Therapy dog takes on role as blood donor to fellow canines

SOUTH ELGIN, Ill. -- Hogan's head tilts sideways, watching the trees and traffic whirl past the window.

He quickly loses interest in the world outside. He lowers his head onto the back seat of his family's van, closes his eyes -- one brown, one blue -- and takes a nap.

The 8-year-old Australian shepherd doesn't seem anxious about what is to come. He is an old pro.

He makes the journey with his owner, Kim Sipple, from their South Elgin home to a Lake County animal hospital every eight weeks to donate his blood.

"Every one of Hogan's donations has been used," Sipple says. "It makes it worth it, knowing it has helped someone. Someone out there is happy because Hogan donated blood. It's not just the pet, it's someone who loves their pet enough to put them through a blood transfusion."

Hogan not only is man's best friend, he is a dog's best friend. A list of names accompanies Hogan's file at the Animal Emergency and Treatment Center -- names of pets he has helped to save.

The Grayslake facility is the only animal blood bank in northern Illinois. Sipple travels an hour each way with Hogan in tow as soon as she receives the postcard reminding her Hogan can donate again.

Sipple first took Hogan to donate blood four years ago when she learned about the demand at a pet fair. Although she worked for a veterinarian for years, Sipple says the need for animal blood donations was not as apparent at that time. People today are willing to spend the money necessary to provide medical treatment for ailing pets, Sipple says.

"Dogs used to be dogs," she says. "If a dog came down with an autoimmune disease, you would put them down. Now dogs are like family."

She knows this from personal experience. She and her 19-year-old son, Danny, have three dogs: Hogan, Cash and Dakota. Danny, who was born with spina bifida, named Hogan after wrestling star Hulk Hogan.

Hogan goes everywhere with her and Danny, she says. It is because of her son's disability that Sipple began training Hogan as a certified therapy dog. Hogan has worked with autistic children and the elderly throughout the area, she says.

"It's a way to give back," Sipple says. "Having a disabled son has brought many blessings. Our life is so filled with gifts by family and friends. It's one way to make someone else happy for a little while."

At the center, Gina Falish, manager and blood donor coordinator, gives Hogan a brief physical that includes a check for his red blood cells -- just like with human blood donors. She checks the color of his gums to make sure they are nice and pink, then listens to his heart. Dr. Jill Keller checks his heart again and his pulse before declaring he is fit to donate.

A few minutes later, Hogan is laying on his side while Falish shaves a circular spot near his neck. Falish pulls out a clump of white fur, revealing a patch of pink skin underneath. Sipple observes as the needle goes into Hogan's vein, but he doesn't flinch. He watches Sipple, standing by his head and within his line of sight.

"It takes an exceptional dog to be a donor," Falish says. "A huge part of donating is to have a good disposition."

Hogan doesn't stir as his blood fills the plastic tube leading into a pouch on a scale. The scale monitors how much blood is being collected. Hogan donates 450 milliliters, or one canine unit of blood. It takes a matter of minutes before the pouch is filled. Falish says the animals don't feel the needle. "Hogan will save four lives with each donation," Falish says. "We definitely use every drop we take. Hogan has saved many lives."