God is Dog Spelled Backwards
Please Note: The dog in the accompanying photograph is the subject of the story, but the child or teenager pictured is probably not the patient in the story.“God is Dog Spelled Backwards”. I have this button lying around my house. Many Love on 4 Paws volunteers probably have the same button. In my time as a volunteer at Children’s Hospital, I’ve learned that far from being a witty play on words, “God is Dog” is a truth. I find proof of that every time Rupert and I visit the hospital.
Rupert gets excited as soon as he sees me take the Love on 4 Paws bag from the closet, and his happiness is understandable. He gets lots of hugs and treats, and he is often invited to get on the kids’ beds. He was never allowed on beds until he became a therapy dog. He has learned that his required trip to the groomer will have great rewards.
Once Rupert puts on his vest, he’s all business. He has a job to do, and he’s as serious about it as any high powered executive. He snuggles with a purpose when he’s on a child’s bed, and he will stand patiently as three or four children crowd around him patting and pulling every part of his body.
Rupert and I share many memories of our visits to Children’s Hospital. My favorite of all these wonderful memories is the day Rupert and I visited a three bed room. Two sisters, maybe four and five years old, were full of energy as Rupert entered the room. They dressed Rupert, combed his fur backwards, and with their new Barbie and Ken dolls, had a parade on Rupert’s back. The ultimate laid back Lab, Rupert only sighed when one of Barbie’s high heels accidentally went into his eye. The sisters’ exhausted mother was glad for the diversion Rupert provided.
When I turned around to talk to the child in the third bed, I noticed that her mother was holding her. Her father, watching Rupert with the other little girls, spoke excitedly to his wife and child about the “perro negro”. I came to realize, with sidelong glances, that this child was profoundly disabled.
As I wiped the sisters’ hands, I said a silent prayer that I would not flinch at the sight of this child. I should not have worried – Rupert came to my rescue. The father, so excited that a dog would be visiting his child, called Rupert over. He had already spread the sheet on the bed as he had seen me do on the other beds. His wife had wiped their daughter’s hands. Rupert bounded onto the bed, and with the unconditional love which is his special gift, Rupert licked the little girl’s face. Father, mother and child all laughed, and I got over any discomfort I might have felt. Rupert settled down onto the bed as if he’d known the family for years. I was able to get a great Polaroid picture of mother, father, child and dog.
The family spoke no English; I speak no Spanish. That day it didn’t matter. We spoke the language of Dog, with Rupert as our interpreter. Really, it’s the language of love.
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