Service Dogs

    Dogs (and pets in general) have been scientifically proven to reduce stress and lower anxiety for almost all of their owners.  Service dogs are certainly no exception, but they just work a little harder than your average, every day dog.  They're also used for many purposes.  There are specially trained rescue dogs (not the kind you or I might adopt from a pound, shelter, foster home, or rescue group to give a "furrever home to), but they're trained to find victims in the wake of disaster when it's just too unsafe for humans to search.  They go climbing and digging through rubble and debris in those first crucial hours to find survivors and alert rescue workers and their handlers so that humans can find a way to get a victim out.  Sadly, many of these dogs come at a huge price.  Their lifespans are often shortened due to the conditions they work in (chemicals, dust, debris).. the kind of things humans can easily be suited up to protect themselves from, but not their superhero counterparts.  And because of this, many times, their vet bills are also astronomical (but almost always paid because taking life saving measures to save a rescue dog is always worth the price when that dog has saved many human lives).  There are seeing eye dogs for the blind, dogs that are trained to assist the deaf, dogs trained to help epilepsy patients, patients with limited mobility, patients with PTSD, anxiety, and other mental illnesses that just having a trained, furry, 4 footed friend next to them in public means the difference between having a serious panic attack, a possible flash back, or even the difference between remaining locked in the house versus interacting with the outside world.
      Federal law requires all places to allow service dogs everywhere, regardless of the behavior of past service dogs.  No, service dogs are not required to wear special vests, tags, costumes, the owner is not required to show paperwork to prove that their dog is a service dog, and technically, a place isn't allowed to ask if a dog is a service dog, or ask for proof of it because it's considered discrimination.
       Technically, you can train to have your own dog certified as a service dog, but it can be very expensive.  Most of the service dogs out there have been raised since they were very young to be service dogs.  And well, I can barely get my dog to listen to me half the time to even think about getting her to listen to anyone else or train her to be a certified service dog.
     But here's the other funny thing about dogs.  They just know.  Some of us don't need to have a service dog with us everywhere we go.  Just having them in the house is enough.  Because they know when we need them.  Granted, my dog still hasn't quite caught up to the whole when my mom or I are in pain or not feeling well, we don't want to be pounced on, no matter how cute she is, or how cute it is.  It hurts.  But she means well.  She just seems to know.  She pays us extra attention.  She does cute stupid puppy tricks right in front of us to get us to laugh.. and if we don't, she pounces on us, or flops on her back in our lap, sticks her face in ours, throws her toys at us (because her toys always make her feel better, so they might make us feel better, right?)
      And then there was last night.  I received a bit of possible sad news:  someone I've known for years left on a road trip for the winter (since Irene took out the furnace and hot water heater), but might not be coming back because the damage to his house was far more extensive than initially thought.  I recently found myself looking forward to his return for a lot of reasons.  (Long story short, he was probably that one guy that I've been looking for all along who was right in front of (and behind me) the entire time I went from one disastrous relationship to another).  As I sat there in bed, curled up in my comforter trying not to cry at the news and my own stupidity, up pops the dog.  At first, she just sat there staring at me, head cocked to the side, ears forward, eyes wide, taking the situation in with a look of curiosity and philosophy.  Then she leapt off the bed, grabbed her creepy deflated pink chicken, hopped back up on the bed, dropped it in my lap, and laid down in front of me, just staring at me waiting for a response.  I had to laugh.  Then she stole the toy back, dropped it next to me, and sprawled her chubby, 45lb body across my lap so I could rub her belly.  The toy is creepy, but somehow I get the feeling she thinks I like it (I found it in my purse this morning), but all she was trying to do was make me feel better.  Trainable or not, THAT'S a service dog. 

That's what she gave me to cheer me up