Healing through heeling

By Hannah Wever
Review Staff Writer
Published: October 9, 2008

There’s a therapy provider at the Dogwood Village Nursing Home who greets everyone she meets with a toothy smile, a wag of her tail and occasionally, a sloppy wet kiss.
Dakoda, a Belgian Malinois, is a certified therapy dog. She travels to a number of nursing homes, senior centers and schools in the area with her handler and owner, Carolyn Scott. Dakoda wears a vest which identifies her as a certified therapy dog, along with a passel of engraved I.D. tags announcing her as a member of various organizations-but she doesn’t need them.
From the moment she enters the lobby of Dogwood Village, residents, staff and personnel smile, fuss and dote over her. She gets a greeting worthy of a celebrity, wags back at her adoring fans, occasionally rolling over to allow someone the privilege of rubbing her belly.
“She’s made as many friends with the staff as she has with the residents,“ Scott said.
The pair has been visiting residents at Dogwood Village for just over three years. Scott has another dog, Jeb, who works as a therapist, too, she said. She’s clearly proud of her dogs and deeply committed to helping others through them.
And what started it all, she said, was her own observation of the healing and therapeutic benefits animals can provide for folks with special needs.
Several years ago, Scott’s grandfather suddenly became a widower and struggled to come to terms with the grief of losing his wife. Then, when his own health began to fail, Scott began to visit him more frequently, and brought her dog along.
“It was just amazing how for that half-hour or so, he wasn’t thinking about his cancer,“ Scott remembered. “He was like a young man playing with a dog again,“ she said.
After her grandfather ultimately lost his life to cancer, Scott discovered, and then became a member of Waggin’ Hearts. The Rappahannock County-based volunteer group helps pets and owners become therapy providers, and is now about 50 or 60 members strong, Scott said. Through Waggin’ Hearts, Scott found, and then joined Therapy Dogs International, a worldwide organization which provides registration & supports members who are involved in animal-assisted therapies and activities.
Dakoda and Jeb have both passed Therapy Dogs International’s training and accreditation tests. The dogs learn how to be gentle and calm around children or adults with autism, for example, whose behavior could be unpredictable. The dogs are taught to be comfortable inside hospitals, senior centers and schools, where noises, smells and sights are unlike what pets normally encounter. And therapy animals learn to accept touch from hands that have been stricken by arthritis or disability.
As a matter of fact, those hands—stiff, swollen and aching from advanced arthritis seem to heal a little when Dakoda’s around, according to Dogwood Village’s Activities Director Gayle Collier.
“Some of the residents can’t even open their hand all the way,“ Collier explained. “But they’ll open their hand all the way up to touch that dog.“
Collier said pet therapy has proven to be popular among residents, and effective, too. There are some, she said, who almost never smile. But when Dakoda and Scott visit, she sees spirits lift.
“You just see so many smiles,“ Collier said.
Scott said she’s seen the smiles, too.
“There was one gentleman who just loved to see Jeb,“ she remembered. “Eventually, the gentleman took a turn for the worst, so we brought Jeb down here to see him.“
Scott said the elderly resident was gravely ill and unresponsive as his wife sat near his bed, waiting for the end. When Jeb came, Scott said, the man’s wife placed his hand on the dog’s sleek coat. When the two women looked at the ailing man’s face, she said, they saw him smile.
There are more smiles from residents like Grace Hitt. Hitt said she loves her weekly visits with Dakoda, who reminds her-a little-of an old beloved friend, a German shepherd she used to own.
“I just love dogs,“ Hitt said, making goo-goo eyes and baby talk at Dakoda.
Hitt says good-bye, and Dakoda stops to visit another resident, Harry Pendleton, making his way from one end of the hall way to the other in a wheelchair. Dakoda gently rests her head against Pendleton’s leg as he tells Scott a long story about the pets he used to own, years ago. He may be a self-professed cat person, but for the moment, with a broad smile on his face and steadily stroking Dakoda’s head while he chats with Scott, he’s all about dogs.
The dog softly pads down the hallway and Scott lets her lead the way, always with a couple inches of slack in the leash. Dakoda turns her head each time she passes a resident’s room or a community area, taking inventory of who’s where and how she can help.
“The dogs seem to know where they need to be,“ Scott explained. “If dogs could talk, they’d really tell you a few things.“