Our back porch, in a way the new spirit of Bedlam Farm, has taken on a rich Autumn hue with the wildflowers and the addition of the “Wiggle: Good Dog” tombstone, brought from the first Bedlam Farm. One thing has remained constant, that is the barn cats who hang out there. In case you can’t find them, Flo is dozing right next to the sunflower, Minnie is sleeping underneath the green chair. The chickens come and go.
Homes for the aged, ill, the memory impaired are often poignant and surreal. There is a great contradiction within these institutions – people at the edge of life, often ill or suffering from dementia, yet their lives are filled with movement, activities, interactions from heroic, almost desperately committed staffs fighting to keep the patients active and engaged. It is not possible to do that 24 hours a day, or even 12, no home has the staff for that. But they do their best, the staff is ingenuous, cheerful and enthusiastic at the Vermont Veteran’s Home.
You would think they were at Yankee Stadium for the World Series.
It is difficult, sometimes seemingly impossible work. How does one keep acutely ill and impaired people, many of them in wheelchairs and on medications, active and focused and as healthy as possible? The staff in the activity room is ingenious, there is a different activity every time we come. Today it was bowling, two lanes marked off with yellow tubes and plastic pins. People approached the lanes in wheelchairs and pushed them down the lanes towards the pins. Whoever knocked their pin down first won.
Red and I made the circuit in this room, we walked on leash to each person and all but one was delighted to see him and reached down to touch him. The dementia patients told me about their dogs and asked me about Red. One man kept repeating the story of his Golden Retriever hit by a truck and killed, he remembered it as if it were yesterday, he could not tell me his name.
When we had made our rounds, I asked Red to stay still while I took of a photo of a scene that seemed bittersweet to me, a bowling alley in the middle of a veteran’s home, determination in the midst of challenge and loss.
We know Bruce, we make it a point to visit him every time we go to the veteran’s home, he is often sitting in his room looking out the window. He is very happy to see Red, he had a Golden Retriever he loved very much, Red comes up to him, puts his head in his lap and the two of them talk privately – I back up and move out of range so Bruce can speak to Red privately. Red brightens Bruce’s world, he smiles when he sees them, and I sometimes wonder what they two of them are talk about, private messages from Bruce’s world.
Red and I went to the Vermont Veteran’s Home this morning for our weekly therapy week, we missed last week because I was in California. We were rushed – a lot going on today – and we continued our new procedure of knocking on door’s and going inside of rooms. The vets know Red by known are and very much brighten up when they see him. He is making some friends, I am working on his eye contact, which is good and getting him used to all of the noises – he was rattled by one man who kept shouting loudly and clapping his hands. It was a good visit, he did well, he made a difference. Several of the patients tried to give him candy and food, but he left them on command.
In the first light, trust and communication, the time with our donkeys is meditative, spiritual. The mist hangs over the pasture, the sun is breaking through the clouds, the donkeys gather for the first offering, a piece of carrot and then follow us as we clean out the barn, check on the water and the sheep. It seems to strange to say this, but I think the world would be a better, more peaceful and connected place if everyone began their day with a donkey, these creatures are so loving, intuitive and peaceful, it opens a window on the day that is mindful and meaningful.
