Cosita
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.Hello. My name is Cosita, which means “little thing” in Spanish. I live with two large humans and one very very small one in a nice house, where I have a cushion with a heating pad, and I can sleep all day, if I want to. My main interest is people. I just find them fascinating and am always looking for ways to get to know new ones. Other things that I like are trees in the park, other dogs, sunny spots on the carpet where I can lie down, and places in the house close to heater vents. Baths are ok, as long as I take them with one of my two humans, in hot water, followed by hair drying and a treat. Visits to the person that wears a white robe and punctures me are definite turn offs. So are days when my people leave me in the house and do not take me with them.
About three years ago, when I was about 2 years old, I was accepted as a therapy dog at Childrens Hospital Los Angeles. It was really exciting! I got a shiny green vest, a beautiful badge with a color picture of me (You really can’t be too careful, as identity theft is rampant these days.), and permission to visit kids (i.e., small humans) on Sundays. Unfortunately, they overlooked assigning me a parking space. To my delight, my people were also given badges and permission to use the parking lot, so I can bring them with me for my visits.
Visits to the hospital are a blast. We usually visit the 5th and 6th floors, accessible through the magic room with buttons on the wall. Kids are very, very interesting, and every visit is full of surprises. Sometimes, they allow me to sit on their beds for a little while. I tell you --- this is work! I study their faces intently, their broad smiles and the happy sounds they make, while trying my best not to nestle on their laps and fall asleep. I have to admit that sometimes I have yielded to the temptation; their caresses are so soothing that it is very difficult not to melt. Many of them give me treats, which I also like. Sometimes, they ask me to show them some of my extraordinary skills, like shaking hands, lying down, or rolling over. This exhibition of skills is always done in tight coordination with one of my humans.
I have many fond memories of our visits to the hospital. Sometimes my arrival triggers situations that move me. I remember a visit with a kid who greeted me with a lot of joy, pulling herself up on her bed and letting me sit on her lap. She petted me lovingly for a few minutes and said nice things in my ear. We even took a picture to commemorate the event. (She kept the picture.) After the visit, we found out that she had undergone a serious surgery (done by people in white robes that puncture you), and after that, she had been depressed and reluctant to even raise her head, until I walked into her room. What a wonderful feeling!
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