Dot rarely speaks in cardiac rehab. When we enter, our blood pressure is taken and a heart monitor is strapped on each one of us, we can, if we wish, look up on a screen and see our heart rate projected. If it moves sharply up or down, Patty or Robin will appear instantly and check on us. Dot moves slowly, she begins work on the Monark arm strength machine, we sit at it for as long as we can and turn handles that resist us. It is challenging.

It is a struggle for Dot to put her jacket on or take it off. She never complains.

Red has decided to keep an eye on Dot. The two have become inseparable in cardiac rehab. He lies by her feet when she uses the Monark machine, then moves to the mat when she gets onto the stepper, a kind of stationary bicycle. I see Dot turn to Red every now and then and she will smile at him. “He likes me,” she whispered to me today. He does, I said. And he does. He watches over her as well, he accompanies her.

Red is always aware of me, keeps an eye on me, but I am not needy there, I move from machine to machine quickly. Red responds to attention and need. When Dot arrives, she looks for him, and the smile on her face brightens the room and the day. When she sits down to rest, Red comes over to put his head in her lap, and she pets him, slowly and deliberately. When she leaves, she bends over as far as she can to pat him on the head and say goodbye. I have given her two photographs of her and Red, she asked for the second one so her granddaughter could see it. I am hoping Dot can come to the Open House to see Red work the sheep.

I love watching the two of them, it makes time rush quickly by for me in cardiac rehab. Theirs is an almost totally silent and unspoken relationship. Dot does not talk baby talk to Red, or coo at him or exclaim how wonderful he is. But their love is quite evident, we all see it.  They simply have connected and, in cardiac rehab, work together.