"Scooter the Wonder Dog" as My Therapy Dog

Ten years ago, in the winter/spring of 2002, I had one of the most FUN at work as an Occupational Therapist, when my then-boyfriend's dog, Scooter, completed the therapy dog program my supervisor was certified to teach and credential dogs as being 'therapy-worthy'.  Scooter had been rescued years before when he was looking for a dog for his family and wife at the time.  She was on 'death row' and of all the dogs in the area he had to pick from, she was the standout just in the way she came over and looked at him.  They lived in the mountains outside Colorado Springs and it didn't take long for her to disappear from their property around the house.  They left the doors open when they were gone so if she came back she could come in.  Days went by, no Scooter.  Then after a few days, they returned and there she was, in the house, earning 'The Wonder Dog' tacked onto her name. 

As years went on, the kids grew up and moved away -- at the 'encouragement' of the parents, and eventually their marriage came to an end.  Guess who didn't want the dog? So the man who had originally been picked by the dog, if you believe your animals come to you, chose to find a place which would allow dogs. I'd met him at a 'career fair' the year before, having identified his utility organization as a likely place to use my unique mix of skills and college degree in occupational therapy.  He'd mentioned 'being an old hippie' and loving blues music, something which I'd been trying to find more about in the city I'd had little time to explore since moving there in late 1999 when doing driving rehabilitation for a small private company based out of Colorado Springs.  He'd known of a coworker who was starting a blues nonprofit; it turns out he missed the first meeting to discuss the interest in forming the group because he was the last to move out of the home that was being sold and movers were coming the next day or so.  

I'd gone over with my young, strong male roommate, who had a big truck, to help somehow, and met Scooter. She was a WILD DOG, running around the house like a puppy, but she was at the time 14 years old! When she calmed down she was clearly very bright and she was just adorable.  I suggested she come with us on a trip out to look for something her owner was needing to locate in the move, and he said she never went in the car unless going to the vet or groomer.  "You've not had this dog out in the community all this time?"  ... I was astounded.  

I'd grown up in the mountains with parents who had a commercial kennel and not only boarded dogs, they bred and showed and sold AKC Golden Retrievers.  My mother was the canine 4-H leader for our area.  The first vocation I recall identifying as a goal was training seeing eye dogs; my mother told me EVERYONE wanted to do that and there would be no money in it so to not settle on that.  

This was a valuable lesson for me because now, as an OT, if I work with someone who is 'off track', I often backtrack to what they were passionate about as a child and why they're not doing that -- there frequently are a lot of clues as to why they've gone off track spiritually, mentally, physically (which are all connected).  I'd won first place the first year I took my young pup through level one obedience training for 4-H; aside from winning the 100 yard dash in first grade and getting a ribbon for the egg race in equestrian 4-H in the only race I ever did on my sister's pony, it was the greatest achievement of my elementary school years.  My dog didn't particularly enjoy doing it, and it was a hassle to get rides and my parents clearly weren't interested and supportive since they didn't come to the dog show (after ALL the shows I'd attended for my sibling or mother), so that had been the end of my 'dog career'.  

I preferred staying home and taking the dogs on hikes every day after school, or in the winter when we only had my dog still alive, we'd snowshoe.  Yes, my dog snowshoed!  She shared mine -- she was a smart dog, half collie.  When I was young my friends joked that when I grew up and got pregnant, I was going to give birth to puppies, THAT is how much of a dog person I was!  But I'd not had a dog in my adulthood; my beloved 'Peach', had stayed with my parents as they were retired and had such a wonderful setup for a dog, I was living very much the low-life putting myself and then my husband through college. But I saw her regularly.  She lived to be almost 16.  Scooter the Wonder Dog lived to be 19!  

The guy and I had started dating just as 9/11 happened, we'd just said on a date on Sunday the 9th that we were overdue for an attack and what we thought that might be; we were unfortunately, surprisingly accurate.  So in the same facility I learned of 9/11, on Tuesday evenings once a month Scooter and her owner would go through the training program my manager taught.  She didn't have any behaviors she had to change and passed in the minimum of three evenings.  I took her to work several times, if there were patients it was appropriate to work with her; if someone got bored standing doing activities in the gym to increase their endurance and balance, they didn't seem to notice when it had to do with grooming Scooter.  

She had one 'issue' in that she would bark at the sound of a knock and in Colorado it is law you knock before going into a resident's room.  As 'luck' would have it, one of my patients was a woman whose eyes had been smashed in a car crash in the 60s and she had been through training to get a Seeing Eye Dog in the past! So i'd leave Scooter with her in her room and she knew how to handle her in calming her and then not letting her bark when she heard knocking.  The woman was on therapy services for weakness after tearing her stomach organ with the 'cruise ship flu' that had gone through the facility.  I'd caught it and lost six pounds from the time I left for work in the morning to when I got home; it was QUITE a bug.  I was supposed to go over to Scooters house after work, which was closer than my house, but her owner didn't want me bringing the bugs to his house.  

That might sound uncaring.  It was.  I forgave a lot with him because he had PTSD and was service-connected as a Vietnam veteran.  I grew to learn to watch Scooter; in the mornings she would immediately act differently on days that later, he would have a blowup.  It could be anything that would set him off.  And he adored Scooter; she became the hip dog that went along with the old hippie guy! They went EVERYWHERE together, except when he'd go to visit his mother every month.  She was on a very long slow downhill with Alzheimers about 12 hours away in another state.  He got the call she was about to die in late October just after he'd bought a little place and had appointed with a new groomer located nearby.  I knew he'd talked in person with the woman as it was part of the veterinary office and she needed some shots in the future too.  Since I was taking care of her at my house, which was clear across the hilly north end of Colorado Springs, I went ahead and took her to the grooming appointment, as I could pick her up after work.  The groomer had groomed winning show Wheatons and said 'your daddy was in, I remember .. we decided to try a classic Wheaton cut on you', and since his mother was actively dying at the time, I didn't bother him calling to question it.  It's hair.  On a dog.  The world will spin if it's not good!  

Well, it snowed that day and the roads were horrible and it was VERY cold.  I went in to get her, naturally excited to see her with her 'new do' and what came out was a VERY embarrassed looking lamb-looking animal! I couldn't help but laugh at her in the car, but I put on a good front in front of the groomer.  I clearly remember stopping at a light and looking over at Scooter in the passenger seat and just cracking up.  She was clearly COLD too.  She was almost getting over it a bit when I got home and the roommate was appauled; I think he said something about how the 'dad' was going to react.  He got back from his mother's funeral and went BALLISTIC; when I talk about little things setting him off, that's a good example.  

Scooter in her USUAL haircut   Proudly NOT looking like a lamb! 

Eventually I moved to Grand Junction, seeing the relationship not being something to stay in town for, though we had an AWESOME Blues Society we helped found, and many wonderful friends and times together.  Surprisingly, they followed but then went along their own way together.  I never saw Scooter again, though I did call to wish a happy 'big birthday' to the 'Dad' and was happy to hear Scooter lived through all his difficult transitions and he was able to have her euthanized when her quality of life was less than the pain she had in her back.  I saw him once after that, and it was just like old times except it just was NOT the same without Scooter the Wonder Dog.  She'd traveled a LONG WAYS, some of it in a rockstar RV towards the end; I remembered the first trip in my SUV when I put on the brakes and she came flying through the seats and slamming her jaw on the gear shift knob and totally spilling my very full, very red beverage.  Luckily I had a burgundy interior.  

Interestingly, after I was in Junction and they were getting ready to move here, the veterinarian and owner figured 'why not just catcher her up on all her shots' and overnight she went from being a normal-hearing dog for mid teens (slight hearing loss but about like a human) to TOTALLY deaf.  You could clap your hands behind her head and she wouldn't move. You could KNOCK right by her and .. nothing.  It was actually better in some ways due to her obnoxious bark, we'd joke that perhaps we should have had her immunized more when she was younger, except when she'd run off.  She was used to 'The Whistle' her owner could do -- it was wonderful at music events too, musicians loved him -- and she'd turn around and come back always.  I couldn't whistle so sometimes she got away from me when I had her on my own.  

We found a veterinarian near my house when they joined me in Grand Junction, as she got stickers in her feet I wasn't aware of as we didn't have them where we were from. He appreciated that I knew some of the canine leadership at CSU's veterinary program, or maybe he was just a good guy, but he looked up the deafness thing and a while after we were there, in the mail came a very thick envelope of paper; things he had looked up on the Internet and suggesting there was a treatment we could try to bring her hearing back.  It worked too!  

I only hope all people have as good doctors as Scooter had a veterinarian that day.  And I hope if you've read this, you have enjoyed it and gleaned some insights about where I come from, and why I do what I do with Lumigrate!