*Yeeeesh... this is long. I tend to get long-winded about things I feel passionate about. Feel free to scroll...*
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My first excursions into this began due to one dignified old gentleman by the name of Robert. He was sitting in the big window seat at the Extended Care Facility, staring out at the rainy, dreary day. My mother was part of the group serving tea to the residents that day... and she was standing with Robert when the Director came over, sat down next to him and asked him what she could do to make him smile. When Robert turned and said, very solemnly, "... I think some animals coming to visit would be rather nice..." my mom had the answer to the next question...
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And so it began.
Nathan... when I used do to this once or twice a month (before I moved here) ... we had a set time. Wednesday afternoons at one. The residents of the Extended Care Facility would be brought out to the main room... wheelchairs
locked. Residents not in wheelchairs
seated. No walkers. No one wobbly or frail standing.
I did these visits with a friend - and it started off with just our dogs - who would do some tricks and special things - and then simply visit and comfort. The minis joined the gang shortly thereafter. No mini
ever had an accident in the facility. We also took in, from time to time, ducklings... young kittens.... a small lamb... but the dogs and minis were the "main/mane attraction". Residents who could not make it to the common room that day and wanted a visit, would have one of the minis and a couple of the dogs come to his/her room.
One older woman - in her late 90s - who could no longer see or speak and was presumed to be deaf as well, had a particular affinity for the horses. She was known as "Gran"... and you would carefully place her hand on one of the dogs... and she would slowly feel along its back and over its head - with a look of great concentration on her face. When Gran figured out it was a dog - she would gently push it away. Bring in a mini - and the fingertip inspection would begin again. Once she had established that it was a HORSE... she would not let go. She held on to mane... to ears (and not one mini ever protested in all those years) .... to halters with one frail hand - and
beam - while stroking a velvety nose with the other. Dear old Gran must have had horses in her past.
Once I moved
here... I no longer had the connections for a regular schedule anywhere. But a facility for severely disabled children (many on respirators) invited the local therapeutic riding facility to their Christmas party - and as I was one of the volunteers there - I was asked if a mini could come. And a few years of surprises and joy ensued...
Minis would walk into that hot, stuffy house (remodeled to suit the children's needs) ... into the small crowd of people coming and going... the residents who may have respirators wheezing and whispering, little hands that do not know how hard they may pinch... and again - as if the horses knew - not one misbehaved or had an accident. Someone has pictures of one of the minis - a yearling at the time - carefully reaching out to a small toddler supported in a bean bag chair... and two chubby little hands reaching back out to
him. I remember one boy about 14 years old... confined to a lazy-boy type lounger during the day... hooked up to everything you can imagine... who vocalized and clamoured to get the horses to come and see him. None pulled back. They carefully stepped alongside that chair and laid their heads along the arms - just as the mini friends I had left behind in Canada had
known to do.
We would go outside for a few minutes for the minis to cool off... and then go back inside to say goodbye to each resident in turn.
All that changed when the facility received a new Director. No more animals. They were
dirty. Even the resident kitty had to find a new home. So sad...
We have also visited a facility that housed mentally challenged adults... and
Delight - the chosen mare for the job - never flinched at the loud voices, the inappropriate screaming, the delight (heh) she caused... and all the hands that touched, explored and caressed in wonder. She went from building to building and never batted an eye. Up a stepor two, down a step, over the grating, linoleum, carpet - she took it all in stride.
As far as Delta certification goes... after I moved here, I had my Borzoi at a Delta clinic given by an evaluator/tester - and she was intrigued with the idea of using the minis after I related my experiences... so I helped design the test for minis - in this area anyway - perhaps it became widespread ? - using horses
here as the measuring points. One ex-show mare who I knew would accept
anything as the ideal to aim for ... and one gelding who tended to be... let's say
reactive (heh) as what NOT to look for. And then some inbetweeners for the other degrees of suitability. We gave one of our young fillies to the Delta Society evaluator to become a Therapy Horse - and apparently she was the first mini to be certified.
What do you need to do to prepare? BATHS are a necessity if you are going into many facilities. I always blew the horses off before we left, as well. In the winter a bath did not work - but they were vacuumed and/or blown thoroughly. Take a wet washcloth/towel to wipe off hooves/legs that may get poopy in the trailer. Put tails up before you leave to keep them clean and let them down when you go in. Vet wrap for hooves that may need to cross slippery or shiny-appearing floors. A clean halter and shank that is ONLY for those visits.
Again - in all these years - I have NEVER had a mini have an accident indoors.
*knocks on wood* And I have had them in elevators, crossing marble floors in hotel lobbies, on carpeting, tile, hardwood - you name it! Even in a ballroom on the second floor of a large hotel for a NARHA seminar. The only thing that got a few of them...
intrigued... was their own reflection in glass windows or mirrors.
I have brain freeze for now - and cannot think of anything else for the moment.
But back to a follow-up on
Charlie - the formerly silent old gentleman who found a new sparkle to life when he gazed upon
Daisy... the black pinto mini mare. Every time we visited he would laugh in delight and say -
a horse in the house - isn't that the darndest thing! He also developed a special friendship with
Folli the Borzoi... as she could sit in front of him and gaze directly into his eyes as he stroked her silky fur and called her His Doggie Princess. She took everything he said Very Seriously...
Some days,
Charlie was not well enough to come to the common room... and Daisy, Cody, or Clarissa(whichever mini was visiting that day) would be permitted to go down the long hall and visit him in his room. If
Folli discovered that
Charlie was not with the others, she would quietly slip down the hall dragging her leash, accompanied by a staff member... and sit at
Charlie's bedside with a paw and her nose alongside him while he talked to her. Now that he had started talking again - it was hard to get a word in edgewise! That was okay- all
Folli wanted to do was
listen.
One grey winter afternoon... the dogs had done their little show. The young kittens had been retrieved from assorted laps and returned to their crate... and
Cody had made the rounds one last time to say goodbye... but where was
Folli?! I knew she would not be anywhere without staff - so was a bit puzzled but not concerned. Folli was a truly gentle soul and loved her friends there (and had privileges none of the other dogs or minis could hope to gain by virtue of her personality and temperament). We loaded
Cody up... put the other critters in the assorted vehicles... and returned for the bit of runner carpet we used in the wet months. One of the nurses came up to me, took me by the arm and
propelled me down the hall - to
Charlie's room. Only...
it wasn't anymore. All the furnishings and decorations and pictures that had shown that
Charlie once lived there... had vanished. The room had returned to its antiseptic, stark shell... awaiting another resident.
Charlie was gone. He had died in his sleep a few days earlier. And there sat
Folli, leaning against his empty bed... one paw and her long nose on the mattress... her eyes closed... mourning.
The nurse could barely talk - she was so moved. She said
Folli had been like that for almost an hour... grieving for her friend. I suspect that when
Folli crossed the Rainbow Bridge some years later - that a spry fellow with a glint in his eye was there - waiting for his Doggie Princess.... so he could pick up the conversation where he had left off, regaling her with tales of his Clydesdale team...
And I am sure she is savouring every word...
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edited after the fact for typos...[/SIZE]
