The Beagle Beside Me

Hope, our therapy beagle, provided a listening ear for all the Center’s clients up until the time we moved to virtual adult groups.

Read the stories below about Hope and the profoundly calming effect she brought to those who visited the Center.

Hope’s Job Review

Hope, our beautiful therapy beagle, is more than just a pretty face. She works from the time she arrives at our center until our last client leaves. At the end of the day she is exhausted. She snuggles into her car seat, relaxes and sleeps all the way home.

Not every dog is equipped to be a therapy dog. Hope’s temperament is perfect for the job. She gladly allows people to touch, pet, and hug her. If a child accidentally handles her in a harsh way, she is trained to not react. She loves physical contact and remains cool, calm and collected while people stroke her ears, rub her tummy and pet her on the head.

Hope offers our clients non-judgmental, unconditional love and attention. Her gentle nature lowers stress levels and increases happiness. Grief brings feelings of loneliness and isolation. Hope’s presence brings companionship and a sense of belonging. Therapy dogs are known to decrease anger, anxiety and depression and Hope is no exception.

Our clients have a lot on their minds. They enter our center with heavy hearts. Hope brings smiles to their faces and hope to their hearts. She knows she has a job to do and she does it beautifully. If we had to pay her, we couldn’t afford her services. She is truly priceless.

Therapy Dogs Support Uvalde

Hope is dearly loved by the children in our SAM’s program. Several of her fellow therapy dogs are in Uvalde bringing comfort and hope to a shattered community. Read their story below.

Therapy dogs arrive in Uvalde in wake of mass shooting

Amid tragedy in Texas, man’s best friend is providing some moments of comfort.

Therapy dogs from Brooke Army Medical Center arrived in Uvalde on Wednesday as the community mourns the loss of 19 children and two teachers who were killed at Robb Elementary School.

“Anybody that is here is able to come love on our dogs and just kind of release some of the different emotions and feelings that are inside them right now,” Kris Blair, one of the handlers, said.

The therapy dogs are trained to interact with people and offer affection, comfort, and support.

The Calming Presence of a Beagle

Hope greets all of our children and their families as they arrive at SAM’s each month. After lots of beagle hugs, the children go to their groups and Hope goes with me to meet with our parents and guardians.

Even though SAM’s is designed for children and teens who are grieving, we know that their caregivers are also grieving. Grief is a family experience. When a loved one dies, everyone in the family grieves. It’s so important to provide a safe, confidential space for our parents and guardians to process their grief and to better understand how their children and teens grieve.

The heaviness of grief is apparent when Hope and I walk into the room. Voices become hushed and the weariness of grieving while parenting children who are grieving is palpable. These parents and guardians bring their children to us so they can meet other kids who have also experienced the death of a loved one and to process their grief in a healthy way. They are often so concerned about their children that they put their own sorrow on the back burner.

Hope often moves from adult to adult to greet them and then she comes and lays at my feet. As she enters the room I see an immediate lowering of stress and anxiety in each parent and guardian. It’s as if Hope gives them permission to relax and to simply breathe.

As always, Hope snuggles against my feet and promptly goes to sleep for the duration of the meeting. She doesn’t bark. She doesn’t force herself into anyone’s personal space. She doesn’t make a sound. She is simply present.

Our parents and guardians come with heavy hearts. They come exhausted at the end of a very busy day. They come with worries about their children and how the deaths will impact their lives. Their sadness hangs in the air until Hope walks in. As this beautiful little beagle sleeps quietly at my feet, the entire atmosphere changes. May we all bring peace and calm to those who are grieving by simply being present.

Happy 5th Birthday, Hope!

The little four-month-old baby beagle donated to our center to become our Therapy Dog is turning five years old this month. Her sweet empathetic nature, along with her very laid back personality and huge heart has touched the lives of hundreds of grieving preschoolers, children, teens and adults over the past five years. What a gift she is!

I distinctly remember the day we were waiting for the very first client Hope engaged. Barely five months old and already such a loving puppy, I thought she would do well with the young woman who was coming to our office for an appointment. Hope surpassed all expectation.

When I opened my office door, there stood a very sad young woman who had just lost her mom. She was deeply grieving. Pain was written all over her face and posture. As she sat down, Hope quietly made her way from under a chair and sat at her feet. The young woman’s face suddenly lit up with a huge smile, and before I knew it, she was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Hope in her lap.

Hope immediately snuggled up as the client gently stroked her back. As the story of loss was shared, she became more and more emotional as her tears dropped directly onto Hope. Sensing the overwhelming grief, Hope snuggled even more deeply in her arms, pressing her little head against the client’s heart. For the next few minutes, the young woman held ever so tightly to our baby beagle and cried her heart out. It was in this moment I knew Hope was a healer of hearts.

I am so grateful for our little therapy dog and even more grateful that I get to be her “mom.” Along with the hundreds of adults and kids, she has comforted me especially during the isolated days of the pandemic.

Happy Birthday, Hope! You are loved and appreciated.

Freedom Over Fear

Hope truly is constantly beside me . . . until she is led astray by her brother, Obi, a two-year-old mini Australian Shepherd. Hope is calm, obedient and very docile. Obi is full of energy, a little stubborn, and always up for an adventure.

Last week, I let them outside in our fenced in yard. I was limited on time because one of our virtual support groups was starting soon. When I rushed to let them back inside, I called for them and there was no response. I discovered that Obi had dug a big hole in the mud and escaped. Hope had never gone with Obi on one of his adventures, until this day when she decided to join him.

With only 15 minutes to spare before my support group was to begin, I frantically opened my front door to search for them and found a lady with Obi standing next to her. She found him down the street enjoying his freedom without a care in the world. I thanked her as Obi walked back inside as if he had done nothing wrong. He even had a little grin on his face.

The lady explained that there was another dog with him but she lost sight of her. I thanked her profusely for bringing Obi home and then rushed to grab my shoes to look for Hope. I opened my front door with only 10 minutes to spare before my support group was to begin, and there stood another lady and a little girl. Beside them stood Hope acting just as calm and relaxed as always.

The lady explained that she and her daughter opened their front door to run an errand and Hope walked right into their house. Our little beagle found a soft spot to lay and made herself at home. After lots of belly rubs, they saw my address on her collar and decided to walk her home instead of calling me. I was never so relieved and happy to see a dog in my life.

Hope never worried about being lost. She has never felt unsafe and has always been treated gently and kindly, so she has no idea that the world can sometimes be cruel. She didn’t hesitate to enter a strange home because she expected love and kindness. This is all she knows.

Hope embodies why we have the Grief & Loss Center. We want to be your safe place. We want to be your soft place to fall. We will treat you with love and kindness. We will listen to your words and your heart. We are your reprieve from an often scary and uncertain world. We will welcome you and offer you compassion, understanding, confidentiality, and hope. Welcome home to the Grief & Loss Center.

Puppy Love

Look into those big brown eyes as she cuddles up to you and you immediately feel a sense of calm and unconditional love and acceptance. She’s just a little beagle, but Hope makes her way into the hearts of the hurting and offers a moment of respite from the pain of loss. She somehow senses your grief and although she doesn’t say a word, she lets you know that you are loved and that she is there for you.

In a world that is often unkind and unable to offer love and comfort, Hope innately recognizes a hurting heart and gently offers unconditional love, acceptance and a listening ear. As she has cuddles next to a client, she listens to their story. She hears the inflection in their voice, sees their tears and snuggles even closer. Without even realizing it, the hurting person often rubs her soft ears and strokes her little back as they share the pain.

Hope doesn’t care if you are wealthy or poor or somewhere in between. The color of your skin isn’t important to her. Age has no impact on her - she has comforted crawling babies and adults in their nineties. Hope doesn’t care if you’ve made mistakes in life. Hope only cares that you are hurting. And she not only cares, she wants to comfort you and show you the love and understanding that you deserve.

She is just a little beagle to some, but to our clients she is a beacon of hope. She loves with her whole heart and she loves unconditionally. May we all strive to be more like Hope.

Hope Reports for Duty

Hope loves seeing our SAM’s families again. She can be snoozing away on her special spot on the rocking chair at home, but the minute she hears me call, “Let’s boogie, Hope!” she jumps up and runs to the front door. She waits patiently to put on her halter and leash, but the minute I open the door, she jumps up and down with excitement.

We have a long drive down Central Expressway which is always bumper to bumper, but Hope takes it all in stride. She sits in her car seat and looks out the window at unsuspecting drivers who always break into big smiles when they see her. Sometimes her little paw reaches for me and we continue our journey hand in paw. Hope keeps her eyes on the road as I rub her long, silky ears. She is a calming presence in the midst of the notorious Dallas traffic.

As we drive up Abrams Road, she senses that we are getting close to our destination and that little tail of hers wags in warp speed. When she sees the building, she cannot contain her excitement. She starts panting and sits at attention. She knows we are at her second home and that she’ll soon see the kids and their parents. She really missed them when we quarantined for nineteen months.

I open the door and she jumps down ready for an evening filled with hugs and belly rubs. She is back in her element and she can’t wait for the families to arrive. As I hold her leash she makes her way up the sidewalk to the double doors. As soon as we enter the building, she leads me to the elevator. The doors open to the second floor and she goes directly to my office as quickly as she can. She lays down on her spot under my desk and completely relaxes. She’s back at work again and she loves it.

Hope listens intently for the elevator as the children and their families start to trickle in.

She walks as quickly as she can to greet them and gets her long-awaited hugs and ear and belly rubs. The smiles on everyone’s faces reflect the joy she brings them.

The children go to their groups and Hope follows me to meet with our parents and guardians. She quietly moves from adult to adult as they reach out for her. She seems to intuitively know which ones have had a hard week and need her the most. Once she has quietly visited with everyone, she lays at my feet and falls fast asleep until she hears the teens in the hallway outside our room. She knows it’s time to love on the children one last time before they leave for home.

After another round of hugs, the families leave and Hope patiently waits for me to gather our things and to travel back home. We walk to the car and I lift her up into her car seat. She immediately lies down and snuggles as close to me as she can. Before we leave the parking lot she is sound asleep. I look down at her and realize once again how important her work is. I place my hand on her little body and drive home so grateful for the little beagle beside me.

Back at Her Happy Place

It finally happened! After nineteen months, we finally got to see our SAM’s families in person! The kids were so excited to finally meet Hope. And Hope was thrilled to see them. She was so happy to be back at work and loved all the hugs and belly rubs.

Hope waited for the kids by the elevator. They had no idea they would see her as soon as the doors opened. Squeals of laughter filled the air and little hands quickly reached down to give her lots of hugs. Hope’s long, soft ears have never gotten so many strokes of love.

Our SAM’s program is designed for pre-k children through high school seniors who have experienced the death of a parent, sibling or other loved one. SAM’s stands for Same As Me. We want the children to know they are not alone. Other kids are grieving the death of a loved one, too. They come together once a month to be with other children and teens who truly understand what they are going through.

Some of our kids experienced their loss through cancer or other illness, car accidents or COVID. Others are coping with the added grief of suicide, homicide or drug overdose. They all come with hurting hearts, but each month we can see them grow in their grief as they laugh and play together and as they share their sadness with each other. It’s amazing how compassionate they are. They carry their own pain, but they are always quick to express their love and support for the other children in their group.

November is Children’s Grief Awareness Month. It is designed to help us all become more aware of the needs of grieving children – and of all the benefits they obtain through the support of others. Our SAM’s program offers this support both to the children and to their parents and guardians.

If you know a family with a child who is grieving the death of a loved one, please tell them about our SAM’s program. Please let them know they can call 214-452-3105 to get more information. We’d be honored to help them and their children as they cope with the death of their loved one.

And please also let them know that when they come to SAM’s, a beautiful little beagle named Hope will be waiting to give them lots of love.

Beagle Becomes a Unicorn

Halloween approaches and this means Hope, our therapy beagle, is in the mood for a special costume. We thought about a shiny blue Mermaid, but that just didn’t seem to fit her personality. We definitely couldn’t fathom a scary Witch or a ferocious Monster. The Hotdog costume just wasn’t her either. Then we found the perfect one! Hope is now the proud owner of a gorgeous Unicorn costume, complete with shiny gold wings and a spiral horn.

Unicorns are believed to bring magic and healing. Legend says their spiral horns bring healing power to all who touch them. We’ve seen the magical comfort and tranquility Hope brings our clients. Her “horns” are her long, soft ears that bring a moment of tranquility to hurting hearts when gently rubbed.

Purity and innocence are trademarks of unicorns. It is said that only those who have the purest hearts can see them. The hearts of our clients are pure and hurting when they embrace our little beagle. For those who grieve, Hope’s innocence and empathy calm anxiety and provide respite from their sorrow, even if for only a few minutes.

Unicorns are said to gallop throughout all dimensions and to appear at any time and any place they wish. Our little beagle offers our clients the hope that they will one day move from the land of grief and sadness to a newfound place of joy and peace.

So, our precious little beagle dons her beautiful Unicorn costume and works her magic with all who grace her presence.

Cookies, Cows and Community

After eighteen months without seeing our SAM’s children and teens, we finally got to visit with them in person at our recent Cookie Drive Thru. What an exciting day it was!

Thirty preschoolers, children and teens sat in their cars fully masked while their facilitators talked with them through the windows. It was so hard not to reach in and hug each and every one, but we know that we’ll get to give hugs again one day.

Hope greeted each family as we pushed her red stroller from car to car. The kids leaned out of their windows to pet her and to feel her long, soft ears. Their huge smiles and laughter filled the air. The kids who attended SAM’s before the pandemic were so excited to see her again and our new SAM’s kids were thrilled to meet her for the first time.

It was a blistering hot, humid day, but our SAM’s facilitators stood outside in their masks and happily greeted each and every family. It was so exciting to meet our new families in person for the first time and to finally get to see the kids we hadn’t seen face-to-face in eighteen months. Tanya, Carla, Michele, Shanna and Kendall deserve a medal for standing in this Texas heat and lovingly sending air hugs to each child and teen. A huge thanks goes to Carla Neal, our volunteer SAM’s coordinator, who planned our Cookie Drive Thru. She did an amazing job.

Each child received a cute, plush cow compliments of the Chick-fil-A at Lake Highlands. The scrumptious cookies were donated by JD’s Chippery, Leila Bakery & Café, Society Bakery, Nothing Bundt Cakes at White Rock and Casa Linda Bakery. We are so thankful for each one of these local vendors who made our Drive Thru possible. Their commitment to our community is priceless.

We can’t wait to meet in person again. We are taking it one month at a time as we receive everchanging, but incredibly important guidance about how to keep our kids and their parents and guardians safe. No matter if we serve our SAM’s families virtually or in person, we are committed to providing hope, love and support to each and every one of them.

Reuniting and It Feels So Good

Hope is anxiously preparing to see the kids in our SAM’s (Same As Me) program. We haven’t seen the children and teens in over a year. She has missed the belly rubs, greeting families at the elevator, and snuggling close to those who sit on the couch in our waiting area. Her reaction to being back at work and getting to be with our SAM’s kids and families once again is going to be epic!

As with all therapy dogs, there is work to do to prepare for in person work again. Even though Hope is highly trained, it’s been months since she has been around people other than her immediate family. We need to prepare her physically and emotionally for the experience of reentry into the world of comforting children, teens and adults who are grieving the loss of a loved one.

Hope’s smile needed a little tune up so we made an appointment to have her not so pearly whites cleaned. When we picked her up that afternoon, her teeth were white, bright and sparkling again. Now she is ready to flash that precious little beagle smile to every one she sees.

We are practicing being around people other than family members to remind Hope of the behavior we expect her to have with our clients. She will be very excited to see them, but we have to make sure she doesn’t jump on them or lick them. These behaviors aren’t acceptable for therapy dogs. We think she’ll quickly settle back into what she has been taught about client interaction.

It’s been over a year since Hope has been in the middle of a crowd of people reaching to pet her and to feel her long, silky ears. We are giving her an extra amount of physical touch to prepare her for all the loving strokes she’ll receive when she returns to work. We are especially working on one of her feet. We accidentally hurt her when we trimmed a toenail too short several months ago and now she is very guarded when we reach for her foot. We spend time rubbing that area to assure she won’t be reactive when one of our clients touches that foot.

Hope is laid back, gentle and calm and has the perfect therapy dog personality. However, it’s important to prepare her physically and emotionally for her return to in person work. We want to be sure she is physically and emotionally prepared to receive all the love and hugs she’s been missing. She can’t wait and neither can we!

Note: We follow all CDC COVID guidelines. Although we are preparing Hope for the return to in person work, if we are advised to delay the start of in person services, we will gladly do so. The health and safety of our clients and volunteers is paramount.

The Beagle at My Side

Hope and I have not seen clients in person since March 2020. I’ve been talking with clients by phone and using Zoom to facilitate our groups. My work has continued, multiplied really. I’ve just been doing it all from home.

I have repeatedly shared that Hope hasn’t been working. I associated her job as a therapy dog with her in-person visits with our clients. While this is a huge part of her job, the pandemic put a pause on the in-person part. Over the past month of reflecting on quarantined COVID life and pondering post-pandemic life, I have realized how hard she worked to get me through this difficult time.

When I worried about the isolation our clients faced when they needed family and friends the most, Hope was beside me.

When I wondered if our Center would survive financially, Hope was beside me.

When I was concerned about my son, who is a teacher, returning to his classroom and possibly being exposed to COVID, Hope was beside me.

When I worried about the impact the isolation and virtual school would have on my teenage grandchildren, Hope was beside me.

When my heart broke as the number of people dying from COVID continued to rise, Hope was beside me.

When anxiety would rear its ugly head and bring doubt and fear, Hope was beside me.

Hope has been my constant companion. She sat under my desk chair when I was working. She sat beside me on the couch when I was in deep thought. She insisted on laying against me each night. She waited for me outside the bathroom door. She has very seldom left my side.

So, let me emphatically share that Hope has worked hard over the past few months. I became her client. I needed her as much as she needed me. I’m so very grateful for the precious little beagle beside me.

Virtual Smiles and Hugs

It’s been over a year since Hope has seen any of our clients. She misses the car rides to work. She misses laying on the couch in my office. She misses going downstairs with me each day to check our mail. She misses the hugs from the preschoolers in the Early Childhood Learning Center. More than anything, she misses snuggling next to our clients and hearing their stories.

We are in the process of making decisions concerning the return to our office to see clients in person again. We are trying to discern which groups will stay virtual and which ones will meet face to face. We are rethinking how we do things and how we can best serve those who come to us for support. The pandemic has opened new possibilities and more creative ways of doing our work through Zoom.

Hope brings a calmness and a smile to everyone she meets. When in the depths of grief, calmness is priceless and smiles are few and far between. Her work is important. She brings a unique dynamic to our center that none of us can duplicate. This beautiful little beagle is a very important part of our team.

This month Hope will be making house calls through Zoom. We’ll schedule appointment with the children and teens in our SAM’s program so they can talk with their favorite beagle. It won’t be the same as meeting in person, but there’ll be plenty of virtual smiles and hugs.

Our children’s grief groups will meet in person again beginning Thursday, September 2nd. Lots of wonderful kids and their parents and guardians will be there along with one very happy, very excited little beagle. We can’t wait!

Happy Mother’s Day, Hope!

We knew from the day we met her that Hope was born to be a therapy dog. Besides being absolutely adorable with her big brown eyes, long, silky ears and beautiful little face, she has the perfect temperament for the job.

Hope is trained not to jump on people or to sit in their laps. She also knows not to lick them. As our clients make themselves comfortable on our office couch, she intuitively jumps up next to them and snuggles as close as she can to them. She loves to be petted and is used to having her ears stroked. Clients don’t even realize that they are gently rubbing her back. It just comes naturally.

When we got Hope, she was an active four-month-old little puppy who got into everything. We couldn’t take our eyes off her. She chewed her share of shoes, computer cords, furniture, window sills, etc. You name it, she chewed it! She eventually calmed down and became very docile. At the ripe old age of four, her favorite pastimes are eating and sleeping. These are perfect for a grief center therapy dog. She snoozes while clients share their stories all the while providing the warmth and connection they need.

Hope has always been cute and funny. When someone speaks to her, she listens intently and often cocks her head to one side. She doesn’t take her eyes off the person talking to her as if she understands every word they say. I’m convinced that Hope understands very little of the stories she hears, but I am equally convinced that she feels the pain and sorrow that lie beneath the sharing.

Although Hope will never be a mother, she certainly mothers our clients. She offers unconditional love. She is patient and respectful. She is empathetic and trustworthy. She is loyal and a wonderful listener.

So, Happy Mother’s Day, Hope! Thank you for your love and care. You are amazing!

Happy Fourth Birthday, Hope!

I just can’t believe our beautiful baby Beagle will turn four on April 19th. She was a little four-month-old puppy when I drove to Tulsa to get her. She was donated to the Center by some wonderful folks who believed in our mission and knew we wanted a therapy dog for our clients. She was lovingly raised by her first mama, Marcia Givens, who took great care of her and made sure she was socialized and received lots of love and attention. We are so grateful that Marcia chose her for us.

When we found out she was a baby girl, we immediately began to think about a name for her. It became clear that she had to be named Hope because she would bring hope to hundreds of people who sit and talk with us each year. And this is exactly what she does!

Hope has always been very laid back and sweet. She has never met a stranger and immediately brings a smile to every person’s face. She waits for them to be seated and then quietly crawls up on the couch and snuggles close to them. She loves every pat and especially likes to have her ears stroked. She has the longest, silkiest ears so our clients just naturally continue to rub her ears while they talk with us.

Hope has never said a word to any of our clients, but they know she loves them. She senses their sadness and moves as close to them as possible. She always falls asleep in the warmth of their body next to hers. She has brought such comfort to our clients. She loves them unconditionally and intuitively knows they need an extra measure of her love and comfort.

We are grateful for our precious, little Hope. Happy fourth birthday, baby girl!

Trained to Listen

When Hope was donated to our Center, we were ecstatic! She was just the right size and had such a beautiful, velvety coat. Her temperament was perfect for the important work she was going to do. She was born to be a therapy dog, but she and I knew that we would both need training.

Hope and I started at the very first level of training when she was just a small puppy. We slowly worked through each level as she mastered all the skills required to pass each class. Finally, we were approved to enroll in the Good Citizenship Class that would test all of her skills and mine. The level of attention and obedience required of Hope was enormous, but she easily learned new skills and polished old ones.

When she had to stand still and allow the trainer to touch her ears and feet and the rest of her body, she stood like a statue and didn’t move a muscle. When she had to prove that she could remain in a sitting position while I walked twenty feet away, she did it with no problem. When she had to walk on a loose leash beside me as we zig-zagged between chairs, she did it perfectly. I gave command after command, and she followed them all with ease.

Since she was the only Beagle in her classes, Hope was a little more laid back than the rest of her classmates. Hope was very diligent about her class preparation -- we had to arrive early for each class so she could sniff every inch of the floor before the other dogs arrived. She was only ready to pay attention after she had explored every nook and cranny before class started. There was no use for me to try and stop her from sniffing around – she’s a Beagle through and through and that’s just what Beagles do.

We worked repeatedly on having our dogs stay in a sitting or standing position at one end of the huge training arena while we walked to the other end. Then the trainer asked us to call our dogs to us one at a time. When the owner of the Golden Retriever yelled, “Come!”, his dog raced to his side. I remember her classmates: the Poodle, German Shepherd, St. Bernard, Labradoodle, and the Lab all would come flying across the floor to rejoin their owners. Hope, on the other hand, would slowly meander her way back to my side as if she had all the time in the world. I quickly learned that she would always return in her own time – no matter how loudly or quickly I called for her.

Hope and I learned a lot from our training days. I learned to slow down and go at her pace. I learned that I needed to listen to Hope. If I would only listen to her body language, I would understand her thinking and how to best work with her.

Hope and I have continued to listen to each other, but more importantly, we have learned to listen to our clients in a deeper, more meaningful way. Hope is a natural at sitting still and listening, and I’m grateful to learn from her.

Hope, the Love Bug

She’s just a little beagle, but she has an enormous heart. Hope simply loves everyone. And everyone loves Hope. Everywhere we go she attracts a lot of attention, especially hugs and belly rubs.

Before we began working from home as a result of the Covid-19 pandemic, Hope would greet each client at the office door. As soon as the grieving person sat on the couch, she would jump up and snuggle as close as she could to them. While we talked, they would stroke her silky ears and pat her little belly until she would fall asleep beside them.

Sometimes while I was working in my office, Hope would slip out of the door and disappear. At first, I would panic and call her name over and over again. But I soon learned she always ended up at the other end of the very long hallway to visit the ministers and ministry associates who scooped her up and gave her hugs. I would often find them sitting on the floor with Hope in the center of their circle, just taking in all the love.

When the Early Childhood Learning Center preschoolers would come upstairs to our floor for music, Hope would sneak out to greet the children. She would stand in front of each one waiting for their turn to pet her. The children loved spending time with her and she loved being with them.

On the evenings of our children and teen grief support groups, Hope would run to the elevator door to greet each family. She quickly learned that if she rolled onto her back she would receive tons of belly rubs from the kids and their parents. She brought smiles to very heavy hearts.

Hope doesn’t care about age, race, gender or religion. She offers unconditional love to everyone. Oh, if we could all be like Hope, this world would be a much gentler, kinder place.

Comfort Through the Uncomfortable

Hope feels the isolation and loneliness of the pandemic just as much as the rest of us. She misses the drive to work. She misses our clients. She misses the belly rubs. She misses having her long, silky ears stroked. She misses life as it used to be.

The past year has been filled with the unexpected and the unknown. As our world and our country have experienced unprecedented turmoil, we have continued to move forward the best we can. We have become accustomed to shortages of paper goods and food items. We have worn our masks and kept six feet away from others. And, sadly, we have become used to the high number of COVID deaths in our community and our country. We have slowly become conditioned to the abnormal - to incredible losses and sorrow. These abnormalities have become our normal.

Hope can’t verbalize her thoughts and feelings, but she cuddles with her stuffed animal for comfort. She realizes how much her world has changed, but I fear we don’t realize how much our lives have changed. We feel it. We respond to it in ways we don’t even recognize. I fear the pandemic and all the unrest we’re experiencing are quietly, slowly taking their toll on us.

Please take a moment to think about how you are responding to these often hidden, normalized stresses. Are you coping in healthy ways? Are you carrying much more stress and anxiety than you realize? If you are grieving the loss of a loved one, your world is intuitively filled with the unexpected and the unknown. Now it seems that everything normal has also disappeared along with your loved one.

Please take care of yourself. Hope is just a little beagle, but she feels the changes. She knows what she needs to make it through this hard time. She asks for what she needs whether it is a hug, a treat, a snuggle or her stuffed animal. Please stop and ask yourself what you need. Then do it.

Hope for the Holidays

What a difference a year makes! Last year Hope was all decked out in her Christmas attire anxiously awaiting the arrival of each client. This year we’ve worked from home since March and both miss meeting our clients in person.

There’s just something about being in the physical presence of someone who is hurting,

A pat on the shoulder, a handshake, a gentle hug and sometimes even a bear hug offer comfort and clearly gives the message that they are not alone. Someone is beside them walking this difficult journey with them.

Do you know someone who has experienced the death of a loved one this year? Have you thought about how difficult the holidays may be for them? The absence of their loved one is magnified during this season of family traditions and gatherings.

Hope has never spoken one word, but she has comforted scores of children, teens and adults by simply being present. We often hesitate to reach out to someone who is grieving because we don’t know what to say. Have you ever thought that just being present and showing you care speaks much louder than words?

Follow Hope’s example and simply be present. COVID precautions limit physical contact but you can bake cookies or a pie. Or make a cake. Or buy a candle or an ornament in memory of their loved one. Leave your kind gesture of thoughtfulness at their door with a note as simple as “Thinking of you”. You can’t imagine how much these very few words mean to someone who is grieving.

Take it from Hope. Silence is often golden especially when it comes to grief. Just quietly, humbly let them know you remember them and their loved one. This is the greatest gift you could ever give them.

Head Pats for Hope

Hope has gone to work with me every day since she was four months old. Every morning for three years I would call her to put on her harness and leash. She would wag her tail so fiercely that I often thought she might take flight. She knew where she was going, and she couldn’t wait to get there.

Then the pandemic hit and kept us home. She sat by the door each day in anticipation of going to work. And each day I would explain to her that we can’t go.

After a couple of weeks, she finally realized our routine was indefinitely interrupted. She became more and more depressed as the days wore on. She has missed snuggling up to our clients on the couch while they shared their heartache. She has missed playing with our SAM’s kids. She has missed touching hearts and bringing smiles.

On the hot, August afternoon when we left the house for our SAM’s Back to School Drive Thru, Hope was ecstatic. Her tail wagged until I thought it was going to fall off. She barked for me to hurry up and get moving. She ran to the car and jumped into her car seat. She was on a mission again, and she was excited!

As our SAM’s families pulled up in the parking lot Hope grew more and more excited as the kids reached out their car windows for her. She sat in her bright red stroller and stretched as tall as she could to receive loving pats on her head. She was in heaven. The kids were in heaven.

Finally, Hope was back at work and doing was she was born to do. She brought smiles to children who have suffered pain that no child should ever have to suffer – losing a loved one at such a young age.

When the last car pulled away we headed for home. Hope snuggled deep into her car seat and slept the entire way. She was exhausted from the excitement and the blistering heat. She slept peacefully and soundly dreaming of the day she would get to see her kids again.

I Love You to the Moon and Back

They traveled the world together. No matter where they were, they never failed to stand in the moonlight each evening, look into each other’s eyes and say, “I love you to the moon and back.” They shared a bond envied by all who knew them. They were in their eighties but their love was still as fresh as the day they first met.

When she died, he didn’t know if he could go on. They had been inseparable for years. They weren’t just husband and wife, they were soulmates, best friends, and each other’s reason for living.

He leaned onto his cane as he entered my office. The tears began to flow before he ever sat down. The agony of grief had ravaged his body and his spirit. Hope sensed his despair and jumped onto the couch to be near him. He instinctively pulled her close to him and laid his weathered hand on her head. She buried her head in his leg and fell asleep beside him.

He cried the entire hour. He talked about their life together and how blessed they were to find each other. His body shook as his grief overwhelmed him. As he stroked Hope’s head, he began to relax. She snuggled even closer to him.

After a while, he shared that he still honors their nightly tradition. “I read the paper each morning to find out when the moon will come out. Each evening I slip outside in the darkness, meet her in the moonlight and promise her that I still love her to the moon and back.”

He stood to leave and stooped over to give Hope one more pat on the head. “I’ll look forward to seeing you next time, Hope,” he said with a grin.

Hope followed him to the elevator and watched as the door closed. She slowly walked back to our office never fully realizing the beautiful gift of comfort she gives to everyone she meets.

I Think She Likes Me

Hope, our therapy dog, gently snuggles up to a new client on the couch and quickly makes her way into their heart. Anxiety diminishes as they relax while stroking her silky soft ears. She is trained to sense their feelings in the moment and to welcome interaction initiated by the new person who has come to the Center.

But when a new client has autism, the bonding with our little beagle takes much longer.

The man came to the Grief and Loss Center after the death of his father and the total upheaval of his life. He left the only home he had ever known and moved here to live with a family member. Deeply grieving the loss of his dad and suffering from homesickness, his family searched for someone who could help him.

Children and adults with special needs grieve too, but it’s difficult to find the support they need. We are so glad this man landed on our couch, in the presence of our little therapy dog, Hope.

During the man's first visit, Hope immediately sensed his hesitancy to interact with her, so she patiently stretched out on the floor in front of him. He asked questions about her but made no attempt to touch her. “I’m not too crazy about dogs,” he explained.

The next time he came, Hope stayed on the floor, still sensing his need for distance. As he talked, she carefully moved closer to his feet. He looked down and smiled at her.

The transition happened very slowly, but each time he came to our office, he got more and more at ease with being closer in proximity to Hope. Intuitively, Hope continued to keep some distance. One day during our session, Hope jumped up on the opposite end of the couch where he was sitting. She rearranged the pillows, got comfortable and promptly took a nap. He grinned and said, “I think she likes me.”

With each new session, from her perch on the couch, Hope edged her way closer to him. He would just smile and say, “I think she likes me."

The last session we had before COVID-19 hit and our in-person sessions moved to phone meetings, I watched out of the corner of my eye as the man placed his hand on her head. It had taken weeks, but finally it happened. He allowed Hope into his heart.

“I think she likes me,” he said with a big smile and then added, “and I like her, too.”

I never cease to be amazed at the comfort and joy Hope brings to our clients. I’m so grateful to have this precious, little beagle beside me as we love people while they tell their story of grief.

Hope’s Peaceful Presence

Hope is a beagle who serves the clients at the Grief and Loss Center, housed in, though not affiliated with, Wilshire Baptist Church on Abrams. The Center offers individual and group support to anyone who has lost a loved one. “Coming here is hard,” says Executive Director Laurie Taylor. “But Hope helps people relax, open up and feel at home.”

Hope was just 4 months old when she saw her first client, and she proved to be a natural. A young woman whose mom had suddenly died came to the center to meet with Taylor. She first sat with Hope on the couch and then moved to the floor to play with the dog while she expressed her disbelief and grief. When the woman began to cry, Hope stopped playing and sat in the client’s lap, cuddling and burying her head. As the client continued to talk about her mom, she stroked Hope’s ears while the dog fell asleep in her lap. Even though Hope is an active puppy, she remained in that position until the client stood to leave and then followed her to the door to say goodbye.

The young beagle with the soulful eyes is present for every session. She has comforted all ages, from toddlers to 90-year-olds. She has helped folks work through grief from suicides, homicides, accidents and natural deaths. Interestingly, she seems to consistently follow her own internal, intuitive script: first, engage in play; indulge petting; become still and quiet when the tears flow; place head on person’s legs; curl up in their lap.

Of course, Hope is popular with the children who attend support groups. She senses when it’s time for the children to arrive and waits for them by the elevator.

“When the elevator opens, we often think Hope’s tail is going to fall off because she wags it so quickly,” Taylor says. “She knows the children are going to give her lots of pats and belly rubs.”

Taylor says Hope offers clients not only the physical touch of a living being, but also unconditional love and acceptance. There’s no judgment about how people grieve.

Originally published in The Lakewood Advocate