Poodle Is Man’s Best Friend and Patients’ Best Therapy

The solitary man at the table for two in the restaurant was in my line of sight, so my eye caught him and flicked past. Only on the second glance did I notice his companion across the table--a black miniature poodle sitting perfectly still.

“He’s a pet therapist,” the man said with a wry smile to a curious restaurant employee.

I followed them out and asked if I could talk to him for a column. “Yeah, but don’t call Monday,” he said. “We’re going to be at the Vets Hospital psychiatric unit.”

I called on him Tuesday, and here’s the story of him and his dog:

Sy Elliott is 65, a Brooklyn native who came out to California in the early 1950s. For most of his life, he’s been a free-lance photographer, and, in later years, a professional clown. While looking 2 1/2 years ago for a dog to help with his act, he was picking from a litter of poodles when Jessie, then 6 months old, pushed the other pups out of the way.

At first, Elliott trained Jessie to jump through hoops and over toy fences, dance on his back legs and roll over. But Sy came to think that besides being obedient, Jessie had a loving quality beyond the norm. When he heard that some dogs are used to help hospital patients, Elliott investigated.

Elliott got certified training for Jessie and determined that he had the traits needed for therapy purposes. At Veterans Hospital in Long Beach, he found a program looking for therapy dogs.

These days, Jessie sports a volunteer’s badge with a photo I.D., a red bandanna and a collar reading “Registered Service Dog.” When Elliott says that Jessie “has his rounds to make,” he isn’t kidding. Jessie now spends about six hours a month at the hospital, sitting quietly in the lap of patients. He sees patients in four separate wards.

“So far, he has not refused anybody,” Elliott says. “Some of the people he has sat with absolutely frighten me. Completely catatonic. Have you ever seen someone walking around pounding the wall? We tell them to sit down, Jessie sits in their lap and calms them down. A dog’s love is unconditional. They can accept you no matter how depressed you are, no matter how emotional you are. So when he comes and sits in someone’s lap, he’s giving something off and these people are receiving something from him, and someone who is mumbling and can’t talk all of a sudden starts to talk to him.”

Not every dog can do it. Paula Cingota, who runs the Our Best Friends Therapy Dog Program in San Diego, said therapy dogs have been registered in the United States since 1979. For every 50 people who contact her group, she says, two dogs pass muster.

Connie Jankowski, editor of Dog Fancy magazine in Irvine, said she believes Children’s Hospital of Orange County is the only local hospital using dog therapy. Various geriatric facilities also have used dogs, she said.

“Animals bring out something good in us,” Elliott says. “They bring out something that we can have dormant. And Jessie is just very special. He is completely quiet, he is completely loving, he is able to communicate where no one else can. He gets into group therapy where he’s working with 10 or 12 people, he sits on everyone’s lap, they all talk to him, they all remember pets they have had and situations when they were children. It’s a way of bringing something back.”

Does Jessie know he’s a therapist? I ask. “He knows he’s special,” Elliott says. “He knows he’s loved by me and that he’s doing something that pleases me. And I swear he knows what’s going on with the people he’s with. And you gotta say there is some magic in him.”

It’s that magic that Paula Cingota describes when she talks about therapy dogs and how their traits go beyond passing obedience and temperament tests.

“A dog may love his family intensely, but he doesn’t give a rip about a stranger,” she says. “Therapy dogs are dogs that actually sense people’s needs, and they’re in every single breed. It’s genetic. You cannot teach it. A therapy dog will ask for or go to people over other dogs, over food. It’s astounding to watch the dogs work.”

After talking about Jessie’s hospital routine, I ask Elliott what Jessie does for him.

“I’m 65 now, I’ve got a bit of a heart problem, and I can’t do as much as I want to do,” he says. “Jessie permits me to carry on. He gives me a sense of accomplishment. Also, let’s be very truthful, it’s also a great ego trip for me. I can’t deny when I’m sitting in a restaurant and I tell someone about his accomplishments, he’s like my kid. And, you know, like you do with a kid, I keep telling people how great he is. Also, I guess in a sense he makes me feel special, because he is special.

“Here at Leisure World, topic No. 1 is illnesses and sicknesses and operations and who’s got more stitches. I got all that junk, but I hate to talk about it. Then the next thing is all the money they’ve got. Well, I got no money. I lost it. But I’m able to talk about what Jessie is doing, the hospital. It’s broadened my scope on life, given me something to live for. How many other people got that?”

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, Calif. 92626, or calling (714) 966-7821.