If you want to become an animal therapist, the first thing toconsider is whether you will want to do animal-assistedtherapy as a full-time career, a part-time vocation as oneaspect of a larger career, or perhaps simply as an unpaid vol-unteer. Because AAT is a relatively new field, there is notyet an established “career track” that everyone can or mustfollow. If you have an independent spirit and enjoy findingyour own path in the world, though, there are many ways tolearn about AAT, and to prepare for a career that employsthe basic standards and practices that have been developedby pioneers in the field for the past several decades.Any person who wants to enter the field of animal-assisted activities or animal-assisted therapy must be versa-tile and interested in pursuing a well-rounded education.The more knowledge you can gain about human and animalbehavior and health, the better prepared you’ll be to con-tribute to the field of AAT and to help the people who needit most. Although that can mean a formal college or gradu-ate school degree, there are many opportunities for highschool students and graduates willing to seek out otherkinds of specialized training.Start by looking at your own strengths and weaknesses(your school guidance counselor may be able to help youwith this). Chances are, if you’re interested in AAT, youalready know that you love animals, and the idea of usingyour own positive experiences with them to help other peoplesounds great. But what kind of people will you help? Before venturing into the field, think about the different people whocan be helped with animal-assisted therapy, and about howyou might best contribute. Be honest with yourself regardingyour comfort level in being around people who may be verydifferent from you or from anyone you’ve known before. Do you feel comfortable being around elderly people, orare you more at home with young children? How aboutpeople who are mentally or physically disabled, or emo-tionally disturbed? Would you feel comfortable workingwith prisoners, or with terminally ill people in hospicecare? If you’re thinking of volunteering with an animal youalready own, keep in mind that your dog or cat may be hap-pier in some places than in others, just like you. It’s a goodidea to try out a variety of animal therapy experiences tosee what level of commitment and what types of programswork best for you and your animal.

As you might expect, dolphin-assisted therapy is quiteexpensive. The care, feeding, and training of creatures aslarge and complex as the dolphin require special facilitiesand skilled caretakers. Besides that, some people believethat using dolphins in this way exploits them, and there aresome indications that captive dolphins do suffer from arange of stress-induced physical and mental symptoms. That’s why some scientists are hard at work creating a“virtual dolphin experience,” which they hope will capturethe joy and freedom of swimming with the animals usingvideo and computer technologies, eliminating any need forreal, live dolphins. David Cole, a computer scientist livingin the Los Angeles area, heads a group of computer wiz-ards, doctors, and naturalists called the AquaThoughtFoundation. He is one of several people currently workingto develop computer-simulated dolphin experiences. Cole’sprototype, called Cyberfin, is already up and running. It isa “virtual reality interaction” that simulates swimming withdolphins. Once it’s perfected, Cole believes the system willbe a boon both to humans who can’t afford a live dolphinswim and to the wild dolphins that will be spared a life ofcaptivity for the purposes of human therapy and recreation.

Last, but not least, are fish. Although an unfriendly person is sometimes referred to as a “cold fish,” this expression is something of a misnomer. Although it is true that fish are cold-blooded, many studies have found that aquarium fish can have a beneficial effect on people who watch them swim gracefully in their tank. That is why doctors’ and dentists’ offices sometimes feature an aquarium in the waiting room, to help nervous patients relax. A study conducted in the 1980s concluded that watching fish decreased a person’s blood pressure to below the level of someone sitting comfortably in a chair and simply resting. Watching fish was also found to produce a state of calm relaxation, and to be especially beneficial for elderly people. Fish are the mostly unsung heroes of the animal therapy world. They prove that bigger isn’t always better, and that even though the dog may still be man’s best friend, that circle of friends is almost as wide as the entire animal kingdom.

The Real Birdman of Alcatraz Robert Stroud who was portrayed by Burt Lancaster in the 1962 Academy Award–nominated film The Birdman of Alcatraz as a mild-mannered, nature-loving tragic figure, was, in fact, a violent, unpredictable criminal who spent nearly all of his adult life in prison for committing more than one brutal murder. Although probably the most famous inmate ever to live at Alcatraz, Stroud actually began and ended his involvement with birds while at Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary in Kansas, where he was imprisoned for 30 years before serving time at Alcatraz. Held in solitary confinement during most of his time at Leavenworth due to his frequent threats and attacks on other inmates, he developed a keen interest in birds after finding an injured sparrow in the prison recreation yard. Stroud was permitted to breed and raise nearly 300 birds and maintain a research lab inside two adjoining segregation cells, as a way to make productive use of his ample time. As a result of his direct observations and intensive study, he became a leading authority on canaries and their diseases. Though he had come to prison with only a third-grade education, he authored two books on birds, and developed and marketed medicines for various bird ailments. But after several years, prison officials shut down his operation when they discovered that he was using scientific equipment to make whiskey. He died in a prison hospital in 1963, without ever seeing the movie that portrayed him in such a flattering light.

Two small members of the horse family—donkeys and ponies—are not often ridden but sometimes perform nearmiracles with troubled children. Donkeys, compact and cute, share the universal equine trait of wary alertness. Children find that they must earn the trust of the donkeys before being permitted to approach and pet them. One boy, Gil, learned from this experience how to soften his approach to people as well, so as not to scare them off with his formerly aggressive attitude. Personal Ponies is a national organization that provides small Shetland ponies to families of disabled children. Families unable to keep a pony at home are often given one o visit and care for, while the pony is boarded with a nearby trained volunteer. When a child outgrows a pony (or, in some sad cases, succumbs to his or her illness), the animal is returned to the program and placed with a new family; since the typical life span of the ponies is about 30 years, each pony may serve many children.

Exotic animals can also be therapists (Figure 5.2). At Green Chimneys School in Brewster, New York, one resident farm animal is Angel, the llama. Susan Brooks, a clinical psychologist at the school, recalled one boy who had lost the only caring person in his life—his drug-addicted father. The boy seemed to be made of stone, refusing to show any emotion over his terrible loss, until the day he sat down next to Angel the llama, buried his head in her thick fur, and sobbed as if he would never stop. Angel stayed perfectly still, allowing the boy to finally express his grief. Perhaps because they are so pleasant to touch, llamas seem able to connect especially well with autistic children. Darlene Meyer, an occupational therapist who works for a public school district in Oregon, sometimes brings her llamas Steinway and MacCloud to work with special-needs children at the schools. One time, she remembers, an autistic child who had trouble making eye contact began petting MacCloud’s side. “He gradually worked his way up toward the front of the llama until he finally looked into those expressive llama eyes,” said Meyer. “Everyone in the classroom held their breath so the magic moment wouldn’t be broken. Who knows? Perhaps that was a first step toward making eye contact with humans.”

Rabbits are docile and appealing animals, which makes them well suited for therapy work. Oreo, Jessie, and Henry, for example, are three “staff rabbits” with the American Red Cross of Susquehanna Valley in south-central Pennsylvania. Harvey and Chrystal are also volunteers with the group. Owners Cindy Drob and her 11-year-old daughter, Aimee, became Red Cross volunteers, said Drob, “because we have a lot of pets at our house. I know they’re therapy for me, to be home with all of these animals . . . and I just wanted to share it with other people.” Small creatures like hamsters, gerbils, ferrets, and even lizards are working as therapy pets, too. The Companionable Zoo, at the Devereux School in the Philadelphia area, keeps all these animals—plus occasional goats, sheep, and miniature horses—in classrooms or in nearby buildings on campus. The children at the school, who all struggle with emotional, behavioral, and educational difficulties, help care for the animals and gardens connected to the zoos. Psychiatrist Aaron Katcher, a pioneer in animal-assisted psychotherapy who works with the Devereux School students and other similar programs, declared the project a success on many levels: “Positive effects include decreases in under-controlled and aggressive behavior . . . improved cooperation with instructors . . . and appropriate behavior.” Even pot-bellied pigs have been trained as therapy animals—their comical appearance brings laughter and joy to many patients. In England, a ferret named Wombat once made an instant connection with a young autistic girl who had never responded to people, dogs, or other animals before. When Wombat was taken out of his box, the girl began to stroke him. She spoke to him and set him gently on the floor; then she got down on the floor herself to crawl along beside the little animal, talking to him all the while. At the end of the visit, the little girl kissed the ferret good-bye and waved to him—things she had never done before.

Though the dog renames “man’s best friend,” there’s something about cats that makes them the number-one choice for some therapy situations. Cats tend to be quieter than most dogs, for one thing. They’re smaller, less pushy, and more often content to simply sit on a person’s lap or hospital bed and be gently petted and stroked. And there is one other thing: Dogs just don’t purr. “A cat’s purr stimulates our auditory sense and provides us with a peaceful respite from the mechanical noises that are constantly bombarding our senses,” according to Dr. Allen Schoen. “In our fast-paced lives,” he says, “cats offer us an animal riend, a companion that offers great psycho-social benefits of love and companionship without too many demands.” Maybe that’s one reason cats are now the most popular pet in the United States, with nearly 60% of American households including one or more fluffy felines. It’s been proven that stroking cats and feeling that vibrating purr can lower a person’s blood pressure, help heal heart disease, and reduce stress. Linda Hines, president of the Delta Society, says, “We’ve seen a very definite increase in the number of cats registered in our national pet-partnership program.” Besides the fact that cats just seem naturally soothing to many people, those who have worked with them have found that nursing home patients, in particular, often enjoy grooming and playing with therapy cats. Combing a fluffy coat or buckling a cat’s slender collar can be a great way to practice fine motor skills. But mostly, just cuddling a cat helps many people feel less lonely and depressed. It helps them forget about themselves and their illness, at least for a little while. Even agitated patients often become calm and content when they are with a therapy cat. For many of the same reasons, cats are turning up in therapy programs for children and teens in mental health facilities and group homes. Some facilities keep resident cats and allow patients to help care for them. This promotes responsibility and encourages better concentration, focus, and the ability to follow directions. Both longhaired and shorthaired cats can be therapy animals. What’s most important is that the cat must be calm and should get along well with strangers. A good therapy cat is happy to sit with a person for a long time (Figure 5.1). Often, long-lost memories of Alzheimer’s patients will be stimulated during interactions with a therapy cat. Stroking a cat’s soft fur will often trigger a cascade of memories in elderly people who have begun to forget so much of their past—but memories can’t be rushed. Therapy cats must be at least one year old, since older animals are both calmer and less likely to catch diseases from being out with people and other animals. They must be up-to-date on their vaccinations, be certified by a veterinarian, and complete a training program that includes exposure to loud noises, crowds, dogs, and frequent handling. They’ll also need to pass a temperament test designed just for cats. Often, but not always, retired show cats—which are already used to crowds, noises, and lots of handling— will make the best therapy cats.

Americans love animals. In fact, the rate of pet own- ership in the United States is four times higher than that in Europe, and five times higher than that in Japan. In study after study, Americans reveal their deep attachment to their animals, with up to 90% of pet owners claiming that their pet is “extremely important” to them, and close to 80% identifying a pet as their closest companion. Animal images are everywhere: in art, literature, music, food, language, and religion. They fill our imagination and our dreams. According to a 1983 study, up to 57% of the dreams of 4-year-old boys involve animals. Now more than ever, animals are a major focus of scientists and health care workers. Domestic animals and livestock are now recognized as a potential “early warning system” against the post–9/11 threat of bioterrorism. In the emerging field of animal- assisted therapy, some animals have a new role to play—“prescription medicine” to cure a long list of human ills. Animal therapists, like all professionals, have spe- cific tools that help them do their work. But unlike most science-related professions, in animal-assisted therapy, the main tool is a living, breathing creature. It doesn’t live in a laboratory or a test tube, but more often in a kennel, a stable, or someone’s home, and it probably has a name and personality all its own.

Elegant Greyhound walks calmly along the gleaming white corridor of a hospital ward beside her owner as nurses, doctors, and family members hurry past. Her sleek brindle coat gleams in the fluorescent light and her neatly clipped toenails click on the tile floor like high-heeled shoes. Progress is slow, because every few steps someone stops to admire the big dog or ask her name. Each time this happens, her tail wags slowly and she stands patiently while a busy nurse or housekeeper pats her gently on top of her long, narrow head. Finally, the dog’s owner knocks softly on the door of a patient’s room. Nurses have told the dog’s owner that the patient is an elderly man who has suffered a stroke that has left him partially paralyzed. Without hesitation, the dog and her owner approach the man’s bed, where he lies propped up on pillows, staring blankly into space. “Mr. Johnson?” says the woman with the dog. “This is Molly. Would you like to visit with her?” The man turns toward the woman and the dog, smiles faintly, and nods his head. Molly’s owner speaks softly to the dog, and the animal walks straight to Mr. Johnson’s bedside. At first, the man seems confused, but then Molly gently lays her big head on his shoulder and half-closes her eyes. Mr. Johnson reaches out and begins softly stroking the dog’s head. In a moment, he is running his wrinkled hand all the way down Molly’s long back, even lifting himself slightly out of the bed to reach the tip of her tail. He tries to speak, but the words come out garbled. Still, the smile on his face and the tears welling in his eyes show clearly that petting Molly is a very emo- tional experience. After a few minutes, the man is starting to get tired. Molly gives him a soft dog kiss on his chin, and her owner says good-bye, promising to return next week if the man is still in the hospital. Mr. Johnson is already sleeping peace- fully by the time the woman with the dog taps softly on the door of the next patient’s room.

What do all three of these animals have in common? Besides the fact that all of them are mammals, the most important thing is that Molly, Babe, and Sarah are all part of a growing field called animal-assisted therapy (AAT). The humans who work with these animals to help people with special needs are animal therapists. The term can be confusing, because an animal therapist is not a therapist for animals, like a veterinarian—although the health and wel- fare of the animals they work with are very important to them. An animal therapist is a health-care professional who uses animals to help treat people with various mental and physical disabilities, or to help people who are dealing with abuse, stress, neglect, or other problems. Animal therapy is a diverse field. It can involve many dif- ferent kinds of animals, and trained professionals from a variety of health-related disciplines. It can be used in all types of settings, from hospitals and nursing homes to schools, prisons, and residential treatment facilities. There are also plenty of opportunities for volunteers who love animals. What all animal therapists share is a love and concern for both animals and people, a curious mind, and a desire to help people who may be confused, depressed, or in pain. Sometimes, for these people, an animal can turn out to be the best medicine of all.

Bright sunlight glints off the glassy surface of a Florida lagoon, where a boy named Aubrey drifts through blue- green water, suspended by a bright yellow flotation vest. Nearby, Aubrey’s therapist, a young man named Chris, floats quietly while keeping a close watch on Aubrey. They do not speak, or even touch. Aubrey hates to be touched, and he hardly ever speaks. He has autism—a type of brain disorder that affects his speech and movement, and makes it difficult for him to focus on and relate to other people. Sometimes he will say words when Chris shows him cards with pictures of various objects and animals, but even then he will gaze around the room, not looking at his teacher or thinking about the lesson at hand. He avoids looking people in the eye, even his parents, and it is hard for anyone to hold his attention. But he loves the water, which seems to soothe him when he feels agitated or upset. When Chris promises him a chance to get into the water, Aubrey is often willing to concentrate harder on his speech therapy and other exercises than he ever did before he began to swim. Today has been a good day in the classroom, and now it is time for Aubrey’s reward. As the boy floats along, nod- ding his head and humming softly to himself, Chris sees a graceful, massive gray body gliding up, just under the sur- face of the water. “Here’s Sarah,Aubrey!” he says. In the next moment, the dolphin’s great, bottle-shaped snout pops out of the lagoon, and she gives Aubrey a toothy grin as she holds all eight feet of her sleek body nearly vertical in the salty water, just inches from Aubrey’s astonished face. “Look, Aubrey, Sarah’s come to say hello to you!” calls Chris encouragingly. Then, as the dolphin rolls sideways in the water without making a splash, he adds, “Now she’s ask- ing you to rub her belly! Do you want to?”After a moment’s hesitation, the boy reaches his right hand toward Sarah, and, with one finger, strokes her hairless, rubbery side. “Very good, Aubrey!” says Chris. “What does it feel like? Maybe like a hard-boiled egg, after you take the shell off?” Aubrey doesn’t answer, but his attention is riveted on the big bottlenose dolphin now swimming slowly around him in a close circle. When she stops in front of him and peers into his eyes with her own, the boy returns her gaze. He has never looked into the eyes of any human for more than a second or two, but now he looks into the eyes of Sarah the dolphin for what seems like minutes before looking away. By this time, Chris, his therapist, has paddled over close to the boy. “Aubrey,” he says, “I think today is a perfect day for you to swim with a dolphin, don’t you?” “Swim,” says Aubrey. Chris shows him how to gently take the dolphin’s dorsal fin in his hand and hold on, as 12 Animal Therapist Sarah starts gliding in an easy circle around the lagoon. She goes slowly at first, but steadily gains speed while support- ing the boy’s body along the surface of the water. When she comes to a gentle stop, Aubrey is laughing with joy.

The young girl walks into the weathered barn under her own power, but it’s a slow process as her crutches sink into the soft, sandy soil of the path. The look of determination on her face shows that the girl is used to the struggle to move. Her mother follows a few steps behind, slowing her own pace to match her daughter’s, clasping her hands behind her back as if to force herself not to help if she is not truly needed. Once inside the dimly lit barn, a sort of light- ness and anticipation come over both the girl and her mother. Babe, a big gray mare, is waiting. The girl knows what to do with the brushes and combs packed neatly in a small box inside the tackroom. Babe stands still, her solid bulk half-supporting the girl’s small body. The little girl gently strokes the horse’s soft, white coat and inhales the special horse aroma that she has come to love. Before long, with help from her teacher and some volunteers, the girl is sitting way up high on a specially made saddle that has been fastened onto Babe’s broad back. She is taller than anyone now. She giggles with joy when Babe reaches around to nuzzle her foot. Then, after a quiet prompt from her teacher, she says in a small, clear voice, “Walk on, Babe!” Babe obeys. The girl was born with cerebral palsy. She has trouble walking, and her speech is sometimes hard to understand. But she loves horses more than just about anything now, and each week that she rides Babe, she grows stronger and her muscles get more relaxed. Her doctor is amazed at her progress, and says that he believes she may soon be able to walk without any crutches at all. She may even be able to go to a regular school one day, because talking to Babe has improved her speech so much. The girl doesn’t think about these things, though, during the long week between the days when she gets to ride Babe. What she thinks and dreams about is rocking along on the back of the big, gray horse. She feels strong when she rides, unlike most other times in her life, and she feels proud that she can control an animal as big as Babe. It’s something that not many people—not even her mother or her father or her big brother, who sometimes teases her for her slowness—can do. Her teacher gives her exercises to do on horseback. They play games, like riding backward and reaching way out to touch Babe’s tail. Sometimes, her teacher asks her to reach down and touch her own toes, or to stretch her stiff arms all the way up on Babe’s neck, to place a plastic ring over the horse’s ear. Babe sometimes flicks her ear as if the ring tickles, but she never seems to mind. When the riding is over, before the girl takes up her crutches again for the tough walk back to her mother’s car, she plants many kisses on the whiskery nose of the gray mare.

What do all three of these animals have in common? Besides the fact that all of them are mammals, the most important thing is that Molly, Babe, and Sarah are all part of a growing field called animal-assisted therapy (AAT). The humans who work with these animals to help people with special needs are animal therapists. The term can be confusing, because an animal therapist is not a therapist for animals, like a veterinarian—although the health and wel- fare of the animals they work with are very important to them. An animal therapist is a health-care professional who uses animals to help treat people with various mental and physical disabilities, or to help people who are dealing with abuse, stress, neglect, or other problems. Animal therapy is a diverse field. It can involve many dif- ferent kinds of animals, and trained professionals from a variety of health-related disciplines. It can be used in all types of settings, from hospitals and nursing homes to schools, prisons, and residential treatment facilities. There are also plenty of opportunities for volunteers who love animals. What all animal therapists share is a love and concern for both animals and people, a curious mind, and a desire to help people who may be confused, depressed, or in pain. Sometimes, for these people, an animal can turn out to be the best medicine of all.