The Reunion: Roody and Mom

Just over two weeks ago, we brought Mom's little Dachshund, Roody, to live with us as Mom prepared to transition from independent living (interrupted by frequent hospital and rehabilitation center stays) to assisted care.  As has happened so many times in the past, she feared she'd never see her "little boy" again. Last week as I updated her on his activities here on the ranch, she became teary-eyed. "That's killing me, you know," she said as I described his joy when I brought his "comfort blanket" home to him.  I promised her I'd bring Roody to visit her often once she had relocated to the nearby facility; she pursed her lips and said, "No, I don't want to see him."

Yesterday, I moved Mom to her new room at the care home we'd chosen. It was a long and oft-somber day: I picked her up at the nursing facility in the morning and took her to lunch with a dear friend before we escorted her to the new place. Mom has lived in the same house for 50 years. This was a daunting and emotional move.

Today, we surprised her with a visit from Roody. Mom melted at the sight of him. Fortunately, the little rogue wagged and greeted her happily. More on that side-note later.

It has been three weeks or more since Mom last saw her little pup. He's lost several pounds and has actually been able to run again. Meanwhile, Mom has regained some of her strength. She's able to walk short distances with the aid of her walker, but will - at 88 years of age and with a host of medical conditions including advanced Parkinson's - never live independently again.

Upon seeing Roody today, Mom couldn't quit patting him and cradling his face in her shaky hands. He settled promptly between her feet - his favorite place of all - and grinned, tongue dangling. We left them outside on the patio together as we finished moving Mom's furniture into place.

Now, the naughty Roody story from another hospital visit, a few years ago: Mom had been in a skilled nursing facility for several weeks. I received permission to bring Roody in to see her. I was excited as my husband and I drove him to the facility. I pictured him wagging that whole-body wag he has, whimpering with excitement, an epic greeting as dogs give their returning veteran dog-fathers on viral videos. We walked in, carrying the little slug, only to have him turn his head away and avoid even looking at Mom!  He was bewildered by the nursing home smells and sounds, the whoosh of the oxygen machine, the sight of her with tubes and other accoutrements of modern medicine. Mom was devastated. Our joyful hopes were crushed.

On the way home, that day, husband-type-person kept glancing over at Roody as he drove. "How do you sleep at night!" he said, not a question but an accusation. "You're going to hell," he taunted. The entire drive, he gave Roody the business.  Roody, for his part, grinned in delight at being on a road trip, undaunted by any such lecture.

Our pleasure at seeing Roody and Mom together again today was enhanced by the great relief we shared when Roody acknowledged her and chose to sit there, a pudgy reddish hound between her shoes.

Never discount the difference a little furbody can make in an elderly person's life. Dogs - with their too-short lives - look for reasons to be happy. Their big personalities take us along when they wag and grin with mindful joy.

Copyright (c) 2016 MJ Miller * All rights reserved * No part of this content, including photographs, may be reproduced without the express permission of the author * Links, however, may be freely shared! * Thank you for linking, liking, emailing, sharing, tweeting, passenger-pigeoning, and otherwise helping grow my audience * Most of all, thank you for visiting.