Dog was all the medicine she needed
By Jill Porter
porterj@phillynews.com
Tue, Mar. 11, 2003

IT WAS always in the middle of the night that Jean
Butler would show up in the emergency room, her blood
pressure spiking, her nose bleeding.

Two or three times a week, the white-haired widow
would be rushed to Presbyterian Medical Center.

Dr. Judith Fisher suspected part of the problem was
anxiety and loneliness. So she improvised an unusual
treatment.

She wrote a prescription for a dog.

Butler lived in a subsidized apartment building in
West Philadelphia where no pets were allowed. But,
when presented with Dr. Fisher's prescription, the
management at University Square Complex - which isn't
run by the Philadelphia Housing Authority - relented
and waived the rule.

Zach, a Chihuahua-terrier mix who was rescued from the
SPCA, moved in with Jean Butler three years ago.

"Once I got him, I never got no more nose bleeds,"
said Butler, 90, who still has the twang of her Texas
birthplace in her voice.

"It gave me a reason to live."

Jean Butler was never again rushed to the hospital in
the middle of the night.

In fact, she grew so devoted to the dog that when she
became seriously ill in January, Butler refused to be
hospitalized because she didn't want to leave him
alone.

Once again, Dr. Fisher saved the day: her own daughter
took care of Zach for three weeks while Butler was
hospitalized.

Now, Jean Butler is back in the hospital again,
grimacing with pain, struggling to breathe. She has
heart and lung disease and other serious problems.

This time, she can't go home again.

This time, she knows she and Zach might have to go
their separate ways.

"I want him happy - he's got a lot more years than I
have," she said last week from her hospital bed, as
preparations were made to move her to a nursing
facility.

"I want a good home for him."

Dr. Fisher, director of community programs for
Presbyterian, knew a pet would be good medicine for
Jean Butler.

"There's a lot of literature that says pets are really
good for the elderly. They lower blood pressure,
decrease pain and increase a sense of well-being."

"I think it changed your life," Fisher said to Butler,
standing by her hospital bed Friday.

"Oh, god, yes, in every way," Butler replied.

University City Complex didn't return my call to
explain their humanitarian decision to allow Butler to
have a pet.

But, Butler joked, "they took Zach's picture, gave him
a card and put him on the mailing list."

Butler and Zach became inseparable, riding around on
the motorized cart that Dr. Fisher also prescribed,
inviting conversation with other tenants.

"It got to be they didn't ask about me - they asked
about Zach," she said.

Butler doesn't talk much about her life story - not
even whether she has surviving relatives - not to Dr.
Fisher, not to Linda Schmitz, whom she calls her
"granddaughter."

Schmitz met Butler when she delivered a holiday meal
to her as a volunteer eight years ago, and was smitten
instantly with this sharp, funny lady with the upbeat
personality.

"We adopted each other. She's just an inspiration,"
Schmitz said as she sat on the hospital bed, holding
Butler's hand - and petting Zach.

Zach was brought to the hospital from Butler's
apartment by Dr. Fisher. The small dog whimpered with
joy when he saw his best friend in the bed. Butler
summoned her declining strength and pulled him up
next to her.

Zach snuggled beneath the covers, pawing at the
clasped hands of the two women with him on the bed.

Schmitz, 38, a psychologist, was there to take Zach
back to her Fort Washington home until other
arrangements could be made.

She was gently trying to prepare Butler to say goodbye
to the dog, to reassure her that Zach would find a
good home.

When it was time for Schmitz to go home, Zach curled
in Butler's arms and didn't want to leave.

Butler looked down at him and said, "Don't make this
any harder than it already is."

Schmitz cried all the way home.

It would be uplifting enough to know that there are
still doctors like Judith Fisher out there, who see
beyond pain and diagnosis to the person they're
treating.

"She's an extraordinary doctor and an amazingly caring
woman," Schmitz said.

But there's even more reason to celebrate.

Because Dr. Fisher isn't alone in putting human
concerns above other considerations.


And because of that, Zach will be able to stay with
Jean Butler until the very end.

After calling untold numbers of nursing homes, Schmitz
and a hospital social worker found one yesterday that
would take Butler and her dog.

Zach will be the first dog ever to become a permanent
resident at Green Acres, in Wyndmoor.

The rehabilitation and nursing home already has
resident birds, cats, guinea pigs and rabbits. And a
handful of employees bring their dogs every day, but
take them home at night.

"We highly believe in pet therapy for senior
citizens," said admissions director April Lamenia.

"So, we're going to give this a whirl and see what
happens."

Jean Butler was sedated yesterday because of her pain.

So she doesn't know that when she arrives at Green
Acres today, Zach will be there to greet her.

She also doesn't know that Schmitz has decided to keep
Zach herself when Butler dies.

"I'm thrilled she's going to have a chance to finish
her life out with her friend," Schmitz said.