Search Results for: bingo night at the mansion

I am sorry I have to write this to defend the good work of Red, as he nears the end of his life and the end of his work. It is just one of those sad things life calls upon us to do at this time and in this world.

Fate had a good and important day yesterday, she did a remarkable job at the Mansion, she visited with more than a dozen different residents and staffers, and was appropriate and responsive to me in every case but one (she veered off and into the kitchen, I think she was confused, it was her first time doing this work.)

She is well on her way to being a therapy dog.

But I do feel badly for Red, and guilty, as if I’ve abandoned or betrayed him. I’m taking him to the Mansion today and also for Friday night bingo, but I also accept reality, his therapy dog days are nearly over.

And then there was this:

The Internet being what it is, someone protested on Facebook that I was using the term Therapy Dog inappropriately, this was from a dog lover named Kay who complained that she spent many years and much money raising her Therapy Dogs, and I shouldn’t be using the term “therapy dog” for Red. She said she was insulted by it.

I am not often shocked by messages on the Internet, I was shocked by this one, as  The idea that his work would insult someone set me back a bit when I read it.

This is a restrained version of what I first wrote. Everything is a gift, the Internet gives me the opportunity again and again to be a more patient and thoughtful and settled person. I am working on that, every day.

I must confess that the message  upset me on Red’s behalf.

People say false or inaccurate things all day long on social media, a medium that loves false things and gives them a home, but I can’t let that lie when it comes to Red.

Kay said my describing Red as a therapy dog was insulting to her:

“I no longer can hold my tongue,” she huffed. “I also have two therapy dogs. I feel privileged to call them “Therapy “ Dogs. They earned that title. Starting when they were young pups. There were classes, evaluations, testing, practice, observations and more. At Graduation my girls earned their certifications and earned a title of Therapy Dogs..You have well-trained dogs that enjoy visiting folks in a nursing home. But to give them a title is an insult to us who have worked hard for the privilege of visiting adults and children whose lives are compromised.”

Red was, of course, certified as a therapy dog six years ago by a tough and thorough group called Vermont Therapy Dogs.

I remember we had to do obedience and more in a room full of dogs, and people dressed in masks and robes rushed at him and stomped and yelled.  We had to walk right up to barking and growling dogs and sit down without a murmur and sit still.

They were meticulous, they were concerned that Red had  his tail between his legs at one point, I explained this was a common with border collies when working.

This process was and is important to me, service dogs do the most wonderful work, but therapy dog certification is important, I believe, for hospice work and close-in work with the advanced elderly. It not only tests the dog, it tests the humans.

This message about Red was odd, even by social media standards.  Kay seemed to suggest she was being brave in finally speaking out against a great injustice to her and her dogs.

Mostly, she was just being wrong.

Kay, sometimes it is a good idea to hold our tongues, or our keyboards, in check. Red doesn’t really need the title, but he has it.

I wrote quite extensively about the therapy dog certification process in 2012 when Red undertook it, it was thorough and professional and I have taken care to renew Red’s tag every year.

I write this mostly to defend Red – that does get my blood up to see this message at this point in his life.

But I also write this to make it clear to people that the therapy dog certification process does not have to be as long or rigorous or expensive as the one Kay describes. The certification cost about $75 for Red and took two sessions, a grueling evaluation and an on-site review.

Kay’s choices were different than mine.

We all like to seem noble and self-sacrificing sometimes, but this is a doable thing for people committed to this work.  It is not so difficult. I always think of creative writing coaches who tell their students they can never make it as writers because it’s just too hard. It isn’t.

The therapy dog certification process is valuable, it makes us think and focus, the dog too. As much as we love our dogs, not every one is right for service or therapy work. The sick and dying and elderly people on the other end deserve perfection in this work. They are helpless and vulnerable, we can’t make mistakes with our dogs in this work because we love them.

But please don’t be deterred by those who claim it takes a lifetime of work to get this title. It takes a strong will and a good-hearted dog, and a determined person. I’m sure Kay’s dogs are wonderful, and I applaud her for doing this work. She can call her dogs anything she wants, it’s none of my business.

But I want to say that having a therapy dog does not make me morally or otherwise superior to anyone. It doesn’t make  her dogs better than Red, even if he didn’t have a certificate.

We all  have our ways of doing good, we all do the best we can. I would never measure this work in terms of hours or money, the best work comes from Red’s great big heart, the training was important but less consequential. A big heart is not something a dog can be trained to have. It is by far the most important qualification for this kind of work.

Red was well-trained when I got him, and I worked with him  for several months before taking the certification test. It was rigorous but manageable. I decided to certify my dogs – Izzy first, then later, Red – once I started doing hospice therapy work, which requires absolute trust and reliability in a dog. No mistakes.

I don’t really need a lecture from Kay or anyone about the importance of therapy dog certification. I have written about it countless times, and did it twice. I sometimes yearn for a world in which people simply ask questions – I am quite available to answer them – rather than feel forced to “speak out” even when wrong. Truth is often a search button away.

But that ethos seems to be fading. The “send” button is free and easy. Outrage and grievance are the currency of our times. Even the dogs aren’t immune from the way we talk to one another.

I let go of these things most of the time, they are part of life online in America in 2019, but Red deserves more consideration and truth. His work is an inspiration to me and others, not an insult to anyone. I can’t blink at that.

People often accuse me of bullying when I respond to inaccuracies or inappropriate attacks, but I am happy to speak out for Red, since he cannot speak out for himself. Truth still matters, to me, and to many of you.

I’m going to give Fate some more time to develop and be trained – this certification is not required at the Mansion, but I believe in it. I certainly want her to get that tag, when she is ready and I am ready. It is important for me as well as her. I am proud to have it.

And I will continue to use the term “therapy dog” for Fate, and certainly for Red.   Kay, I’m sure you work hard with your dogs and do good work, you don’t get to tell me which words I can use. If that offends you, too bad.

I have worked just as hard with my dogs as you have, and easily for just as long. I don’t get to judge you, and you don’t get to judge me.

Therapy work is what Fate did yesterday, that is what she will be doing in the future I believe.  That is what I will call it, before, during and after the process of certification. As a writer, I choose my words carefully, and Kay’s experience and preferences won’t dictate what those words are.

I have no apologies to make on behalf of Red, he did the most wonderful work in every possible way, and he deserves every honorific there is, including the title “Therapy Dog,” which he earned a thousand times, technically and symbolically.

Say what you wish about me, don’t diss Red, at least not in front of me. Red, you good boy, you have never insulted anyone in your blessed existence in this world.

You are nothing but good.

I went to see Sylvie again today at a  rehabilitation center 45 minutes away.

I brought her one of her favorite hats from her room – I got it a Vermont thrift shop a year ago. I could not find her address book but I did bring her several of her journals, some envelopes with paid stamps and some pens and writing paper.

She was very happy to see the hat and took her towel off.

Sylvia was tired, and a but fuzzy, I didn’t stay long.

She was happy to hear that people were going to send her cards (Alicia Busser, Room 18 A, Washington Center For Rehabilitation and Healthcare, 4573 State Route 40, Argyle, N.Y., 12809.) She was relieved she could write back.

She also surprised me by telling me she was leaving this rehab center “very soon” and was being taken to a facility in the Southern Adirondacks, it was closer to her family she said. I didn’t ask why or when.

A lot of people messaged me today, including Sue Silverstein at Bishop Maginn High School. I was upset seeing Sylvia so uncomfortable Thursday, and when I want someone to pray for something or somebody, I ask a person I know to be more experienced at it than I am. Since I’m not sure what I believe in, I prefer my prayers be sent by someone who does, they will carry more weight.

Sue Silverstein, the art teacher at Bishop Maginn High School came to mind.

Sue Silverstein teaches theology as well as art, and I asked her if she prayed regularly, and if so, could she put in a word for Sylvia. She messaged me later that she prays all the time, and her whole class was busy writing letters to Sylvie and sending them off Friday. That was a pretty strong dose of good.

I don’t know if Sylvie will still be at this same place on Monday, but I asked the staff if they would be sure to forward any cards or letters to her, wherever she was going, and they said they would.

It was very nice of Sue’s class to do this, and I know others are sending Sylvie cards as well.

I did leave Sylvie – she was very tired, she couldn’t stay awake long – with something of a heavy heart. I’m not sure if I will be seeing her again, unless she returns to the Mansion, and she seems headed in a different direction. I know nothing of her diagnosis or prognosis or treatment, I just don’t know if she will be back.

And I won’t be visiting her again.

Most of the time when residents leave the Mansion for rehab, they don’t return.  The be in the Mansion, you have to be ambulatory.

Sometimes people do come back.

I need to let it go and continue my Mansion work and my work with Bishop Maginn School and my blogging and podcasting. (Please check out the new Bishop Maginn High School Wish List, only a couple of items left – eight copies of the summer reading book, Kite Runner, and 3 Acer Chrome laptop for the school’s teachers and students. We need about 20 more laptops but we have until September. Donations for computers are tax-deductible. More microscopes will be added to the list soon.)

Sylvie is special to me and to many other people. I’ve been doing therapy work with hospice and elder care for more than a decade now with different dogs  – Lenore, Izzy and Red – I am careful not to get too close.

But some people get into your heart, we are all human.

I love Sylvie’s stories about growing up in post war Europe and traveling with her diplomat father. She talks very openly about her mental illness and the institutions she as lived in almost all of her life.

I love her  imperiousness, and her stories about her the dog lost in the mountains, his howls echoing off the snow, and of the two men she loved, both of whom are dead now. I asked her once why she didn’t want to play bingo, and she said it was because the boy she loved played bingo, and it was just too painful to do it.

I remember the night I went to the Jehovah’s Witness service to hear her sing. She loves that community, they were – are – wonderful to her.

I’m not a moper, should it come to that, I don’t look back much, I have a lot to do, and I respect life, always. I don’t deny what is life’s to decide. And this is not a eulogy, I have no idea whether I will see Sylvie again or not, or whether she will be able to get up and walk.

I still miss Connie and Joanie. I’ve learned a lot from the aides about keeping my distance and letting go, the veterans say you can’t help it, it hurts, and I’ve learned that myself. Sometimes it hurts to be a human.

Godspeed Sylvie, wherever you go. I look forward to walking into the Mansion one day and seeing you pushing your walker with Tote  Bags handing off the sides,  waiting for me with a fistful of letters with messed up addresses, claiming someone took your stamps, and with a new hat on your head. I’ll straighten the letters out for you, you admit that you have issues with zip codes.

If for some reason, we don’t meet again, may the angels ride with you always. You deserve some time in paradise.

Sylvie asked again for cards or letters (especially cards) to sent her, if she moves, they will be forwarded to her new residence. Sylvie Bussee, Washington Center for Rehabilitation and Healthcare, 4573 State Route 40, Argyle, N.Y., 12809.

Our farm is a beautiful place, sometimes my photographs suggest – like this one – that it is remote and far from civilization.  It is a private place, in that we have no neighbors who are right on top of us. But it is only a few miles from town, and on a busy road.

The farm has the curious feeling of being isolated, yet very close to and connected to community. I love the empty loneliness of this photo, the sheep seem far away, Lulu is making what seems to be a lonely trek out to join them and graze.

Loneliness is one dimension of life on a farm. Perhaps because it is the eve of a holiday, the farm feels very quiet, and the Internet is still. I haven’t gotten an e-mail or  message since mid-afternoon, that is very unusual, the world feels very still.

I am loving the quiet and sense of solitude. We skipped calling Bingo tonight at the Mansion. We both need quiet. I’ve been listening to Lizzo the rapper and her new album “Cuz I Love You.” I’d not heard about this album, Maria heard it on the radio.

Lizzo has a ton of attitude.

I like it a lot, sitting in my chair with the earphones on is sweet.

I bought the new Jonathen Lethem mystery, The Feral Detective. I think it’s an amazing book, an old story in a way about heroes descending to the underworld set in the era of President Trump, in what Lethem calls the “post truth era.”

The book is narrated by Phoebe Siegler, a privileged, 30 something New Yorker who quits her job as a reporter for the New York Times in anger and despair over the 2016 election of the man she calls the “Orange Beast.”

I don’t generally go for novels with contemporary politic twists, but this one seems both timely and real.

She flies to LA to hire Charles Heist, the literally “feral Detective” to help find the missing daughter of a good friend in Brooklyn.

Heist is a creative of nature, his wildness collides head on  with Phoebe’s unapologetic urbanity and the two head off to the Mojave Desert on what seems likely to be a great and dangerous adventure.

I love the book so far, as I loved Motherless Brooklyn, an earlier entry into the crime genre by Lethem, who is one of the best writers I have read in a long while.

Lethem is one of the more literary of crime writers, he has a great feel for language, the plot moves rapidly, the novel is deeply compassionate so far and the story line is said to be unpredictable.

I’m only 70 pages in, it already is.

I am lucky to have a great new album and what seems to be a terrific new mystery/novel for the weekend, I am going to spend time with both of them. The password for the weekend is calm. And rest.

Maria and I will take a ride or two over the weekend, but I’m seeking solitude. So much going on in my head, I want to quiet it down. And take photos of course.

I’m not sure I ever had a dog whose impending loss was so clear for so long and with so much warning. This is a new and painful experience for me. On our walk and on the farm, we  saw this week that Red cannot run any longer and cannot walk very far without lying down, apparently in pain.

This is the first time he has not been able to walk quickly or run, a new chapter in his decline.

I am not reminded many times every day just how rapidly Red is failing.

Even at the Mansion, he has to lie down several times before moving down a hallway. I’m not sure how long we can even bring him to the Mansion in good conscience, and that is already troubling the residents.

I do need to consider their feelings as well as mine. They are beginning to notice his struggles to move and see and hear. They are sensitive to that.

More and more, I am wondering how long to subject him to this pain and discomfort. He is still well aware of me and Maria, he still insists on being near me, I can still get him into and out of the car.

I do not share the growing idea that our job is to keep the animals we love alive by all means at any cost for as long as possible. As Red’s steward, I must take into account his own pain and comfort and sense of being alive and having dignity in the world.

If Red can’t do anything but lie still day and night, that is not, for me, a meaningful life. I’m not there yet, but I am beginning to understand that his suffering is a constant in his life, not an episode any longer.

I am beginning to feel that I will have decisions to make, along with Maria, in the not too distant futur.

The moral challenge is for me to do what is best for him, not for me. I have lost a lot of dogs I loved, and the pain of that is real. But I also feel strongly that Red’s life is worthy of joy and celebration, I will not make it into a tragedy or misery because it has to end.

Red is connected to more people than any dog I have known. Rose was very much my dog, not anybody else’s dog. Red belongs to a good chunk of the world.

We all have to end, grace for me is dealing with this thoughtfully, honestly, and out of love for an animal who has given me and many other people his life and his heart. Tonight, I’ll try and get him to Bingo at the Mansion, but I have the sense this may be one of his last visits there.

I want to deal with this openly and with care. I want to do for him what he has always done for me and many others – in a loving and giving way.

At Bingo last night at the Mansion, Wayne was waiting for me with a surprise – he found a peasant hat just like mine. I met with Wayne and Ruth last night to talk about their commitment ceremony scheduled for May 15.

We went over the arrangements. She has a dress, a headband (thanks Fran) and some new blue flat shows. The flowers have been ordered and will cost about  $125. The olive oil cake and cupcakes will cost $103.

Wayne has a new pair of black sweatpants and a new shirt. They each have the angel pins they requested. Ruth has a necklace and earrings to match her dress.

I’ve ordered blue bead bracelets for each of them. Ruth has asked that three people read at the beginning of the ceremony – Peggie, Kassi, Bonnie.

I’m scanning the Internet for appropriate readings. I’m conducting the ceremony, which will be brief, and I will also handle Wayne’s ring. Maria will hold the ring for Ruth.

Ruth and Wayne seem very happy to me. They know what they are doing, they understand what a commitment ceremony is, they will have everything the way they want it, within reason.

We are also spending $60 for music.

I thank you very much for your contributions to the wedding, including the napkins and decorations many of you sent. I am also grateful to the contributions coming in the Kathy Sosa’s class trip to the FDR Home and Library in Hyde Park, N.Y.

It seems the class has been unable to go on the school field  trips because most of the students – hers are refugees and immigrants – don’t have the $60 fee required.

Perhaps we can help them in the future. Any extra money I receive – we asked for $500, a donor is sending $800 – will go for that purpose and to buy snacks and donuts and ice cream for the  kids to buy on this trip.

When I asked Kathy about snacks, she said they were saving up to have $20 for donuts. I said I think we can do better.

I want to give her $220 for snacks and postcards and small souvenirs.

I’m also trying to give Kathy enough money so that the students – there are 30 – can all buy postcards or some small souvenirs. The class is studying FDR and World War II.

They are struggling to understand the controversies that now swirl around them and the families.

The Army Of Good is a miracle, and the children have asked me to thank you, so have Ruth and Wayne.  You can contribute via Paypal, [email protected], or by check, Jon Katz, FDR Trip, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.