July 18, 2008

Sometimes CCI dogs and puppy raisers are asked to do unusual things, so when Marianne told me we'd been invited to help with a "disaster drill" at Parker Adventist Hospital, I wasn't sure what to expect. She told me she wasn't really sure either, which didn't exactly bolster my confidence. I mean, why do something that sounds scary when we could just as easily have stayed home in the nice cool house and watched Animal Planet?

"Parker," she scolded, "You can be helpful to the hospital staff today. They need to practice what to do if a person with a service dog needed help in an emergency. Besides, this will be an excellent training opportunity for you, too."

Uh-oh. I didn't like the sound of that. "Excellent training opportunity" is puppy raiser code for "weird new experience you might not like."

"Will there be cookies?" I asked hopefully. "Yes," she laughed, "I will bring some dog cookies for you and Ren."

I perked up. Things can't be too bad if another CCI puppy and cookies are included.

I watched as she packed a small bag with extra clothes, water, a hat and towels. I was surprised when she dressed in her swimsuit, then put on the casual clothes she wears to her exercise class. "Greater love hath no puppy raiser than to agree to appear in public in a swimsuit for a dog-training exercise," she told me.

Whoa. Curiouser and Curiouser.

We motored over to Ren and her puppy raiser Pat's house. I was startled to see Pat dressed in similar casual clothes and a HAT. This was going to be an interesting day indeed.

Soon we arrived at the hospital and made our way into a conference room for instructions. Ren and I got lots of petting and attention from the staff and volunteers, while Marianne and Pat filled out paperwork. Soon all the pretend victims were wearing big tags around their necks.

"What's that for?" I asked, trying to read Marianne's tag.

"It's my new identity," Marianne explained. "See, it has my pretend name, Ima Glowing (snicker) and all the information the staff will need to treat me when I arrive at the emergency room. It says I am seriously injured and I collapse when I arrive at the ER. I am unable to follow instructions. Oh, I am also diabetic."

"What it say about me?" I asked.

"Nothing. See, that's part of the exercise. The staff will have to figure out what to do with you. We'll pretend you're my medical alert dog since I'm diabetic," Marianne decided.

We proceeded outside, and made our way to the ER. Pat had different injuries so she and Ren waited in another area. Marianne "collapsed" on the sidewalk and closed her eyes. I lay down next to her and put my head on her shoulder, playing the part of Concerned Service Dog. I heard several people say "Awwww, he's so cute! Look, he's worried about her." I'm a really good method actor.

Soon a nurse rushed over and began taking information off Marianne's tag. She made a special little paper collar for her wrist, and placed her on a back board. Someone brought me a pan of water, which was very thoughtful because it was hot! Nothing more happened and I dozed for awhile, keeping one eye on Marianne and watching the other victims as they received treatment.

Suddenly there was a flurry of activity. Two nurses came over and lifted Marianne onto a high narrow table with wheels, which I found a little alarming. "It's called a gurney," Marianne whispered. "It's OK; they need it to move me into the ER." There was a spirited discussion between the two nurses about what to do with me, and they decided that the situation called for Marianne to go on without me because of her serious injuries. "It's OK, Parker," Marianne said. "Be a good boy and do what they tell you to do." And then they rushed her gurney around a corner and out of sight.

Huh.

Someone handed my leash to another volunteer for awhile, but then he was taken away too. I sat on the sidewalk by myself, watching everyone rushing around. I remembered what Marianne said, and stayed put since no one had given me a command to do anything. I was dozing off again when a nurse came over and picked up my leash. "Let's go," she said and we walked around the corner where I'd last seen Marianne.

To my amazement there was a big white tent with two people in strange puffy gray outfits and masks spraying water on a victim with a hose that was dangling from the ceiling. They were scrubbing and rinsing her just like Marianne does when she gives me a bath. "I'm getting a bad feeling about this," I thought to myself. Sure enough, one of the puffy people grabbed my leash, and next thing I knew I was being hosed down with VERY COLD WATER. Marianne didn't mention this part of the drill! At least when she gives me a bath the water is warm; this was freezing! When they were done the puffy people patted me and said I was a good boy, and a nurse took me into the hospital.

To my relief the nurse took me into a room with several very wet people in swimsuits lying on gurneys, including Marianne! She was very happy to see me, and I wagged my tail and gave Marianne and the girl on the next gurney little kisses. Someone brought over a sheet and Marianne used it to dry me off a bit.

"What the heck was that all about?" I asked. "Why did we get showers and why were those people dressed so strangely?"

"They were pretending we'd been exposed to radiation and had to be decontaminated before we could enter the hospital," Marianne whispered. "That's why I had my swimsuit on."

"Jeez, you could have warned a dog," I complained. "That was weird and scary and cold."

"I'm sorry," she said, giving me a hug. "But I'm very proud of how well you did!"

Just then a gurney went zipping past with Pat lying down and Ren sitting up, her ears flying in the breeze. "Hey, that looks like fun!" I said and Marianne laughed.

"What I wouldn't give for a camera right now!" she exclaimed. "Of course, Pat would never forgive me for taking a picture of her with wet hair and no makeup."

Soon Pat and Ren joined us in the room with all the other volunteer victims. The staff brought in a gurney piled high with the victims' clothes, and everyone dried off and got dressed. We all trooped back to the conference room for some final paperwork and sack lunches. Marianne gave Ren and I cookies for being such good dogs. After lunch we drove home. Ren and I were so exhausted that we slept the rest of the afternoon.

"That was fun," I admitted to Marianne later that evening. "Do you think Ren and I helped the staff figure out what to do when someone shows up with a service dog if there's a disaster?"

"Oh, I am sure you two were a huge help," Marianne said. "And think how exciting your puppy report will be this month!"

Chow for now!

Parker

Questions or comments for Parker? Send me an e-mail!

Would you like more information about Canine Companions for Independence or perhaps be a puppy raiser? Call 1-800-572-BARK or go to CCI for details.