2nd QUARTER 1997 EDELWOLF

Nikita: Therapy Dog

by Lisa Miller

From the day in July when some friends plopped a fat, gray puppy in my lap along with a bag of Iams Puppy Food, I knew that this dog was destined to be more than just my pet. I felt the strength of the Malamute in his little frame as he squirmed around with gusto. Having read about the high energy levels of these dogs, they need some purpose to their life. I started to explore the possibilities that would fit my lifestyle for Nikita or Nick, as he is affectionately called today.

Obedience class was a must. During that cold winter of ’95, we traveled the 80 mile round trip in an old ’77 beat-up Ford van to get to Sullivan’s — usually without heat! As an owner of an eager, super friendly wolfdog, I found myself speculating on what Nick would be good at as a professional working dog. He was strong willed, sometimes stubborn, and yet always looking to be petted and praised. This made me realize that this was no one-man dog.

True to the Malamute nature in him that proclaims the world to be a friend until proven otherwise, Nick would greet and pester, with loud woo-wooing and hand nudges. Everyone who approached gave him the attention he demanded. Having gotten through basics after 3 or 4 times of taking the Novice class over and over, which took us until the late summer of ’96, we began Advanced Novice. In November of that same year, we passed the Canine Good Citizen test and the Therapy Dog International test.

The weather wasn’t too bad that Saturday afternoon, and wild horses couldn’t keep me away from running over to the school to see what the tests were like. “I’ll go over by myself to see how they test them and I’ll be prepared when our time comes for that,” I thought. As it came time to leave, I thought, “Oh, what the heck, I may as well take Nick so he can watch it too, and then he’ll be better able to imitate the process when they give the tests next year.” When we got there, many of our friends were there and I thought, “Well, we’ll definitely never pass, but at least we should go through the motions, so we’ll know exactly what to do.” We were 13th in line and the last to be tested, when one of the regulars asked if we’d like to go ahead of them. The basic obedience went well, with the usual sit-stay power struggle going on between Nick and me. He sometimes seemed to get tired of waiting and would get up and go visit someone who caught his attention. Lawn chairs were thrown while our backs were turned, people walking with canes shook my hand and occupants in wheelchairs approached us to pet Nick. They gave big smiles, and asked to pet him. Nick thought little or nothing of the bangs and general commotion. Not having read any information on the Therapy Dog Test before hand, I was too intent on following directions to be worrying too much about the dog’s reactions. When the tester took the dog’s leash and asked me to leave the room for 3 minutes, I knew the show was over because Nick had another habit of loudly protesting when I left him behind. Peeking through the one way window, I noticed that Nick had his eyes fixed on the place where he’d last seen me. When the examiner wasn’t putting him through sit-stays, I realized that Nick was growing trustful and confident that I would return, and he never hollered once. When they called me back into the room, the examiner gave me back the dog and told me to work with him because he was a little bit reluctant. To my surprise, they gave us a paper and congratulations for passing. I think a falling feather would have knocked me over that day! Our master trainer must have seen the look of utter shock registering on my face, because she was wearing the biggest grin! At the time, I knew he qualified for emotional service dog work, but I felt no pressing need to start volunteering any time soon in the nursing centers.

I wish I could say that life has been easy for Nikita since that day but sadly this has not been the case. Dogfights have occurred and the pecking order has changed with the other 5 dogs, (2 have come and gone in Nick’s and my life.) Although only 2 years old, he wakes up in the morning with his forequarters stiff and sore from old puncture wounds from a fight that nearly took his life in January. This was when a rescue came to stay with us for awhile. The new alpha of the 4-dog pack had been bullying and rough on Nikita since the big dogfight, and I noticed a sadness about him with each passing day. Out in the yard, the others would play and leave him out of the games, and the alpha was forever rolling Nick over and growling at him. I pulled out my TDI papers, and looked at the little newsletter they sent with their package. I called and made an appointment at a nursing and rehab center, and we set off on our new life together.

The welcome was astounding. The volunteer coordinator eagerly told stories of her Cocker Spaniel. A statue of St. Francis in the window made it seem like we had already found a small heaven. In the halls, nurses struck up conversations. Visitors stopped to say “Hello,” and Nick greeted each person happily. Hands reached out of beds to pet the “beautiful dog.” Old gentlemen started telling hunting stories about their Irish Setters. A decorated war hero with a big metal above his easy chair told about how his wife visited Alaska and talked about the not-so-friendly but hard working and determined sled dogs there. A couple of others talked merrily of how they miss their old dead Labs or shepherds more than their relatives. The time passed so fast that it seemed we were there but a minute. Nikita was bursting with joy at all the attention, and I knew we had found where we were meant to be. After promising to return soon with that “beautiful dog” as they called him, we finished our first successful day of therapy work.

Outside, the sun was shining and I suddenly thought of the concept of quality. I do have a quality dog and a happy life today. It seems to be that life can be difficult to the point of hopelessness such as the day when I watched all the dogs ignoring Nikita as he tried to join their games or even knocking him around to get him out of the way. He became familiar to many of those people who perhaps were left in nursing homes with no relatives, or in need for them to see a living reminder of some pet who lives only in their memories today. They offered their stories and gentle hands on the dog, and Nick offered his paw in return. It seemed just then that love finds its way by whatever shape or form to where it belongs. St. Francis of Assisi must have known this truth. I thought of these things and also of our trainer, for whom I thank God that she was there back then.

Thanks to Gert Sullivan & Staff when we needed her most and we knew it the least.