| Heid, Annie. Therapy Dog Busted. Holistic: Harmonizing Pathways to Wholeness (Summer 2006):23-25. Available at URL: www.holisticjournal.org. |
| Therapy Dog Busted by Annie Heid |
I sit here and watch him as he sleeps; eyes moving back and forth; seeing things in his
dreams that he is no longer able to see, now that he has aged. His black muzzle is white
with age, but his arthritic legs are moving in his sleep. I wonder where he is in his
dream. Ahh, I bet I know; it is Allegheny General Hospital in 1997. He is the cute little
therapy dog that comes and plays at the hospital for the entire day, once a week.
He’s remembering how he rode to work with his best friend. I think he was as proud of
her as she of him. In our short ride to work, the closer we got, the more excited he would
become; body trembling, whining in excitement. Then we were there, and we started to
work.
Then one day, the creation of a monster began. The first two hours at the hospital, it
was all about Bucky!!! The nurses, in their excitement about Bucky’s presence on the
job, decided that they wanted to do something special for him. They usually brought him
dog treats from home, but one day, someone had nothing for him. The nurse came up
with the idea of giving Bucky a dollar bill, so that we could buy him something from the
snack machine. Well, it seemed like a great idea at the time. He loved the items that the
snack machine provided; pretzels, chips, cookies…why not? So there it began,
innocently enough.
It became a ritual, a sort of production. A nurse would call Bucky to her, then go into her
purse and find a dollar. “Here Bucky, look what I have for you honey,” she would say.
Bucky’s eyes would actually light up when he would see the nurses grabbing for their
purses. Sometimes we would be offered four or five dollars at a time. I would have to
say “wait until next time, that is too much for him in one day.” They would hand Bucky the
money, and Bucky would grab the dollar from the nurse’s hand. Then we were off to the
elevator for our trip down three floors to the snack machine; Bucky clenching the dollar in
his teeth all the way down.
The doors would open and there it was. You could see his eyes becoming bigger as he
approached it; to him that snack machine must have seemed like a horn of plenty. I
would ask him, “what’s your pleasure today?” It really didn’t matter to him, as long as it
was food, but cookies were his favorite!
Bucky would gently hand me the dollar, then watch as the big machine ate the money
and spit out some good food. I would hand the bag to Bucky and he would carry it up in
the elevator and back to the nurses’ station. All the way up, everyone riding with us
complimented him and patted him on the head. “Ain’t he cute, look how cute?” Bucky
ate up those complements as fast as he ate the cookies.
Months turned into years, and our ritual was the same every day at work. Little by little,
he became bolder, as he became familiar with “his nurses.” Sometimes he would go over
to one of his faithful and nudge her legs as if to say, “hey, I need a dollar!” Then he was
to the point where he didn’t even say thanks anymore. He thought he deserved the
money. I teetered on embarrassment. Sometimes I would apologize for his actions,
reminding people that he was, after all, only a dog.
The longer he worked at the hospital, the more freedom he obtained. I sometimes let him
go off in the company of others, which turned out to be a big mistake! When I did, he
always seemed to be up to no good.
One day, a few nurses wanted to take him to see a patient. I unwillingly let him go off by
himself. I got busy, the other nurses got busy…. Then all of a sudden I thought, “Oh my
God, where is Bucky???”
Well, it seems that given his temporary independence, he went into the nurses’ lounge
and rummaged through some purses, looking for his dollar, of course. There were items
strewn all over the floor from different purses, but I could not find Bucky. Then, all of a
sudden, the unit secretary called over the loudspeaker. “Could somebody come and get
Bucky?”
I ran to the nurses’ station and so did a few of his favorite nurses. There he stood,
patiently waiting for the elevator with someone’s stolen wallet in his mouth.
Yeah, that’s it; that must be why his little legs are moving so fast in his sleep. He is
hurrying over to the elevator, dreaming of that great big snack machine, wondering what
it will magically deliver. Oh, you old dog, how I still love you.
Bucky is Mr. Buckwheat James Heid, CDX, CGC, TDI, OA (Companion Dog Excellent, Canine Good
Citizen, Therapy Dog International, Open Agility). In addition to serving as a registered therapy dog at
Allegheny General Hospital, Bucky also served as a member of the Allegheny County Delta Team
Search and Rescue Dog Division, Search and Rescue Dogs of the U.S., and he was a level two dog with
PEMA, the Pennsylvania Emergency Management Agency. Bucky also competed in obedience and
agility trials throughout Pennsylvania, Ohio, West Virginia, Maryland and New York, bringing home a
number of trophies and ribbons. Before retiring, he volunteered over 350 hours of his time as a
registered therapy dog, bringing joy to those who needed him the most.
dreams that he is no longer able to see, now that he has aged. His black muzzle is white
with age, but his arthritic legs are moving in his sleep. I wonder where he is in his
dream. Ahh, I bet I know; it is Allegheny General Hospital in 1997. He is the cute little
therapy dog that comes and plays at the hospital for the entire day, once a week.
He’s remembering how he rode to work with his best friend. I think he was as proud of
her as she of him. In our short ride to work, the closer we got, the more excited he would
become; body trembling, whining in excitement. Then we were there, and we started to
work.
Then one day, the creation of a monster began. The first two hours at the hospital, it
was all about Bucky!!! The nurses, in their excitement about Bucky’s presence on the
job, decided that they wanted to do something special for him. They usually brought him
dog treats from home, but one day, someone had nothing for him. The nurse came up
with the idea of giving Bucky a dollar bill, so that we could buy him something from the
snack machine. Well, it seemed like a great idea at the time. He loved the items that the
snack machine provided; pretzels, chips, cookies…why not? So there it began,
innocently enough.
It became a ritual, a sort of production. A nurse would call Bucky to her, then go into her
purse and find a dollar. “Here Bucky, look what I have for you honey,” she would say.
Bucky’s eyes would actually light up when he would see the nurses grabbing for their
purses. Sometimes we would be offered four or five dollars at a time. I would have to
say “wait until next time, that is too much for him in one day.” They would hand Bucky the
money, and Bucky would grab the dollar from the nurse’s hand. Then we were off to the
elevator for our trip down three floors to the snack machine; Bucky clenching the dollar in
his teeth all the way down.
The doors would open and there it was. You could see his eyes becoming bigger as he
approached it; to him that snack machine must have seemed like a horn of plenty. I
would ask him, “what’s your pleasure today?” It really didn’t matter to him, as long as it
was food, but cookies were his favorite!
Bucky would gently hand me the dollar, then watch as the big machine ate the money
and spit out some good food. I would hand the bag to Bucky and he would carry it up in
the elevator and back to the nurses’ station. All the way up, everyone riding with us
complimented him and patted him on the head. “Ain’t he cute, look how cute?” Bucky
ate up those complements as fast as he ate the cookies.
Months turned into years, and our ritual was the same every day at work. Little by little,
he became bolder, as he became familiar with “his nurses.” Sometimes he would go over
to one of his faithful and nudge her legs as if to say, “hey, I need a dollar!” Then he was
to the point where he didn’t even say thanks anymore. He thought he deserved the
money. I teetered on embarrassment. Sometimes I would apologize for his actions,
reminding people that he was, after all, only a dog.
The longer he worked at the hospital, the more freedom he obtained. I sometimes let him
go off in the company of others, which turned out to be a big mistake! When I did, he
always seemed to be up to no good.
One day, a few nurses wanted to take him to see a patient. I unwillingly let him go off by
himself. I got busy, the other nurses got busy…. Then all of a sudden I thought, “Oh my
God, where is Bucky???”
Well, it seems that given his temporary independence, he went into the nurses’ lounge
and rummaged through some purses, looking for his dollar, of course. There were items
strewn all over the floor from different purses, but I could not find Bucky. Then, all of a
sudden, the unit secretary called over the loudspeaker. “Could somebody come and get
Bucky?”
I ran to the nurses’ station and so did a few of his favorite nurses. There he stood,
patiently waiting for the elevator with someone’s stolen wallet in his mouth.
Yeah, that’s it; that must be why his little legs are moving so fast in his sleep. He is
hurrying over to the elevator, dreaming of that great big snack machine, wondering what
it will magically deliver. Oh, you old dog, how I still love you.
Bucky is Mr. Buckwheat James Heid, CDX, CGC, TDI, OA (Companion Dog Excellent, Canine Good
Citizen, Therapy Dog International, Open Agility). In addition to serving as a registered therapy dog at
Allegheny General Hospital, Bucky also served as a member of the Allegheny County Delta Team
Search and Rescue Dog Division, Search and Rescue Dogs of the U.S., and he was a level two dog with
PEMA, the Pennsylvania Emergency Management Agency. Bucky also competed in obedience and
agility trials throughout Pennsylvania, Ohio, West Virginia, Maryland and New York, bringing home a
number of trophies and ribbons. Before retiring, he volunteered over 350 hours of his time as a
registered therapy dog, bringing joy to those who needed him the most.
| Heid, Annie. Therapy Dog Busted. Holistic: Harmonizing Pathways to Wholeness (Summer 2006):23-25. Available at URL: www.holisticjournal.org. |