I am a Therapy Dog

by Carolyn Zalesne (and Scruffy Schwartz!)

This story about Lynne Schwartz and her dog, Scruffy, appeared in the 2008 September/October issue of the JWOL Newsletter, right before the High Holidays. Lynne passed away in May of 2021; Scruffy pre-deceased her. In their memory, their inspiring story was reprinted.

Those of us who frequent The Landings Dog Park, know there are some absolute rules: we must register with the Landings Association, we must learn to get along with everyone else who shows up, and we must not bring treats to the park. And then there are some unwritten rules that we learn through experience, like not wearing good clothes to the park. For good reason, many of us have our designated Dog Park Clothes.

Once I came to the park straight from work and I was wearing my work uniform, which happens to be white. I really didn’t care though. I walked around. I socialized with the others. I stepped in the mud. My uniform got a little dirty. Eh, so what. It could be washed.

But boy did I get a lot of attention. I’m short but I really stood out in my uniform. I explained to my new friends that I got a ride here from work and was not able to go home to change. It wasn’t a big deal.

Apparently, it was a big deal. All of a sudden everyone was interested in me and what I do.

I am Scruffy Schwartz, a three-year-old Yorkshire Terrier. And I am a Therapy Dog. When I go to work, I wear a white bandana that says “Hospice Savannah” on it, and that is what caused quite a stir at the dog park.

I’ll tell you what I told them: I am not the story. My mom, JWOL member Lynne Schwartz, is the story.

Do you know my mom? She and I moved here from New York only a year ago, even though my dad, Steve, moved here two years ago and lived in an apartment in Savannah while he watched over the construction of our house. When Lynne, as you would call her, and I arrived, she immediately joined JWOL. This made her happy; she had no idea there was such an active Jewish community here.

Because of Lynne, I have done wonderful things.

Three years ago, I was for sale in a pet store in New York, when 18-year-old college freshman Matthew Schwartz adopted me. An animal lover his whole life, Matthew had plenty of love for me. He had been a childhood member of the Humane Society, which, in part, earned him a scholarship to college. Unfortunately, Matthew’s commitment to school didn’t afford him enough time for me and he gave me to his parents, Lynne and Steve, who agreed to keep me until they could find me a suitable home.

Once I met Lynne and Steve, I had found my suitable home! As you will see, Lynne is an amazing woman, and I was determined to wow her with my friendly disposition and irresistible charm. I won her over. She agreed to keep me.

Together we completed two levels of obedience training – which is, after all, training for the pets as well as the owners – and then she helped me earn an American Kennel Club “Canine Good Citizen” award. It turns out that the same qualities that I used to charm Lynne and Steve into keeping me also worked to make others feel good: I am friendly, calm, well-behaved, cute, and totally loveable. Who knew?

And then Lynne and I went to Therapy Dog training together. In the company of my hefty classmates – a Great Dane and a couple of German Shepherds – little 13-pound me learned what it takes to be a Therapy Dog, and I prepared diligently for my certification test.

Therapy Dogs, with their tail-wagging greeting and unconditional friendship, are dogs who help people, usually the elderly or infirmed, just by visiting them. Time spent with a Therapy Dog can make people feel less lonely, reduce their stress, and ease their depression. People often talk to dogs more freely than they talk with people, and the presence of a dog can make it easier for strangers to talk with each other. Sometimes the mere act of reaching out to pet a dog is the most exercise that bedridden people might get in a day, and often the dog is the only thing that day that makes them smile. Therapy Dogs are not uncomfortable around the frailty of the human spirit and the human body of infirmed patients; the dog accepts them as they are and makes them feel less self-conscious. And sometimes a visit from a dog can bring back pleasant memories of a beloved pet.

I was nervous for my official test. Lynne knew the value of pet therapy and I wanted to be all of this for her and for the people we would visit someday. I had to pass eleven out of eleven tests; there was no grading on a “curve;” a “C” was not a passing grade. I had to sit patiently when petted by a stranger, walk through a crowd and stay under control, behave politely around other dogs, and (gasp!) totally ignore a tempting hot dog that was placed on the floor near me! That was the dreaded “reactions to distractions” test and it was the toughest. But I passed. I became an official Therapy Dog.

My first job was a daunting one: I went to work with Lynne. To say I was a little intimidated is an understatement. Lynne has a master’s degree in History from New York University, another master’s degree in Special Education from Lehman College, and a Doctorate in Educational Administration from Columbia University. Her work for many years was for The New York City Department of Education as the Educational Coordinator of the West Side Day Treatment Program, a Division of The Jewish Board of Family and Children’s Services. The program was part of Lewis and Clark High School, whose special education students were emotionally disturbed. Lynne’s focus was Director of Transition and Career/Technical Education Programs: she worked to move her students from crime to careers and from gangs to gainful employment. No easy task.

About the time I was training to become a Therapy Dog, Lynne was creating an intergenerational program that paired her students with the elderly residents of the Jewish Home and Hospital in the Bronx. The elderly needed companionship; the students needed the skills and discipline to someday hold a job. The program: each student had to chronicle and present the life story of a virtual stranger by interviewing, writing about (a first for some of them), and with permission, photographing (or including old photographs of) their new elderly friend. These elderly friends, who may have had no family of their own, got to tell their life stories, personal accounts they thought no one would ever be interested in again. In many cases, the students “adopted” the residents as their grandparents.

And I, Scruffy the Therapy Dog, who stands 8” tall and is groomed with a ¼-inch puppy cut, walked right into the middle of this “high school gang members meet elderly Jewish nursing home residents” gathering. No problem. Remember, I trained to be a Therapy Dog with Great Danes and German Shepherds!

Through Lynne’s foresight and dedication to this program, I became the catalyst (um, dogalyst?) that got the elderly residents and the students talking. Walk me into a room, stick me on a wheelchair-bound lap, let me cuddle up to a kid who has had a rough life, and give me a few minutes to be my charming self. I had everyone smiling and talking. Proof I was a successful Therapy Dog!

In August 2007, after many years of dedicated service, Lynne retired from the New York City Department of Education and we joined Steve in our beautiful new home at The Landings. I was not thinking retirement though; I was only two years-old at the time.

Our move to Savannah prompted a role-reversal: just as I had once gone to work with Lynne, she now goes to work with me. We spend a few hours a week at Hospice Savannah, visiting with those, young and old, who have, at most, six months to live. They reach out to me. They talk to me about the pets they’ve had. They tell me stories about their lives. Some just pet me and say nothing. Others can only muster enough strength to smile at me. And I know that I am doing a mitzvah. I am a good Therapy Dog because Lynne is a good Therapy Person.

A Therapy Person? What a concept!

I was discussing this idea the other day at the Dog Park with fellow Therapy Dog Stormy Gordon, Golden Retriever of JWOL member Maureen Gordon. (Our owners think we are sniffing each other; in reality we are sharing brilliant ideas). Based on our experiences of humans assessing our potential to be Therapy Dogs, we fantasized about putting you humans to the same test: could you be a Therapy Person?

Perhaps I’m asking this question at the time of year it is most appropriate: the High Holidays. As you sit in synagogue in the coming weeks and examine yourselves critically and honestly, think for a moment whether you could have passed the (people-equivalent and more metaphorical version of the very literal) test we had to take.

In the last year did you “accept a friendly stranger without showing signs of resentment or shyness”? Were you able to “behave politely” around others? Could you “walk through a crowd, be polite in pedestrian traffic, and remain under control in public places”? Did you “come when called” and “stay in place” at the appropriate times? Were you able to resist temptation? How did you react to distractions? How well did you “accept and acclimate to the infirmities of others”?

We wonder.

You’ll know which tests you passed, and which gave you pause (paws?). And you’ll know what you need to work on to make your resolutions for the coming year. Think about it.

So that is my version of Lynne’s story. I hope you will get to know her. I am a lucky dog to live in the shadow of my mom, who herself basks in the sunshine of The Landings, is warmed by her membership in the JWOL, is proud of her distinguished career, and is buoyed by our volunteer work at Hospice Savannah. Together we feel fortunate to be welcomed into -- and contribute to -- our new community, and together we wish you, and your pets, L’Shana Tova.