Why Can’t Doctors Be More Like Dogs?

I was sitting in the doctor’s office – 20 minutes early for an appointment that would be a half-hour late, thumbing through a six-month old magazine, when I came across an article on the amazing things being done with service dogs.

As I read about how these fantastic animals are changing and saving lives, it occurred to me that these canine helpers have a lot to teach the medical establishment. At the time, I was not exactly a fan of said establishment. I was waiting to see a third dermatologist about a problem the first two dermatologists couldn’t agree that I had.

I had used a cosmetic scrub — very nice, it smelled like brown sugar. Then I used a sunblock. Then I developed a nasty rash. Then the glands on the side of my neck turned into big, red, itchy lumps. My throat burned, and I had trouble swallowing. Prescription: steroid cream.

After a notable lack of improvement, I went to dermatologist number two, who said the cream, for what I had, was like telling someone with a brain tumor to take two aspirin. Big confidence builder, to say the least. Prescription: continue with the cream, but also add ingestible steroids.

I asked number two if there was any connection between my problem and the sunblock I had used. The rapid-fire response was “No” and “impossible.” My still swollen glands, she said, were simply a consequence of the skin condition.

So, with visions of getting arms like Barry Bonds, I was off to the pharmacy for more steroids, noticing on the way out that the sunblock I had used was for sale in the dermatologist’s office.

Feeling worse by the day, I tried dermatologist number three, who said the sunblock in combination with the scrub could, indeed, cause my reaction. But again, the gland problem was likely a consequence of the skin problem.

By this time, the sides of my neck looked like my body had been invaded by an alien life form. So I went to an internist, who finally and correctly deduced that the gland problem was being caused by a nasty upper respiratory infection. As for the dermatitis, he said, “I can refer you to a dermatologist for that.”

I know doctors save lives. I know articles like this get your face posted in the break rooms of medical offices across the country. But I still can’t help thinking about service dogs.

There are dogs trained to alert the deaf when the phone rings, help unfreeze Parkinson’s victims with the stimulating touch of a paw, turn on lights and pick up dropped objects for the paralyzed.

Some amazing work is being done to train dogs to alert owners to impending health problems. Seizure dogs can recognize a change in body chemistry 15 to 45 minutes before the onset of an epileptic seizure. Dogs are being trained to recognize low blood sugar in diabetics, even awakening from a sound sleep to, in turn, wake the owner. I know of one family where one trained dog shuttles constantly between two diabetic children.

The difference between these dogs and doctors, besides medical school, internships, residencies, proud parents and opposable thumbs, is total and absolute concentration on the patient. For service dogs, it’s what they do, why they’re here, how they’re trained. Their role in life is not about treatments. It’s about outcomes.

I know that is a lot to ask of doctors in a world where medicine is a business and third-party payers make the rules. Still, thinking back on my needless ordeals, these wonderful animals have something to share.

For more by this author, Peggy Drexler, PhD, author of “Our Fathers, Ourselves: Daughters, Fathers, And The Changing American Family,” visit www.peggydrexler.com.

Photo credit: green kozi

Lessons from a Mustang

Thera is 16 years old. She is small in stature and a rich golden color with black markings on her legs, shoulders and ear tips. Her tail is a long, thick mass of darkness that swirls with the wind. Her black mane has moonlight threads of silver running through it. She bears the government stamp of a mustang on her neck.

Eight years ago, Thera was rounded up by the Bureau of Land Management from her home on the Montana/Wyoming border. She is a member of the Pryor Mountain Herd, the original descendants of the Spanish Conquistador’s horses. Horses in her roundup were bound for the slaughterhouse, but they were diverted by a horse rescue center in Texas. Thera, Greek for “wild child,” and it is a perfect fit for this untamed beauty. Shortly after being rescued, Thera’s new guardians discovered she was pregnant. When her foal was old enough, he was adopted. Again, Thera experienced separation from family. Throughout eight years at the rescue, potential adopters expressed interest, but none followed through — Thera continues to be wary of humans. She has never been ridden, which also deterred outside interest.

When I saw her picture on the rescue website, I was immediately drawn to her. I can’t explain why, but it was the same feeling I had with each horse who has become part of my family. Just that “in your gut” kind of knowing. Meeting her in person validated this, and the adoption process began.

From the beginning of our visits, Thera was adamant about maintaining the two-foot protective space surrounding her body. She is not comfortable with people attempting to touch her and immediately moves away if this is challenged. I began introductions by sitting outside her stall. Slowly, she began to turn and face me.

After we established this space, I entered her stall. I realized very quickly that standing was threatening, so I shifted down to bended knees. This resulted in an immediate response of moving a step closer to me. Slowly, we began to create a new layer of trust. After several days of this, she came to accept carrot gifts right at my feet. Then she accepted hay from my hand.

In my joy of our budding connection, I jumped to planning her move to the ranch. I envisioned pictures attaching a lead rope to her halter, walking together, leading her into a trailer and heading home to meet her new family. I was now on a mission! I brought a lead rope into the stall with me, and immediately, she stepped away. OK, too much. I returned to my kneeling position, and she relaxed. I set the lead rope down on the ground next to me and told her it was a connection line between us. She took a deep breath and looked away. OK, she wasn’t buying that. I gently said her name, and she turned back to face me. I offered a carrot on the ground between us. She took a step forward and accepted it. I touched the lead rope, and I watched her get very still. The light went out of her eyes. She stood frozen, and I realized what happened. It was such a quiet yet powerful reminder: When things are too intense, sometimes the safest option is to check out. I gently said her name again and invited her return to the present moment. She accepted, and I offered another carrot. I left the lead rope on the ground and put carrots all over it. She gladly nuzzled and gathered around the rope, simultaneously checking out the intruder.

I remembered what I ask people when they come for a session with the horses – what are they feeling in their body? I checked in with myself and noticed my heart. I noticed I had retreated and gone internal. This beautiful, courageous mare was standing inches in front of me and I realized I was experiencing fear. What in the world was that about? Then my brain started rambling about the agenda I had created for Thera. My attention was drawn back to my heart. I listened. I experienced my heart open and expand. Thera released a huge breath. She came closer, and I felt her heart energy swirling around me. We were connected in an indescribable moment together. There was a smile in her eyes and pure love radiating throughout. She reached her nose out to my shoe and touched me with her whiskers. Then her whiskers touched my hand. Everything was about this moment between us. Time did not exist. Just this expansive state of being together.

I finally had the wet-mop-upside-the-head moment. I didn’t need an agenda! This powerful being and I would figure it out together. Tears started flowing down my face. I felt a huge release, and Thera stayed right in that moment with me. No need to get all mental about this. Hell, I didn’t have to act like I knew what to do next. Everything would be OK. I said goodnight to Thera, bowed to her, hands at my heart, and thanked her for sharing her powerful wisdom. She just smiled at me through her eyes and looked very excited … and very pleased with herself.

As I was driving home, I had an epiphany. When you stay in your heart, beautiful things happen. My thoughts expanded even more. What happens to any of us when the proverbial rug gets pulled out from under us because of an unexpected event? Whether it is a diagnosis, relationship change, family or personal crisis or any massive life twist, our “idea” of reality is suddenly gone. How do we cope? Do we shut down? Do we reach out to others? Does the head take over and start spinning?

I thought about Thera’s journey of being ripped away from her family and headed God knows where. She didn’t know what was going to happen. Did she question survival? She was rescued, but her child was taken away. No wonder she had perfected the art of stoic dissociation. But in that moment between us, the horrors were removed, and she returned us to the healing heart space. All beings have it. A plan isn’t always necessary. Sometimes the most powerful healing occurs when we let go and move forward in the moment.

Thera and I are on a journey. Her name may translate as “wild child,” but my interpretation is the pure, unfettered state of being: love. Love is about being connected within our heart. When we are in our heart, we allow the total essence of our self, our unique spirit, to fly and be free. When you stay in your heart, beautiful things happen.

Sara B. Willerson, LCSW, is an equine facilitated psychotherapist in Texas. Together with her equine partners, she invites children and adults to experience the healing power of the horse.

Why Dogs Are Better Than Therapy

Petting dogs has been proven to be good for health.

It was one of those days in our house where an argument was hanging in the air like a gas leak — just waiting for a spark.

Like most houses, the combustion — when it inevitably came — was not the kind that lifts the roof off. More like a sustained rumble of muttered asides and one-word answers.

Then my daughter walked in and asked a question that changed everything: “Where’s Polly?”

Polly is one of the two yellow labs who share our home with us — the other is her brother, Stuart. Unlike Stuart, who knows a good thing when he sees it, Polly tends to heed the call of the wild. All it takes is an open door, and the wolf-voice says, “Go for it.”

After a quick and fruitless check under the table, we scrambled like fighter pilots to find Polly. Check the upstairs; check the yard; get the leash; call the neighbors; grab the dog treats. Move, move, move!

My last snappy comeback in the ebb and flow of our suspended argument was shelved. I made a note to save it. It was good.

As usual, Polly turned up an hour or so into our frantic search, not too far from the house. She bounded up to us with great surprise and joy — “It’s so cool that we would run into each other like this.”

It’s amazing how these limpid-eyed, flop-eared creatures change a family.

What is it about the light snoring at the foot of the chair, the chorus of alarm that a squirrel has breached the perimeter, or the clip, clip, clip of paws across a kitchen floor?

I have my own theory.

As a parent with a son on his own and a daughter tumbling into her teen years, dogs are like having eternal two-year-olds around the house — everything is love, everything is great, and every toy — even one with the squeaky long ago ripped from its innards — is a wondrous discovery.

Of course, there are more scientific thoughts on the matter.

Perhaps it’s simply biophilia — an oddly scary term for an interesting idea: We are genetically programmed to interact with nature. It’s an instinctive search for connection with other living things. It’s the reason we run back into a smoke-filled house to save the hamster.

It might explain the soothing effect of a dog in our lives: why petting them has been proven to lower blood pressure and elevate moods; why a major study showed that heart-attack patients with dogs were eight times as likely to be alive a year later than patients who are dog-deprived.

Maybe it also explains why dog slobber is not as disgusting as it should be and why we trail dutifully behind them, plastic grocery bag at the ready. It’s all part of the natural order of things.

With Polly safely back under the table, Stuart sprawled out on the floor, and things returned to normal, I was ready to stoke the argument with that snappy comeback I had saved for later.

The problem was, I couldn’t remember it.

For more by this author, visit PeggyDrexler.com

Originally published on HuffingtonPost.com.

Photo credit: monggoy

Animals and People, Saving Each Other

I watched a stirring video on YouTube last month. A team of whale advocates and scientists in the Sea of Cortez in Mexico came across a humpback whale hopelessly entangled in a gill net, disabling the animal so severely that she could not have survived much longer without intervention. One member of the team swam over to her and tried to disentangle her. Eventually, the team pulled the boat beside her, and everyone labored to cut away the net and free her, fin by fin— celebrating after more than a half-hour of cutting and straining to finally allowing the leviathan to swim. The whale was gentle during the ordeal, even though she was in a life-threatening situation with people she did not know. She quickly learned these people were friends, and they were trying to help.

The team stuck around to bask in the wonder of the encounter and soon got a second surprise – a display worthy of any July 4th celebration. It wasn’t a fireworks show, but a display of breaching and splashing that signaled to the team that this whale was not only euphoric but deeply appreciative. You can judge for yourself by watching the full video here. (If you come across an injured marine mammal or other wild animal, your first response should be to contact personnel with a marine mammal stranding or rescue center).

In our field, there are people who save animals every day, though not that often the biggest animals who have ever lived on the planet. But what many people don’t realize is that animals exhibit some mighty acts of altruism toward us, too. It’s not uncommon for us to read in the papers about dogs fending off an intruder or alerting a family to a fire in the middle of the night.

But wild animals have also been known to come to our aid. In “The Bond,” I wrote about several of these stories, such as a pod of dolphins in New Zealand who protected a group of swimmers from a great white shark in 2004. The dolphins herded the swimmers together and formed a circle around them, slapping their tails and keeping the shark at bay until a rescue boat arrived.

Another rescue that captivated people around the world took place at the Brookfield Zoo in Chicago in 1996, and I open the second chapter in the book with this story. A 3-year-old boy climbed a fence and tumbled nearly 20 feet into a pit, hitting his head and falling unconscious. Not only was he injured, but he had fallen into an enclosure with seven lowland gorillas — powerful animals who can grow to be more than 400 pounds. But as the crowd watched, a mother gorilla named Binti Jua gently picked up the boy and carried him to the door of the exhibit, where zookeepers and emergency personnel could reach him. The child received treatment and recovered, and Binti Jua was hailed as a hero.

You can find many other accounts of dolphins saving swimmers, dogs and cats alerting their families to danger, and other animals such as parrots and horses helping people in trouble. These acts of bravery and selflessness are another reminder of how much we have in common with animals, and how much people have often underestimated the intelligence, emotions and altruism of other creatures.

For more on the special relationship between animals and humans, visit http://hsus.typepad.com/.

Photo credit: Tim Vreiling

Dairy Industry Cruelty: One of Agriculture’s Best Kept Secrets

The cruelty inflicted upon calves in the dairy industry is one of agribusiness’s best kept secrets. Many consumers might assume that because cows are not slaughtered directly for their milk, dairy products are somehow less inhumane. What many consumers aren’t aware of is that when they purchase milk, cheese or other dairy products, they are contributing to a brutal cycle of suffering for countless calves. In order for a cow to produce milk, she has to have a calf, and those calves are taken away from their mothers immediately after birth. Half of those calves are male, and they’re often used in veal production.

More and more Americans are beginning to understand these realities of factory farming and are taking a stand. Earlier this month, we were excited to report that after thousands of citizens in Ohio spoke out against the cruel confinement of veal calves, livestock officials voted to reverse an earlier decision and give calves more room to move.

But following on the heels of this important step forward for calves, comes a shocking new investigative video by Mercy for Animals. Reminding us that there is still much work to be done, the video depicts workers at a dairy calf farm in Texas subjecting young cows to horrific abuse, bludgeoning them with pickaxes and beating and neglecting them. The video is a poignant look at the horrific lives of calves born into the dairy industry.

Over the years, Farm Sanctuary and others have documented the cruel conditions of factory farms, including at a veal farm in Wisconsin. Our “Behind the Mustache” video gives a behind-the-scenes look at the California dairy industry. It’s videos like these that have helped create change in laws and policies for farm animals and inspire citizens to reconsider their diets and take action. We’re confident that Mercy for Animals’ powerful new video will help further the animals’ cause.

Since Farm Sanctuary’s inception, my colleagues and I have conducted numerous visits to farms, stockyards and slaughterhouses to document conditions. Exposing animal abuse through photos and videos is a powerful tool and agribusiness is well aware of that fact. I recently wrote about two state bills, in Florida and Iowa, which would criminalize the documentation of “animal facilities.” Since then, similar legislation has been introduced in Minnesota.

In light of these videos and photographs, the agriculture industry is fighting hard to keep consumers in the dark about where their food really comes from. That’s why it’s important that we use these investigations as tools to educate our communities and show lawmakers the importance of revealing abuse. I hope you’ll use these resources to help create change.

Photo credit: NDSU Ag Communication