Dr. Wendel - Travels with a Therapy Dog – Meeting David

“I’ll understand if you and Wendel don’t accept the case, Karen,” Julie, the Volunteer Coordinator tells me. “We’re having a hard time even paying nurses that will visit David.” Wendel, my therapy dog, and I are at the Hospice agency where we donate our time and services. I sigh. Looking at me from the chart packet is a picture of an eight-year-old freckle-faced boy. David should be out playing softball and getting into harmless mischief; instead he’s been diagnosed with terminal cancer and is hooked to tubes on an acute-care hospital ward. His love in life is his young Labrador, but since his admission he’s not been able to see her because the dog’s youthful energy isn’t to be trusted around David’s delicate condition and equipment.

Wendel is on my lap as usual; his quiet countenance has been a blessed respite for many patients going through difficult times. With over five-hundred hours of volunteer service and advanced degrees in psychiatry and the elderly, he waits patiently for our next assignment. I nod to Julie and she picks up the phone, “They’ll come.” It is a celebratory moment for David’s parents who requested our visits, “He misses Daisy our lab so much – every day he asks about her and wants to see her. We thought if Wendel could visit it would help David feel less lonely and isolated.”

Wendel arrives for his visit with David and is warmly welcomed by the hospital staff – they too have been hoping for a little visitor to cheer their young patient. David’s parents are on hand to take pictures and greet their new team member. Wendel, not to be distracted from his duty, goes right to work. In addition to his scholarly accomplishments, Wendel is highly trick-trained and knows his routine. Upon meeting David, he greets his new friend with his signature wave, goes through his repertoire of smile-inducing tricks and is rewarded with laughs and clapping.

A rest for David and I place Wendel gently on the bed next to him. Wendel has an uncanny sense of when to be still and allow for peaceful companionship, and we all enjoy watching David quietly stroking his silky ears. Several visits follow and we’re all elated when the doctors inform us that David’s condition has improved enough to return home. A small farewell party ensues and even the nurses and housekeeper join in. Wendel waves good-bye and we receive periodic updates from Julie at the agency on David’s status.

One morning David’s lifeless body was found curled next to Daisy on her dog bed – “His little body had had enough,” according to the doctors.” The rest of us knew different – David had wanted to be with Daisy for his final hours. Our reward came weeks later in a hand-written note from David’s parents: “Thank you and Wendel for helping David get well enough to go home and be with Daisy. Our love and appreciation to you both.”