My interview

at Washington Hospital

It was very hard to act like an older and well-trained dog when, upon entry into the lobby of the local hospital, I became (through no fault of my own) a petting magnet.

Granted, I had just been to see Cindy, my groomer, and my helmet of curls was soft and fluffed out. My four white paws were Clorox white and my obsidian curly coat had a shiny sheen.

Cheri has aspirations for me and is sure I will make a perfect therapy dog.

The entrance to this part of the hospital serves those having blood drawn, images taken, infusions delivered. People coming to this building might be stressed and what better way to relieve the nerves but to pet a Portuguese Water Dog like me.

Cheri and I took the elevator up to the 2nd floor ( a piece of cake but larger than those Hampton Inn elevators) and headed to the Volunteer Office, where we were greeted by Evangeline, Assistant Director of Volunteer Services and Russ, the WOOF coordinator. So far, so good.

Entering the office, I pulled at my leash so hard, Cheri almost tripped. I followed Evangeline and Russ into a small office with a desk and looked to see if there might be a large jar of T-R-E-A-T-S, but alas, things were spartan. Staying in the interview room with Russ for an hour pushed me over the edge, so I put my paws up on the desk and tried to give him a big wet kiss.

At that point, because Russ is clearly a kind kind man, he suggested we take a walk around the offices on the second floor which Cheri seemed to think was a fantastic plan.

I pulled on the leash in human services, in endowments and donations, and in the long halls with blue carpet.

In short, I strained at the leash to say hi to one and all.

For some odd reason, Russ did not suggest we visit the people attached to tubes in the the Infusion Center where Cheri had spent so many days with her mother Joan. Or the oncologists’ or neurosurgeon’s offices or the lab. Or the Women’s Center. Or the Lymphedema Office.

Maybe next time.