Autism Service Dogs

I was thinking a bit more about yesterday's post, and thought I might have created the wrong impression when I said that Bear hadn't been "overtly aggressive." He was behaving aggressively, but not in a way that would be obvious to most people. Aggression is an often-misunderstood term, and most people associate the word with impending bodily harm even though aggression really covers a much wider spectrum of behaviors.

From a purely human perspective, Bear appeared to be gentle giant. He was calm, and wasn't growling or showing his teeth. So, where was the aggression in his behavior? It was in the constant encroachment, and the failure to respect or respond to Glindy's clear warning signals.

Think of it this way: if you were walking down the street and some big bruiser of a guy you've never met came up right behind you—perhaps close enough to breathe on your neck—you'd be wildly uncomfortable, right? You might even be afraid, trying to figure out whether this guy is a vicious mugger, a potential rapist, or just so mentally deranged that he doesn't realize he's breaking all the social conventions by standing so close to you like that. Either way, it's a frightening prospect, and you're hard-wired to see situations like that as dangerous.

When the stress level gets too high, the fight or flight response kicks in. Perhaps you'll scream and run away, or maybe you'll turn around and try to kick this guy in the crotch to get him before he gets you. Or maybe, if you are still a little unsure as to whether you really are in danger, you might take a more civilized approach and ask this person to step back out of your space.

If you ask someone to step back, and he continues to crowd you, almost any sane person would consider that other person dangerous. Whether he means you harm or is simply mentally unstable isn't really the point. The point is that this individual is dangerously unpredictable; if he isn't afraid to violate social norms like respecting your space or backing off on request, perhaps he might violate other social norms like "thou shalt not kill."

When people are involved, the threat implicit in this scenario is obvious. But for some reason, humans don't always see the problem when the participants are dogs. The dog is just being friendly, we think, and are shocked when the other dog responds in a fearful or aggressive way.

On Friday, Bear was clearly encroaching on Glindy's space. She couldn't run away, because she was tied to me. She was afraid, but not so terrified that she wanted to perform the canine equivalent of kicking him in the crotch when he got too close. Instead, she chose to warn him off by saying "You're in my space. You're scaring me. Please back off!"

In hindsight, the fact that Bear ignored these signals justified Glindy's fear and anxiety. Bear was clearly not behaving in accordance with canine social norms, and was behaving in a socially-threatening way even if his intent was not to cause bodily harm.

Glindy does not have a lot of canine social graces in her repertoire either. She rarely gives calming signals to other dogs in such situations, and her personality doesn't allow her to give the submissive signals that might otherwise defuse this sort of situation. The real question is whether it's right to expect her to do so. Would we expect a person to behave as well as Glindy did under similar circumstances? I think not.

We sometimes hold our dogs to an unreasonable standard. And sometimes, even with the best of intentions, it's not clear what we should do to help. Should I intercede between Glindy and Bear? Does that reinforce Glindy for growling, or reassure her that I'm in control of the situation? Who knows?

Or, should I ignore the problem and let the dogs sort themselves out? Is that fair, when Glindy is literally tied to me and unable to choose fight or flight for herself? Does ignoring the problem communicate my ease with the situation, or force Glindy into an unsuitable leadership role?

These are tough questions. There aren't any clear-cut answers. Both Glindy and I did the very best we could on Friday, and while we may not have been perfect, Glindy really is remarkably stable even under high levels of stress.

It's only in hindsight that I realize how remarkable she was that evening. I still wish she were more socially graceful, but I'm proud that she's as resilient and patient as she is.

Good girl, Glindy!

Wow, it's been almost two months since my last blog entry. Maybe that's a cue that I need to be doing more training, or at the very least working Glindy more often.

Ever since I wrapped up my last work project, Glindy and I haven't been working much. I tend to spend a lot of time at home when I'm between jobs, which means that Glindy often spends a lot of time at day care. She really needs the socialization, exercise, and mental stimulation to keep her on an even keel when we're not working; if she doesn't get enough work or play, she gets a little wacky.

Since she spends so much time romping with other dogs, and has even been used at one day care facility as an introducer for new puppies, you'd think that she wouldn't have issues around other dogs. If that were true, I wouldn't have anything to post today, either.

Heading into the weekend, Glindy had been home for several days without day care, and was getting a bit emotionally off-balance. So, for the past few days I've made it a point to at least go out for dinner with her in tow to ensure that we were giving her brain (and nose) at least a minimal workout. On Friday night, I also took her with me to a friend's house for games night, and thus a blog entry was born.

Taking a service dog to someone's home is a bit different than taking one out in public. For one thing, there's no law that says that friends have to let dogs (service or otherwise) into their private homes—although I suppose if they won't accept that Glindy and I are a package deal, they aren't really my friends.

For another thing, people may have dogs of their own. Even if Glindy were a perfect angel around other dogs, there's no telling how other people's dogs might react to her presence in their territory. For example Glindy's unexpected presence might cause someone's fearful dog to submissively urinate on a prized Persian rug.

So, I generally make it a point to ask if it's okay to bring Glindy to someone's home, even though my real friends are unlikely to say no. If they have dogs, they can decide for themselves whether to put the dogs away, roll up the Persian rug, or trust their dogs and hope for the best.

On Friday, my friends opted for the latter option. Their dogs are both pretty mellow, and I was honestly more concerned about Glindy's beta behaviors triggering a problem than anything else.

When we got there, Glindy immediately started whining. She seemed torn between her desire to run over and examine these new dogs, and her desire to shrink back out of the way. I'm sure some of her confusion and stress came from being linked to my waist, which dramatically reduced her physical options and ability to deal with matters on her own terms. Since those terms usually involve scent-marking whenever she's off-leash, I simply couldn't release her in my friends' house; I've learned that lesson the hard way.

Eventually, the dogs all completed their proctology exams, but by this time Glindy was growling and peeling back her lips whenever the host dogs tried to return her sniffs. I interpreted this as beta behavior: she thought she had the right to sniff these dogs and enter their space, but she became fearful or anxious because they weren't respecting her imaginary prerogatives.

The top dog there was named Bear. This guy was simply massive; I'd guess he weighed at least 120 pounds of solid muscle, but it could have been much more. That's more than twice Glindy's mass, and I could tell that she was a bit intimidated. Bear wasn't overtly aggressive, but was perhaps a bit rude; he kept encroaching on Glindy's space in the full confidence of his size and status. But instead of presenting calming signals, Glindy peeled back her lips and growled warningly whenever he got too close.

When I shooed Bear away, he'd watch Glindy from across the room, and then Glindy would whine. It was very strange, because it was more of an anxious whine, rather than a fearful one.

As the evening wore on, Glindy settled in, but she never really got comfortable with the other dogs. Several times, she and I had to walk past Bear. Each time we did, Glindy would hang back as long as possible, and then sprint past him in an effort to clear his personal space as quickly as she could. It wasn't just canine politeness, though; her body language almost shouted "slinking in fear" the way a person's might while hurrying past a dark alley at night. Even though Bear seemed calm and stable to me, I think Glindy was genuinely anxious about being that close to this particular dog for reasons I couldn't identify.

It was a difficult evening from a training perspective. I verbally corrected Glindy a few times for growling when I felt it was unwarranted, although I didn't really want to punish her for expressing her discomfort in a non-physical way; I'd much rather she growl than bite, after all. I also tried reinforcing her when she seemed calmer, although it was complicated by my desire not to reinforce her anxious behaviors by mistake.

On the plus side, despite her anxieties, Glindy did her job well the entire evening. Fearful or not, she walked with me each time I passed Bear to get to the restroom. And she even managed a nap, with the requisite loud snoring, when Bear was safely lying down on the other side of the room.

Most of these canine interplays are invisible to non-handlers. We spent almost seven hours there, with Glindy at my feet or by my side the entire time. I received a lot of compliments from my friends about my incredibly well-behaved dog. I was proud of that, of course, but also aware that this is an ongoing issue with no simple solutions.

I'm very glad that Glindy is stable enough that the level of anxiety these situations create remains manageable for the both of us. It really is a huge testament to both her and the working relationship we've developed. I wish I were able to do more to reduce Glindy's anxiety in these situations, though. In the meantime, I just have to keep doing the best that I can.