Dana Green: Healing Powers of Paws-a-tive Companionship
More Precious Than Money
On December 5th of 2015, I resumed my annual, end-of-the-year search for my elusive toy poodle. On that frigid wintery night, the snow was a foot deep in our driveway. Eileen sat in her favorite chair, wrapped in a wool blanket, watching a Hallmark heart-tugging Christmas movie. I sat propped up on our leather couch riding my laptop computer’s search engine. My exploration led me into the western mountains of a remote Maine kennel that bred toy poodles, a rarity for New England. I eagerly began scanning photos and reading biographies. I reviewed a couple “mom dogs” who were being retired for some unknown reasons. One had a posting date of December 3rd. She had been on the market for 48 hours. The post read, “Our beloved, Sadie, is available for immediate sale.”
I asked my wife to pause her movie. She did so reluctantly.
I said, “You need to see this purebred, phantom toy poodle.”
“Dana, dare I ask. What is a phantom poodle?”
“We need to call first thing tomorrow morning. Sadie is special.”
Eileen asked, “What makes Sadie so special?”
“She was a ‘breeding mom’ of maltipoo pups. They are retiring her.”
“How old is she?” asked Eileen.
“Just turned four.”
“Why would they be retiring her so soon?” said Eileen with raised eyebrows.
“I don’t know?”
Trying to read my ‘pleading thoughts’ she asked, “What are you thinking?”
“I am going to call first thing tomorrow morning,” I said. I want to know if she is still available.”
“Yes, dear and for how much?” she said, with stress on the question … for how much?
After Eileen viewed the photo of our potential new dog, she agreed that I could make the call with one stipulation. “My dog” needed to be reasonably priced.
Sadie turned out to be a bargain. We paid $200.
Life’s Funny Circles
Dana’s mom with Sadie
I spent the next five years training Sadie to become a service dog. I needed Sadie to help with what I call “my mother’s happiness project.” Alzheimer’s had stolen her mind, and anxiety had overtaken her daily thoughts. I decided to try to turn back time by helping my mother think about our first toy poodle.
At the age of eight, my first dog was a chocolate-colored toy poodle named Raisin. Raisin became my mother’s dog when I went to college.
My mother treated Sadie’s visits as if Raisin had been reincarnated. It was a true blessing. She patted and talked to Sadie with an untroubled heart.
Sadie’s next role. Service dog therapist.
Sadie to the Rescue, Again
On October 20, 2020, Eileen and I, along with Sadie, woke up in bed when my phone rang at 7:30 in the morning. The doctor who had removed two facial tumors a few days earlier told me in a cracking voice that I
had a rare form of cancer. Besides having been such a comfort to my mom, when I was diagnosed with Waldenstrom’s, Sadie was there for me, too. She became my cancer (Waldenstrom) therapist. For years, she would travel with me and my wife, Eileen, during my most difficult days. With my wife’s help and Sadie as my bedside counselor, I found a way out of my depression and on to the next phase of my treatment.
Sadie was such a comfort when I felt overwhelmed and sad. She had the incarnate qualities of unconditional love, loyalty, and companionship. She did not try to uncover the cause of my subdued mood. She felt it. When I felt sad, hopeless, or depressed, she let me know, “I am here for you.” She mastered the gift of simply being present.
Sadie trotted into the oncology clinic and chemotherapy sessions, announcing her presence with a clicking of her paws on the hallway floor. Her love of all the patients, nurses, and staff made everyone smile. My wonder dog proudly sat on my lap during 16 different Rituxan treatment sessions. With Eileen as my love support and Sadie as my full-time therapist, I made it through. God blessed me with a home full of unbridled love.
Simple Moments in Your Life
Sadie seemed to intuitively sense my emotions during my cancer treatments. She would sit on my lap and even don a mask during Covid. She had a mystical presence. She trotted with my wife to visit other patients during their chemotherapy infusions. She was just what the doctor (high above in the clouds) delivered for our troubled souls. She was so simple, yet incredibly beautiful.
My grayish, four-legged, curly-haired toy poodle taught me how to be in the present moment and to look forward. Not backwards. Sadie also taught me to be silent in my moments of profound sadness or confusion. She stayed with me, healing her friend with her presence.
Dog Dancing
As I got stronger, dancing was one of Sadie’s morning rituals with Eileen and me. Eileen and I would start our traditional morning waltz to a Sinatra song or a Kenny G saxophone jazz standard, and Sadie would hop on her hind legs until we picked her up and placed her in our arms between us. She snuggled as we danced. Once the song concluded, Eileen and I both got our share of kisses. Sadie’s love of dancing made my thoughts of cancer drift far away.
Celebrate Every Day
When I began taking walks to increase my endurance, Sadie celebrated my arrival home with a spinning 360-degree turn along with a wildly wagging tail. Her encouragement and ability to deliver happiness and smiles were endless, especially on days when I had been feeling overwhelmed with nausea from chemo treatment.
No Fear, No Regrets
Our minds can trick us into feeling regret for past failures. It pokes us in the chest with unsettling fears of the future. All these thoughts and feelings prevent us from experiencing the joy of contentment. Sadie’s eyes were void of worry during my CT scans, MRI, bone marrow biopsy, and infusions. She reminded me that worrying would not add a single minute, hour, day, or week to my life. A special note of thanks to Boston’s Dana Farber-Cancer Institute’s Shayna Sarosiek, MD. She is my oncologist extraordinaire and medical director of my Waldenstrom care. Her coordination with my local oncologist and nursing staff for my treatments at The Lafayette Family Cancer Center in Brewer, Maine, has been a blessing.
A Bit of Advice
In 1937, Harvard University began a study that followed 25 healthy people throughout their lives. In 2009, 72 years later, Dr. George Vaillant, the study director, was asked during a wrap-up interview what he had learned about happiness. He said, “The only thing that really matters in life are your relationships to other people.” When asked if he had any other advice, he replied, “Get yourself a pet.”
My Closing Wish
Dear Readers,
Establish a position for what is right, even when you stand alone on your four (I meant to say two) feet. You will discover unparalleled happiness by being courageous. Remove the chains of fear and replace fear with
hope and faith in your daily life. Understand that when you give someone something without expecting something in return, that your act of kindness will make you fully aware of the gift of gratitude. Being anonymous in your gifts will bring heartfelt hope and joy to the recipient. Do not miss the opportunity to lift the spirit of someone in need. Furthermore, reach out and physically touch someone. Give a new friend a small hug or a gentle pat on the back (or a rub behind the ears). It will provide their body and soul with a deeper understanding of your compassion. You will get an ear-to-ear smile that is full of thankfulness. It is priceless.
Sadie filled our home with nine pounds of love. She lived with us until thirteen days shy of her twelfth birthday. She passed away on December 5th, 2023—Eight years to the day that I found her. When my time is near, I am sure I will want those who mattered most to me to stop by and say goodbye. Most of all, I want to lie down next to my dear wife, Eileen, and have Sadie’s spirit in my mind and her successor, Gracie, nuzzled right up next to my belly. Sadie’s most important message? “Dad, now you go and defy Waldenstrom’s disease.
I wonder what life lessons Gracie will teach us?
Dana Green is a retired medical provider who lives with his wife, Eileen, and their wonder dog, Gracie, in Bucksport, Maine. He authors short stories on the days he is not fishing. His work has appeared in Frontier Tales (westerns), Luminaura (psychological crime), and memoirs of his adolescence in anthologies and other publications. He is currently finishing two books of short mystery stories (The Friars Detective Agency).