During the past year, several people have approached me regarding the use of pets as therapy in certain situations. Rather than eliciting the warm feelings usually associated with this topic, all of these incidents elicited negative reactions in those describing these events as well as myself. How could this be?
First, I admit that, because of my role as an independent scholar seeking to integrate information about animal health, behavioral, and the human-animal bond, my perspective of many animal-related activities may differ from that of others. When others tout the benefits of animal-companionship relative to human physical and mental health, I automatically also consider how these same relationships may affect the animal’s physical and mental health, too. And, no, I don’t do this because I’m a misanthrope. No one could do the work I do and not be fascinated by the workings of human as well as nonhuman animal minds and bodies. What concerns me is that, as more and more people jump on the human-animal bond bandwagon, the idea that animals can be prescribed as treatment for certain human ailments as if they were some sort of animate drug does a great disservice to human and animal alike. After all, if these animals collapse from stress-related medical or behavioral problems, any human therapeutic benefit they might have conferred will be canceled out by the trauma of that loss.
Let’s consider a few examples. A growing number of well-meaning, but naive human medical and mental health professionals now prescribe pets for children with a variety of conditions, apparently based on some fictional “pets conquer all” belief. That kids with one problem may respond differently to animals than those with a different problem, or even the same problem in different circumstances, never dawns on them. Also, the very nature of some problems (such as attention deficit/hyperactivity) may result in a child who shows an immediate positive response to the animal’s presence, but who then becomes bored or disenchanted with the pet as time goes on. Unfortunately, if those who prescribe such animal therapy don’t ask who will take care of the pet if this occurs (assuming that the child was able to summon the consistency and commitment to properly care for the pet in the first place) that animal will suffer.
Of course, the immediate response is that, naturally, the parents will assume all responsibility for the animal from the get-go. That’s a wonderful thought, but sometimes parents living with these children are already stretched to the max. Telling them to add a cat or dog to the household might propel them beyond their limits, and suggesting such an addition without ascertaining the family’s ability to meet the animal’s needs hardly ranks as a caring response. Perhaps if those who promote such animate treatments talked to some of the very tired and fed up case workers who do home visits, and hear horror stories as I did of what can happen when animals are prescribed so cavalierly, they might rethink the process. As I always tell clients dealing with far less complex issues, there’s only one reason to get a pet and that’s because you want that animal. Getting a pet because we think the animal might benefit someone else (human or nonhuman) is always a gamble: it might make things better, but it might make things worse. Any worse situation then becomes even worse as the dilemma of what to do with the animal rears its ugly head.
Another aspect of the subject that merits consideration is unrealistic expectations regarding the perceived patient’s or client’s response to the animal and vice versa. For example, a study entitled “Analysis of child-dog play behavior in child psychiatry” (Anke Prothmann et al.Anthrozoos, 18 (1) 2005) described notable differences in the interactions between dogs and children with autism and those with anxiety disorder. Mental health professionals, parents, or other adults who have preconceived notions regarding the “proper” human response to a therapy animal may draw erroneous conclusions about what is actually happening.
Similarly, I don’t doubt that certain senior citizens who live alone benefit tremendously from the presence of their pets. However, I also realize that there are those who live quite full lives without such intimate animal contact, and bestowing a pet on them with the idea that this will automatically enhance the quality of their lives is not a wise—or caring—thing to do to either that person or that animal.
And although there are many people whose lives have been greatly enhanced by service animals of one kind or another, not every disabled person possesses the wherewithal to provide a quality life for such a companion. While it’s surely reasonable as a caring society to maintain that those with disabilities have a right to any mechanical devices that might improve their lives, do we really want to extend that entitlement to include animals unless we also provide an adequate support system to fulfill the animals’ needs, too?
Painful though such introspection may be for those who want to focus on the joys of animals as therapeutic agents, we must not lose sight of the fact that the purpose of those thousands of years of domestication was to produce animals who were dependent on humans for their well-being. Consequently, to expect those animals, and especially the long-domesticated dog, to assume responsibility for the well-being of humans, let alone those with limitations, is to reverse the long-established natural order of things. In the past, the measure of an animal’s ability to function in this capacity was often little more than his or her ability to learn the skills necessary to do what people wanted done. However, train-ability does not necessarily equal physical and mental soundness, particularly when it comes to handling highly stressful conditions. Consequently, perhaps the time has come to take a close look at the demands we’re actually making on these animals and exactly how much we’re doing them to prepare them to easily handle these.
On the one hand, I feel like such a curmudgeon even bringing up this dark side of using animals as therapy. On the other, as I hear more and more people expressing their concerns about these discrepancies, it just doesn’t seem right to pretend that problems don’t exist.
There’s a wonderful French word, témoignage, that refers to the principle of bearing witness to sorrow. It’s so easy to focus on the upside of therapy animals, but the practice will never gain credibility until we acknowledge and address the sorrows inherent in it, too.
First, I admit that, because of my role as an independent scholar seeking to integrate information about animal health, behavioral, and the human-animal bond, my perspective of many animal-related activities may differ from that of others. When others tout the benefits of animal-companionship relative to human physical and mental health, I automatically also consider how these same relationships may affect the animal’s physical and mental health, too. And, no, I don’t do this because I’m a misanthrope. No one could do the work I do and not be fascinated by the workings of human as well as nonhuman animal minds and bodies. What concerns me is that, as more and more people jump on the human-animal bond bandwagon, the idea that animals can be prescribed as treatment for certain human ailments as if they were some sort of animate drug does a great disservice to human and animal alike. After all, if these animals collapse from stress-related medical or behavioral problems, any human therapeutic benefit they might have conferred will be canceled out by the trauma of that loss.
Let’s consider a few examples. A growing number of well-meaning, but naive human medical and mental health professionals now prescribe pets for children with a variety of conditions, apparently based on some fictional “pets conquer all” belief. That kids with one problem may respond differently to animals than those with a different problem, or even the same problem in different circumstances, never dawns on them. Also, the very nature of some problems (such as attention deficit/hyperactivity) may result in a child who shows an immediate positive response to the animal’s presence, but who then becomes bored or disenchanted with the pet as time goes on. Unfortunately, if those who prescribe such animal therapy don’t ask who will take care of the pet if this occurs (assuming that the child was able to summon the consistency and commitment to properly care for the pet in the first place) that animal will suffer.
Of course, the immediate response is that, naturally, the parents will assume all responsibility for the animal from the get-go. That’s a wonderful thought, but sometimes parents living with these children are already stretched to the max. Telling them to add a cat or dog to the household might propel them beyond their limits, and suggesting such an addition without ascertaining the family’s ability to meet the animal’s needs hardly ranks as a caring response. Perhaps if those who promote such animate treatments talked to some of the very tired and fed up case workers who do home visits, and hear horror stories as I did of what can happen when animals are prescribed so cavalierly, they might rethink the process. As I always tell clients dealing with far less complex issues, there’s only one reason to get a pet and that’s because you want that animal. Getting a pet because we think the animal might benefit someone else (human or nonhuman) is always a gamble: it might make things better, but it might make things worse. Any worse situation then becomes even worse as the dilemma of what to do with the animal rears its ugly head.
Similarly, I don’t doubt that certain senior citizens who live alone benefit tremendously from the presence of their pets. However, I also realize that there are those who live quite full lives without such intimate animal contact, and bestowing a pet on them with the idea that this will automatically enhance the quality of their lives is not a wise—or caring—thing to do to either that person or that animal.
And although there are many people whose lives have been greatly enhanced by service animals of one kind or another, not every disabled person possesses the wherewithal to provide a quality life for such a companion. While it’s surely reasonable as a caring society to maintain that those with disabilities have a right to any mechanical devices that might improve their lives, do we really want to extend that entitlement to include animals unless we also provide an adequate support system to fulfill the animals’ needs, too?
Painful though such introspection may be for those who want to focus on the joys of animals as therapeutic agents, we must not lose sight of the fact that the purpose of those thousands of years of domestication was to produce animals who were dependent on humans for their well-being. Consequently, to expect those animals, and especially the long-domesticated dog, to assume responsibility for the well-being of humans, let alone those with limitations, is to reverse the long-established natural order of things. In the past, the measure of an animal’s ability to function in this capacity was often little more than his or her ability to learn the skills necessary to do what people wanted done. However, train-ability does not necessarily equal physical and mental soundness, particularly when it comes to handling highly stressful conditions. Consequently, perhaps the time has come to take a close look at the demands we’re actually making on these animals and exactly how much we’re doing them to prepare them to easily handle these.
On the one hand, I feel like such a curmudgeon even bringing up this dark side of using animals as therapy. On the other, as I hear more and more people expressing their concerns about these discrepancies, it just doesn’t seem right to pretend that problems don’t exist.
There’s a wonderful French word, témoignage, that refers to the principle of bearing witness to sorrow. It’s so easy to focus on the upside of therapy animals, but the practice will never gain credibility until we acknowledge and address the sorrows inherent in it, too.