Autism Service Dogs

Spencer and Glindy were groomed yesterday...mostly. Spencer's legs are still shaggy, and his toenails are still way too long. This isn't really the groomer's fault; apparently, Spencer turns into a little demon with her as soon as she starts handling his feet.

He lets me hold his feet, and doesn't seem overly reactive when I apply light pressure to his pads, but you never know. I'm taking him to the vet this morning to make sure there's nothing physically wrong before I take it on as a behavior problem.

My gut feeling is that he simply doesn't respect the groomer enough to let her handle his body parts. If true, then I'm probably going to have to learn how to shave and trim him myself. *sigh*

Glindy killed another ball today. Thinking that the skin of the inflatable tennis ball had simply been too thin, I went out to the local sports superstore yesterday and bought a regulation-sized soccer ball.

If you've ever played soccer, and especially if you've ever "headed" a soccer ball, you know how heavy and tough they are. Nonetheless, within 20 minutes Glindy had bitten through the tough outer shell, and punctured the inner air-bladder.

Glindy always seems to lose interest shortly after the ball deflates. I think the herding dog in her prefers her inflatable quarry to be "on the run," and once it no longer rolls interactively when she pounces on it, she picks it up, shakes it hard, and then loses interest since her "mission" is accomplished.

I'm just glad the ball didn't pop in her face, or blow out explosively. No dog needs that kind of trauma.

Maybe a solid plastic ball should be our next try. I'll have to see what I can turn up.

Glindy apparently likes kickball. I bought an inflatable "tennis ball" from Petco that's about 14-16" in diameter, and we spent some time outside today chasing it around the yard. Glindy got an excellent workout!

She spent a lot of time batting it around and pouncing on it. At some point, though, she must have punctured it, because it started to deflate. The game changed a bit then, as I'd punt the ball, she'd go chase it and shake it into submission, and then bring it back for another go.

I'm considering getting a rubber playground ball, under the theory that it might be a bit tougher, but am worried about having it pop; I don't ever want her traumatized by her new toy.

I guess I have a bit of research to do.

So, Glindy and I ran into a problem tonight at Starbucks. Some woman was sitting outside with several dogs off-leash, one of whom came running up to us to check Glindy out. The woman shouted "Oh, she's friendly!" which was totally beside the point.

The point, of course, is that the dog was not under control, and I had no idea how Glindy would react. While normally a very friendly and outgoing dog--she's wildly popular with the other dogs at day care--she's certainly been known to be assertive when other dogs invade her space.

This is the dilemma: if I pull Glindy away from the other dog, the pull may act as a correction, and thereby trigger leash aggression because it seems to her like the correction comes from the presence of the other dog. On the other hand, if I don't pull her away, I run the risk that one or the other of them will start something, even though both are (theoretically) friendly dogs--and mine is the only one wearing a leash.

I'm not really sure which is the greater risk: acting or not acting. What I did tonight was to pull Glindy away, and then stood off the other dog by claiming the space around me. My split-second decision was based primarily on wanting Glindy to trust me to resolve the issue instead of taking matters into her own paws, but I'm not at all confident that I did the right thing. When Glindy was straining on the leash to reach the other dog--most likely for a good sniff--I pulled her back and got a surprisingly negative reaction out of her, presumably because the tug was associated with the oncoming dog.

Life is full of complicated choices. I'm trying hard not to second-guess myself about this evening, but I definitely need a better plan for the future.

Glindy is pretty non-reactive in public. By that, I mean that her inquisitive nature and natural prey drive are under solid control when we're in people places like stores and restaurants. However, she's still a bit of a nut in animal-filled places; taking her to stores like Petco can try the patience of a saint.

At the day care facility, there is a small group of feral cats living in the bushes outside the front steps. Glindy always goes a little crazy around those bushes. I'm not sure what she wants to do with those cats when she catches up with them, since she's more than happy to cohabitate with our three felonious felines, but she sure wants to do something--maybe sell them life insurance. Who knows?

At any rate, I made a rookie mistake. Since she's been yanking me around every time we get near those bushes, I've been using a bungee leash for the past few weeks so that she can run over and get a few good sniffs without yanking my shoulder out of its socket. It seemed like such a good idea at the time.

However, this weekend, tragedy struck--well, some minor drama, anyway. As I was clambering out of the car, Glindy spotted one of the feral cats near the bushes. This was the moment she'd been sniffing for! This cat wasn't just a fun and interesting smell at that moment; it was right there, just a few feet away. Glindy decided not to pass up an opportunity to try to sell the kitty an affordable term-life policy, and took off after her prospective client.

Unfortunately, Spencer the tubby terrier had somehow gotten his leash tangled up in hers. He was dragged haplessly along behind her as she went running at top speed. The cat, happy with its present insurance coverage, took off across a nearby vacant lot, with Glindy in hot pursuit and Spencer's dock-tailed body streaming out behind.

The cat changed direction suddenly to avoid an SUV parked in the mud, and so did Glindy...but poor little airborne Spencer had no chance to do the same. As Glindy darted around the parked car, centrifugal force whipped Spencer under it, where he and his leash ended up trapped under the front tire.

Glindy, meanwhile, never even slowed down. Somehow, the sudden immobility of the conjoined leashes didn't bring her up short; instead, her collar (not the break-away kind, mind you) gave way in a phenomenal wardrobe failure that would have done a Jackson proud.

She was off across the vacant lot, and didn't turn around until the cat was long gone over the fence line at the other end--presumably to reconsider the value of life insurance in light of the recent strain on its panicked little heart. Spencer, meanwhile, was a bit shaken but apparently unharmed by his own ordeal.

While a cat faced with financial questions relating to its own mortality makes for an amusing story, the potential harm to Glindy, Spencer, and myself--and possibly the cat, too--from this sort of unbridled enthusiasm had to be dealt with. As always, the question was "how?"

I couldn't do anything right then, because you should never yell at or punish a dog for coming back to you. That does nothing but spoil the recall, and I rather wish that the kindly lady attempting to help me had known that as well, instead of scolding Glindy repeatedly when she returned.

My solution would horrify the clicker-training purists, so don't tell them, okay? I returned later that afternoon with a different leash and a new attitude. Gone was the bungee leash, and the idea that it was okay to let Glindy sniff at those bushes or show interest in the cats. I wasn't going to punish her, but by golly, we were going back to obedience basics in that parking lot.

On went the London slip-leash, high and snug, just behind her ears. All the slack in the leash was taken out, except for the barest few inches required to keep tension off the line. The door into the parking lot was flung open, with full anticipation that a few sharp leash corrections would be required to enforce the "wait" command. And once we started moving, we marched down to the car, with corrections for any lagging, forging, or investigative behavior. We were on a mission!

We did this a few times, just enough for her to get the idea, and then into the car she went. I went back for Spencer separately, and then we were homeward bound.

Since then, I've taken care to project the sense that we are headed straight from the car to the front door, and back the other way, in order to avoid the problems that my permissiveness created before. After all, Glindy is a smart girl, so any failure to set the agenda is purely mine.

So far, the new attitude is working. Time--and some positive, clicker-based heeling work--will tell if it's enough to keep all of us safe in the future. I hope so...and so do the bush-dwelling cats.

Glindy and I were shoe-shopping at Wal-Mart last night. Things were going pretty well, with the minor exception of Glindy walking a bit wider of me than I'd like in the face of on-coming shopping carts.

As we we were standing in the checkout line, though, a toddler came rushing up to us, screaming and waving his arms wildly, clearly intent on reaching Glindy. While Glindy stood quietly, taking this in calmly, I had no intention of some maniacal child traumatizing my dog.

I stepped in front of Glindy, blocking the child with my body, and held my hand out in front of his face. "No!" I said firmly. "Don't touch the dog!" This unsupervised and persistent child tried to circle around me, but I kept in between the child and my dog, and continued blocking. Eventually, he gave up, and wandered off.

I have *no* idea where this kid's parents were during this exchange. It seems surreal to me that I have to keep a well-trained, well-behaved dog on a short leash in public, while feral offspring of our planet's top predators run amok.

Most people won't admit it, but I'll bet leash laws for children would be well-received by the general public. Anyone else want to start a petition?

Last night at the supermarket, the young lady at the register glanced over the checkout counter at my vested service dog, and said, "Normally we don't permit pets in here." The implication, of course, was that she wasn't going to raise a fuss this time, but that I shouldn't do it again.

Of course, I told her that Glindy was a service dog, to which she responded that only dogs for the blind were allowed. I told her that, while many people didn't realize it, service dogs had the same legal status as guide dogs (this is mostly true, with the possible exception of some local "white cane laws" that may apply only to guide dogs). She looked bewildered, and dropped the subject.

Like many others, I suppose I feel a bit defensive when people challenge my right to have Glindy with me in public. More problematic, though, is the surge of frustration I feel when I'm distracted from the task at hand, because I don't shift focus all that well. As a result, I'm never sure socially how to handle the situation most constructively, and usually take the tack that if they don't tell me to leave, I drop the subject when they do.

I realized after the fact that, while I handled the situation well, I may have missed a good opportunity to further educate someone about the ADA and the Nevada laws regarding service dogs. Then again, would it really have been useful to whip out my legal cheat sheet to educate the young cashier about service dogs, or would it have simply been obnoxious and overbearing? It's hard for me to tell, although I suspect the latter.

Since the "challenge" was well-meaning, and didn't actually result in any drama, I'm letting it go. I can always speak to store management at a later time, if it becomes a pattern.

In the meantime, most people tend to give way when faced with someone confident and assured in whatever it is that they are doing; being a service dog handler is no exception. As long as I know my rights and express myself with confidence, I doubt I will have to resort to sterner measures very often.

There are a number of basic rules when it comes to creating an emotionally stable dog. Two of the most important are:

• Don't reinforce the dog when it's anxious, upset, or fearful.
• Treat growling as a positive thing, because you always want to know a dog is getting defensive or aggressive, rather than being surprised later on because you've trained out the dog's warning signals. Remember, growling is a warning intended to reduce the likelihood of physical aggression, and is evidence that the dog would rather find a peaceful way to resolve the issue.

The problem is that, sometimes, growling can be inherently self-reinforcing. The trick is knowing when this is the case, and then figuring out what to do about it.

Glindy is an amazingly stable dog. However, several times over the past few weeks, she's been a little growly with other dogs. Typically, this happens when a strange dog gets well inside the six-foot zone I expect a well-trained dog like Glindy to tolerate, but I'm still unsure of the reasons behind it since the dogs didn't seem particularly aggressive.

Now, part of the problem is that even experts in dog behavior aren't dogs. Humans can't smell all the scent-based communication that passes between dogs, and aren't hard-wired to understand canine body language on the same instinctive level that other dogs can. So, when dogs raise the DefCon level, how do you determine which dog started it? After all, the one who growls first may simply be responding to a non-vocal threat of some sort--one which is too subtle for casual observation by a mere human.

The dilemma is this: if you ignore the growling, the dog may learn that growling is an effective way to warn off another dog--or maybe even a person. This is generally a good thing (warnings are very desirable!), but can become a problem if a dog begins using this as a technique to extend its zone of control further and further out. On the other hand, if you punish the growling, you simply teach a dog that warnings go unheeded, and may even bring negative consequences upon oneself. This often leads to dogs that bite without vocal signals when the fight-or-flight mentality kicks in.

Obviously, the second option is unacceptable; no one wants to be bitten. I've decided that the first is a problem if, and only if, the growling is unpredictable or becomes increasingly common as a routine coping skill.

In Glindy's case, her growling is both predictable (e.g. a strange dog is way too close for her comfort level), and used only in circumstances that indicate to me that she's not using it as a generic status-seeking tool. She's just vocalizing her discomfort, and giving me time to rectify the situation by standing off the other dog or simply moving us both away.

I'm very lucky to have such an emotionally stable dog, who trusts me to deal with the occasional canine intruder. I hope I can always live up to her expectations.

Tennis balls, as I've mentioned before, are of only cursory interest to Glindy. Imagine my surprise when I learned that giant, inflatable balls are a delight to her!

Yesterday, I went to Petco, and got a 16-inch inflatable "tennis ball" for her to play with. I rolled it towards her, and told her "get it!" Boy, she was all *over* it, growling and chasing and batting at it, and even looked a bit sad when I put it away afterwards.

So, maybe she'll never be a prize-winning retriever, but perhaps she'll get a bit more exercise in future from attacking her inflatable ball.

Most people know that you should not pet a service dog without asking permission first. Guide dogs, hearing dogs, and certain service dogs may be distracted from critical tasks by people petting or feeding them. However, not everyone is against having people pet their service dogs, and may even have an "Ask to Pet Me" patch on their vests.

Personally, I don't like other people petting my dog regardless of whether she's working or not at the time. I've found most people tend to pat my dog on the head (which she hates), no matter how many times I tell them not to. People, try and remember that most dogs prefer chest or chin scratches, and are often *afraid* of hands looming over their heads! Even though they may learn to tolerate it from loved ones, please "Just Say No!" to head-patting.

Also, I have OCD, and have enough trouble with my dog lying on the floor in public places. I don't need the additional worry of having people's cooties all over my dog on top of that. :)

And lastly, when my dog is working, I want her to ignore other people. This isn't the right thing for every service dog team, but I want *my* dog to stay within 2-3' of me, and not sniff at other people when we're out in public; I have found that Glindy just does better with this when she's told that other people are off-limits while working.

So, I find that I'd rather people just don't pet my dog at all. I'm just happier that way.

Why is playing catch considered a break-through? Well, Glindy is a tough dog to play with, because she doesn't have a strong retrieval instinct; she's much more interested in wrestling, romping, and running.

Wrestling with Glindy is a bad idea. I won't say I never do it, even though I know better; I just always regret it because Glindy tends to play a bit rough when she's over-stimulated. She's a gentle dog by nature, but she's also 70 lbs. of boundless energy, which makes wrestling a very poor choice.

I don't exercise much myself, so long walks aren't on the menu. And since she usually won't chase a ball, or catch a frisbee, that pretty much leaves romping with other dogs.

I take her to doggy day care as often as possible, because I believe a tired dog is a happy dog. It works, too: she comes home tired, happy, and content to lay around at my feet while I watch TV.

But when we travel, she needs more exercise than I can give her. Going up and down the stairs at work or in the hotel does some good for both of us, but it's not really enough. Playing catch would be ideal, but it's hard to overcome her disinterest in the game. So, imagine my surprise the other day when she not only caught the ball, but brought it back to me several times!

She'd been out of day care for a few days, and was at her limit of boredom. She *really* wanted to play, and kept inviting me to chase her, wrestle with her, and romp around the yard with her. No chance!

So, I took the peanut-butter flavored tennis ball outside, and bounced it against the wall. She leaped into the air and grabbed it. I was thrilled! She's done this before, but then she usually runs off into the grass where she drops the ball before coming back to me to play chase.

This time, though, she came over to me, and dropped the ball. Yay! So I threw it again, and with some modest encouragement, she brought it back a second time. A few more times, and then I decided to quit while we were ahead.

It was a one-time thing, but it was a real break-through. I think she understands the intent a bit better now, and may be more willing to play in the future.

Hey, a man can hope. :)