Therapy dogs

June 20, 2012 • Posted in Beth Finke, blindness, guide dogs, Mike Knezovich, Seeing Eye dogs, Uncategorized by

Whitney met Hanni, the grand dame of Seeing Eye dogs, this week! The circumstances were not happy ones –we were in Urbana for a funeral. The meeting of the dogs helped take our minds off

There’s Whit with Hanni’s bone.

the sadness for a bit, though, and we were very grateful.

I’ve been to two funerals the past couple weeks, and Whitney came along to both. She could have easily stayed home — neighbors drove us to the first funeral, and we went with my husband Mike to the second. My friends, and of course Mike, were willing to lend an elbow to lead me through the funeral homes, but experience with previous Seeing Eye dogs taught me that having a dog there at wakes and funerals sometimes comforts fellow mourners. I am not about to claim Whitney qualifies as a “therapy dog,” but I do know she can serve as a distraction. And sometimes, when things are particularly sad, a distraction is, well, just right.

Speaking of just right, we stayed with our friends Steven and Nancy after this week’s memorial service – they are the wonderful couple who adopted Hanni. Hanni and Whitney are both Golden Retriever/Labrador crosses, but I had no trouble telling them apart. Hanni is a tail wagger –you know it’s her when you hear a thump, thump, thump on the floor. She’s taken on more and more of her Golden Retriever side in these matronly years: she wears her hair long and full now. Her coat matches her personality: fluffy.

Whitney, on the other hand, is a licker. When you lean down to pet her, she’ll give you a kiss before rolling over for a belly rub. And at two years old, Whitney is a lean mean machine, showing signs of childish jealousy around her predecessor.

Example: When Hanni walked into hour room Tuesday morning, Whitney immediately sprang up from a calm, quiet repose and grabbed one of Hanni’s bones, chewing it ferociously, trying to taunt her. Hanni nuzzled up to me, thumped her tail, and, I imagine, rolled her eyes.

Hanni ignored Whitney completely, choosing instead to watch me go through my pre-departure rituals –zipping my suitcase, finding my shoes. When she saw me pick up Whitney’s harness, she started jumping for joy. Jumping and jumping and jumping. It’d been a long time since Hanni had seen a harness, but she remembered exactly what it was. Hanni is 12 years old now, an arthritic retiree, but she was ready to go back to work if I needed her.

Aging. Aches. Illness. Disease. Dying. It all sure can seem senseless at times. As Mike puts it, “Who do we see about this?!” The past couple weeks have served to remind me just how delicate life is, and how fortunate I am to share my time here with such incredible people — and creatures. I’m off with one of those creatures now — it’s in the 90s, and while well-deserving retirees Hanni and Harper relax at home with their new people, energetic Whitney will guide me to the pool. Don’t worry, though, Whitney knows how to carpe the diem, too. She’ll be sitting behind the reception desk in air conditioning while I swim.

Hava On June 20, 2012 at 12:23 pm

What a beautiful and moving story Beth. It is amazing how comforting our pets can be.

Kim On June 20, 2012 at 12:35 pm

Oh, Beth, I’m sorry. Sometimes life just hurts. A good friend of mine fell from his horse a few weeks ago, sustaining a high (think Christopher Reeve) spinal cord injury. After a grueling week in the trauma ICU, he died. While that was going on, I had to put my 12 year old dog “to sleep.” Your blog today touched my heart. While heart wrenching, death does remind us to appreciate life and the people (and critters) who join us for the journey.

bethfinke On June 20, 2012 at 7:41 pm

Man oh man, what a time you’ve had Kim. So sorry.
On a brighter note, I am making myself a reminder to use the word “critters” instead of “creatures” next time – sounds so much more playful!

Kim On June 20, 2012 at 11:09 pm

Oooo, a REAL writer likes “my” word. You made my day. I’m not trying to be funny; you really did! Hey, I’m sending a piece to your webpage that I wrote during my recent sadness. I shared it with a group of fellow horse-people after our friend’s sudden, tragic death. It made them feel a little better. Maybe it’ll do the same for you.

bethfinke On June 23, 2012 at 2:31 pm

I recieved your email, Kim, but am waiting to open it until I have time to give it the attention it deserves. THANK YOU for sending it, very much appreciated.

Carl On June 20, 2012 at 7:01 pm

“Who do we see about this?” That about sums it up.

Bob On June 20, 2012 at 7:04 pm

Any chance Hanni was worried that the dingaling who was chewing that bone is the one who is guiding you now? Could that be why she was so happy to think you’d use her instead?

Maria On June 20, 2012 at 7:43 pm

I found the fact that when you visit funerals with your dog it has a calming effect noteworthy. After all, that’s the whole idea behind the therapy dog thing. Way to go Whitney and other seeing eye dogs who serve two purposes at once!

MaryEllen Schneider On June 21, 2012 at 10:04 am

What wonderful pictures you paint, Beth. I can picture Hanni jumping for joy. Made my day. Thanks!

bethfinke On June 23, 2012 at 2:32 pm

Oh, Mary Ellen, it always makes me smile when you comment on how much a writer who is blind helps you picture things so well. THANK YOU.

Nancy B On June 22, 2012 at 7:46 pm

Love that Hanni was jumping for joy at the idea of heading out in the harness! She still has that little zip in her step.

bethfinke On June 23, 2012 at 2:34 pm

I’ve witnessed that zip myself on our visits, Nancy. Thank you and Steven for keeping Hanni so happy and healthy in her retirement. I jump for joy to know she is living with you guys –

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