A Therapy Dog In Dogtown

Petey proudly wore his “I AM A THERAPY DOG” tag on his collar. 

He had earned his therapy dog tag by passing a rigorous test --- a test to see that he could be touched by strangers, to see that he could ignore something on the floor when he was told to ignore it, to see that he would not freak out when three hospital patients clanged their walkers on the floor simultaneously. 

He was certified by Therapy Dogs International, who gave him two million dollars of liability insurance.

Petey had a job and he loved his job, which was raising the spirits of mental patients of Forest Park Hospital in St. Louis.  The hospital serves a St. Louis neighborhood called Dogtown, which has a large Irish population.  It was one of the few hospitals in town that welcomed therapy dogs.

It only took one visit to the hospital for Petey to figure out that the hospital door was weight sensitive and he could open it by himself.   He learned that once inside the hospital, he had to turn left, and trot down the corridor that led to Ward One South, and wait for someone to let us in.

Petey knew that inside Ward One South were patients who wanted to pet him. 

Not all patients, however.  Some patients were afraid of dogs, some patients were uninterested in dogs, and some patients were insulted that they were offered time with a dog rather than time with a doctor or nurse.

I quickly learned two things about a hospital pet therapy visit. 

First thing: always squat.  A patient was normally sitting down or lying down.  If Petey was next to the patient, the patient was confused, not sure whether to look up at me or look down at the dog.  So, I squatted.  That way I was on the same level as the dog, and the patient had a single focal point to look at.

Second thing: never ask questions.  Patients get asked a stream of questions all day long by doctors and nurses.  When Petey came, they got to ask me questions, a welcome turn of events.

One of the nurses in Ward One South told me that Petey was perceptive.    If Petey sat facing away from the patient, it meant the patient was physically ill as well as mentally ill.  If Petey sat facing the patient, it meant the patient was physically well.

We went once a month.  At the end of each visit, Petey (who lives in a vegetarian household) was treated to a real beef hamburger from the hospital cafeteria.

Over time, even Petey noticed that things were changing.  The hospital was sold to a group of investors.  Floor by floor, the wards were closed down because they were not viable.  Forest Park Hospital was two miles away from the number-one-rated hospital in Missouri, and it could not compete.

Originally we reported to a volunteer coordinator.  After the volunteer coordinator was let go, we reported to the chaplain.  I don’t know what happened to the chaplain, but we wound up reporting to a three-ring notebook.

Ward One South survived these cuts.  The cafeteria did not survive.  So, a nurse would bring in a McDonald’s cheeseburger for each of Petey’s visits.

Then the number of beds in Ward One South was cut in half.  Petey noticed this.  With fewer patients, he was just going through the motions.  He knew he was not going to get much petting.  He became focused on the McDonald’s cheeseburger.

Then Forest Park Hospital closed for good. 

Petey can look back on a grand  therapy career.  He lifted many people’s spirits.  He got reticent patients to start talking.  In one case, there was a patient who was mourning the death of her daughter --- when Petey visited her, she realized that she had been confused – it was her daughter’s dog who had died, not her daughter.  The staff on Ward One South was elated to see the change in the patient.

I think Petey, just like the people in the Dogtown, is sad to see that Forest Park Hospital now sits abandoned.  However, a tree still grows on the hospital lawn.  It was a tree planted in memory of a therapy dog who, just like Petey, worked on Ward One South.  

The tree is a dogwood. 

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The Dogtown St. Patrick's Day Parade makes a brief appearance in Here Is St. Louis Two.  Look for the soldiers in the bright green berets. Video by Grain. Music is "Heartbeat" by Highway Headline.

http://vimeo.com/70904697

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com