A Dog Worth Writing About

My mother is beginning to write her second book (yes, her second! That's two more than I have written!) It is about her Norweigian Elkhound, Tikvah. While animals are a part of most everybody's lives, it is rare to encounter that very special animal that has such an impact on a family, that animal is always remembered with a touch of wonder and greatfulness that she was yours. Tikvah came into our lives just about twelve years ago. I remember the day very clearly. My mother and I had just gone to see her radiologist (she had finished up chemo and was gearing up to get radiation at the time to fight her very aggressive cancer). The appointment had been a gloomy one and my mom and I were feeling very down and discouraged. We decided to stop by the local Mall to cheer ourselves up. Once there, we wandered into the pet shop. It was there we met Tikvah. Being just a little over eight weeks old, she was tiny and dark. She was, by far, the cutest puppy we had ever seen, and we had been through many puppies. She looked directly at us, even though there were many people in the store that day. My mother exclaimed, "Oh, I just have to hold that puppy!" I cautioned her against it, saying that we couldn't afford a new dog. My mother scoffed at me. "I'm not going to buy her! How can we? We have no money. I just want to hold her." Well, the little puppy that she "just wanted to hold" has been a part of our family for twelve years now. We cannot imagine what life would have been like without her.

Tikvah is still little, but she is gray now, not black. Her breath could kill a full-grown moose, and she is fussy and pushy. Yet, we adore her. She found her calling early in life. After my mom's cancer treatments were over and her immune system had recovered from the double trauma of chemotherapy and radiation, my mom began visiting other cancer patients, especially ones with terminal diagnoses. She, too, had been expected to die, and she knew exactly how they felt when they heard the doctor say those dreaded words, "the cancer has spread..." One way or another, my mom became involved with a tiny group called Paws with Patience, a group that took their dogs out to nursing homes and to visit the very sick. Tikvah very quickly established herself as a natural. One of her first "assignments," when she was still very much a puppy, was a man named Dave. Dave had such a severe, horrible form of cancer, his body was literally falling apart on him. His suffering was enormous. He was a young man still in his thirties, with a wife and small children, and he was dying. Tikkie brought him such a tremendous amount of comfort, when he was on his deathbed, my mother received an urgent phone call from the family asking her to rush Tikkie down to Dave so he could be with her one more time. Dave was by this point unconscious, but Tikkie crawled right up in bed with him and cuddled next to that suffering man who had been so ravaged by disease. He died shortly after Tikkie's visit with him, and his family was very thankful she was able to comfort him in his last moments. It was at that point that Tikkie truly became a Therapy Dog.

She really is an amazing creature, our Tikvah. Originally, we thought her name meant "Little Jewel" in Hebrew, and that was what we named her. Then, we mistakingly thought the name Tikvah meant "Hope." After all, isn't the Israeli national anthem "Hatikvah -- The Hope?" Very recently a friend whose grasp of Hebrew is better than mine set me straight. Her name means what we originally thought - little jewel. It doesn't matter. She is a jewel, and she has brought hope and comfort to hundreds, so her name is appropriate. She is the only dog I know who can count to five, add and subtract, and do very simply multiplication, both in English and in Spanish. We taught her using hand signals, and she caught on so quickly, it is everybody's favorite trick, one that is demanded of her several times a day on her visiting days. Tikkie not only goes into nursing homes to comfort the elderly and infirm, she has visited hospice patients, mentally retarded children, and her most recent venture - schools and libraries where young children can read to her. My mother, my amazing mother, pioneered the R.E.A.D. program in this area. She had read about it and was very enthusiastic about having her therapy dogs (by this point she was the head of Paws with Patience and it had grown from a tiny group to over 80 members) work with school children. Tikkie is wildly popular with the kids. They draw her pictures. They write her letters. On Christmas, she receives more cards than I do, all from children who adore her.

Tikvah has led a more full life than most humans I know, including myself. How many of us can say that we have comforted literally hundreds of infirm or dying people, given joy to mentally retarded children who cannot see or speak, but who can reach out and feel the warmth and fur of a dog, sat patiently while child after child demands that we do endless tricks until we are too exhausted to do any more, and generally been a comfort and a great joy to all who have known us? I can't say that about myself, but my mother's dog can. Tikkie's getting older now. She's slowed down. She no longer goes on wild runs throughout the neighborhood with my mom and I in hot pursuit. She grows tired very quickly these days. Yet, she is still amazing. Stop by and see her sometime. She'll give you a kiss with her stinky kill-a-moose breath, but you will still love her.