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written by: Helen Dowd Biography
A Visit To The Nursing Home
(from a dog’s point of view)
I love to visit the nursing home, and down those halls I like to roam. But first I check the nurses out to see if I may walk about. They always say, “We’re glad you’ve come. The folks all here call you their chum.”
I’ve come to see a special friend. I know she’ll be there, in the end. But first I’ll greet some other folk. My head they’ll pat; my back they’ll stroke.
So onward down the hall I go; although my progress may seem slow. These are my friends all sitting there. Some are sleeping, some just stare. Too bad these people at the home seem oh, so sad, and all alone. They sit and dream of days gone by: it breaks my heart to see them cry. And yet, how they all come alive when they see me--a dog--arrive.
There’s Mr. Johnston in the hall. I heard that he has had a fall. He can no longer wheel his chair: I’ll lick his hand to show I care. ‘Tho Mrs. Ansley cannot hear, she always knows when I come near. She offers me a small tidbit, but always makes me beg for it. I feel so sad for Myra Kind. Oh! Did I mention? She is blind? I go so softly up to her. She puts her hand into my fur. She pats my head, and says to me, “To know you’re grand, I need not see.” For Mr. Smith I do some tricks. To poor old Joe I give some licks. There are so many folks to greet. To them my visit is a treat.
Ah! There she is, my Auntie Claire. They’re pushing her in her wheel chair. I wiggle-waggle, full of glee. Her face lights up when she sees me....”Where have you been? It’s been so long!” she says, and then sings me song.
Her memory is no longer keen. She won’t remember that I’ve been. But that’s okay, I do not care. At least I know that I’ve been there.
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