And she danced

And she danced

By Jim Hillibish
CantonRep.com staff writer
Posted Jun 26, 2011 @ 01:00 PM

I made one of my innumerable trips to the hospital. By now, I should have my own parking space.

I get introspective on hospital elevators, as if they are propelling me into an unknown universe, or something. So I’m feeling blue and not a little sorry for myself as I ascend to the fifth floor.

Then the door opens. Rusty pokes his head in, smells around and nails me as the likely candidate. He’s an Aultman Pet Patrol ambassador. He cruises the corridors. He knows who needs him, right now.

Rusty really pegged me. I couldn’t resist him. He put his head in my hand, tail breaking the sound barrier.

The rest of the elevator crowd, which was morose awaiting their own fates, turned on to him. In two floors, we had a party going, laughing and making Rusty the center of our lives for a few minutes. Misery be gone.

We said a reluctant goodbye and headed to our various loved ones or appointments, rejuvenated and ready to face whatever.

This brings up a strange thing. Do dogs exude a calming aura? Do they have a radar thing that attracts them to people who need a friend, if only for a few seconds?

I took inventory of my own mini-doxie, Lily. I can take her so for granted. Then I realized I’m never around her for more than two minutes without laughing at or, more likely, with her.

Lily tears around the house when I open the door, even after 10 minutes outside. We celebrate over some serious petting.

“Are you being a good girl?”

“Yes I am, Jim. Watch me dance.”

I could be totally bored reading something on the couch. She senses that, jumps on my chest and looks me right in the eyes. “Why aren’t we doing something already?”

We noticed she’s learned the beeps of my dialysis machine. We get a lot of beeps during a session for various things. She ignores them all.

Then, suddenly comes the two beeps indicating “session complete.” She could be in a deep sleep on her bed, but she’ll run in, celebrating the end of my treatment — every time.

She dances, she whips around, then she flips on her back for an extended tummy rub. She could be downstairs or wherever. Two beeps. She’s there.

“Good boy, Jim.”

Medical research is investigating dogs and patients. Blood pressures decline when they visit. Folks who were totally wrapped up in their sickness suddenly reach out. There’s always laughter, instant bonding. And guess what? Pain subsides.

When I got home from Aultman, Lily rushed to the door, but this time took a whiff. She gave me a “Jim, how could you” look. I thought for a minute — Rusty’s scent.

“You’re still No. 1,” I told her. And she danced.

http://www.cantonrep.com/life/x601862087/Jim-Hillibish