The Magic of Colleen

Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.

~Roger Caras

In 1981, I went to work in a nursing home as a Nurse’s Aide. My duties included waking the residents in the morning, bathing and dressing them, and getting them to the dining room in time for breakfast.

My first day on the job, I met Anna. She was a petite, beautiful woman with a sweet disposition and silver-gray hair. As I brushed her hair, she would sit with eyes closed, enjoying the attention I gave her.

There was only one thing that bothered me about Anna. No matter how much I coaxed her, she wouldn’t say a word. Upon inquiring about her lack of speech, I was told that Anna hadn’t spoken since she’d come to the nursing home. No one seemed to know why—Anna had always been a very social person with lots of friends.

The only time that Anna left her room was for meals. As soon as she had finished eating, one of the staff would push her wheelchair back to her room. She sat all day, gazing out the window, which faced a farm and pasture.

One day I walked into Anna’s room. The sight that met my eyes stopped me dead! Anna was standing, clutching the windowsill. A chortle of laughter escaped her lips. I craned my neck to see what she was looking at. She was watching a Border Collie round up the cows and head them back toward the barn. Silently, I backed out of the room and went directly to the administrator’s office. Ruth was a wonderful woman with an open-door policy. She wanted the best for the residents.

After I explained to Ruth what I’d seen and heard she told me that Anna had spent her entire life on a farm. Ruth explained that she had been thinking for weeks about starting an animal therapy program here at the nursing home. The theory that animals could help people heal was fairly new at this time but she felt that there might be a lot to be gained by allowing animals to visit the residents. Of course it would take some time to implement such a program; the animals would all have to be carefully screened.

It took six months before the program was initiated. The animals were to visit three times a week for two hours. Their owners would accompany them and the residents who wished to be a part of the program would gather in the Recreation Room.

The first day, only three animals visited—a Husky, a Poodle and a Persian cat. Ruth wanted to introduce the animals slowly so the residents could get used to their visits.

From the first day, the staff knew the program would be a success. The residents loved the pets. There were only two exceptions—Mr. Mannen, who was a crotchety old soul, and Anna. Neither of them paid any attention to the creatures that moved freely around the room.

Within a few weeks, the residents looked forward to Pet Day with much enthusiasm—all except Anna and Mr. Mannen. Hours before the pets were to arrive, the Recreation Room would be filled to capacity. I continued to ensure that there was always a place for Anna and Mr. Mannen.

At this time, Ruth decided to allow three more animals to visit. A total of sixty residents were taking part in the program and three animals were not sufficient to meet the demand. The newcomers were all canines; a Husky, a blond Labrador Retriever and a Border Collie named Colleen.

Colleen was a gentle, loving animal and a hit with all the residents. The first time she visited, Anna was in bed with the flu. However, Colleen proceeded to work her magic on crotchety Mr. Mannen. She continued to return to his chair time after time, laying her head on his knee. Instead of brushing her away, as I expected, he sat and stared at her.

As Colleen was saying farewell to all of the residents, she ventured to Mr. Mannen one last time and laid her head on his knee. To my astonishment, he patted her head and spoke to her in a soft, gentle voice. This was a step forward, as Mr. Mannen never had spoken a kind word to anyone.

The following week, Anna was feeling much better and her doctor gave his permission for her to take part in the program. A half-hour before the pets were to arrive, I pushed Anna to the Recreation Room. She sat, staring into space, ignoring everyone around her. That is until Colleen walked into the room. As soon as Anna spied this lovely black and white creature, she laughed with delight and clapped her hands. Colleen immediately trotted to Anna’s side, wagged her tail excitedly and danced on her hind legs. As Anna bent to touch her, Colleen began to lick her, her pink tongue lapping in and out rapidly. Anna hugged her close, tears coursing down her cheeks. As fast as they fell, Colleen lapped them up.

“Oh my dear Laddy, I’ve missed you so much,” Anna cried. By this time there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Even old Mr. Mannen’s eyes sparkled mysteriously. Everyone was surprised to hear Anna speak so plainly after two years of silence.

The next time Anna’s sister, Mildred, came to visit, we told her that Anna was talking. She could hardly believe it. Ruth explained what had happened. Mildred told Ruth that when Anna had come to the home she had left behind a Border Collie named Laddy. The farm had been sold and a neighbor had adopted Laddy. He had been a direct descendent of a Border Collie that had been given to Anna by her father when she was a child. In fact, until she had come to the nursing home, Anna had never been without at least one, and more often two, Border Collies in her life.

Over the next few months, Anna and Colleen bonded in a special way. Anna began to talk to the other residents and walk with a cane. Every staff member of the nursing home knew that if Colleen hadn’t come into Anna’s life, the healing process would never have taken place.

Two years later, at the age of eighty-seven, Anna passed away peacefully in her sleep. As I stood at the cemetery and listened to the eulogy, I looked across the lawn. What I saw brought tears to my eyes and a smile to my face. There on the outskirts of the mourners lay Colleen, her nose on her paws, sad eyes gazing at the coffin. I was sure that Anna knew Colleen was there and I whispered a prayer of thanks for the magic that the wonderful Border Collie had brought into Anna’s final years—the magic of Colleen.

Colleen taught me much about the human response to animal companions. I have never looked at a dog in the same light since Colleen brought the miracle of love to Anna.

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