BY DR. SHANNON DOMINGUEZ, DCH ANIMAL-ASSISTED (PET) THERAPY DIRECTOR MAUI ANIMAL ALOHA CENTER (a non-profit organization serving Maui County, Hawaii)

True Stories of Animals Helping People Heal
These tails have tales to tell

INTRODUCTION: Aloha from Maui!! I hope my very first email newsletter finds you and yours well and happy. Yes, that’s me in the picture hugging on baby Cameo, a newborn filly miniature horse (a filly is a girl for those of you that don’t know – but I know that most of you do). At the time this picture was taken she was only a few hours old and approximately 15 inches tall. Tiny!!! She’s grown a lot since then but most likely won’t get any taller than 28 inches when she’s an adult. She is a therapy horse in the making.

If you are wondering where I got my nickname, Shannimal, some clever friends can be thanked for that. It probably derived from me unexpectedly bringing baby animals to them for early interaction/training or perhaps it involves some of my many animal stories. Hmmmm….maybe it has more to do with my personal menagerie or even rescuing a few critters on occasion? (Okay, on several occasions… I confess!). 

  This should simplify it:
Shannon + Animal = Shannimal 

I care for over 30 animals (and personally own at least half of them … it could be more, shhhhhh!). In addition to my private hypnotherapy practice specializing in medical hypnotherapy (www.BeHypnotized.com), most everyday you will find me working with, training, and caring for rabbits, chickens, ducks, guinea pigs, goats, horses, a parrot, exotic finches, cats, a dog and my phish (you might refer to them as fish). Most of them work in the therapeutic environment (minus the phish, finches and parrot; What can I say; the parrot just doesn’t play well with others!). Yes, they are all specially trained therapy animals, even the chickens! And those bantam chickens are just the cutest. They’ve made fans out of the biggest skeptics (mostly the physicians) and won over some of my friends who now have them as pets! Can a chicken really be therapeutic??? YOU BET! I have some patients that only request the chickens over any other therapy animal.

*smiles* …. .  There are times that I wonder how I became so blessed to make such a difference in the lives of others doing something I love? Working with people and animals!!! That’s a lot of tails (feathered, furry and ?) with a lot of tales to tell and my true inspiration for beginning this newsletter.

On behalf of the Maui Animal Aloha Center, we work together with Tamrah (Tami) De Leon (my assistant/Animal-Assisted Therapy Specialist) visiting hospitals, rehabilitation/convalescent centers, Alzheimer’s and adult daycare, and a pediatric unit for the severely disabled. The comfort, joy, well-being, and healing that occurs inspires the patients we see, from children to the elderly; patients/residents recovering from comas, rehabilitating from surgery, trauma, illness, car accidents, brain injuries, physical and mental disabilities, aging and/or hospice patients; plus brightens the day of the very hardworking staff, activities directors, nurses, and physicians.

While the residents/patients are our primary concern, we find occasions to attend to the staff as well. Just last week while at Hale Makua in Kahului (our 200+ bed facility here in Maui) I noticed a nurse struggling with a very stressful phone call, several calls on hold, and a pile of charts in her inbox spilling onto her desk. As I strolled past the nurses' station, I casually placed Cosmo, my sweet black bunny, in her inbox and went on my way with the other animals. You read that correctly, in the INBOX with the pile of charts. While I attended to nearby resident patients, Coz waited with perfect stillness, then ever so carefully leaned his little body forward, lifting his head ever so slightly peeking towards her. The movement caught her attention and I heard the biggest giggle when she looked up and discovered him. She cradled Coz in her arms, and as she did, the changes in her posture became visibly evident; her rigid demeanor changed in an instant from tense to relaxed.  Coz turned her entire day around for the better. The experience reduced her stress immensely and brought smiles to her and all of the staff. Guess who else had big smiles?

We literally see hundreds of patients each month, and while I’m unable to journal all of their stories… I’ll write about one or two each newsletter that will hopefully touch or inspire your life in some way.  You are invited to forward this newsletter to others and if someone would like to be added to my monthly mailing list (or be deleted from it), please send a request to: info@behypnotized.com.  Also, your comments are appreciated.

She's a mere 4 feet 9 inches tall, perhaps 80 pounds at my best approximation and well into her 70's or 80's, standing proudly next to her hospital bed with her oxygen tank at her side and its life giving air tubes supplying her with what most of us take for granted. It can be awkward to walk in, with what I believe, is a sweet bunny rabbit designed to bring comfort, joy and healing, only for its presence to strike fear in the people I want to help. Imagine, a simple breath for some, now an even bigger struggle for her, more so because she's fearful; very afraid at the sweet bundle of soft fur cradled in a towel in my arms. "I'm afraid, take it away!" she says wincing.

"You are looking well today." I answered with a gentle, warm smile followed by a formal introduction of myself.

"Not to worry, my bunny is visiting your roommate in bed B."

Her posture relaxed immediately, her breathing improved and with a sad tone in her voice, she says to me, "Don't waste your time, my roommate had a stroke a couple of years ago and does not respond to anyone. She cannot talk or move or understand anything and that's just the way it is." An attendant nearby overhears us and confirms her statement.

"I am so sorry to hear that, and thank you for telling me. She probably would enjoy some company anyway, so if you do not mind the bunny being in the room with us, I'd like to visit with her and introduce her to my special friend, Cosmo."

She shrugged her shoulders and lightly shook her head as if in disbelief I would even attempt such a thing. "No problem, go ahead." she replied and then added, "I don't want."( I don't want is a common slang meaning 'keep it away from me.")

"Not to worry, we won't come to your side of the room and I will respect your wishes, Auntie." She is in fact not my real auntie, however it is custom in Hawaii to show respect to our elders by calling them "Auntie/Uncle" or "Tutu" (Grandmother/Grandfather).

I could feel her eyes locked on me as we approached her roommate with a smile and introduced myself, "Aloha Auntie, my name is Shannon and I am with the Maui Animal Aloha Center. I thought you might like some company and if you don't mind, I would very much enjoy talking to you."

Looking upon this bedridden, frail woman, her right arm bent at the elbow and seized rigidly to her chest, her face blank and pale, no movement in her eyes... I'm thinking to myself that she's locked inside somewhere, perhaps lost and looking for the key to say, "I'm here. I'm here." I can barely even imagine how it must feel to be betrayed by your own body, unable to communicate or move and be totally dependent on caring staff. As an empath, I could feel frustration, anger, sadness, despair, and the worst enemy of all, hopelessness. And here I am, with a little black bunny standing beside her bed leaning towards her uncertain if our presence makes any sense. Sometimes I wonder if we are their last hope, kindness in the form of a smile from nurses, physicians, staff, then myself and in this case, a cotton tail, long ears and a twitching nose.

"May I hold your hand?" I asked. The room must have been 80 degrees, and her hand was ice cold. "Auntie, I bet my warm hand feels good to you right now. It must be so frustrating for you to be in this bed. Your roommate tells me that you had a stroke and I want you to know that I care about you and that is why I am here." I searched her face for any sign of acknowledgment, a squeeze of her hand, a blink of the eye, a smile, sound, but there was none. That was fine with me, I believe that showing compassion makes a difference through the darkness, a small spark of light to bring some comfort, whatever that may be.

"Auntie, how frustrating and sad you must feel not being able to talk to us. I am so sorry that you are not well, though there are many people hoping and praying for you to get stronger, including myself. I'm not sure if you can see who I have in my arms, but if it is okay with you, I would like to show you. I am holding a black bunny rabbit, not yet one year old, and his name is Cosmo."

I held Cosmo closer to her face in hopes that she could see his tiny black silhouette. "He has come with me to spend time with you, but I don't want it to upset you. He's looking to make a new friend and be loved. You seem like you have a lot of love within you and I think he would very much enjoy spending some time with you. Is that all right?"

Naturally, there was no response from her, but I always ask anyway. Lack of reply isn't necessarily a "no" (or a "yes"), it's an opportunity and I have to follow my intuition on whether or not to proceed. Something inside told me that it would make a difference to have her hold Cosmo, however, being that she was unable to physically hold him due to the rigidness and paralysis, I told her that I would be laying a clean towel to her chest and put Cosmo on top right over her heart. As Cosmo sat upon her chest, I snuggled him close to her right hand --- the one that was held tightly to her chest. "I'm going to raise your arm only a little bit Auntie, and put Cosmo underneath your hand in case you decide you want to pet him." Notice I left out the word 'try.' This is intentional on my part as the very wise Yoda says, "There is no try, there is only do."

Within minutes of doing so, her hand began to move... first ever so slightly. Little by little, and one by one, each finger raised and lowered against his fur. Meanwhile I'm talking to her about my day, about the Center, some of the people we have already visited, telling her about my life and where I live. I keenly watched life return to her, the color flushing into her face and eye movement in the direction of Cosmo. She found her key! "Auntie, there you are... we've missed you!" By now ten minutes had passed since putting Cosmo on her chest, and though she could not move her arm, she could move her hand at the wrist and was now actively petting Cosmo with what I would swear was an attempt at a smile and she tried to vocalize but the only sound came out as primal and garbled.

"You are welcome, Auntie." It's my experience that the stroke patients with verbal difficulties convey gratitude in some way. When really, I am the one that feels grateful that I am able to be a part of these small acts that can inevitably be milestones in the patient's progress.

"Thank you for loving my Coz. I can tell that he really likes you and that you make him feel very special. He thinks you are special too and would like to come back for another visit. Would you like that?" This time her chin tilted towards her chest, a nod of approval!

Meanwhile, watching and listening with intent and amazement is the petite elderly woman who adamantly told me, "I don't want." "I'm afraid, take it away." By this time, she had moved from the far side of the room to the near side of her bed closest to us.

Still focusing on Coz and seeing the changes in the face of a woman previously considered as "non-responsive," I thanked her again and gently picked up Coz and held him closer to her face so she could focus better on what he looked liked. Her eyes locked onto him, and I let out a little laugh and said, "I bet you didn't think you'd wake up today with a bunny in your bed!" And another sound, unrecognizable, came forth. "Bye Auntie, we will see you next time."

After witnessing this, her roommate who was afraid of the rabbit asked me to stop and explain why I came with the animals. She noticed outside of the door, my cart with several kennels of bunnies and guinea pigs. I explained the benefits of the animals' visits; how for some it just brings joy and comfort, helps people with movement, for others it is emotionally and/or physically healing in some way. She asked if the rabbit could heal her? I said, "I don't know if he can heal you but he can make you feel better today." She requested to pet him and moved herself to a portable table.

"Would you like me to put him on the table?" I asked.

"Yes, please." She replied.

Then with astonishment, I watched this woman without any fear whatsoever, rub and pet the bunny as if she had one as a pet all of her life. With both hands she would pet Cosmo then rub herself in the areas that I can only assume hurt her most. It was if she was taking whatever power she believed Coz to have and rub it purposely over her lungs, under the arms, into her stomach area. Then she said a silent prayer to herself and made the sign of the cross for the holy trinity. With that we prepared to leave the room and I told her, "God bless you."

She exclaimed, "I feel different already. I am feeling better. I can feel it. He has helped me. Please come back soon."

FOR MORE INFORMATION ON PET THERAPY
VISIT: www.behypnotized.com/pet_therapy.html
or email: info@behypnotized.com

YOUR DONATIONS HELP!
(and are tax-deductible)
MAUI ANIMAL ALOHA CENTER
PO Box 880278
Pukalani, HI 96788-0278
Phone: (808) 572-5753

© Shannon Dominguez, DCH
All rights reserved
2005
* This issue dedicated to Katie Freitas, Lisa Hillinger, their wonderful therapy animals
(Noni, Shadow, Lady, Tita, Honi Honi & Kona) and all they have given to the many lives they have touched, including mine.*