Autism Service Dogs

At the convention this weekend, Glindy and I had both ups and downs--mostly ups, of course. Here they all are:

Ups

• Minimal fuss at check-in, once we assured the clerk that Glindy was a service dog.
• Glindy and I walked well together through the convention crowds.
• Most of the conventioneers took an "Ooh, how cute!" view of Glindy's presence.
• Mary Tamm, Pamela Salem, Nicholas Briggs, and a few other celebrities couldn't resist coming up to coo over the dog.
• Glindy sat quietly through hours of panel discussions.
• She was only mildly started the first few times there was thunderous applause.
• Several waiters, especially in the upscale J.W.'s Steakhouse, came up to compliment me on how well-behaved Glindy was in the restaurant.
• The hotel manager had words with one of the other on-premises restaurants over access issues. Marriott was wonderfully supportive!
• We had no accidents, disruptive barking, or other embarrassing incidents.
• Having Glindy with me really reduced my general anxiety level, as well as the attendant OCD that goes along with it.
• Because of the dog, I ended up walking several miles a day, which can only be a good thing.

Downs

• Glindy was pulling on leash every time we went for a walk outside.
• Too many people wanted to pet Glindy. She was very hand-shy by the end of the convention.
• Everyone wanted to know what she was in training for, what she did for me, or wanted to share a story about some other service dog team they knew. It was exhausting and a bit invasive, even if it is somewhat understandable.
• A single conventioneer had to leave the hospitality suite shortly after we entered due to allergies.
• Glindy's tail got stepped on just once all weekend. A mortified woman in the vendor suite hadn't thought to look down as she walked; it wasn't entirely her fault, as Glindy was lying behind me.
• Three different hostesses at the on-premises cafe, Latitude 33, gave me grief on three separate occasions. They kept insisting that pets weren't allowed, and that there were no exceptions for service dogs.
• Glindy barked at a tiny yorkie some woman had sitting on her luggage cart near the bell desk. I can't remember if the yorkie barked first or not, though.
• A volunteer in the convention's hospitality suite kept insisting that no dogs were allowed, even when the convention staff assured her that service dogs were an exception. She eventually stormed off, muttering about how "dogs are unsanitary."
• Glindy tended to sprawl on the floor, rather than tuck in safely. We need to work on that.

As you can see, it was a good experience overall. We didn't meet any insurmountable problems, and would gladly do it again in the future.

The return trip from LA to Reno was both more and less challenging. We dealt with all the usual things: bathroom breaks for both of us, seating, and boarding. Our biggest challenge this time around was negotiating proper seating on a booked flight.

As with our maiden voyage, the accommodative seating I'm required to request at least 24 hours in advance wasn't properly handled ahead of time by the airline, and needed to be negotiated at the airport. This time around, the ticketing agent was more than happy to issue me bulkhead seating, despite the fact that it was located on an exit row. This would turn out to be a problem later.

When I got to the gate, I told the gate agent that we needed more time to get situated this time around, and that we hadn't been given adequate pre-boarding time on our previous segment. He graciously made sure that we were able to board as soon as the flight attendants boarded. This would have been plenty of time, had I not had to argue with one of the flight attendants about our seating arrangements.

When I got on the plane, the flight attendant told me that we could not sit in the exit row, even though we'd been issued the boarding pass in full knowledge by the ticketing agent. Not wishing to argue the matter, I again suggested that they simply clear a seat next to me. That's when the real argument ensued.

The flight attendant insisted that they didn't have to give me an additional seat unless I paid for another ticket, and that Glindy was required to fit under the seat in front of me. Naturally, all of this was wrong, but she was not willing to bend without considerable argument, and my insistence that failing to reach a mutual agreement would result in requiring the intervention of the Complaint Resolution Officer.

She finally agreed to show me the FAA regulations she thought supported her position, and was at least willing to accept defeat gracefully when I pointed to the language which showed that she was in error. So, she had the gate agent reassign me two adjacent seats, and I was pretty sure that we had resolved everything.

By this time, of course, the had already started general boarding, so we were once again thwarted in our attempts to get settled before people started queueing up behind us. At least the pre-boarding allowed us to hash out the seating issue in a timely way.

After everyone had boarded, though, she came up to me again and said that they had a pilot from another airline that they were trying to accommodate, and that he was willing to share leg space with my dog. It was more of a statement than a request, and I wasn't sure what my options were at that point, so I acquiesced to letting the pilot take the seat next to mine.

As I understand it, the pilot was trying to catch a ride home under a space-available program all airlines participate in. He was actually a nice guy, and was pretty understanding of the dog hair, position shifts, and other inconveniences of sharing the space with a service dog, so I'm glad we were able to accommodate each other in this particular instance.

In future, though, I want to make sure that Glindy and I aren't displaced without recourse, especially if we're on another type of plane where the floor space is less flexible. Even though both of us were being accommodated by the airline (e.g. neither one of us was paying for that extra seat), it is my gut feeling that my disability accommodation would trump a space-available passenger of any kind, but it's potentially a gray area. After all, the airlines are not required to bump any passengers off the flight to create an accommodation; the real question is whether a space-available passenger being denied boarding would be considered a "bump" or simply a lack of available space.

Either way, it worked out okay this time around. Glindy and I are a bit more experienced now, and have a better idea what to expect on our next trip. Hopefully, this new knowledge will help us navigate the airport experience more smoothly, and with better understanding of what accommodations to ask of each type of airline personnel.

Reno International Airport has a small, gated area for use as a canine rest stop. It's reasonably clean, as such things go, and includes a kiosk containing clean-up bags, a trash can, and a water spigot. And while it was too small to allow Glindy off-leash, it might be fine for that with smaller dogs. It's a terrific idea, and I wish more airports would do something similar.

In comparison, LAX doesn't have a dedicated relief area for dogs. They do, however, have some leafy ground cover and some manicured grass just outside and to the right of baggage claim. Because LAX is so much bigger than RNO, the grassy areas aren't as conveniently located, but it's still nice to know that they are there.

Glindy and I flew to Los Angeles last week for the Doctor Who convention in Los Angeles. We flew on Horizon Air, which operates a number of smaller, regional jets; this fact is somewhat relevant to the description of accommodative seating which follows.

First of all, I called ahead--almost a week ahead, in fact--to request accommodative seating. The ACAA requires at least 24 hours notice, so I made sure to call right after buying the tickets. It's worth noting that this ended up having no impact on the accommodative seating I eventually received, so based on a statistical sampling of one, I'd say that this advanced notice requirement is a necessary step, but not to be relied upon.

The ticketing agents were all very polite, and simply asked if Glindy was my service dog. After that, they started to issue a boarding pass, but did not bring up seating with me. When I reminded them that I needed accommodative seating, they were willing but confused.

First, it turns out that the planes Horizon Air operates in my market do not have any bulkhead seating. All bulkhead seats are emergency exit seats, and 14 CFR 382.55(2) states that service animals may not block aisles or evacuation areas. So, even though I'm physically capable of handling emergency exit activities, neither Glindy nor I are allowed to sit in those rows when we are together.

I requested instead that they block off the seat next to me, so that Glindy would be able to lie at my feet without getting stepped on. The ticketing agents were more than willing to do this on the trip from Reno to Los Angeles (more on the return segment later).

However, when I got to the gate, the gate agents wouldn't acknowledge the new seat assignments. They kept insisting that they needed to wait for all the passengers to check in before they could ask for volunteers to move seats. Legally this isn't the case, but it didn't seem worth arguing about so long as I got what I needed. In the end, it didn't cause us any trouble, but this may be something I need to watch for on future flights.

We did "pre-board," but despite telling them we needed a bit of extra time, they essentially called pre-boarding about ten seconds before general boarding, so we were definitely a bit rushed. This was handled better on the return trip (again, more on that later).

The Horizon Air seat layout is two seats on either side of the aisle, with no middle support bar blocking the space under the seats in front. This was something I had never considered, but turned out to be a real benefit, as it afforded significantly more floor space for Glindy and me.

I guided Glindy into position first, and then sat in the aisle seat. She tried to climb up into the window seat, and had to be encouraged to sit on the floor instead. Later in the flight, Glindy would manage to sprawl out with most of her body under the seats in front of us (something she couldn't have done with a middle support bar), but for take-off I just needed to ensure that she was sitting or laying down out of the aisle.

She was a little nervous at take-off, but was reasonably well-composed throughout the majority of the flight. The only exceptions were my trip to the lavatory, and the final landing.

During my trip to the lavatory, I used an extra collar, a double-ended metal clip, and the seat belt next to me to restrain her while I got up. I buckled the window seat, let it out to its full extension, and then buckled the spare collar around the seat belt, forming a long double loop with a D-ring attachment point. Then I used the metal clip to connect the D-ring of the collar to the D-ring on her harness to ensure she was properly restrained.

I was told by other passengers that she was well-behaved while I was up, but that she never took her eyes off the lavatory door. I was pleased by her patience and calmness, and gave her a lot of petting when I returned to my seat.

She did panic a bit on the landing, but that was largely my fault. She was lying on the floor during the descent, and I didn't want to get her riled up since she seemed so calm. However, when the plane hit the ground for a bumpy landing, she panicked, and tried to run out into the aisle. It took a few minutes to calm her down, and I felt guilty for not taking better steps to prepare her for the landing. I handled things differently on the return flight, naturally.

Overall, it was a great success. I learned some useful things, and we had surprisingly few problems for our maiden voyage together.

I had a very uplifting training session at The Canine Club this evening. I had taken Glindy in because I was having difficulty training retrieves and handshakes. While tonight's session didn't advance things all that far, some positive things did come out of the session.

As usual, the trainer was exceptionally generous with her time. One of the things we did this evening was a bit of unofficial temperament testing. I've had problems recently in places like Petco with "growliness" from Glindy, and just wanted to be sure that the problem is other dogs.

Glindy was introduced off-leash to a dominant but stable pit bull to measure her reactions. Glindy offered a polite greeting, followed by a series of calming signals. In fact, after the typical butt-sniffing, and a bit of a (literal) pissing contest, she settled at my feet and pretty much ignored the other dog. Other than taking turns over-marking each other, which is the canine equivalent of testing another person's grip during a handshake, it was at the very least a cordial introduction.

The trainer and I agreed that the recent problems were most likely the result of subtle challenges from the other dogs we've run into, possibly exacerbated by an increased arousal level from being on-leash or the stress of meeting in busy, scent-heavy place like Petco. In short, Glindy is quite stable, if a bit excitable.

We also agreed that Glindy is ready for the Canine Good Citizenship test the next time it's offered here in town. While not necessary to meet the requirements of the ADA, it's certainly a good way to show that Glindy has mastered polite behavior in public.

Until then, Glindy and I will continue to work on the retrieve, and on shaking hands. Of such small steps is progress made.

This coming Thursday, Glindy and I will be taking our first flight together as a service dog team. I'm really hoping it goes smoothly, but am worrying about all the usual things.

First of all, while Glindy already fits the legal definition of a service animal as defined in the ADA, she and I are still learning together; she continues to wear her "In Training" patch on her vest so that people will be more understanding when either of us makes a mistake. However, I worry a bit that the airlines might choose to make a fuss about this distinction.

While SDITs are given equal access under Nevada and California state laws, the Air Carrier Access Act does not define either service animal or service animal in training. It does define disability, but the status of the animal is essentially left up to the "credible...assurances of the...individual with a disability" and--presumably--the willingness of various airline employees to find it credible.

Once that hurdle is jumped, the next obstacle is squeezing Glindy into regular or bulkhead seating in coach if I can't manage a First Class upgrade. Not having done this before, I'm not sure how we'll manage it, although people obviously do this all the time.

Next, the trip is going to be about three to four hours long from house to hotel. The air time is actually only 94 minutes, but the whole process of taking taxis, going through security, and handling baggage pads it out quite a bit. Since Glindy is still iffy on her on-command elimination, I worry that she will be uncomfortable or have an accident if she chooses not to go right before we leave the house. While Glindy has certainly demonstrated her ability to go an entire day without a potty break, new and stressful situations are often a different story.

And lastly, speaking of potty breaks, I have not yet figured out how to handle airplane lavatories with a service dog in tow. I can't leave Glindy unattended while I use the restroom, but the lavatories are too small to bring her in with me. It's probably unreasonable to expect a flight attendant to hold the leash for me, but I suppose it can't hurt anything to ask if the situation arises.

The bottom line is that this is a new experience for both Glindy and me, and we'll have to improvise a lot. I'm sure it will all work out, and that we'll have a wonderful time in Los Angeles.

Here's hoping!

It turns out that Spencer's nippy attitude about his feet may have a legitimate cause. He's got some skin irritation and a mild yeast overgrowth in the pads of his feet. The vet had to put the poor guy into a "party hat" to keep him civil during the inspection, which he handled with poor grace.

So, we now have 30 days of pill-shoveling to look forward to. We're going to be feeding him prescription allergy relief to reduce the skin irritation, as well as an oral anti-fungal to remove the excess yeast. Once he's back to normal health, we can work on reversing the behavior problems spawned by his tender tootsies.