The Power of a Pet

Denise Flaim: Animal House; January 16, 2002

THEY WERE among the four-footed heroes of Sept. 11, but they were worlds away from the sooty search-and- rescue dogs that climbed the downtown wreckage, nosing pile after smoldering pile for someone, anyone.

Dozens of blocks uptown, in the cavernous confines of Pier 94's Family Assistance Center, these other dogs were pert and primped, greeting the grieving with a wag of a tail, offering bone-tired rescue workers a furry shoulder to cry on.

They were the therapy dogs. And, their supporters say, they made a difference.

"Where a person cannot make any headway, a dog often can," says Ursula Kempe, who runs New Jersey-based Therapy Dogs International, which counts about 8,400 humans and 11,000 canines as members. "People will first relate to the dog much more easily than they relate to a person." She saw this firsthand riding the ferries that took the bereaved down to see Ground Zero: As tight-lipped families and friends bent down to pet her mixed-breed therapy dog Wusel, the words and tears began to flow.

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But long before the Twin Towers crumbled, therapy dogs have been making their quiet rounds of nursing homes, hospital wards and schools for the autistic or mentally retarded - anywhere a wagging tail or silly trick can spread some joy. Unlike the search-and- rescue and bomb-sniffing dogs that have shared the limelight with them in recent months, most therapy dogs aren't highly trained: They just pass a simple behavioral test and have owners who understand animals' innate ability to connect with and help heal the humans around them.

The Therapy Dog Demo Team is a case in point. Made up of members of the Greenlawn-based Suffolk Obedience Training Club, whose human members dress in white outfits topped with bright blue vests and jackets, the group makes weekly rounds at nursing homes to entertain and interact with residents.

At the Marquis Care Center in Glen Cove one recent Wednesday, elderly residents glide their wheelchairs and walkers across the large room, where the Therapy Dog Demo Team gets ready to strut its stuff.

"When we train our dogs, love is the main ingredient," announces the group's coordinator, Caroline Mozdean of Fort Salonga, as the individual dogs trot out with their handlers. Ellie the miniature poodle jumps over the cane of her owner, Wilma Diehl of Massapequa. (Ellie is named after Eleanor Roosevelt, a connection that prompts a murmur of approval from the onlookers.) Tamy the flat-coated retriever picks out an American flag from a grouping of a half-dozen others, and proudly carries it back to her owner, Amelie Seelig of East Norwich.

The group's newest member is Rocky the white boxer. "When he sees me dressed in white, he gets all excited," says his owner, Irene Messina of Laurel Hollow. Rocky is still working on his tricks, which include lying on his side on command so Messina can lay a blanket atop him and send him nighty-night.

Later, accompanied by marching music, the dogs and handlers perform in unison, taking routines they know from the competitive obedience ring - sits, downs, stays and heels - and turning them into entertainment.

The dogs run through tunnels, they catch balls in midair, they spin in circles. And then, when it is all over, their handlers take them to all corners of the room, to lay their heads on laps and wait eagerly to be petted.

A quick canvass of the dogs in Suffolk Obedience's Therapy Dog Demo Team - golden retrievers, a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, a Petit Basset Griffon Venden, lots of Labs - turns up all purebreds, which tends to be the case with therapy dogs in general.

"It's mostly purebreds because most mixed-breed people don't know how much there is out there that they can do with their dogs," says Sheila Mittenmeyer of Central Islip, whose therapy dogs include Beamer, a geriatric Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever, and Packer, a mixed breed. Also, the places where therapy-dog testing takes place - oftentimes, at dog shows - tend to draw more purebreds than not.

Though there are many therapy-dog registries - including the Delta Society, which had a strong representation at Pier 94 - Therapy Dogs International has far more local dogs registered. Locally, Bide-a- Wee Home Association in Wantagh has an active outreach program that tests therapy dogs and matches them with organizations and institutions that want them. All the organizations cover their volunteers through an umbrella liability policy - a compelling reason to register with them.

Not that a dog's affiliation matters much; it's what the dogs do with it that matters.

"Therapy dog organizations are registries, really; they can't be expected to be doing anything else," says Kathy Diamond Davis of Oklahoma City, author of "Therapy Dogs: Training Your Dog to Reach Others" (to be re-released this year by Dogwise.com). "It's on the local level that you have to have that support."

DAVIS, WHO was heavily involved with the use of therapy dogs after the Oklahoma City bombing in 1995, says the best place to start is at an obedience class.

"Your obedience instructor will form a pretty good opinion about whether you should be encouraged to pursue testing," says Davis, pointing out that since every dog can benefit from basic obedience instruction, it's a win-win situation, no matter what the outcome.

Her list of reasons why some dogs might not be suited to be therapy dogs is sensible enough: a hip or orthopedic condition that makes it difficult to walk on slippery institutional floors, any condition that makes it painful for the dog to be petted. While aggressive dogs obviously are not suited for therapy work, "I do not believe that a dog needs to be overtly friendly," says Davis. "You just have to be the right handler for that dog."

Therapy-dog tests vary from organization to organization. The Therapy Dogs International test requires a dog to pass a basic obedience test mirrored after the American Kennel Club's Canine Good Citizen test, except that it also includes exposure to things the dog might encounter in an institutional setting, such as wheelchairs and crutches.

"When I test, it's the handler I'm testing just as much as the dog," says Pam Rowley of Brookville, who is the only Therapy Dogs International evaluator on Long Island. "The handler has to feel what the dog is feeling, and has to pick up on whether the dog is tensing up. They're animals, after all."

The most common reasons for flunking the TDI test? Rowley cites dogs that cannot walk with their owners on a loose leash or do not pay attention to their handlers' commands.

Just as there are different types of dogs, there are different types of therapy work. In response to Sept. 11, Therapy Dogs International has created an extra level of accreditation for dogs to work at disaster sites; not every dog is capable of dealing with the sensory overload such a scenario presents.

Though there arguably is a therapeutic benefit to simply touching and stroking a dog, most therapy dogs are not doing actual, animal- assisted therapy, which is done in a specific, measured way under the supervision of a psychological or physical therapist.

Zoey, a 6-year-old Yorkshire terrier, is an exception. Twice a month, Zoey and her handler, Patricia O'Sullivan of Bayside, visit the occupational therapy department at St. Mary's Hospital for Children in Bayside. Originally, O'Sullivan bought Zoey as a gift for her sister, who didn't want the dog and, in turn, gave her back on O'Sullivan's birthday.

At the hospital one day last week, 4-year-old Rojae is waiting expectantly for Zoey. He has difficulty maintaining a standing position, and he favors the use of his right arm.

Gayle Bardin-D'Aversa, the hospital's senior occupational therapist, adjusts Rojae's braces so his legs and back are straight, and O'Sullivan places Zoey on the lap table of his mobile chair.

"She's very messy," O'Sullivan says to the boy. "Can you comb her?"

Rojae grasps the comb, but before he extends it toward Zoey, Bardin-D'Aversa switches it to his left hand and makes him stretch his arm upward. He then brings it down to part the fur of the tiny terrier, who waits patiently on the tabletop.

Three times he does this, each time, from the strained look on his face, more painful than the last. But he pushes on to the last stroke, motivated by the little dog before him.

"Sometimes, we can do double the therapy with the dog here, because the children are much more willing to work longer," Bardin- D'Aversa explains. "Humans have such a connection with animals, because they don't place any demands on us."

Next up is Madelyn, a 16-year-old who has much less motor control than Rojae. She needs to communicate yes and no by blinking, but no words are necessary when Zoey arrives: Madelyn's face lights up into a smile.

As Madelyn and Arlene, a 3-year-old, take turns brushing Zoey, Bardin-D'Aversa explains that the dogs can be used to help tackle all sorts of goals - physical, neurological and cognitive. "There are very few limits - it depends on the creativity of the therapist," she adds. "We also use the dogs for motivation: 'Let's practice how we're going to brush Zoey when she gets here.' Even when they're not here, we're benefiting from their presence."

For a small dog, Zoey is extraordinarily tolerant and unflappable. But that is as much a testament to O'Sullivan's hard work and training. And that is something that Davis of Oklahoma City thinks prospective therapy-dog handlers should keep in mind.

"I really want people to realize that these are not wonderdogs. They're not superdogs," she stresses. "They are part of a team."

But for Adele Fulgo, an elegant 86-year-old in a lavender sweater who watched with delight at Marquis Care Center as Ellie the white poodle came by to collect a pat on the head, there is something special about each and every one of them.

"As my mother always said," the octogenarian concludes, beaming, "'They're the very best friend you can have.'"

A TALE OF TWO DOGS

BOTH MY DOGS have a big yellow tag attached to their collars. Often, when we're out in public, someone will notice the flash of smiley-face yellow and its big black letters.

"I Am A Therapy Dog," they will read, and then invariably ask: "What does that mean?"

It's not meant as a profound question, but on some levels it is. After all, those who go to the trouble of training and certifying a therapy dog are motivated by the desire to share their dog with others and maybe do some good in the process. But exactly how they achieve that goal can be as striking as the difference between a dachshund and a Dalmatian.

For me and my two Rhodesian ridgebacks, the most difficult part of therapy-dog work was finding a place that would have us to begin with. I didn't belong to an obedience group, and there were no local therapy-dog "chapters," so I started calling around.

I left messages at two nursing homes and one well-regarded children's hospital that I knew had a therapy-dog program. No response. Finally, I got in touch with Sue Wood, coordinator of the volunteer services program at the Brook- ville-based Association for the Help of Retarded Children.

She gave me a warm welcome - and an invitation to start visiting a local day center near my home.

That was more than a year ago, and Blitz and Diva and I have become a weekly fixture at the AHRC's Sea Cliff Day Hab. Our routine is pretty simple: When we arrive, the adult clients draw their chairs into a circle, and each dog takes a turn making the rounds. Paws are proffered, and petting is solicited.

Blitz is fond of being fussed over, and he stands blissfully as people take turns combing him. He is the ultimate iron dog, unfazed by loud noises, odd body movements or clumsy handling. His tour-de- force is lying down and waiting patiently while people put treats on his paws. The rule is he can eat them only when given the release word: "OK." Sometimes he cheats, but at least he's subtle about it.

Diva, for her part, is a sensitive soul who lives for her tricks; her signature one is "Bang!" wherein she unconvincingly feigns dying by rolling on her back. Currently, she is perfecting "Say your prayers," which involves putting both paws on a seated person's legs and then bowing her head, in Milk-Bone-inducing supplication.

If our doggy sessions sound like fun, that's because they are. But there is serious stuff going on, too. Grooming the dogs helps strengthen motor skills and coordination. Giving them commands builds a sense of empowerment and success. Interacting with them provokes conversation and connection.

One day, a staff member from another AHRC center stopped by the Sea Cliff outpost and was so impressed by our sessions that she asked us to start visiting her group in Oceanside. How could we say no to an invitation to the Island's other shore? Whenever the commute seems daunting, I just remind myself of some of the friends I have made: Jamie, who tells me about her horseback-riding adventures; Roberto, who revels in the crunch-crunch-crunch noises the dogs make when they eat their treats; and

Christina, who used to shriek whenever the dogs came near, and who now grows braver every week.

What does "I Am A Therapy Dog" mean? To tell you the truth, more than I ever thought it would.

- Denise Flaim

For More Information

Therapy Dogs International

www.tdi-dog.org

88 Bartley Rd.

Flanders, N.J. 07836

973-252-9800

For a list of upcoming events where TDI testing is planned in the tristate area, subscribe to the monthly Match Show Bulletin (516-541- 3442;

www.matchshowbulletin.com).

Delta Society's Pet Partners Program

www.deltasociety.org/dsa000.htm

289 Perimeter Rd. E.

Renton, Wash. 98055

425-226-7357

Currently, there are no Delta Society evaluators in the Long Island or Queens area.

Call 973-376-2682 to find the nearest

location for seminars and testing.

Bide-A-Wee Home Association

www.bideawee.org

3300 Delta Ave.,

Wantagh, N.Y. 11793

516-785-4199

Bide-A-Wee's Pet Therapy Program

screens animals and volunteers,

who then visit nursing homes,

facilities for the disabled and hospitals.