Puppies

The Errand

I couldn’t control much about Mom’s condition, so when there was something I could do, I really got into the assignment. My sister Lori, who works with the elderly, told me that memory care facilities often have therapeutic stuffed animals or baby dolls available for their residents. It’s not just about having an object to cuddle or to occupy their hands. The dolls and stuffed toys are considered “therapeutic” because they are a way to soothe, reduce agitation, and bring comfort. While medication is often needed in the treatment of dementia, there are non-drug approaches such as these that can be integrated as well.

Mom’s care home was owned and managed by a married couple who lived on the premises with their young children. Two primary caregivers also lived onsite. While I didn’t see any therapeutic toys around the house, what the home did have was a real baby boy. Elijah had arrived on the scene a few months after Mom moved in and around this time had just turned two years old. He and his two older sisters interacted with the residents daily, adding smiles and an enlivening presence to the home. For this reason, Lori and I decided that there was no need for me to purchase baby dolls and instead I would shop for stuffed animals.

A moment of love shared between Mom and Elijah (2012)

I went to the nicer toy store in town and upon entering was surrounded by all kinds of stuffed animals. My eyes were immediately drawn to the center carousel that had the most adorable puppies displayed. A variety of breeds and sweet little faces peered at me with their distinctive personalities. While no one who knows me would call me a dog person (I’m highly allergic and avoid being near them), I found myself deeply invested in selecting just the right puppies and spent an inordinate amount of time considering them. They were irresistible, real-looking, and soft to the touch. I wanted to take more home with me but landed on a half dozen, a good amount for Mom’s group.

I left the store elated, with an armful of puppies, none of whom caused me to sneeze. As I walked to the car, I laughed at myself for how happy I felt shopping for puppies.

The Delivery

Back home, I lined up the puppies on the edge of our couch and excitedly showed them to my husband. How would I present them to the ladies? I found a big basket that had previously held a gift of crackers, cheese, and jams and arranged the puppies for delivery to Mom and her friends. What’s cuter than puppies in a basket?

Ready for delivery, Valentine’s Day 2014

I chose Valentine’s Day for the delivery date. Mom’s caregiver Angela grinned at the sight of me as she greeted me and opened the door. I walked around the room and lowered the basket to each lady’s lap. It was a smooth process, each woman pointing decisively to the puppy she wanted. Considering that dementia often causes hesitancy and confusion, it registered with me as significant that they made their selections with such ease and confidence.

Like a Thanksgiving feast that disappears, my preparation had taken longer than the actual event. It was worth it, though, and brightening their day with a surprise delivery was a complete joy.

Just as my sister had explained, giving the women puppies was not an infantilizing exercise or just for the sake of having an object that is fun to hold. Their reactions were that of a deeper recognition, the familiarity of caring for another being, whether a pet animal or a child. Interacting with the puppies sparked their instinct to nurture, the effect of which is always mutual.

It was heartwarming to give them this opportunity and to realize that offering comfort to Mom and her friends could be accomplished in simple ways.

Gail with her puppy

The Effect

Those puppies were in the house for a long time. They were held, spoken to, and stroked affectionately. Through the senses of sight and touch, they offered connection and comfort as well as the chance to play and imagine. Exchanged between residents and passed along to newcomers, they made their way around to different chairs, visiting each other, and sitting on different laps.

As I picture the women who were with Mom most often – Gail, Leah, Dorothy, and Sue – I remember which puppy sat in each lap. Sue, who had chosen the white bichon told me, “She’s my baby.” One day I observed Sue taking a nap in her recliner chair. A tube for supplemental oxygen ran across her chest diagonally and her bichon puppy sat in the crook of her arm. As I watched Sue nap peacefully, I felt grateful for the chance to offer her this comfort and consolation. Knowing she had received the gift, in turn, consoled me.

Over the years at the home, the puppies scattered and a few stuffed teddy bears appeared in their place. After Mom died, her puppy found its way into the arms of Elijah, the baby boy who lived in the house and had turned four years old. That felt right.

Mom, baby Elijah, and Lori

Leah

Leah and Grace

Gail napping

Grace

Grace