After EMS: And Your Little Dog, Too

This article is part of an ongoing series from Mike Rubin. In this series, he’ll reflect on his career and share practical retirement advice for emergency medical personnel. Catch up on articles you missed.

Retirement is many things, not all of which make sense. Take bedtime: Helen and I used to fall asleep around 11:00-11:30 p.m., then wake up by 5:30 a.m. if we were working days—not too bad, given the sleep-deprived state of Americans. Now we’re in bed by 9:00 PM and up before dawn with no place to go but the kitchen. Why the rush?

We have a new dog, Ellie—a seven-month-old Cavachon we’ve appointed Chief Morale Officer of retirement. Her charm is off the charts. Even at 4:00 AM, she’ll greet me as if I’m the most fascinating human in the neighborhood. Sometimes retirees need reasons like that to get dressed.

Helen has always been a dog person. I’m more accustomed to cats, having helped raise dozens of them as a kid. Since moving to Tennessee in 2006, we’ve had both—as many as five four-legged rescues at a time. Now we’re down to Ellie and Willie, a semi-feral tomcat who adopted us a year ago. Ellie adores Willie. Willie tolerates Ellie. None of us sweat the small stuff.

Mornings with Ellie are energetic. She’d rather play than eat. That’s odd for a dog and one of the differences between us—not that they matter when counting the ways she’s good for me:

1. Ellie calms me when I pet her. Helen says that’s nice because I need calming, especially when I’m awake.
2. She teaches me tricks—Ellie, not Helen. I know when she wants my breakfast, or if I’m supposed to pretend she’s bigger than I am (Ellie weighs nine pounds).
3. She’s part companion and part distraction. When it’s time to take a break from my routine, she pesters me until we’re both in a room with lots of her toys and no digital devices.
4. Ellie’s senses are wolf-keen, but she doesn’t make a fuss about strangers unless they enter our ZIP code. Then she does her demented Doberman impression with staunch bravado and a strident bark.
5. She’s Hollywood cute—the hypothetical offspring of Benji and Toto (even the Wonderful Wizard couldn’t make Toto a boy).

Retirement seems less procedural with Ellie. She’s whimsical and smart and lower maintenance than the average paramedic. We’re partners in mischief, acting silly and all. Most of you haven’t seen me that way, but poise is overrated when Ellie’s around. I don’t even wear a watch anymore.

Best of all, Ellie helps Helen and me feel useful. Raising her is a shared source of pride—and exercise! More than ever, there’s no place like home.

Mike’s Exit Poll #9: Who’s the more entertaining medic, Johnny or Roy?

Not so fast, lifesaver, there’s a catch: I asked Copilot, Microsoft’s AI app, how Emergency’s costars would greet a narcissistic patient complaining of, well, lots of things, none of which are emergent. Here we go:

“Hey there, I’m Johnny Gage with LA County Fire Department. I’ve heard you’re the best at knowing what you need, so tell me how I can match that. You’ve got the spotlight and I’m here to make sure nothing steals your thunder, starting with getting you the care you deserve.”

“Good afternoon, I’m Roy DeSoto with LA County Fire Department Paramedics. I recognize you have a clear vision of your needs, and I’m here to deliver exactly that. Let’s work together so you get the outstanding care you deserve.”

I like the way Roy clarifies his role as a paramedic. He also sounds less goofy and more in control than Johnny, but the real winner is AI. Those characters, those quotes—an amusing take on a peculiar patient. The internet used to be just a tool for writers. Now it’s a competitor.

Mike Rubin is a retired paramedic and the author of Life Support, a collection of EMS stories. Contact Mike at mgr22@prodigy.net.