Amazing Moments

Some years back now, I saw magic. It involved a decent, caring man who worked with us, and an amazing dog.  I don’t know why it so surprised me; I knew the dog well, had been the recipient myself of the remarkable understanding that glowed from those amber eyes. But, as often as I hear about the relationship between humans and our canine helpers, seeing the almost mystic happenings always thrills me.

At work he returned the call to the doctor and first got the diagnosis of a rare kind of cancer, a cancer that usually struck young people or children, not adults. Hanging up, he left the small office where a phone was available to us, a time ahead of a full population of cell phones, and returned to the office set between the two original computer labs built when the school was new, a small room right off my classroom. Brad (not his real name) wore the stunned look of someone just hearing the kind of news he had just, indeed, heard, and as I checked on him, he told me what the doctor had told him.

            Younger than I (well, even then, that wasn’t a small group to choose from), with a couple of teenage children, he could make computers dance, bring into line the bits and bytes that drove so many of us to distraction. Because I worked daily with students working on those very computers he kept going, he and I had gotten to know each other fairly well; became friends.

            And now, he faced a future of uncertainty for himself and his family. Such a kind, good man….sometimes life just hurts.

            Brad began his treatments and, as able, continued work.

            And, then, one Saturday I went myself into school to try to get sort of caught up on my own school work.  Weekend days at school give opportunity for relative quiet in a classroom, the resources in the room should be available, and the goal is some extended, uninterrupted time for work.

            At times I even meet that goal.

            On this particular Saturday I called to Millie, my beautiful, chestnut girl, as I went out the door, to come with me. By then she had her Service Dog and Therapy Dog titles…..and loved to work a room, greeting the first person she saw, then, after what she deemed an appropriate pat or hug, moved to the next one, sat beside them gently, looked up with those deep, shining eyes, waiting, and the whole process started again. I’ve seen her greet a room full of people in this way, and even confirmed non-animal people finally give in to that look of longing from that pretty girl who just wanted everyone to be happy—and love on her.

            When we arrived at school and entered the classroom, I saw that Brad had come in this day as well, no doubt to catch up as much as he could, drained from his treatments, worried he would fall behind and disappoint the staff dependent on him. He called out to me from his office, and then he saw Millie, and his face lit up.

            Millie looked like she had found the long lost motherlode….

            Brad came to her as she sat, just as trained, for him to pet her. Ah, but that would not be enough, and he lowered himself to the floor beside her, wrapping his arms around that beautiful, sweet, calm dog. This border collie, the breed known for being hyperactive, for being destructive, for needing more exercise than the average dog, this beautiful dog leaned against him, her tongue lolling out.

            I watched her, wanting to be sure she did not get too excited or rough; yet again I underestimated my dog. I tend to do that even today…. She sat as he rubbed her all over, talked to her, put his head on hers, talked to her some more, softly sharing what he could tell that accepting, loving gaze. She looked at him, shifted a bit, leaned to him more, glanced at me (she really did always want to know my location) then just settled in and let Brad have her attention and her care. Eventually, I just went and started my own work, sneaking glances at them, watching the therapy dog work in the way those dogs know to do.

           

I wish I could truly communicate how splendid it was.

            The two of them stayed down there for awhile; not too long--I imagine the floor didn’t feel too good to him. But, when he finished his time with Millie, Brad’s smile was calmer, quieter than when we had arrived. With a final pat and smile, Brad rose, we talked some more, and he returned to his office, Millie watching him. She came, then, lay down under my desk until I finished my work for the day.

            Not too long after that experience, Brad had to leave and go on disability. But, I always remember that time with Millie, how this girl who could spin, jump, twirl, and twist her glee and excitement knew to calm herself and let this kind man commune with her. She was so gentle with him…..

            I adore the dogs I have now; yet I miss Millie and her life mate, Mac, every day—our golden age of dogs. Millie converted several “non-dog” folks. “I don’t like dogs, but I like THAT dog,” one co-worker said to me.

            And, for Christmas that year, Brad gave me a small gift, a bookmark. I still have it and still have not taken it out of the wrapper….”Lord, help me become the person my dog thinks I am.” Indeed…..

            If I were even half as good a person as Millie were a good dog, everyone in my world would truly be the better for it.