Tag: cats
How to engage with someone who doesn’t respond
Belma’s eyes closed lightly as she was transferred from her bed into her wheelchair and brought down the hall for breakfast. She was peaceful, but did not seem to respond much to the world around her. At times her hands were restless as they sat in her lap: picking at the chair, a blanket, or something on the table in front of her. Belma had aphasia, which meant that she often did not speak. She did indeed “communicate,” as she would sometimes smile, nod, or touch a person who was speaking to her. Sometimes Belma would say a word or two, and it was almost always in context, which meant that she did generally understand what was happening around her. On this day, I wanted to try something new. Belma’s family did a good job of finding little things to occupy her time: greeting cards with interesting pictures on them, TV shows, music, soft blankets with zippers and buttons. Belma had never been one for animals in her younger years, but as her dementia progressed, she found great comfort in pets. [youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vU1hol5oo58?feature=oembed&enablejsapi=1&origin=https://safe.txmblr.com&wmode=opaque&w=540&h=304] I brought in the pet that Hasbro had sent me to try it out. My favorite pets to give to people with dementia are Memorable Pets, but I hadn’t had an opportunity to try out this animatronic cat that Hasbro had sent. The cat moved and meowed, responding to light and touch. For someone who could use another level of interaction, this cat was a good fit. Belma squinted at the cat, trying to understand what it was. She began to pet it, slowly at first, and a smile moved across her face. The cat meowed and Belma’s smile grew a little bigger.
The Cat Knew
“When did you guys get a cat?” Betsy’s daughter, Tina, asked. “Just two weeks ago,” I said. “Why?” Tina explained that the Memory Care unit cat, Fred Astaire, looked just like the cat that her family had growing up. She was surprised, and happy, to walk into her mother’s room one day and see him sitting on Betsy’s bed. Betsy was petting him quietly. Betsy had gone out to the hospital before any of knew how sick she really was. We figured that she’d be back in a few days with a clean bill of health. A few hours before the EMTs brought Betsy back, though, the cat went missing. “Has anyone seen Fred Astaire?” I asked. A staff member and I went up and down the hallways, calling for him. “Hey, Rachael, he’s in Betsy’s room!” the staff member yelled to me from down the hall. Fred had been sitting, for probably an hour, on Betsy’s windowsill, looking out at the parking lot. About thirty seconds later, the door to the elevator opened up. Betsy was wheeled to her room by the two paramedics. “She only has a couple days left,” Tina told me tearfully. “That’s what the doctors said.” Fred spent much of his time in Betsy’s room until she passed away a few days ago.
The Memory Care Cat
I did something this week that I’ve been hoping to do for a while: I picked out a cat for our Memory Care Neighborhood at work. The executive director of our community met me at the local animal shelter to help find the right cat. Immediately upon entering the “cat room,” I saw a sign for a cat named Fred Astaire (pictured above) Fred Astaire was the perfect name for a cat that would be living in our Memory Care—all of our residents love the human Fred Astaire for his dancing. I brought Fred to work with me the next day. The residents took to him instantly. Even though he was new to the environment and still adjusting, Fred Astaire seemed more than happy to meet some new friends. Heather, one of my residents, absolutely loves animals—especially cats. She gasped as she came into the room and spotted Fred. “Oh, aren’t you a beautiful cat?” she asked him. Heather picked him up and put him on her lap. “My mother used to bring cats home to us all the time when I was a kid,” she said. “We took such good care of them.” Heather told us many of her memories about growing up. It was really more than I’d ever heard her talk. This cat was encouraging her to express herself in the most fantastic way. When it came time for lunch, the caregivers tried to coax Heather out to the dining room. “No,” she said, smiling. “I think I’ll just stay here and keep the cat company.”
Found: Dog
Adding the stuffed animals from Memorable Pets to our community was an immediate upgrade. The cats and dogs were a welcome sight to many of our residents who had always loved animals. Although many of them could no longer care for a living animal, these stuffed ones provided the same amount of comfort and happiness as real ones did. Benjamin walked slowly down the hallway with his walker. On the walker’s seat sat one of the Memorable dogs. The dog was probably the most popular Pet we had, because it looked so real. Benjamin was always smiling. He had wonderfully kind eyes and a gentle voice. One of Benjamin’s favorite things to do was to sit and listen to the entertainers that came in to sing and play records for the residents. He always clapped in time to the music and sometimes he would sing quietly. Benjamin looked down at the dog on his walker’s seat as he continued to push it down the hall. “Benjamin, is that your dog?” I asked, walking by. “No,” he replied. This was surprising, because, typically, residents will claim the Pets as their own. “But, if I keep walking him down the hallway, I hope that someone will claim him,” Benjamin nodded. “That’s a great idea,” I said, trying hard to suppress a smile. “He doesn’t move much, though,” Benjamin said quietly, squinting harder at the dog as he pushed it down the hall.
A Fake Dog, A Real Connection.
Nancy walked into the room and gasped, spotting the two dogs. “Ohhh,” she said with excitement. Nancy slowly reached out her hand and put it in front of the dog’s mouth. She gave him the chance to smell her hand before she reached out to stroke his soft fur. The piece of this story that makes it interesting is that the dog was not real, and Nancy has advanced Alzheimer’s disease. Nancy is very pleasant and very tactile. She makes small conversation and mostly walks around the community, picking things up, and then putting them down again. She and her husband had a small dog, Mocha, that she used to carry around the house. I think that this dog reminds her of Mocha. I just created a “Pet Shop” at our dementia care community. I covered the walls in pictures of cats and dogs and bought two furry dogs from Memorable Pets. Residents who came to visit the “shop” smiled and laughed as they pet the stuffed animals. Nancy walked off, cradling the dog in her arms, just as she had cuddled Mocha months before.
The Cat's Meow.
Ellen* has Dementia with Lewy Bodies, so it makes her a little different from our other residents with Alzheimer’s disease. For the most part, Ellen keeps to herself. She can usually be found in her room with the door closed. As much as I try, she doesn’t want to be involved in group activities. She’s also very quiet. There is one thing that Ellen likes to talk about, though: her cats. She has three stuffed cats that she keeps in her room. Some days, I am pretty confident that she doesn’t believe that they are real. Other times, though, I think she does believe they are real, live cats. “I have to hide them so no one takes them,” she said, pointing to her bottom drawer. I reached in and pulled out three furry stuffed cats. “Hmm,” she said, with a smile. She reached out and took the cat, petting the top of its head. “Your eyes are in there somewhere,” she said, pushing some of the fur away from the cat’s eyes. Ellen told me how her grandmother used to live on a farm where they’d raise cats for catching mice. As a young girl, Ellen ended up just bringing all the cats indoors and playing with them. She continued to pet one of the stuffed cats throughout the conversation. “Her fur is so soft,” Ellen commented. I think today, if only for a couple seconds at a time, Ellen believed that the cat was real—and I enjoyed being a part of that moment. To purchase a Memorable Pet, see this link.
