Journal: My Very Own Therapy Dog
Letter to my Mother, July 27, 2014
Good Morning on this lovely Sunday, when I really should be out in my gardens after the nice rain we had last night —
As you may know, I had been thinking more and more about Blue’s suitability as a therapy dog. Everywhere we go and in every situation, he remains so calm and quiet — but more importantly perhaps, he is so very kind and considerate. He waits to be asked up on the bed or in the car, he is always looking to me for cues, which I figured would be valuable for a dog going into a nursing home or pediatric ward.
So I looked into it, and found this website:
I looked it over carefully, especially the criteria on which you (as the handler) and the dog are assessed. It all seemed very straightforward, so I decided to book an appointment for testing at the end of the month so that I could work with Blue on a leash (he rarely wears a collar since moving to Vermont, never mind a leash) and teach him the command for ‘down.’ He knows ‘sit’ well enough, but I guess we never needed ‘down’ because he was always laying down on our feet when I needed him to be. Deb from Therapy Dogs of Vermont emailed me back and said they have room in tomorrow’s test, can we come then? I explained my misgivings about these two potential issues (working well on a leash and the ‘down’ command) and she explained that if he needs work on anything, he can come back and be reassessed at the end of August as scheduled.
So off we went. No preparation whatsoever. I found a 4ft leash, a requirement and a clean collar, and drove to unknown parts of far flung Williston. I took the instruction about ‘dressing as if you already were a volunteer and representative of Therapy Dogs’ to heart and dressed up a bit in smart white jeans, a pale blue shirt and a gorgeous new scarf in shades of... blue. At least they'd remember his name. Your feet must always be completely covered, in a hospital for example, and shoes must also be extremely serviceable when working with dogs so I wore my best leather sneakers. We were ready! We arrived at the testing site, the massive Williston Armory, 10 or 15 minutes early so Blue and I could walk about on his leash before heading into the 90+ minute assessment.
There were 10 other handler and dog teams there — ranging from sweet rescue mutts to the majestic Bennet, a handsome, immense chocolate Lab who outweighed Blue by at least 30 pounds. Most didn’t read the part about dressing ‘professionally but casually' and wore flip flops and glittery tank tops and cut-off shorts. I was feeling pretty confident in my choice of apparel if nothing else ;-) The whole process started late, and despite a strange environment filled with strange people and strange dogs, Blue was very good — no excessive panting, no whiny like the others. He just laid down at my feet and waited patiently. I, of course, talked to him, and reassured him that he was doing a good job.
So we finally get started and there is a team of eight or so volunteers from the Therapy Dogs organization and they explain that there will be a series of nine different tests: The Body Test, when a large man and then a petite woman approach your dog separately and literally touch and poke their bodies all over. The Agility Test, walking them through a series of cones, putting them in a ‘sit and stay’ and past other dogs where no contact is allowed. To make it a little harder there is a bowl of treats on the floor they are not allowed to touch. The Treat Test, when they good-naturedly tease the dog with a treat the way a tentative child might. The Distraction Test, when all eight volunteers noisily lark about with bouncing balls, open umbrellas, walkers, crutches, horns, etc. You get the picture...
The very first test was the Stranger Test. And I was feeling fairly confident. Blue was beautifully behaved, my foot wear appropriate and my scarf was pretty snazzy… Out comes one of the volunteers, a tall man named Craig, but disguised now behind huge black sunglasses, an oversized bucket hat, a surgical mask, over-sized rain coat and dragging behind him (with a pronounced limp, no less) a noisy metal ‘granny’ cart with rusted, seized up wheels.
Oh Boy.
He approaches each dog team one by one (the handlers always have the dog by the leash throughout all the testing) to gauge their reaction. Well, the 6 dogs before us were interested but mostly passive or even friendly. Then it was Blue’s turn. I willed myself to keep the arm holding the leash relaxed and slack, but shored it up so he was on a very short lead as instructed. The betrenched Craig approached and Blue immediately sprang to his feet. Up went the rough on his back, his head low, his tail a perfect continuation of his back bone, without a hint of a wag. A singular ramrod of purposeful aggression from snout to tip of tail. And then it happened.
He lowered his head a little further, and he let out a steady, low, very menacing growl. He bared his teeth ever so slightly.
I had literally never heard this noise coming from him. before A growl! At a person no less! In shock, I murmured something to him and he calmed just enough to let Craig approach. I knew not what was going to happen, this was all very uncharted territory. Somehow I kept my leash arm relaxed as Craig advanced, Blue glanced at me then let Craig approach. I knew that we had flunked what was probably the most important part of the assessment. A growl! I was appalled, I was embarrassed, I wished the parquet floor would swallow us whole. Craig went on to the next team and I thought — my God, they are just going to ask us to leave after that display of naked aggression. Obviously a Therapy Dog can’t be growling at a stranger, at patients. After I had a chance to think about what just happened, I eventually came to realize something truly wonderful. If he fails this test because he growled at someone he clearly perceived as a threat to me, then I am one happy girl. Up until that moment I half-believed that if someone broke into our house, that he would just ‘lick him to death’ — what most people say of Labs. But I always suspected he was a very intelligent dog, capable pf perceiving nuance, reading a situation and that given the opportunity Blue would defend me, and here was proof.
Well, as it turns out they didn’t ask us to leave. He completed all the other tests perfectly. He was really just... perfect — even the ‘treat’ test, which was optional, went well. Over and over they held a treat just above his mouth and then pulled it away just as he was going to grab it. But here's the kicker, when they retracted it, the treat was just low enough for him to snatch it if he wanted to. But of course, he didn't, he is such a gentlemen. When it was finally all over, the Therapy Dog team met privately while we all took the 20 minutes or so to walk our dogs (Williston village is just lovely), give them water etc. After the had a chance to confer, they would meet with us individually to discuss what areas need work, if your dog is accepted into the program or when to return for reassessment. I considered just leaving, as well as he did in the other tests, I wasn't relishing the idea of being dressed down for allowing a dog with obvious aggression issues into the testing arena, a potentially dangerous situation considering the amount of dogs. But we hung in. Maybe they would take into consideration how well he did in the other tests? Maybe we could come back in late August for a re-assessment, if by some miracle, the growling incident isn’t a complete ‘deal breaker'?
We took our seats and waited the long minutes as the test assessors visited all the other teams before us, they didn't go in order this time, we were last. Two or three of the 8 volunteers from Therapy Dogs, approached and conferred with each of the other handlers and dogs for a few minutes, passing the verdict, offering advice. Blue was quiet at my feet.
Then finally, it was our turn. I was steeling myself for a dressing down. The other dog/handler teams were filtering out, when it seemed all all eight Therapy Dog volunteers approached us looking, frankly — quite sober and serious. And I thought ‘ut oh, this is when they throw our sorry asses out of here.’
Still seated, Blue at my feet, they formed a half circle around us, including Craig, out of costume but still very tall. Here it comes. After a painful silence, at last the head spokesperson, Emily, spoke. ‘Well of course you know... you must know... you passed with flying colors. Blue is an exceptional dog.’ Relief washed over me and something more. Validation. Of course I knew he was an exceptional dog already. But still I was shocked, obviously, and protested ‘but what about the ‘Stranger’ test? He growled at Craig.’
Another volunteer, Jen, standing behind me and up till now unseen, chimed in. She explained "that’s when we knew he was a very special dog." And I swear, she choked up a bit, I could hear that she was talking despite a lump in her throat. "He did growl at Craig, but you probably didn’t know I was standing behind you guys at the time, a few feet back, so I could see that after he growled — he looked to you for a cue and you were calm and stayed relaxed and very quietly said ‘I’m OK, Bluesy, I’ve got this covered’ and then he immediately stopped growling, his hair went down and he let Craig approach him. We don’t see that type of bond very often and honestly it was a pleasure to watch the two of you together." The others nodded their heads solemnly in agreement. as if they had witnessed something very rare indeed.
So, we left the Armory of Williston, walking on air, heads and tail held high. We headed straight to Dunkin’ Donuts where I bought my boy an Old Fashioned donut of his very own. After we got home, I took him on a long kayak, his favorite, favorite thing — to thank him for a job well done. In that moment I couldn't have been prouder if one of the kids won the Nobel Peace Prize.
He loves a paddle with his Mom more than anything
Now we wait to hear from the Burlington coordinator, and on to the next phase of testing.
XO, V.
Epilogue: We passed the on-site trials conducted at the Starr Farm Nursing Center in Burlington. They were nerve-racking and very hard and filled with all kinds of potential pitfalls: bacon crumbles strewn all over the floor, visiting cockatiels, conflicting signage, reluctant patients, etc... but we passed. The tests were conducted by the lovely and eternally patient, Helen Kerr. Helen is the reason I joined the Therapy Dogs of Vermont board of directors, she was such an inspiration. Sadly, she passed away shortly after, but I remember fondly her calm, gentle nature and her belief in the healing powers of dogs.
My badge, with a selfie taken on graduation day
