Autism Service Dogs

Glindy passed her Canine Good Citizenship test today. She passed nine of the ten sub-tests with flying colors, and even managed to impress the test administrators in the process.

The test I most expected to be troublesome was "Test 8: Reaction to Another Dog." However, I've learned some valuable coping skills that got us through this test. What helped the most was letting Glindy know I was in full control: as we came within about six feet of the other team, I put Glindy into a sit, and then moved several feet in front of her to greet the newcomers. This reassured Glindy that I was taking the lead in handling the stranger and her dog, so she didn't feel obliged to react protectively. In short, it was an amazingly smooth process.

Glindy also exceeded expectations for "Test 10: Supervised Separation." The test requires the handler to leave the dog with the test administrator for three minutes while the handler is out of eye- and ear-shot. Most dogs being tested today managed to squeak through this test while displaying various levels of restless energy and anxiety. Glindy, on the other hand, sat quietly the entire time. In fact, Glindy was so calm that the test administrator lost track of time, and didn't call me back until four to five minutes had passed. Talk about going above and beyond the call of duty!

The only test where Glindy was less than stellar was "Test 3: Appearance and Grooming." The test requirements read, in part:

The evaluator then softly combs or brushes the dog, and in a natural manner, lightly examines the ears and gently picks up each front foot.

Glindy tolerated the brushing and the paw lifts, although she really wasn't thrilled with either of them. No surprises there, since she doesn't even enjoy having me do those things, although she'll usually tolerate it for brief periods of time. However, we hadn't been aware of the ear examination requirement, and hadn't practiced it ahead of time. Still, I was able to reassure her enough that she allowed the test administrator to finish the ear examination without any particular drama. In many ways, that was probably the most impressive thing Glindy did today: accede to something unpleasant, because I let her know it was important to me and safe for her.

When we were done with all ten of the sub-tests, I was happy to learn she had passed every single one. I was so proud of her that I thought I would pop. I know she could pick up on my feelings, as her whole manner was unusually frisky and outgoing the entire time we were discussing her performance with the evaluators.

Congratulations on becoming a Canine Good Citizen, Glindy. I'm so very proud of you!

I was surfing Karen Pryor's web site and ran across a wonderful training resource called Practice Your Clicker Timing. It's a Macromedia Shockwave application that lets you practice your clicker training skills online by simulating a pigeon in a Skinner box.

The page is densely packed with information, and what may get lost in the information overload is that you need to actually click on the virtual pellets to dispense a treat; clicking elsewhere has no effect at all. It took me a few minutes to figure that out, even though this is mentioned in the first paragraph of explanatory text. (Doh!)

Anyway, while I don't know how accurate the simulation really is, I played with it long enough to realize that it does help the casual trainer to improve their efficiency and to understand some of the trade-offs involved in various reinforcement schedules. After some early failures, I managed to eventually get the pigeon to peck the target at rates as high as 588 repetitions in a 30-second period.

Interestingly enough, once I reached rates that high, using less reinforcement reduced the overall rate of performance, but increased the total effort (or "pecks per treat") that the virtual pigeon was willing to put in. This would appear to be a good example of how to use extinction bursts and variable reinforcement schedules to increase a desired behavior.

For example, I doled out 22 treats over 30 seconds at the pigeon's peak rate, for an overall reinforcement schedule of 26.7 pecks per treat. When I cut the reinforcement rate in half, to 11 treats over the next 30-second period, the pigeon only provided 491 pecks, but at an astonishing 44.6 pecks per treat!

Looked at another way, I improved the potency of the rewards I was handing out by a whopping 167% at the expense of total work effort provided by the pigeon, which dropped by about 16.5%. Whether it is intrinsically more valuable to maximize efficiency of rewards or total work effort in real-life applications is, of course, a complicated question to which I have no immediate answer.

It's also worth noting that the simulation doesn't take external cues into account. What it's simulating is the effects of the trainer's timing and use of reinforcement rates on an animal's spontaneous behavior. This does serve the purpose of reminding the trainer (especially those from a command-based background) that behaviors can be taught in a reliable, solid way long before a cue is added. However, recognizing that the simulation is about shaping, rather than cueing, is critical to getting the most out of the experience.

Don't let all this pseudo-scholarly analysis scare you away from the site, though. It's worth repeating that this is a great tool for beginning clicker trainers. The fact that one can use it to explore theory and advanced techniques is a plus, but certainly not a prerequisite.

I highly recommend it to anyone interested in clicker training. Try it out, and let me know what you think.

There's a reason why dogs are called "man's best friend." While I usually blog about training and legal issues, I also spend a lot of time reflecting on the nature of my bond with dogs, and thought I'd share a bit of that here.

Glindy is my service dog. We work together. But we also love each other--never mind the armchair philosophers who have trouble defining love or claim that dogs can't share human-comparable feelings. While anthropomorphizing can be detrimental to a working relationship with dogs, there's no doubt in my mind that there is love there.

First, what is love? To me, that's a simple question with a simple answer: love is commitment, obligation, and a sense of connectedness to another living being. When another's happiness is essential to your own, you love them. It really doesn't have to be any more complicated than that, unless you're a philosophy major.

I know that Glindy and I love each other, because we meet all three criteria. Let's look at each one.

I've made a big commitment to her, and would never abandon her for any reason. Things have been tough from time to time, especially with the intense separation anxiety early on, but I've gone more than a few "extra miles" to resolve our problems because of that deep commitment.

In return, she tries her hardest to please me. She often works for long stretches without reward, simply for the pleasure of being with me. She takes pleasure in my praise, and seems to treasure my smiles. But even when the praise or the smiles are few and far between, she often chooses to stay close by my side. That's commitment.

I've also got a strong sense of obligation to her. I am responsible for her most basic needs: food, a place to sleep, and even elimination. I also provide her health care, and ensure that she gets enough exercise. However, I enjoy taking care of her, so my obligation feels the lighter for it, although it is not lessened in any way.

In return, I know that she feels an obligation to me. She wants to protect me from strange dogs, warn me about people at the door, and to comfort me when I'm depressed. She follows me into crowded rooms, even though she's not a "people dog," because she feels that it's her job to keep me company. She seems driven to provide me with the quiet companionship that I need to make it through my day, even on those days when I can tell that she'd rather be curled up in front of the heater or sitting on the back porch. Her obligations drive her, but they also uplift her.

As for connectedness, there is no doubt. Because Glindy and I are individuals, we don't always want the same things. Still, we are aware of each other, and can often sense what the other needs and wants. I know when she's restless, and she knows when I'm moody. I know when she needs to curl up quietly in her own space, while she can often tell when I need to feel her curled up next to me. We are very different creatures, and occasionally find each other inexplicable; but even across the unfathomable gulf between species, we connect. That is truly a miracle.

Lastly, I want Glindy to be happy. I need her, it's true, and she needs me. But beyond that, I want her to feel joy, and to experience life to its fullest. In return, she offers her eagerness to please, and her boundless devotion, in hopes of providing joy back to me.

No, it's not scientific--and no, it wouldn't stand up to a rigorous philosophical proof. But the love that Glindy and I share fills a space in my heart, and that's apparently enough for the both of us.

I was walking Glindy through San Francisco the other day, and crossed paths with a woman with a poodle. I put Glindy in a sit, which often lessens the likelihood of leash aggression on either side, but the woman was a bit relentless about her dog being so friendly and wanting to say hello.

I knew this was a bad idea, but I really wanted an opportunity to observe Glindy's problem interactions in situ. So, I warned this woman. I told her that Glindy was a status-seeking dog, and often got other dogs going. She didn't believe me, of course, and brought Fluffykins (I don't remember the dog's real name) over for a sniff.

The next thing this lady knew, her Fluffykins was barking and snapping at Glindy, who barked and lunged right back. "But she never does that!" said the lady, who seemed to think her dog had started it for no reason at all--although in fairness, her dog didn't offer any calming signals to defuse it, either.

I thought it was a good exercise for all involved. The lady learned that Fluffykins wasn't a powder puff, I got to watch Glindy's status-seeking behaviors in action, and nobody got hurt--not that I'd have allowed the exchange if I'd even thought that was a possibility.

Watching the whole thing in slow motion, this is what happened:

1. Glindy and the dog sniffed each other.
2. Glindy did a very rude "proctology exam" instead of a more typical butt-sniff.
3. Glindy put her head over Fluffykins' withers.
4. Fluffykins didn't like the dominant display, especially since Glindy projects excited energy, rather than the calm-assertive energy of a true alpha.
5. Fluffykins snapped at Glindy to back her off.
6. Glindy responded in kind.

So, really, Glindy starts the whole chain of events more often than not. In canine terms, she's rude and pushy. Glindy wants to be top dog, but doesn't have the right energy for it; she tries to appoint herself to the role, but other dogs just don't feel it. That's the real crux of her social problems.

Of course, as an adult with Asperger's Syndrome, I have much the same problem: I have a lot of strong leadership skills, but don't project the right social signals to ever make the sort of leader that people instinctively follow.

I guess Glindy and I have something we can work on together.

I just got off the phone with the Director of San Francisco Animal Welfare and Control. He is an extremely nice guy who is in a very difficult position when it comes to ADA and state disability law compliance, and I was deeply appreciative of the time he gave me to try and resolve some of the problems I was facing in getting a California service dog tag for Glindy.

Apparently, the city and county of San Francisco have come under fire from all sides regarding their service dog tags. The system that they have is easily abused, and they have a tremendous number of people with untrained animals receiving these tags instead of seeking the more appropriate protection of "emotional support animals" under the federal Fair Housing Act or the state's Fair Employment and Housing Act. At the same time, the department is receiving pressure from various disability lobbies to only issue tags for the disabilities the lobbies care about, in order to prevent dilution of what it means to be a service dog.

Nobody wants their particular disability to be excluded by law, and nobody wants the bar for service dog status to be so high that the economically or socially disadvantaged can't attain it. However, without any baseline criteria about what constitutes adequate public access training, many well-intentioned organizations are left in an unenviable position with regards to determining what makes a legitimate service animal.

Glindy and I may be in a tough spot when it comes to compliance in California, but I think the Animal Welfare people are in an even tougher spot. In the end, we're all just doing the best we can.

I've been speaking to folks on the phone all day regarding SDIT licensing in California, and getting the run-around. I spoke to the Assistant Director of San Francisco Animal Welfare, who insisted that they could not issue such a tag to non-residents even if they worked in the municipality.

Next, I spoke to a very nice lady at the California State Attorney General's Office. She told me there was no state oversight of service animal licensing, and gave me a few other numbers to try.

I was also, at various points, directed to the Tax Collector's office, the San Francisco County Clerk, and the Superior Court Clerk. None of them had any idea how to go about this, either.

Finally, I was given the number to the office of the Director of Animal Welfare, and am expecting a call back from him tomorrow to determine if there is any way to comply with this law.

What was really odd about the whole experience is that everyone I spoke to (with one notable exception) understood the problem once I explained it, and seemed surprised that the issue had never been raised before. Maybe tomorrow will yield some better results.

I contacted San Francisco Animal Control today regarding service dog tags for Glindy as required for SDITs under California Civil Code Sections 54.1(c) and 54.2(b). The person manning the phones tried to insist that they only issued tags to permanent residents, which is something clearly not spelled out in the California Civil Code. Also, he tried to tell me that they wanted a doctor's note before they would issue a tag in any case, which again is something not required by either state or federal law.

I pointed these things out to him, and he promised to have a supervisor or director call me back to discuss the matter further. The weird thing about all this is that the California tag requirement is only required for SDITs, so the whole issue could be avoided by graduating Glindy to full service dog status.

Personally, I prefer keeping Glindy in SDIT status for the simple reason that people tend to be more forgiving of minor transgressions when they see the "In Training" patch. Also, they are less inquisitive about my own disabilities, because they assume I'm a non-disabled trainer, rather than a disabled handler.

Still, it reopens the whole issue of where the dividing line is between SD and SDIT. Personally, I'm confident that Glindy meets the legal definition of a full-blown SD at this point, but would like her to have more demonstrable tasks--and whine a little less when she's excited--before I take off those training patches.

In fact, I'm not convinced that the presence or absence of those training patches are conclusive evidence either way. Vests and patches are not required by law, so I think a legal case could be made that the wording is neither binding nor relevant to rights enforcement. It's also worth noting that a fully-trained service dog doesn't suddenly become untrained because its patches say "in training," nor does an untrained dog become a service animal just because it lacks a training patch.

At any rate, I'm going to try to get the California tags anyway, as a matter of convenience in allowing me to claim Glindy as an SDIT instead of a SD. But if that doesn't happen, it really changes nothing except the need to be more assertive in the event that I ever need police enforcement under California state law.

Last night, Glindy and I went to The Canine Club for a training session to work on obedience in high-distraction environments. The trainers had gotten their days mixed up, though, and there were no other classes going on that evening to provide distraction. We ended up just chatting for a while instead.

At one point, though, four rambunctious dogs were let into the gated area where we were yakking, and charged right up to Glindy. Unlike previous occasions, Glindy took the charging dogs in stride: she was inquisitive but calm, and didn't bark or growl at all. I was so very proud!