Melissa & Baxter

Melissa Joseph

 

About the Authors

Baxter is an 18-year-old rescue dog. Melissa Joseph adopted him right before he was to be euthanized when he was two years old. About four years ago, he became a certified therapy dog. He comforts patients at San Diego Hospice and The Institute for Palliative Medicine and Palomar Pomerado Hospital in San Diego, where he lives with his owners, Melissa Joseph and Dennis Bussey.

As well as volunteering with Baxter, Melissa Joseph is an adjunct teacher of writing and literature. Originally from Jackson, Mississippi, she currently lives in San Diego with Baxter and her husband, Dennis.

Dennis Bussey took all the photographs in Moments with Baxter while volunteering at San Diego Hospice and the Institute for Palliative Medicine. He also volunteers at Palomar Pomerado Hospital.




How Baxter Became a Therapy Dog
Excerpted from the book Moments with Baxter

One day, about four years ago, my husband, Dennis, came home with a suggestion. “Sweetie, we’re going to volunteer at San Diego Hospice and Palliative Care. I just met a couple who volunteer there and I’m convinced this would be a good experience for us. I have the proper paperwork right here. We can fill it out and send it in and get started.” Because I was interested in doing something more than teaching English and composition at a local community college, I agreed to explore this as a possible way to make a difference. I was skeptical, though not of working at hospice. I’m one of those people who are not afraid to embrace the mystery of the dark side of life, and I seem to have a gift for bringing compassion and humor to it. My reticence was about the mandatory attendance at the orientation program, which demanded that I give up three Saturdays and attend a workshop at hospice. In addition, I never like to leave Baxter home alone for long periods of time. Even at this time he was getting old, and I was trying to keep him as vital as possible. Then I found out that the gorgeous hospice facility where the workshop would take place is dog friendly, so of course I decided to bring Baxter.

For many years, Baxter has accompanied me almost everywhere I go. He is the most well-behaved, socialized, and compliant dog I have ever met. He never whines and rarely barks; he doesn’t even nudge me for attention. He introduces himself to those he senses are receptive to him and ignores those who are not. He forms a unique relationship with every person he meets. He has never been formally trained and knows no commands, but he is always quiet, resilient, and obedient.

As he usually does, Baxter charmed each of the over thirty participants at the orientation, including the staff who presided over the meetings. When he was not in someone else’s lap, he waited patiently beside me on his mat.

Toward the end of the orientation, when we were being photographed for our identification badges, one of the staff members suggested that Baxter be photographed for his ID as well. “You know, he is an incredibly special dog. You might want to look into getting him certified.” “Certified, what do you mean by that?”

“Well, there’s this organization, Therapy Dogs International, where you can find out how to get Baxter trained and certified as a therapy dog. I believe he would be a wonderful volunteer here in the in-patient care center.” I was intrigued.

After the meeting, Gary approached me. He had participated in a panel of veteran volunteers both in homes and at the in-patient facility. Gary seemed to have found himself through giving at hospice. He, too, encouraged me to get Baxter certified. “There’s just something special about your dog. I am drawn to his calmness.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying. I do plan on following through in doing what it takes to certify him.”

As a grand finale to the orientation, each participant was presented with a certificate of completion, authorizing us to begin our volunteering. The last name called was Baxter. Even though he had to get certified before he could volunteer, the organizers recognized his wonderful contribution to the group.

I was already getting excited, even though I had no clue what getting Baxter certified entailed. The next day I contacted TDI and began the process. I requested the appropriate packet, took Baxter to my local veterinarian for a complete physical, and made an appointment with the certification officer in my district.

A couple of weeks later, Dennis, Baxter, and I arrived at Nancy’s home for the test. If I had read the test questions in advance, I would have sworn to you that Baxter would never pass. Dennis, Baxter, and I arrived completely ignorant about what was required. Most dogs are trained to become therapy dogs. Most dogs rehearse the test questions before the actual test is administered. Not Baxter. His parents brought him to his test unprepared, unrehearsed, and unpolished.

How could I be so stupid?

I got Baxter out of the car and we made our introductions. Nancy made a comment that eased my anxiety just a little. “This is perhaps the cutest dog I’ve ever tested.”

“Well, he may be the cutest, but he’s also the least trained.” The test is very difficult. Baxter should have failed at the first question, but on this day he was accompanied by an angel. He got all the responses right, though I truly don’t know how he managed to do that.

Here are the questions and commands to which Baxter responded with grace and confidence:
“Sit, Baxter.”
“Stay, Baxter.”

I was instructed to walk away 150 feet and call to my dog. “Come here, Baxter.” He came.

He had to walk and heel.

Nancy brought another dog on the premises, and Baxter had to ignore the dog. Baxter remained aloof and stayed by my side. I was amazed.

Next, Nancy brought out a bowl of food. Baxter was not permitted to go near the food. I mimicked a command I’ve heard in the past: “Leave it.” Ha, it worked! Baxter was still by my side.

Then, Nancy had someone in a wheelchair try to run over Baxter. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I mumbled to myself as I glared at Dennis. My eyes told him, “This is it. Baxter will never make the cut.” He seemed to understand what I was saying and nodded his head in agreement. To both our surprise, Baxter didn’t react. He was calm, stable, and stationary. [AU: Wouldn’t he have to move out of the way?]

Next, Nancy threw commercial-size stainless steel bowls on the concrete. Baxter could not flinch, cringe, or run. He remained motionless. I mouthed to Dennis, “Go figure.” Then, someone tried to run over Baxter with an electric scooter. Again, Baxter did not react. It was as if he were meant to do this. Next, someone took a cane and whipped it all around Baxter. Since Baxter is a rescue dog who typically flinches when anyone is holding an implement or when he hears a loud noise, I have always assumed that someone once hurt him. He did not flinch today. I was really impressed now. Someone wailed and flailed. No response from Baxter. Nancy grabbed his tail, pulled his ears, smothered his face with her hands. Baxter was still, with no reaction. Perfect. All this wasn’t enough, however. Next she took her body and practically lay down on top of him. Surprisingly, he seemed to like it. “You both must leave Baxter with me now. I need to see if he has separation anxiety.” We walked away and stayed out of Baxter’s sight for about twenty minutes. When we returned, Nancy had her arms around him.

“Did he pass?”

“He’s going to be one wonderful therapy dog.”

As soon as she said this, I began to cry and I hugged Dennis. He, too, was tearful. I hugged Baxter and said with enthusiasm that he could understand, “You did it, Baxter. You did it. How did you know what to do? How did you understand those commands? I’m so proud of you!” I will never understand how an untrained dog could act so perfectly, instinctively anticipating how he should react and taking his place in each of those unfamiliar, challenging situations. I can only imagine that it was because therapy work is something he was meant to do.

Moments With Baxter