printer-friendly

interior

Paws for love

Paula Harms and her therapy dog Gretta bring a hint of ‘normal’ to gravely ill children.

by Melanie Zuercher

Paula Harms knows what it’s like to be in the hospital for long periods of time and in desperate need of diversion from pain and boredom.

So with the help of a four-legged friend named Gretta, she is trying to be that diversion for children and adolescents who are suffering physically or emotionally.

Back in the early ’90s, Paula – who graduated from Bethel College in 1980 with a degree in health, physical education and recreation and now lives in Rochester, Minn., with her husband, Gordon Harms ’80 – was critically ill. “I spent a lot of time in the hospital,” she says. “I was in and out with surgeries, trying to get healthy.”

A friend who was also a neighbor brought her therapy dog to the hospital where Paula was, to visit patients in the rehab unit. The friend invited Paula to come watch and, Paula says, “It was a wonderful diversion.”

In 1993, Paula and Gordon got a Swiss Bernese mountain dog named Halley (as in Halley’s Comet). The friend looked at Halley and said, “I bet she’d make a good therapy dog.”

“I received tremendous care when I was in the hospital,” Paula says. “Volunteering and service is important to me. I looked at it as a way of giving back.”

So she did the work required to qualify Halley as a therapy dog. “Any breed of dog, or mixed breed, can be a therapy dog,” Paula says. “It’s personality – they need to be calm and gentle.”

They also must be willing to go through a lot of obedience training. Therapy dogs must pass the American Kennel Club’s “Canine Good Citizen” test as well as a therapy dog exam, obeying basic commands and responding appropriately in settings that include things like crutches and wheelchairs.

After Halley died, about six years ago, Paula got a second Swiss Bernese mountain dog, Gretta. Since the Anabaptist movement originated in Switzerland, “for people who know about Mennonites, we joke that Gretta is a Mennonite,” Paula says.

Paula and Gretta go once a week to Generose, a psychiatric unit for children and adolescents, ages 8-18, connected to the Mayo Clinic Foundation, and once a month to the two pediatric floors at St. Mary’s Hospital, also part of the Mayo Clinic.

Gretta is registered through Therapy Dogs International, Inc., which, in addition to requirements for therapy dog certification, has specific criteria all therapy dogs must meet before they can “go to work” at hospitals or nursing homes.

“She has to be clean and groomed,” Paula says. “I clip her toenails and trim the hair around her paw pads. Then I bathe her. One of Gretta’s quirks is that she’s afraid of the hair dryer, so she has to dry naturally, meaning we have to plan for that.”

Otherwise, Gretta’s a great sport about the frequent bathing, Paula says. “I’ll say,‘We’re going to see the kids,’ and she’ll pop up and head down the hall to the bathtub.” Once Gretta is clean and dry, Paula ties a therapy dog bandana around Gretta’s neck – it says “Paws a while for love” – and they’re off to work.

When Gretta and Paula go to St. Mary’s, they first meet the ambulatory children in a group in a big playroom. Paula, with Gretta on the leash, goes from child to child, “making small talk,” she says. “We talk about Gretta – we interact through her about non-medical things.”

The accompanying nurse will offer to take a picture for the child – of Gretta alone, of Gretta with the child or whoever the child wants in the photo. “It’s pretty loose and casual,” Paula says.

Then they go to individual rooms to visit the children who can’t get out of bed. “That’s where it gets fun,” Paula says. “If they like dogs, and it’s appropriate, Gretta will crawl up on the bed and snuggle with them.

“It’s a way to bring them a little bit of ‘home,’ especially if they have their own pet,” she adds. “It’s a way of being ‘normal.’”

Paula and Gretta go to Generose more often than St. Mary’s because the latter has more therapy dogs coming in. At Generose, Paula and Gretta are one of only three therapy dog pairs – “and they say Gretta is their favorite,” Paula notes. They meet two different groups, pre- adolescents and adolescents.

Paula says she wasn’t sure about going into a psych ward at first. “I thought it was the last place I’d want to be with a dog,” she says, because the ward is fairly high security. She has to be buzzed in and buzzed out. She heard stories, without specific details, of children who had killed their pets or others’ pets, children with “violent tendencies,” children who were suicidal.

“It’s heartbreaking – they’re so young,” she says. “But when we’re there, it’s delightful.”

The children sit in a circle and Paula lets Gretta choose her route. She keeps Gretta on the leash since the children are required to attend the session but not all of them are comfortable with dogs.

Paula says that Gretta can never get too much petting or too many tummy rubs, so it’s clear she enjoys the attention when she’s on the job. “I have to remind her she’s working,” Paula says. Paula herself likes the human reactions.

“Therapy dogs are part of a nation-wide program but people still aren’t used to seeing dogs in the hospital,” Paula says. “First people look surprised [to see her] but then they usually smile.” Often they will ask for permission to pet her, since many people know about service dogs – for the visually or hearing impaired, for example – that should not be petted while working.

But Gretta is not a service dog and “petting is the point,” Paula says. “Gretta’s theory is: Everybody can use some therapy.

“We have to leave earlier and earlier to get to the wards because we get stopped so many times. There will be people waiting in the lobby, people standing in line at the pharmacy, medical personnel. There will be people from out of town who say, ‘I miss my dog.’”

Although it isn’t why she began with therapy dogs, Paula looks on what she does with Gretta as a healing ministry. “There are some awfully sick kids in this world, and it’s heartbreaking,” she says. “The goal is to bring diversion and normalcy into a hospital room where everything else is all about IVs, shots, doctors and nurses. It’s something to take your mind off the pain and fear.”

There are “little miracles” all the time, she says. One patient she remembers is a 5-year-old girl who remained in intensive care in a medication-induced coma for nearly a year because of a seizure disorder. Dogs aren’t normally allowed in the ICU but the mother requested it.

“Even though the father had to leave the room when Gretta came in, because he was allergic to dogs,” Paula says, “he wanted Gretta there, too.” The comatose child had a twin sister who was initially afraid of dogs, “but Gretta won her over.” Gretta would crawl onto the bed and snuggle with the little girl or, if there were too many tubes and wires attached, Paula says, “she would sit in a large chair next to the bed and put a paw on her.

“Sometimes the mother would break into tears when Gretta and I were there,” Paula remembers. “She needed a break, too.” And the girl finally became well enough to go home.

It’s nothing earthshaking, just being a presence that is healthy, whole and comforting. “It’s when Gretta climbs into a hospital bed and the parent says, ‘That’s the first time I’ve seen my child smile.’”