Thursday, August 11, 2011


My Mom’s office at the hospital is across from the Intensive Care Unit, or the ICU, as we medical professionals call it.  When my Mom and I are done rounding on patients and staff on our ward, and we are headed back to her office, we often see people waiting outside the ICU.  They are standing or sitting on the floor.  They usually look worried and scared, because something bad has something happened to someone they love.  I feel sad for them because they feel helpless, and there’s nothing they can do except wait and pray for their loved one to get better.  So I stop to make my rounds on them too.  First I sniff them because my Mom says I shouldn’t talk to strangers without sniffing them.  Then I stand up on my hind legs, and put my front paws on their legs to get their attention.  I’m awfully small, so the people don’t see me at first.  When they feel my tap, they look around, startled.  Then they see me and smile in surprise, as if they can’t believe someone as cute as I am is here at the hospital.  (Not to brag, but my cuteness affects a lot of people that way.) They bend forward and coo at me, like I’m a baby.  I don’t mind the baby talk because people become cuter themselves when they talk that way.  They pet my head and for a little while, they forget their worries.   Often they thank me and my Mom and say they feel better, like something is right in the world.  They say that dogs remind them of lasting and unconditional love.  I think that’s sweet, don’t you?  I remember one man, who was crying.  When my Mom and I walked down the hallway towards him, he saw me and smiled. He said that when our eyes met, he felt a sense of love and hope waking up in his heart.  Sensing his need to hold me in his arms, I reached out my front paws to him and asked him to pick me up.   He was a soft and gentle soul.  Then I kissed him on the nose.  Afterwards, he put me down and thanked me.  He asked God to bless me and my Mom.    I love him.