Dogs in a Psychologist's Office
AKC Gazette July 1993

I did have a few patients who had strong negative reactions from interacting with Humphrey. A 14-year-old kept insisting that Humphrey do tricks for him. When it became evident that Humphrey could not do any tricks, the boy said Humphrey was stupid and did not want anything more to do with "her" (the boy referred to Humphrey as "her" even though he knew the dog was male). He didn't even want "her" in the same room. He began to hate Humphrey and claim that Humphrey was causing him to have allergic reactions.

I soon learned that his parents had divorced while he was quite young and both had recently remarried. Retaining his childhood feelings, he believed the divorce was his mother's fault: this was exactly what he was projecting onto Humphrey. As he came to realize his parents had their own needs and neither was at fault, his allergic reaction to Humphrey disappeared and he liked him once again.

One patient kicked Humphrey for being too close to her. I was furious and said in no uncertain terms was she allowed to hurt me or Humphrey or anything in the room, including herself. What then emerged was a history of suicide attempts and an incredible history of physical and sexual abuse. The patient, having projecte3d her own self-loathing onto Humphrey, found him disgusting. We hate in others what we can not stand in ourselves. Our self-hate keeps us from loving.

For 13 years until his death, Humphrey never missed a day of work. Many people in treatment are stuck in their emotional development as a result of never having mourned a deceased parent or sibling. Humphrey's death generated feelings of loss and mourning in many of my patients. Each loss in a person's life brings back the memories of all earlier losses. Humphrey's passing did just that. Many issues surrounding care, nurturing, loss and grieving came to the forefront as my patients and I moved through the stages of mourning Humphrey.

Along Came Amos

Sometime after Humphrey's death, I realized that the atmosphere in my office had a different quality to it. There was something about having a dog in the office that offered a kind of connection and warmth that contributed to the dynamics of therapy and the treatment process. It was now missing.

The day of Christmas Eve of that same year, a friend a friend phoned to tell me about Amos, a yellow Labrador Retriever and retired seeing-eye dog that was up for adoption because his mistress had died. Amos was going to be put down the day after Christmas if he wasn't adopted. No one wanted him because he seemed so old, sad and worn out.

I got the chance to see him soon after that. When I saw him- a huge, haggard, sad yellow lab with an age-worn face that made him look more like a bloodhound than a lab, I thought to myself, "This dog died when his mistress died; he's given up and will never attach to anyone again." I would learn how wrong I was.

Ten-year-old Amos had a new home and a new job. He was simply amazing. He would stop at corners waiting foe the light to change, look out for traffic and generally treat me as if I needed to be guided. If I dropped something, he would pick it up and put it in my hand. None of the well-known neighborhood bullies ever barked at Amos. He exuded the most magnificent of vibes. I was so impressed, a friend and I tracked down his training school which sent mew a list of its training commands. I started using words with Amos: home, office, cigarettes, grocery, cleaners. I was astonished how quickly he learned the new wordier started using what he already knew to guide me wherever I needed to go.

Amos met the challenge of his new profession like an old pro. One patient, terrified of dogs, grew somewhat more relaxed when I told her that if Amos approached her in any way, I would extend one year of free therapy. She left treatment sometime later kissing Amos on the head.

Perhaps the place Amos shined most was with children. I learned a lot from watching kinds interact with Humphrey. Because he was a caring, warm creature who couldn't speak, Humphrey could be trusted with their fears and secrets.

As a retired seeing-eye dog, nothing ever upset Amos. He was in his glory around kids; they could do anything to him and he would never object. As a result, severely disturbed kids who could not find a way to talk to me could talk to Amos. They would tell Amos what their pain and sadness were about, what tortures they had been exposed to and they would promise that they would never do things like that to him. One little boy said, "I would never make you sit on the radiator with no clothes on."

Continued