Trudy & McDuff

I write about my friend, Trudy, in Life with McDuff: Lessons Learned from a Therapy Dog. She had two Lhasa Apsos that she was crazy about, but one day she said to me, “I love Jasmine and Bandit, Judy, but they’re not like McDuff. McDuff is special.” Other friends of mine felt the same way. I’m a dog lover, and I’ve liked other people’s dogs. But I never loved someone else’s dog the way they loved McDuff. I write of those special relationships in my book.

Sophisticated Lhasa Apsos and rambunctious Scottish terriers don’t mix. A half hour into a holiday visit to Trudy and David’s home with McDuff, Jasmine and Bandit begged to be put in the basement. They wanted no parts of that crazy, high-energy Scottie.

Trudy and I became close friends when we worked as legal secretaries at the Columbus, Ohio, prestigious law firm of Vorys, Sater, Seymour and Pease. Some of my dearest friends still work there. Even though I moved on to other jobs, and moved out of state, we have never lost touch. They have supported and encouraged me down through the years. A person is blessed to have only one true friend in life. I have been blessed with many.

My dear friend died of leukemia at the age of fifty-three. Even though I had moved from Ohio to Nevada, we talked on the phone and e-mailed nearly every day during her long and courageous battle. We discussed life. We discussed death. I miss her to this day.

Trudy’s husband, David, is an editor on Life with McDuff. He is the first person who read the completed manuscript. I know she is aware of the success of the book and looking down with a smile on her lips saying, “Only Judy.”

Spirit Dog McDuff

McDuff was a spirit dog. Native Americans and other cultures believe in spirit animals, or totems, possessing special powers. An animal that comes to an individual and acts as a spiritual guide in the physical and spiritual worlds. It offers power and wisdom to that individual throughout a lifetime and beyond. McDuff certainly fit that description.

I felt a strange connection when I went to the kennel to bring the eight-week old Scottish terrier puppy home. Something eerie happened when I picked him up and looked into his eyes. Throughout our nine years together, I witnessed unusual occurrences among McDuff, people, and animals time after time.

A fifth grader struggling with reading went from a D average to the honor roll after reading to McDuff for twelve weeks. Five individuals with horrendous mental and physical disabilities responded to him in amazing ways.

A repeated pit bull attack that should have killed him left him totally unharmed. At the touch of his nose, I saw him calm a terrified out-of-its mind wild duckling. And, a small child’s hysterical fear of dogs evaporated after a brief exposure to him.

McDuff returned to me in the wee hours of the morning to snap me out of the debilitating grief I experienced after putting him down in 2003. Two years after his death I received a Christmas card from a close friend who loved him dearly. She was dying of terminal lung cancer and wrote, “I keep McDuff’s picture in front of me, and just know he is in my arms comforting me and tears fall. Maybe I will see him soon.”

I write about Spirit Dog McDuff and how he miraculously touched my life and the lives of many others in the book, Life with McDuff: Lessons Learned from a Therapy Dog.

Life with McDuff and the Henderson Writers' Group

I sat in a chair placed against the wall to accommodate the overflow crowd in the too small conference room at the Las Vegas-Clark County Library. As I listened to the members of the Henderson Writers’ Group (HWG) seated around the center table, thoughts flashed through my mind. You’re in way over your head. These people are writers and published authors. You’ll never belong with this group. But I didn’t stop attending the weekly meetings held in Henderson and Las Vegas.

Each week I listened to the gentle and informative critiques of writers who read from their works and soaked it up like a sponge. Most of it was over my head, but I didn’t get discouraged. Even though the thought of reading something I wrote in front of a group of writers terrified me. When I asked for comments from a friend about the chapter I intended to read at my first critique, he said, “It sounds like an essay.” I still tease him about that.

I encourage every fledgling writer like me to find and join a writers group. Without the guidance and encouragement of the HWG, my first book, Life with McDuff: Lessons Learned from a Therapy Dog, would probably still be in the incubator. The expertise and experience of fellow writers will benefit you in many ways. My eternal gratitude to the HWG members who took me under their wings and hatched out a published author.

LIFE WITH MCDUFF: A SCOTTIE WITH ATTITUDE

LIFE WITH MCDUFF: A SCOTTIE WITH ATTITUDE

I’ve owned many dogs in my lifetime, but none like McDuff. Scotties are a breed apart. Their appearance, intelligence and stubbornness set them apart from the other breeds. They have attitude — and plenty of it.

Just the way they walk with that peculiar gait, those protruding eyebrows, flowing beard, and extra-long, erect ears commands attention. And Scottie owners know that they get a lot of that.

Scottish terriers are often described as “dignified.” A neighbor saw me walking him one morning and struck up a conversation. From then on, he referred to McDuff as “the professor.” I didn’t have to ask him why.

I once heard a Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show announcer say, “The Scottish terrier is the only breed of dog that knows it’s smarter than its master.” McDuff’s off-the-chart intelligence combined with supreme stubbornness and frustrated me to tears. I write about the ways he outsmarted me in my book, Life with McDuff: Lessons Learned from a Therapy Dog.

It took me a while to realize what was going on because I thought, he couldn’t be that smart; he’s just a dog. But I soon found out, often to my amusement or dismay, that I had been outsmarted by a canine.

My friends at work clamored for “McDuff Stories” and he provided plenty of them. They howled at his exploits and my frustration. I write about many of them in Life with McDuff.

McDuff was special enough for me to write a book about him. And it is doing quite well. One of the blurbs on the book cover is, “Think Marley and Me, but with an intelligent dog.” That sums it up nicely.

PENNSYLVANIA COAL MINER'S DAUGHTER

Looking back, I see that growing up a coal miner’s daughter in Beeson Works, a coal company patch town near Uniontown, Pennsylvania, had its perks.

Fragrant fresh air drifted down from the majestic Summit Mountains giving the clothes swinging in the breeze on the clothesline the most pleasant smell. Cold as ice mountain spring water gushed from a pipe jutting out the rocky side of the mountain beside a winding two-lane road. Families took bottles to fill with the best-tasting, cleanest water on earth during the summer. Tall green trees, so thick in places that you couldn’t see the sky, made you feel air conditioning on even the hottest, humid days.

The Summit Mountains abounds with historical sites from the Revolutionary War. Fort Necessity National Battlefield, Braddock’s Grave, and a lot of “George Washington slept here” places just to name a few. Kids in the surrounding area returned from school outings with their minds teeming with the exciting, historic battles of George Washington, the French, and Indians. Old taverns with museums containing Conestoga wagons and other artifacts on the National Road built in 1806 (later U.S. Route 40) proved fascinating.

Neighborhood gardens in Beeson were communal property. A tempting red, ripe tomato from anyone’s garden enticed me to pick and devour it while warm juice dripped off of my elbow. Too bad if I had a cut or scratch on my arm. Ouch!

When my playmates and I ran out of mundane things to do and craved danger and excitement, we explored the abandoned coal mine. Peering into the darkness, taking hesitant steps while holding onto each other, and then running away screaming in terror from the imagined danger and perceived close call.

Kids from Beeson Works back then were labeled as poor. Too bad those who affixed that tag on us didn’t realize how rich we were.

PUBLIC SPEAKING AND LIFE WITH MCDUFF

Do you know that Glossophobia, fear of public speaking, ranks right up there with the fear of death? It’s actually number one of the ten top human fears. Symptoms of speech anxiety occur in three categories: physical, verbal, and non-verbal. And the “fight or flight” reaction is triggered in the body. I am all too familiar with the butterflies in the stomach, trembling voice, shaky hands, mental blocks, panic and stress before I speak in public.

When I was a senior at Uniontown Joint Senior High School (now just Uniontown High School), an English class assignment was to choose a topic and give an oral presentation to the class. I was the only one in the class unable to get up in front of my classmates and speak. Needless to say, I got a failing grade.

Now as the author of Life with McDuff: Lessons Learned from a Therapy Dog, I speak at hospitals, retirement and community centers, assisted living facilities, book signings, Toastmaster and book club meetings. I educate people about animal assisted therapy and animal assisted reading programs like Therapy Dogs International and Reading with Rover. Through the book, I want to motivate and encourage seniors, retirees, and baby boomers with dogs to volunteer their services.

One of the valuable life lessons that my Scottish terrier therapy dog, McDuff, taught me was that by being of service to others, you bring contentment and happiness into your own life. I try to pass that along. That shy student in Miss Ely’s senior high school English class has come a long way.

THERAPY DOG MCDUFF: PARTY ANIMAL

McDuff was a party animal. Nothing pleased him more than going to a holiday party at one of my friend’s house or holidays like Halloween and Christmas. He taught me a valuable life lesson.

Halloween was his favorite holiday. Not only did he get a new rat, but mobs of trick-or-treaters descended in the night. His favorite toy was a large, black, rubber rat with a super long tail that I could only find in the stores at Halloween. I had to buy him one every year because the poor thing was on its last leg –- literally.

One year McDuff was invited to the office Christmas Party. Needless to say, I was apprehensive, but my boss insisted that I bring him because everyone had heard so much about him. McDuff had a ball wolfing down hors d’oeuvre and mingling with the guests.

The life lesson I learned from McDuff was to get out and enjoy life to the fullest. Party hardy and have a good time.

I put McDuff down on Halloween, October 31, 2003. Each year my heart aches when I realize he won’t be sitting by the door eagerly awaiting the costumed kids. Then I remember what he taught me about life, and the sadness disappears. He’d want me to have fun and be a party animal, too.