"Mr. Harry" gives back: Life lessons & dog hair
- Dec 13, 2022
- 2 min read
By By Julie Mastroni, volunteer with Hospice of Humboldt and Guide Dogs for the Blind
The dog hair is my mom’s fault.
My first volunteer memory is clumsily rolling 2-inch strips of old sheets with my mom. I was about 4, so my mom’s explanation was simple: there were people in Mexico who didn’t have bandages and we could help. It was enough information for me to begin learning that I could help someone with my time and that it mattered.
Mom always found hours in her busy weeks to help a school, church group, children’s organization or an environmental cause. It’s no surprise after years of watching her volunteer, I did the same.
Shortly after my grandmother gracefully died while under hospice care in San Diego, I became a board member for Hospice of Humboldt in 2003. I enjoyed learning about the team-centered care provided so lovingly to hospice patients and their families. I also met the nicest people — everyone had an end-of-life story and volunteered with heartfelt purpose!
If giving a little time is good, then giving more must be better. Why be satisfied with a monthly board meeting when you can volunteer 24/7 raising a puppy for Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)?
At the start of 2012, we brought home Harry, a yellow Labrador puppy from the GDB headquarters in San Rafael. I began the fulltime work of teaching him basic obedience, house manners and socialization, which included attending hospice meetings.
By the middle of 2013 our wiggly puppy was a giant dog, ready to return to GDB for formal guide training. Graduation was bittersweet. After months apart, our joyous reunion was soon followed by a tearful goodbye as he headed to Arkansas with his new partner for a career of service.
The most common question puppy raisers receive is how we can give up a dog we have loved so deeply? My answer is that our loss is overshadowed by the enormity of our work. Raising a pup that profoundly changes a person’s life is not trivial, so it only follows that our hearts are forever changed.
After seven years of guide work, Harry retired and came home to live with us. No longer spry enough to guide, he still went to the front door wanting to work. Hospice had the perfect position: Canine Volunteer.
Mr. Harry, as his official nametag reads, accompanies me to the Hospice House several times a week, where he loves (and sheds) on the patients, family members and staff. He happily takes treats, gets ear rubs and naps peacefully at bedsides. He even comes to vigils with me when I have the honor of sitting with someone during their final hours. His deep brown eyes seem to carry the wordless, soulful understanding so often longed for at the end of life.
When I talk to my mom, who at 86 is still volunteering, about how meaningful and fulfilling my time with hospice and Harry feels, she smiles knowingly and replies, “I know, honey.”
Thanks, Mom.
This story originally appeared in the Senior News.
