Therapy dog Willow steps into Star role
BY SANDY THORN CLARK January 24, 2011 6:08PM
1-4-11 Marcin Gniadek and his wife, Monika Pawlik enjoy a visit from Willow, the pet therapy dog brought by owner and Prentice Hospital volunteer, Judith Jaffee . Al Podgorski - Chicago Sun-Times
Updated: April 26, 2011 4:46AM
Though she has big shoes — or, rather, paws — to fill, Willow is leaving her role as understudy.
The immaculately-groomed brown-beige-rust-white-haired collie, wearing a fanciful jester collar and “Wild Thing!” felt tag, sits on command and waits patiently at the door of a patient on the 16th floor of Prentice Women’s Hospital on the sprawling campus of Northwestern Memorial Hospital.
Soon the specially-trained canine is cued, and Willow makes her grand appearance, wagging her tail as she gently approaches patient John Myers of Chicago.
Minus any rehearsal, Myers and Willow trade affection. The collie earns an appreciative smile from her audience of one.
Willow is new at her volunteer gig with Canine Therapy Corps — a Chicago-based network of volunteers and certified therapy dogs offering rehabilitative therapy to people with physical and emotional challenges.
Her owner, Judith E. Jaffe, calls the 4-year-old collie “a natural” for visits to motivate patients at the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago and comfort patients in Northwestern’s Prentice Women’s Hospital and Feinberg Pavilion.
Jaffe, a former Chicago Public Schools social worker (and a breast cancer survivor), is first to admit that Willow needed more time learning the ropes of bedside visitation and mentoring, but that wasn’t to be.
Jaffe’s beloved 11-year-old golden retriever Star had cheered families at Rice Children’s Shelter in Evanston, motivated patients at the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago and comforted others at Prentice Women’s Hospital and Resurrection Hospital.
But in December, Star was diagnosed with hemangiosarcoma, a highly invasive variety of cancer originating in blood vessels, and had to be euthanized.
“Star touched so many lives — literally thousands — and losing her . . . well, it’s taken a toll on my emotions,” confides Jaffe, 63.
She eagerly recites her favorite memories of Star:
The golden retriever helped calm and carried the sack lunch of a sobbing kindergartener until the child was brave enough to enter the classroom.
She helped soothe a boy with muscular dystrophy whose legs gave out.
Star challenged a student with multiple physical limitations to successfully learn to walk faster and climb stairs.
She listened politely to a “knock-knock” joke whispered by a boy with selective mutism.
She motivated a girl with cerebral palsy to raise her head.
Enter Willow, a champion show dog from Misty Manor Collies in Gary and nine-month companion to Star in Jaffe’s South Loop home.
Jaffe realizes Willow differs from Star — for example, Willow isn’t food-oriented while Star even licked Willow’s bowl clean; Willow is nervous on the bed while Star slept with Jaffe; Willow prefers rest and relaxation while Star loved retrieval and destroying squeakers in toys. But Jaffe knows that Star wasn’t the same as her predecessor, a collie named Scotchie.
“Willow doesn’t know tricks, but when she turns her gaze on, she’s just a sweetie pie,” boasts Jaffe, who, because of her own respiratory issues and a bad knee, takes Willow to day care once a week to socialize, run and play.
Jaffe, an animal-assisted therapy volunteer for 10 years, says she knew Willow would be a good fit for therapy when, one month after acquiring her, Willow spotted a woman in her 90s sitting on a park bench trying, but being unable, to turn around to pet the friendly collie.
“Willow saw the situation, made a quick assessment, pulled me toward the lady, gently jumped up on the back of the bench and stretched out her front paws so the lady could reach them. The lady petted her and was just in heaven. I knew right then [that] Willow’s very intuitive and going to be perfect.”
Willow’s attributes are readily recognized by the cancer, palliative care and hospice patients on the 16th floor of Prentice, part of the Robert H. Lurie Comprehensive Cancer Center.
After telling Willow she’s “gorgeous” and “a good girl,” patient Sandra Rivera of Michigan City grins from ear-to-ear when the Lassie-look-alike offers her left paw for a handshake. “You just made my day,” Rivera exclaims.
“It’s a win-win situation. The patients get unconditional love at a time they need it most, and the dogs get so much petting and attention, they think it’s all about them,” explains Jaffe.
So now, Willow is no longer an understudy. While she’s not Star, she is a star — and, as most stars, she’s interpreting her new role her way.
Sandy Thorn Clark is a local free-lance writer.
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