Heel thyself

Dog therapy can be a patient’s best friend

“Do you want to see a therapy dog?”

“Yes,” comes the enthusiastic reply from behind the partially open door. And with that, Laddie, a 6-year-old Australian shepherd, begins his rounds at Community Hospital of the Monterey Peninsula. “Come on, Laddie,” says volunteer Dale Hekhuis, as he guides his 60-pound dog into the patient’s room.

The elderly man in the bed is transformed. A huge smile spreads across his face. Victor Mathew was on the way to the Monterey Bay Aquarium when he needed an emergency hospital stay. He has a dog at home, and they miss each other. “There’s this whistle. I did it over the phone, and Rex started running around looking for me,” relates the retired Hillsborough dentist. He scratches behind Laddie’s ears and says contentedly, “He makes me feel good.”

Making patients feel better is why nearly 20 dogs and their handlers navigate through five inpatient units at Community Hospital as part of the Dog Therapy Program.

The volunteer program was initiated three years ago by a trio of dog lovers who understood the medical benefits of a hospital visit from Fido or Fifi.

And they have the science to back them up. Studies indicate that “people’s blood pressure goes down when petting a dog. They have fewer arrhythmias, and it’s a distraction from pain,” says Patti Emmett, the nurse and infection control coordinator who oversees the program.

Emmett, who has three Samoyeds involved in the program, approached hospital administrators with a proposal. A six-month-pilot program was started, and it has met with resounding success. More volunteers were recruited through word of mouth, including two physicians and several nurses who return to the hospital on their own time.

“I’ve had patients laugh and I’ve had patients cry when they see us because they miss their pets,” says Janet Huff, a nurse and critical-care instructor who teams with her 10-year-old golden retriever, Gus. “Those smiles? It’s like a light bulb turns on, and that glow surrounds them.”

The program “is like nonpharmacological Prozac®,” laughs Cindy Cannon, an oncology nurse who is often asked by returning cancer patients for a visit with her dog, Beaujolais. The patients “always smile. It’s warm and fuzzy.”

That uplifting feeling permeates the hospital.

A walk with a green-vested dog elicits “oohs” and “ahs” from hospital staff. Volunteer Hekhuis says his dog “likes people better than dogs. He has what I call his flop act. He just lies down and says ‘Want to stroke me?’” A stop at a nurse’s station on Main Pavilion brings a wreath of smiles. “He’s so soft,” coos nursing assistant Charlene Lee, who is also a monitor tech and unit receptionist. “Do you know how important your job is? Do you know how good you make people feel?” she asks Laddie, who is busy getting his belly scratched.

Hekhuis says his informal survey suggests that 70 percent of patients have pets at home, and this program — the volunteers call it “Paws for Health” — helps them heal. The dogs “add an extra element of humanity” to an already great hospital.

Emmett says she gets back more than she gives. “I watch the human dramas unfold when patients tell their stories to my Samoyed. They see only the dog.” Huff, meanwhile, says she doesn’t mind going back to the hospital after her paid shifts are over because, “We get as much reward as the patients do.”

The payoff for Victor Mathew, the retired dentist stuck in the hospital instead of enjoying an aquarium visit, was clear. “You’re doing something very nice, and I thank you.”