2010-08-18T11:24:00.004-04:00

I don't know whether to wag or droop. I was mentioned in the paper yesterday. Now, ordinarily, I love being in the press (witness this blog).

This time, though, it was in an obituary for one of my patients, Miss Belle:

Belle was a wonderful cook known for her chicken and dumplings and her delicious Christmas dinners. She loved all animals, particularly dogs, and always had a faithful canine or feline companion...

The family would like to thank the staff of both Morganton Long Term Care and Burke Hospice and Palliative Care Center for their care, and Bea, the Hospice dog, who gave comfort and companionship during Belle's last days.

You can read all of Miss Belle's obituary on Morganton.com.

I was proud to be there for Miss Belle. Caring for people, comforting their pups and grandpups, lending a warm furry coat and a cold nose whenever it's needed, being there right til the end... Snuggling through the sorrows, wagging through the joys: that's what it means to be the Hospice Dog.

But I might need a special belly rub today.

* * *

The staff at Burke Hospice & Palliative Care would like to thank the family of Mary Belle Hudson for kindly mentioning our beloved Bea in Mrs. Hudson's obituary.

Dog Days of Summer: A Play in Five Pictures

2010-08-11T16:53:00.000-04:00

DOG DAYS OF SUMMER

A Play in Five Pictures

STARRING BEA THE THERAPY DOG

ACT I.

"Outside?! Did somebody say Outside?! Let's go!"

ACT II.

"Whoa. This heat is too much to stand!"

ACT III.

"Fetch? Are you kidding? It's 95 degrees out here!"

ACT IV.

"I guess I can bear the heat for a quick belly rub..."

ACT V.

"Let's not go outside again til winter, OK?"

THE END

Random barks... er, thoughts

2010-07-12T16:45:00.001-04:00

Everyone is barking about our newly relaunched website, BurkeHospice.org. The site has been completely redesigned, and it looks wonderful! There is a form for anyone to make a referral, new information about all our programs, a link to donate through PayPal, and pictures of all my coworkers on the staff pages. Be sure to look for my picture on the Caregivers page!

We hope you like the new website. We will have all the current happenings on the Coming Events page. Be sure to bookmark that for later!

Speaking of upcoming events, one of my coworkers asked me to mention the special fundraiser we are having to benefit our Patient Fund! This Friday at the City of Morganton Municipal Auditorium, Kirksey Funeral Home will present gospel/inspirational singer Michael Combs. Mr. Combs has toured the country and recorded dozens of albums. I just love music you can wag your tail to! The show is this Friday (July 16) at 7: 00 PM. Tickets are $15 in advance or $20 the day of the show and are available at www.commaonline.org or 828/433-SHOW. Proceeds will help us care for our patients in need!

One thing that's usually on my mind is FOOD! I recently read a great list of good treats for good dogs (like me, hint hint). While you're cooking out this summer, my fellow canines may beg for burgers, hot dogs, cupcakes, etc. You should keep your dog to a mostly dog-food diet, but some people foods can be treats if given in moderation. Cooked meats (without bones), fruits and veggies, rice and pasta, and dairy products are all good treats. One of my doggie friends just loves watermelon!

On the flip side, don't feed your dog sweets (especially chocolate -- it's poisonous for dogs!), uncooked meat, chicken or turkey bones, or these few fruits and veggies: grapes, raisins, onions, and garlic. All those foods are hazardous for pooches! For a complete list, visit www.DogAge.com.

I think I got all of my random barks... er, thoughts out for now! Talk atcha again later!

Full and Empty

2010-06-17T15:59:00.000-04:00

The word for the day is FULL. The new Hospice House is FULL of patients, with no empty rooms and sometimes even a waiting list. My day is FULL trying to see all those people. The Living Room, Library, Screen Porch, and Sunroom are FULL of family members all day long. The parking lot is FULL so I have to be careful when I go outside with my coworkers. I wish my food bowl would be FULL more often, but my mom says I will get fat if I eat too much. I argue that with my schedule so FULL of activity, I don't think I will ever be FULL figured! But nothing extra appears in my bowl.

One thing that is EMPTY right now is the old Hospice House. Some of my coworkers went over and cleaned out the old rooms to make way for new offices. The administration building (where my mom is) has gotten very crowded. Some of the existing offices have three people crammed in, like a kennel! Everyone will be happy to spread out a bit and not be on top of each other's tails. There's a lot of excitement around the water dish about the move.

Speaking of water dishes, make sure your doggy friends stay hydrated during this heat wave. If your dog spends most of her time outside, make sure she has a cool, shady place to lay and plenty of water! Give your dog lots of water during the day, and keep the water dishes somewhere they can't be turned over. I'm so glad I get to stay inside most of the day in the air conditioning! All this heat and humidity make my fur frizz.

Bark at you again soon! Stay cool!

Photos from one of my families - my new dress!

2010-05-17T13:42:00.000-04:00

One of the members of my favorite families took some pictures of me while I was visiting his mother. Don't you just love my new dress?

I like to say that all of my patients are my favorite patients! These pictures are from one of my favorites, a sweet lady lets me lie at the foot of her bed. She says I remind her of all the pets she's had in her life. That's a tall order for a little poodle like me, but I do my best!

Sometimes we sit in her rocking chair and she will tell me about her dogs. She misses them a lot. I bet she was a wonderful dog-mama in her day -- she's good to me! It's fun to doze in the rocker while she pets me.

I hope it's still ladylike to get a belly rub while in a dress...?

I went to the salon shortly after these pictures were taken and got a haircut. You should see the poof on my tail! It's fabulous! I'll have to get my secretary to post some pictures of my new 'do soon.

More patients to see! Bark atcha again soon!

More to explore at the Hospice House

2010-04-21T11:23:00.002-04:00

In my last post I barked about exploring the new Hospice House. I had rounds to make on my patients, so I didn't get to explore it all at once. Since then, I've visited every room, and I like what I sniff!

The biggest room in the House is the Living Room. There are big, comfy couches where I can curl up in someone's lap, along with a gas log fireplace that will be wonderful in the winter.

A piano sits on one wall, and a cafe table is against the other. It might be a nice place to have a cup of coffee, but it's too tall for me to sneak crumbs from! I really must speak to the management about that.

Speaking of crumbs, there is a beautiful dining room next to the living room. It seats six people for big dinners or light lunches. My friends in wheelchairs and walkers can get there easily, and there's plenty of room for me under the table where the good stuff drops. Hooray!

Also off of the living room are the Sunroom and Screened Porch. The Sunroom is full of big windows that let in the light. You can rest on the sofa or read a magazine. The view is pretty nice, too—it's just right for dozing and watching butterflies, birds, and the occasional squirrel. Both rooms have nice sitting areas and those tall cafe tables for snacking or relaxing.

The Screened Porch is more shady than the Sunroom. A nice breeze comes through the windows and makes little wind chimes ring. You can hear the birds chirping and playing on the lawn, too, and you can see more squirrels! I think it's one of the nicest places in the House.

(The weather has been just right for enjoying the Sunroom and Screened Porch, but the heavy pollen this spring has made the Screened Porch less popular. Our patients and staff with allergies have been very unhappy lately. Even I don't like it—if I stay out too long, I'm afraid my fur will turn yellow! But once the pollen improves, I'm sure we'll all be out there more often.)

I hear there are plans for the outside areas, too. A short sidewalk already leads away from the Screened Porch, but I overheard my coworkers talking about expanding it into a wheelchair walk for the patients and a nice gazebo for sitting outside. I approve of the gazebo plans, because that could mean more games of fetch for me! I'm sure there will be more work on that throughout the summer.

If you're not feeling sunny, you might take a seat in the Library. The Library is full of books and kids' activities. A desk area is provided, along with a small TV. There's a special table and chairs for the little ones, perfect for coloring or putting together a puzzle. Mom or Dad can stay nearby in the big recliner. It's a good place to get your mind off of things.

For more privacy, try the Meditation Room. If you want peace and quiet, there's no better place. When a local pastor comes, or a family needs to talk, the Meditation Room is the place to go. Sometimes I can hear soft music coming from under the door. It smells pretty good in there, too.

Last but not least is the Spa/Salon. While each patient room has a private bathroom, it can take a lot of effort for a bed-bound person to get into the shower. Sponge baths may be necessary, but they aren't much fun. Instead, the person can roll into the Spa and have a real bath in our padded, adjustable "tub." Imagine having a shallow bathtub on a gurney. It raises up and down like a hospital bed, allowing the person to simply slide into it or be gently lifted. We make the person comfortable and add warm water— bubbles are optional!

For the "Salon" part of the Spa/Salon, we have a real salon station! Our patients can have a shampoo, shave, or makeup application, just like at a barber or beauty shop. Our nurse aides do a great job every day with personal care, and volunteer hairdressers, makeup artists and manicurists are welcomed!

I hope you enjoyed seeing more of our Hospice House. Bark atcha later!

Dog's-eye view of the new House

2010-04-08T10:41:00.024-04:00

Monday afternoon I was working, minding my own business, when my coworkers began bundling up one of my patients. I thought maybe they were going to move him to another room or something, so I went to visit another patient. But that person was packing up, too! I tried to tell them to stop acting so strangely, but they ignored me. I was quite annoyed and went to have a nice lie-down in my fluffy bed.

One at a time, each patient was wheeled out the front door and past the admin building. This really got me going -- I mean, if they're going on walks, why don't I get to go, too?! I love walks! I don't scrub in the grass or track muddy paw prints into the house, like some dogs. I'm pretty sure that's against our Housekeeping policies, anyway.

My coworkers came back, but the patients didn't. I scuttled around, hoping to find out more, but no one had a moment to explain what was going on. Finally, I overheard two nurses talking about the "new House." What! That big new building next to the admin office -- that's a new Hospice House? I didn't think there was anything wrong with this one! The patients all liked it, and I have my own bed and doggy door and fenced yard and... Then they started turning lights out on me! I knew then that this was a big deal.

At last, they walked me over to the new House. I thought about the patch of woods that used to be in its spot; you used to catch a whiff of rabbits from there, or the occasional groundhog. Today, there were all-new smells: new carpet, potpourri, and the patients' dinners cooking in the new kitchen... Yummy!

The front door opened. This place was HUGE! The ceiling seemed very high over my head, and the hallways were enormous. I bet my friends in wheelchairs can go wherever they want in here! A quick sniff let me know there wasn't anybody in the living room or sunroom. I followed my nose down the hall, looking for where my patients had gone. I breathed in my surroundings: big, airy rooms; fresh air-conditioning; good-smelling soap; and someone's peanut butter crackers in their handbag... I tried not to get distracted.

The nurses' station buzzed with cheerful voices. I made a left toward the perfumey scent of one of my favorite patients. What a room! It made her room at the old House look like my dog bed. She was fast asleep under the covers, smiling. She had pushed down the quilt on her bed, one flap falling where I could see the pattern. It was decorated with moose, bears, and other animals. Hey! I thought indignantly, why not a dog?

I wasn't indignant for long, because there was too much to take in. The TV chattered quietly to itself on its wall mount. It was bigger than I am, nose to tail! I noticed the remote next to her hand, so I used one paw to mash the "Mute" button. Then I could hear the ceiling fan whispering overhead, in time with the soft hum of a small fridge. I also noticed a microwave, a big nice chair that looked like it folded out to a bed, and a bay window for sitting in the sun! My favorite!

I could smell water and tile from one door. It sounded echoey, so I figure it was a private bathroom. It had a pull-door so I couldn't get inside to see. I'll have to inspect that later to make sure it's up to par! A piney scent at the other door told me it was a big closet. As much as I loved the old House, I had to admit, I was pretty impressed with this place. It was big and beautiful, and it seemed like, well, home.

I nudged the door closed and trotted back toward the nurses' station. In my hurry, I had missed a small dining area with coffee and snacks. It was a bright, sunny area with flowers and... Oh my!

It was the fancy picture from when I was nominated in 2009 for the American Kennel Club's Award for Canine Excellence. I blushed under my fur! That cinched it. Home is where your portrait hangs!

I explored other parts of the house afterward... More on that next time! See you again soon!

Working Girl

2010-03-31T16:48:00.002-04:00

Hi there! I’m Bea, a pet therapy dog at Burke Hospice & Palliative Care in Valdese, North Carolina. I've decided to write this blog to spread the word about my work helping hospice patients and their families. A girl can only bark over the fence for so long!

I’ve been working at Burke Hospice for 28 years (4 human years). They take good care of us employees. I get the usual benefits package, like regular baths and the occasional bite of someone's breakfast biscuit. I have full run of the building, so I can occasionally stop by Medical Records and see my "mom," Aleta. I don't usually stay anywhere for very long, though; I have too many people to see.

I visit every day with the patients in the Hospice House. I make rounds, just like the doctor. Some people are excited for me to come in; others might not feel like a visit. If a person needs space, it doesn't stop my tail from wagging—I just head to the next room.

Our Hospice House residents want to do different things. One lady just wanted to pet me. Another man wanted me to sit on his bed. I had lap time and he had nap time! I get naps, too—one of my favorite ladies used to sit in the rocking chair in her room, and I would hop up in the bay window next to her. We would nap in the sun, one of my favorite things to do! As you can see, I am a very busy girl.

Make sure to mention my blog to your friends via Facebook and Twitter, up there on the right. You can also email my posts to pals by clicking the little envelope at the end of each post.

I look forward to seeing you here again!