A Higher Level of Compassion

July 05, 2011

 

By L’Oren Rogerson

From the first day we took her home, Ruby, my black Labrador retriever, remained the calmest and most passive dog I have ever known. Whenever we are together, she always remains loyally by my side, except perhaps to receive an occasional pat from a passing neighbor or stranger at the local dog park. Diligently obedient, a simple, “C’mon Ruby,” always brought her back to my side whenever she strayed. With her calm disposition and natural love for people, I thought Ruby would be an ideal candidate as a therapy dog and thus able to visit nursing homes, senior centers and rehab facilities. I had read about the positive impact that therapy dogs can have while visiting seniors and disabled adults who could no longer have pets of their own. So it was with this vision in mind that Ruby and I went to Pet Therapy School where she became certified as a therapy dog. When Ruby graduated “Top of her Class,” I was as proud as the day my son made the Honor Roll!

Knowing that most people tend to love friendly dogs, I had expected a positive response from the seniors that Ruby and I visited; however, I was not fully prepared for the level of emotional response that we received. At hospitals and nursing homes, Ruby instinctively seemed to know her role and would dutifully greet each patient with a wagging tail, allowing them to pat her, scratch her ears and rub her belly. Somehow she was able to discern those that needed a little extra time with her from those that preferred to admire her from afar. Our visitations introduced us to several Alzheimer’s patients who had lost all ability to communicate/interact with staff or fellow residents, but when Ruby arrived, a giant smile would come over them and they would stamp their feet in excitement as Ruby approached. One woman with advanced dementia once wrapped her arms around Ruby, burying her face in Ruby’s soft coat and held her tightly for what seemed like an eternity. Throughout the embrace Ruby didn’t budge and allowed the woman as much time as she needed to express her emotions. Watching this interaction and unspoken communication between a dog and the human need to express love and affection has had a profound impact on me. However, it was an event that recently occurred at a nursing home that has left me speechless.

Ruby and I had been visiting patients at a long term facility in Quincy. As we were walking down the hall, Ruby, very uncharacteristically, did a sudden 90-degree turn and pulled me into a patient’s room. In the room I saw several family members who initially appeared quite solemn, but immediately brightened as Ruby made her entrance. Ruby’s natural inclination would be to greet each person, but on this occasion she chose to ignore the people in the room and simply lie at the foot of the patient’s bed.  Seemingly, relieved by the diversion, family members inquired about Ruby and her role as a therapy dog. As I responded to their questions, I noticed the patient’s breathing had become quite labored and the nurse who was standing with the family softly said, “It won’t be long, now.” Feeling that I was intruding at a very private family moment, I pulled on Ruby’s leash to leave, but she wouldn’t move. Again, I pulled and signaled for her to follow me, but she refused to budge. Ruby had never demonstrated this level of obstinacy before and given what was going on around me; I was at a loss as to how I could quietly exit without making a scene by dragging Ruby out of the room.

Suddenly, in the midst of these dynamics, the patient took a final deep breath and exhaled with a loud sigh. At that very moment, Ruby echoed the same very audible sigh. As the nurse turned to the family and said, “He’s gone,” Ruby quietly got up and proceeded to leave the room. Stunned by what we had just witnessed, the family and I exchanged bewildered looks, and not knowing what to say, I simply extended my condolences and followed Ruby out the door.

I’m not sure what to make of this incident. Perhaps Ruby with her keen sense of smell and hearing dragged me into the room because the patient was in distress and she went to investigate. Perhaps her obstinacy was due to the fact that we had been visiting people all day and she was tired. And, perhaps the coordinated sigh was merely a coincidence. Or perhaps, man’s best friend is far more aware and spiritually connected to our world than we ever thought possible. I don’t know the answer, but I shall never forget the events that took place that day.

About L’Oren Rogerson

L’Oren Rogerson is Director of Marketing & Community Outreach at the South Shore office of Right at Home. Right at Home serves seniors and disabled adults to remain in the comfort of their home by providing companion, homemaker and personal care services throughout the South Shore. L’Oren has lived on the South Shore her entire life and currently resides with her husband, two children and two Labrador Retrievers (including Ruby) in Abington. L’Oren may be reached at 781-681-3545 or email at lrogerson@rah-southshore.com