Life-Saving Alert Device

Pops The ESA

I’m here at Beagle Island Park nearly every day, in hopes of seeing my dog—well, I guess, technically, he isn’t my dog anymore. Actually, he was never really my dog; we simply walked as a pack of two when we both hit rough patches in our lives. I’d wake up under a smoke shop’s eaves to his soft snoring in my face. He had the same color eyes as my pops; Pop always said he’d come back as a dog, so I figured, why not? Weirder things have happened.

I park my cart just outside the chain-link fence and sit beneath a densely branched fig tree. I just watch and listen. Those of us who live in the margins of society are basically invisible, so people never worry about what they do or say in front of us. The only time I was ever seen was when Pops was with me—and the watchers were always under the age of six.

This is a strange place, one where cars and canines are markers of status. The men pull up in either sleek, elongated SUVs or high-performance, testosterone-fueled sports cars. The women wear gaudy, blinged-out sun visors and love to boast about their canines’ impressive lineages.

I’d heard one woman, Ms. Worry Wart, tell another woman that she was able to trace her Pug’s ancestors back to the infamous Pug of Empress Josephine, who’d supposedly bitten Napoleon on their wedding night. Ms. Worry Wart always dressed her pug according to the seasons. In cooler weather, the dog came with a raincoat and galoshes; in the warmer months, Ms. Worry Wart followed her dog around the park with an umbrella, a small battery-operated fan and a water bottle!

I look over at the area I’d nicknamed “the Red-Light District” to see who Mel, an AKC-registered Great Pyrenees, is romancing these days. Two rows of trees had been planted so close together that their branches formed an archway. Anyone over five feet tall (i.e., most adults) have to duck to keep from getting slapped in the face by them. This area had been the site of more than a few trysts that resulted in litters of mixed-breed puppies or a hush-hush abortion before the upcoming photo shoot for Boise’s Bowwow Calendar.

This occurs despite the city-wide ban on intact dogs visiting the park. However, the ban ceased to exist when a pack of show-dog owners sued the city for discrimination and won their suit. Now, the city urges guardians to use “common sense.” They posted a disclaimer on the entrance gate that says the city will not be financially liable if “unwanted pregnancies” occur. Cracks me up every time.

Mel is notorious for his baritone bark and lightning-fast movements. His owners, Mama-Sees-No-Poop, and her husband, Dogs’ll-Be-Dogs-Dude, are not park favorites. When Mel assumed the inchworm-scrunch position, Mama-Sees-No-Poop usually began digging in her bag for something—anything that would keep her from seeing the giant tootsie rolls snaking out of her dog’s massive ass. Then Mel, feeling a little lighter, would gleefully kick up chunks of mud and grass with his hind legs while locking in on some poor little bitch who was just there to chase a few balls.

Today, it’s Jinxy, an agile Australian Shepherd who is not a fan of Mel’s rape-and-flee maneuver. When Mel mounts the Aussie, her hackles come up and she bares her teeth. We all hear the menacing snarls. Jinxy’s owner yells for Mel’s owners to restrain him—that’s when Dogs’ll-Be-Dogs-Dude shouts that the dogs are just playing; then, like the town crier, he tells everyone that Mel’s premium sperm fetches a pretty penny and Jinxy should be so lucky! He brags that Mel is an AKC Grand Champion. Apparently, he’s been a BOS, BOB and now finally a BIS. He had scored five points in his Division 9 last spring.

I don’t know what any of that means, but I also don’t care to know—and I suspect no else does either.

It doesn’t look like I’m going to see Pops today. I tug on the cart’s handle and it won’t budge. The left front wheel had been swallowed by a patch of mud. As I kneel down to dig it out, I hear that familiar bark. I turn around and there he is.

It hadn’t been that long since I’d seen him, but he already seemed different; a little more food and a little less exercise looks pretty good on him. Pops had always been an adventurous sort, never wanting to stay in one place for too long, but apparently, he no longer has those itchy feet. He’d collected more stories in his few years than most people do in a lifetime. He was enthusiastically greeted by the locals as if he was a celebrity. I had to laugh. People only see what they want to see.

I wondered if Pops remembered when we’d last communed together.

Officer Engel gently kicked my foot with his boot—unlike most of the other police officers, who kicked me like I was a piece of garbage with a contagion they didn’t want to catch. I hadn’t opened an eye until I’d heard Pop’s growling.

“Jesús, you’ve gotta get movin’, man.”

I wiped the crust from the corners of my eyes and sat up.

“It’s cold out here. There’s a church two blocks up. I asked them to keep a plate warm for you. If you head up there now, you’ll make it before they close.”

“They don’t allow me to bring Pops in, so you know, I can’t go.”

“That’s another thing I need to talk to you about. You know our county passed a breed-specific legislation ordinance that bans the owning of Pit Bulls.”

I countered, “Officer Engel, you might want to get your eyes checked. Pops here is a Labradoodle. Smell his feet—they smell just like corn chips, which is how I know he’s a Labradoodle.”

He laughed.

“Besides, no one owns Pops here. He’s his own man.”

Officer Engel then reached into his front pocket and pulled out something that looked like beef jerky and fed it to Pops. “I’m sorry about this, Jesús, I really am, but they’re going to be cracking down hard. And street dogs will be the first ones to get picked up.”

“Then what’re ya gonna do—go house-to-house like some kind of gestapo?”

“I suspect not, but what I do know is that Animal Control will be patrolling these parts by week’s end. I can drop Pops off at the shelter for you. Give him a chance.”

“The chance of slim or none? No thanks!”

“Then find him a home—a real home.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

And I actually did. I knew exactly who needed Pops. There used to be a couple—Mr. Bitrot and Ms. Kind Eyes; he was in tech and dressed like his mother still laid out his clothes for him, she was a lawyer for PETA. They had a dog, Homer, who looked like Pop’s twin. They lived in the neighborhood and often walked to the park with Homer during weekday lunch breaks and weekend mornings. Now, it was only Ms. Kind Eyes. Apparently, Mr. Bitrot moved across the country for a new job, took the dog but left her. Ms. Kind Eyes, clearly broken-hearted, still came to the dog park.

I followed Ms. Kind Eyes home that day—but not in a creepy way. I tied Pop’s rope collar to her front door knob. I rang her bell and then hid behind her duplex’s overgrown oleander bush. (I’d left my cart at the park and just hoped it’d still be there when I got back.)

When she opened the door, she startled. I wondered if, for a split second, she thought her dog and beau were back. She then untied him and read the note I had tucked under his collar: You’re better off without him. I will never leave you. If anyone asks, I’m a Labradoodle. And an emotional support dog. I could see she was moved by my gesture. She invited Pops into her house, and that was that.

Now, I watch them walk into the dog park. Pops looks over at me and wags his tail but doesn’t try to come toward me. I understand. He has a new home and a new partner.

I look at the angle of the sun in the sky. If I leave now, I can probably make it in time for lunch at the church.

Therapy Dog Hazel Huffer

A Kosciusko County school has added a different sort of employee to its roster – a 6-year-old sheepadoodle, a cross between Old English sheepdog and poodle.

Named Hazel Grace Huffer, the pup joined Leesburg Elementary School last month as a therapy dog certified and insured through Alliance of Therapy Dogs, according to a Warsaw Community Schools news release.

Her owner, Stacy Huffer, teaches fourth grade at Leesburg.

Students aren’t required to interact with Hazel, but educators expect the dog’s presence will help children struggling with problems including school anxiety and friendship and home issues, the release said.

At least two students benefited from Hazel on her first day. The students were upset and successfully transitioned back to class after spending a few minutes with her, the release said.

Hazel practices her therapy skills at a funeral home on evenings and weekends, the release added.

A Tail Of Two Cities Book

Debbie Stump, an animal advocate who is currently in search of a new puppy to train as a therapy dog, has completed her new book “A Tail of Two Cities”: a lovely tale about a family who brings to their lives a feisty dog who learns to live in a home filled with love and affection.

Debbie writes, “A godsend is a blessing bestowed upon a person by our Heavenly Father who knows more about what we need and when we need it than we do. Upon the arrival of this unruly, untrained, and unhealthy specimen of a dog, we were skeptical, to say the least, that he had been sent from heaven. The next thirteen years would prove to be a strong lesson in patience, stamina, and dedication. Scoobie definitely had a story worth sharing!”

Published by Newman Springs Publishing, Debbie Stump’s touching opus shows the importance of initiative, forbearance, and unconditional love in raising a dog to become proper and house-trained.

Witness the awe-inspiring moments of a family with their adopted dog as they take their time and effort to care for him and shower him with love that he deserves. Readers who wish to experience this cherished work can purchase “A Tail of Two Cities” at bookstores everywhere or online at the Apple iBooks Store, Amazon, or Barnes and Noble.

Henry The ESA

Veteran Gets His Service Dog

It’s a companionship like no other. Many would probably describe it as unmatched loyalty, the bond between a dog and their human.

“Oh, he’s a gem, he’s the best, he really is, he’s got my back for sure,” United States Army Veteran John Daniels said. “He’s everything, he’s absolutely everything. I don’t even know how to find the right words, but he’s one of the most important things to me.

For many of us, getting a dog can be life changing, but for John Daniels, it was life-saving.

“I wouldn’t be here today if I wouldn’t have got him,” John said.

At 17-years-old, John enlisted in the United States Army and served until 2002.

“I broke my neck in the service, separated my right shoulder and I’m not always stable,” John said.

Coming home is something john admits was a struggle, often reliving the terror he endured again and again.

“That stuff invades your mind, it will show up when you least expect it,” John said. “It’s disruptive, disruptive to family to a job.”

Something John’s sister is fully aware of.

“When my brother came back, he tried so hard to just bounce back, but it doesn’t work that way,” John’s sister Susan Stella said. “When you have a flashback, a bad one, you can be doing anything it’s in your mind and it’s like your somewhere else.”

But then John got Ryker.

“If I’m having a hard time at night, he wakes me up and makes sure he’s right by my side,” John said.

When John finds himself in a tail spin, Ryker gives him structure.

“He lets people know to stay back, and that helped me start to mitigate in a public setting, because I wouldn’t go anywhere, I’d literally shut down,” John said.

He knows when john needs him.

“He came in at the best time, because it was a time in my life when I wanted to give up,

I didn’t see a brighter day in my future,” John said.

“My brother would not be here today if he had not gotten Ryker, I watched him fight for his life for 10 years, trying to get a grip on the damage done to the inside of his body from the chemical warfare,” Susan said.

“I can honestly say that he helped me through those dark days and he still does, and things for me definitely turned around since I’ve had him,” John said.

Now moving towards a goal of helping other veterans who may be struggling.

“A service dog is probably one of the best things a veteran could do for himself,” John said.

“None of them deserve to go through what I did. If I can make a difference by helping these veterans get dogs, that’s my new purpose and I’ll do everything I can.”

John told us about another veteran who needs help.

According to him, there is a dog named Liberty who is being trained and is ready to go to a local veteran, but they need money to make it happen, and it has to happen soon.

Donuts And Dogs

On Sept. 17, the East Union Lawn was welcomed with a cute and cuddly surprise.

The Office of Student Involvement and Development (OSID) partnered with Prairieland Visiting Animals Association and Pet Partners to bring therapy dogs onto campus and to brighten up the day of students and faculty. Providing donuts was another plus. What better way to enjoy a nice Thursday morning than with donuts and dogs?

Tim McHenry, a volunteer at Prairieland, was walking his dog on campus one night and had many people asking to pet his dog, Cheyenne. McHenry got the idea to bring therapy on campus to bring some smiles to people’s faces.

“I thought we could be of some service to the students here,” said McHenry.

He and Patricia Alferez, a student worker at OSID, decided that it would be a good way to boost morale during new COVID lifestyles and the stressful college weeks ahead. Alferez understands what the students like, free food and dogs, which is how she knew this would be the perfect event.

“Our students love dogs: therapy dogs, and really any type of dogs,” said Alferez. “We love seeing them on campus. They’re really great for our students with stress, and relieving anxiety.”

With the constant stress of school, paired with the uncertainty of COVID, Alferez knew that this would be the best form of relief.

There were four dogs that were ready for belly rubs and head scratches. The first dog was Cheyenne. She is a 5 year old Lab/Great Pyrenees. Cheyenne loves hiking and exploring.
Next, there was Sparky, who is a 9 year old Havanese. Sparky loves to read with kids at the library. Then there was Jasmine. Jasmine has been a therapy dog since 2014, and her greatest accomplishment was getting over her phobia of sound to become a therapy dog. Lastly, there was Azul who is a lovable greyhound.

These dogs were a pleasant surprise for anyone walking to and from classes.

Nick Courtney, a bystander, was pleasantly surprised at what he came across. “It’s always nice to see trained dogs and friendly people,” said Courtney.

OSID is planning more fun events like this to give students an opportunity to stay connected and safe throughout the year.

Working Dogs Of 9/11

When veterinarian Cynthia Otto was in Manhattan in the wake of the 9/11 attacks helping support the search and rescue dogs, she heard rumors about the possible impact on the dogs’ long-term health.

“I was at Ground Zero and I would hear people make comments like, ‘Did you hear that half of the dogs that responded to the bombing in Oklahoma City died of X, Y, or Z?’ Or they’d say dogs responding to 9/11 had died,” she recalls. “It was really disconcerting.”

It also underscored to her the importance of collecting rigorous data on the health of dogs deployed to disaster sites. An initiative that launched in the weeks after the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks did just that, and this week, 19 years later, Otto and colleagues’ findings offer reassurance. Dogs that participated in search-and-rescue efforts following 9/11 lived a similar length of time, on average, compared to a control group of search-and-rescue dogs and outlived their breed-average life spans. There was also no discernible difference in the dogs’ cause of death.

“Honestly this was not what we expected; it’s surprising and wonderful,” says Otto, director of the School of Veterinary Medicine’s Working Dog Center, who shared the findings in the Journal of the American Veterinary Medical Association.

While postmortem results showed that dogs that deployed after the 9/11 attacks had more particulate material in their lungs upon their death, it seems this exposure didn’t cause serious problems for the animals in life. The most common cause of death were age-related conditions, such as arthritis and cancer, similar to the control group.

During and in the immediate aftermath of the 9/11 response, Otto and colleagues reached out to handlers to recruit search-and-rescue dogs into a longitudinal study that would track their health, longevity, and cause of death. They recruited 95 dogs that had worked at the World Trade Center, Fresh Kills Landfill, or Pentagon disaster sites. As a control group, they also included in the study 55 search-and-rescue dogs that had not deployed to 9/11.

As part of being involved, the dogs received annual medical examinations, including chest X-rays and blood work. When the dogs died, the researchers paid for the handlers to have veterinarians collect samples of various organ tissues and send them for analysis at Michigan State University. Forty-four of the 9/11 dogs and 19 of the control group dogs underwent postmortems. For most of the other dogs in the study, the research team obtained information on cause of death from medical records or the handlers themselves.

While the team had expected to see respiratory problems in the exposed dogs—conditions that have been reported by human first responders to 9/11—they did not.

“We anticipated that the dogs would be the canary in the coal mine for the human first responders since dogs age faster than humans and didn’t have any of the protective equipment during the response,” Otto says. “But we didn’t see a lot that was concerning.”

In fact, the median age at death for 9/11 dogs was about the same as the control group: 12.8 compared to 12.7 years. The most common cause of death for the dogs that deployed was degenerative causes—typically euthanasia due to severe arthritis—followed closely by cancer, though the risk of cancer was about the same as in control group dogs.

Otto and her colleagues have ideas for why the foreign particulate matter found in some of the dog’s lungs did not translate to ill health, though they emphasize that they’re speculations, not yet based in data.

“For the pulmonary effects, it’s somewhat easier to explain because dogs have a really good filtering system,” Otto says. “Their lungs are different—they don’t get asthma, for example—so it seems like there is something about their lungs that’s more tolerant than in humans.”

She notes that working dogs tend to be extremely physically fit compared to pet dogs, perhaps counteracting any ill effects of the deployment conditions on health. But working dog handlers and trainers can always do more to focus on fitness and conditioning, especially because doing so could slow the progression of arthritis, a disease which played a role in the death of many dogs in the study.

“We know when people stop moving, they gain weight and that puts them at a higher risk of arthritis, and arthritis makes it painful to move, so it’s a vicious cycle,” she says. “The same can be true of dogs.”

The mind-body connection may also help explain the difference between humans and dogs and the longevity of the working dogs, Otto says, as dogs don’t necessary worry and experience the same type of stress in the wake of a disaster.

“These dogs have an incredible relationship with their partners,” Otto says. “They have a purpose and a job and the mental stimulation of training. My guess is that makes a difference, too.”

Cynthia Otto is director of the Penn Vet Working Dog Center and professor of working dog sciences and sports medicine in the Department of Clinical Sciences and Advanced Medicine at the University of Pennsylvania School of Veterinary Medicine.

Otto’s coauthors were Elizabeth Hare and Kathleen M. Kelsey from the Penn Vet Working Dog Center and John P. Buchweitz and Scott D. Fitzgerald from the College of Veterinary Medicine at Michigan State University.

Adopting Pets During COVID

The Town of Oyster Bay is urging its residents to utilize the Town Clerk’s Office to license their dogs after a wave of new adoptions took place as COVID-19 impacted the region since March. According to a statement put out by the township, once a dog is four months old, the owner is required by Town Code to obtain a dog license and verification tag. The license is valid for one year.

Oyster Bay Town does not charge a fee for licensing any guide dog, hearing dog, service dog, war dog, detection dog, police dog, or therapy dog.

Town Clerk Richard LaMarca said that there have been large increases in the adoption rates of pets for companionship, especially dogs. He encouraged residents to license their dogs to ensure their safety and identification in case they get lost.

“Each year, hundreds of beloved family dogs are lost because these animals do not have identification tags and cannot be identified and returned to their owners,” said LaMarca. “A dog license allows everyone to know your dog has a home, and also signals that your dog is up-to-date on its rabies shot.”

While adopting a new pet can save it from life in a shelter and give a loving animal a forever home, it’s also good for humans, especially in stressful times.

A report on pet adoption during COVID-19 said that studies show that “where there is a bond between human and animal, the presence of a non-human companion — especially a dog — decreases psychological arousal and stress, and creates physiological changes that make us feel better.”

Other towns around Long Island have changed their pet adoption procedures to allow potential owners to see shelter animals virtually. When COVID-19 first locked down the region, many towns also sought people to foster their shelter animals.

Emotional Support Animals

With COVID-19 impacting the University of Iowa campus, classes quickly moving online, and the social scene practically shutting down, mental health has become something numerous students are struggling with. For some students, an emotional support animal keeps them in brighter spirits.

Director of Housing Administration Virginia C. Ibrahim-Olin said there have been no major changes to the process for allowing support animals as a result of COVID-19.

“If a student reports a need to move into short-term stay housing, staff will ask if they happen to have a support animal,” she said. “If so, staff will work to accommodate their need for short-term stay housing so they can bring their animal into isolation.”

She added that there are currently 17 students that have emotional service animals in the residence halls.

“Service animals are recognized under the Americans with Disability Act (ADA),” Ibrahim-Olin said. “Emotional support animals are not recognized by the ADA and are prescribed by a licensed health care professional.”

She said to have an assistance animal, students have to complete a Request for Reasonable Accommodations to University Housing and Dining which includes approval from their primary health care providers, submit different documentation on the requested animal, and then meet with a University Housing and Dining staff member. Once this is all completed and approved, she said the student will then get an approved date for their animal to enter the building and the residence hall community will be notified. Ibrahim-Olin said that most animals are permitted.

“We currently have 12 cats, one dog, one gecko, two hamsters, and one snake,” she said. “As long as the animal does not pose a direct threat to the health or safety of others or property of the university, it should be allowed.”

UI freshman Montala Carruthers said she had a negative experience with trying to bring her dog as an emotional support animal to campus.

She said she deals with anxiety that is sometimes controllable, but other times not. She had contacted the university for permission to use her mental health counselor as her medical signature, she said, but University Housing and Dining would not allow it since the counselor was not her primary health care provider. Carruthers said she does not have direct access to a primary health care provider because she does not have health insurance, so she asked University Housing and Dining if it was OK if her dog was more like an assistant animal instead of an emotional support animal.

She said University Housing and Dining still denied the dog to live in the residence halls.

“My roommate and I both suffer from anxiety, there is not much that we can do to help each other,” she said. “It is a little hard when I am here by myself, and all of my friends and dog are back home.”

Carruthers added that she is thinking about moving out of the dorms so she could have her dog with her.

UI freshman Colease Sturges said she lives in Burge Residence Hall and has an emotional support animal with her this school year. She suffers from academic-related anxiety and separation anxiety from her cat, Jaxx, who is with her at school.

She said she has found medication unsuccessful with treating her anxiety, so having her cat with her has been the best option.

“It just does not work well, so I use him, and it gets better,” Sturges said.

Sturges said that the process to have her cat as an emotional support animal in the dorms was very involved. She was given rules surrounding caring for her cat, she said, such as it cannot leave her dorm room, when she has to change his litter box, and how to store his food.

“Someone [a staff member] is supposed to come and check on me once a month and have a meeting with my roommate and I to make sure that we are treating him well,” Sturges said.

Her residence hall room has also become quite the hit with other students on her floor, she said, and has had people come and visit to see him.

Overall, Sturges has loved her experience having her cat Jaxx with her.

“He has definitely helped a lot especially with COVID-19 and quarantine,” Sturges said.