Shelter Dogs

by Peg Kehret

  Cliff Chartrand relaxes at his Richland, Washington, home with Bridgette, his seizure-alert dog.

  8

  THE BLACK-AND-WHITE DOG had no name. The person who owned her had never bothered to give her one.

  When the dog had fourteen puppies, her owner found homes for six of them. The remaining eight, along with the mother dog, were taken to the Oregon Humane Society in Portland, Oregon.

  With silky fur, large ears, and a flowing tail, the mother dog appeared to be mostly border collie, with some spaniel and sheltie mixed in. She had not been house-trained, nor had she ever received any other kind of training. She seemed to be about two years old.

  A staff member named her Bridgette.

  The puppies were weaned and put up for adoption. Bridgette was put up for adoption, too.

  Andrea Wall is a volunteer at the Oregon Humane Society. She soon noticed Bridgette standing at the front of her kennel, with her big ears perked up. Bridgette watched everyone and listened to everything. Andrea thought she seemed particularly intelligent.

  Andrea had been on the lookout for exceptionally alert shelter dogs ever since she had met Jeanne Hampl. Jeanne had gone into a pet store one Saturday when Andrea had a shelter dog there as part of an Oregon Humane Society adoption program.

  Jeanne introduced herself as the director of the Prison Pet Partnership Program (PPPP) at a women’s prison. “We take dogs from animal rescue organizations,” she said, “and give them the opportunity to lead lives of service. They are trained by the prison inmates to be service dogs for people with disabilities or therapy dogs for people who will benefit from the animal-human bond.”

  Intrigued, Andrea asked many questions. She learned that the Prison Pet Partnership Program was begun by Sister Pauline, a nun who believes that working with dogs helps people who must live in an institution, including those who are serving prison sentences.

  In 1981, Sister Pauline got permission and funding to try her ideas at the Washington State Correctional Center for Women in Gig Harbor, Washington. The program proved so successful that it quickly expanded.

  The prison now operates a full-service boarding kennel and offers grooming for all breeds. The inmate employees are certified as pet care technicians and/or groomers. Money earned from the boarding and grooming, as well as from training privately owned dogs, pays for the food, veterinary care, and other expenses of the dogs being trained as service dogs. The trained service dogs are given free to people who need them.

  Dogs who enter the program but who do not pass the necessary tests to become service or therapy dogs are put up for adoption as Paroled Pets. They get basic obedience training and must pass the American Kennel Club’s Good Citizen test, making them far more desirable as pets than when they entered the program.

  The PPPP helps people, too. Prisoners who learn to groom or train dogs are in demand. Jeanne Hampl often gets calls from potential employers asking when the next inmate from the program will be released from prison, and offering that person a job.

  Since that first meeting with Jeanne, Andrea had watched for any shelter dogs who seemed especially alert and friendly. Whenever she found one, she called Jeanne to tell her about it. Several of Andrea’s “discoveries” had been accepted into the Prison Pet Partnership Program.

  Andrea thought of the PPPP as she stood outside Bridgette’s kennel, watching the dog look and listen. She knew that service dogs must also bond well with people; Bridgette wagged her tail eagerly at everyone who approached.

  Jeanne had also told Andrea that a few dogs have a special ability: they are able to predict when someone is going to have a seizure. There is no way to train a dog to predict a seizure; the dog must have the talent naturally and be able to use it. Such a dog can be trained to alert the person about the impending seizure and to take action during the seizure, such as getting help, staying with the person, or fetching the telephone. On average, a seizure-alert dog can give twenty minutes’ notice that a seizure is coming.

  The average dog’s nose contains two hundred twenty million smell-sensitive cells, compared to only five million in humans. That’s why dogs are used by police to sniff out drugs, bombs, and fugitives. Seizure-alert dogs have an exceptionally keen sense of smell and are able to sense differences that most other dogs, and all humans, miss.

  It was recognized that dogs can predict seizures when a few people noticed their dogs behaving strangely just prior to someone’s seizure. Researchers believe that the dogs pick up subtle shifts in body odor and electromagnetic fields.

  The PPPP trained the first seizure-alert dog in 1983. There are now six programs in the United States that train seizure-alert dogs, but requests for such dogs far outnumber the supply.

  Most people who have seizures have epilepsy, a disease where the nerve cells of the brain occasionally miscommunicate. The person becomes unconscious, and his or her body twitches or jerks uncontrollably. Each seizure can last several minutes.

  When people who have epilepsy have a seizure, they are often injured. They fall down, or their jerking arms or legs slam into a hard surface. If they can know ahead of time that a seizure is coming, they can get in a safe place, like a bed or sofa, and avoid injury.

  As Andrea watched Bridgette, something—a hunch? a sixth sense?—made her wonder if perhaps this neglected and untrained dog might be one of those exceptional few dogs who can predict a seizure.

  Andrea had Bridgette spayed and took her home. She needed to find out if Bridgette would be easy to train, and she had to be sure that Bridgette would get along with other dogs and with children.

  Two weeks later, Andrea called Jeanne Hampl. “I think I have a dog for you,” she said. “Possibly even a seizure-alert dog.”

  Jeanne accepted Bridgette into the program, and Bridgette went off to prison to receive her training.

  Jeanne saw how sensitive and alert Bridgette was. She also noticed that Bridgette was especially scent-oriented. Like Andrea, she wondered if this dog might possibly be one of the rare dogs who can predict seizures. One of the inmates at the prison, Sally (not her real name), has seizures, and she agreed to work as Bridgette’s trainer.

  Four days after Sally began Bridgette’s training, Bridgette began to whine and nudge Sally’s leg for no apparent reason. Because Sally had previously worked with seizure-alert dogs, she realized that Bridgette might be trying to warn her. Sally lay down, and a few minutes later she had a seizure. Without anyone showing Bridgette what to do, she had let Sally know that she was going to have a seizure!

  In order to be certified as a service dog, Bridgette needed one hundred twenty hours of supervised training. She learned both hand and voice signals for many commands, to respond on the leash or off, and to wear a service-dog pack.

  Community volunteers took Bridgette to public places and home with them on weekends. Bridgette learned to lie still on the floor while a stranger stepped over her. She went to a shopping mall, where she was taught not to pay attention to children. In the food area, the trainer dropped french fries on the floor near her; Bridgette learned to ignore them.

  Most important, Bridgette continued to alert Sally whenever she was about to have a seizure. Besides whining and pawing at her trainer, Bridgette barked in a different tone than she used at any other time.

  After six months, Bridgette was ready to go to her permanent home.

  Clifford Chartrand and his wife, Carol, both ex-Marines, live in Richland, Washington. Cliff had his first epileptic seizure at age twenty while he was still in the Marine Corps. After his discharge, he worked as assistant manager of a lumberyard, but the seizures became more frequent and more severe. For his own safety and the safety of others, he had to quit working.

  When he was forty, a medication was found that helped prevent some of the seizures. But it did not prevent all of them, and he continues to have three or four seizures each month.

  Cliff can never tell that he is about to have a seizure. Because of this, he cannot drive a car.


  One evening, Cliff and Carol saw a television program about dogs who can predict seizures. Excited by the possibility, they called the National Epilepsy Foundation and asked where they could get such a dog.

  The answer was good news and bad news. The good news was that one of the places that train seizure-alert dogs was right in Cliff’s home state: the Prison Pet Partnership Program. The bad news was that PPPP already had a waiting list of people who wanted a seizure-alert dog. Because there is no way to specifically teach a dog to do this, there are fewer dogs available than there are people who need them.

  Cliff and his doctor filled out the lengthy application form, and Cliff’s name went on the PPPP waiting list. He had been waiting a year and a half when Bridgette finished her training with Sally.

  That’s when Cliff got a telephone call from Jeanne Hampl. “We may have a dog for you,” she said.

  Jeanne drove to Richland to visit the Chartrands at home. She wanted to be sure that they had a fenced yard for Bridgette and that Bridgette would receive good care.

  Cliff and Carol had raised four children. While the kids were growing up, they had also had dogs and loved them.

  Cliff and Carol are friendly, kind-hearted people; their four children and their seven grandchildren all live nearby. It was clear to Jeanne that Bridgette would be going into a happy and loving home, with plenty of attention and support from nearby family.

  Before they brought Bridgette home, Cliff and Carol traveled to Gig Harbor where they met Sally, Bridgette’s trainer. Cliff, Carol, and Jeanne were seated when Sally brought Bridgette into the room. Bridgette stopped and looked at the newcomers. Then she left Sally’s side, walked directly to Cliff, and sat at his feet.

  “It was as if she knew instinctively that Cliff was her person,” Carol said.

  Jeanne Hampl agreed, adding she had never seen a dog do that before.

  The Chartrands spent three mornings learning the right way to work with a service dog. They learned what food Bridgette ate and how much. Cliff practiced giving the commands that Bridgette knew.

  Cliff and Bridgette worked perfectly together from the start. Jeanne went with them on some trips to a doctor’s office, a restaurant, and a shopping mall just in case they needed help, but they never did.

  During the three days of instruction, Cliff did not have a seizure. There was no way to be certain that Bridgette would be able to sense a seizure coming for him, the way she had done for Sally.

  When the training was complete, Bridgette went home with Cliff and Carol. While Sally was sad to see Bridgette leave, she liked Cliff and Carol, and she was proud of her part in helping Bridgette become a seizure-alert dog.

  One Sunday afternoon, Cliff was sitting in his lounge chair reading the Sunday paper. Bridgette was napping on the floor at his feet, the way she usually does.

  Suddenly, Bridgette woke up and crawled into Cliff’s lap. She stuck her head up under the paper and put her muzzle right in Cliff’s face. She licked his chin. She pawed at his chest.

  “You silly dog. What’s wrong with you?” Cliff said.

  “Do you suppose …” Carol said.

  Cliff tilted the chair back so that he would be lying down and unable to topple over sideways. Carol stayed close by.

  A few minutes later, Cliff had an seizure. Bridgette had known it was coming, and she had figured out a way to tell him.

  Thanksgiving came two weeks after that first episode, and Cliff and Carol went to their daughter’s home for Thanksgiving dinner. Bridgette, of course, went along. She behaved perfectly until it was time to go home.

  When Cliff and Carol started for their car, Bridgette refused to go with them. She ran around in circles, barking. When Cliff gave her the usual commands, she did not mind him. This kind of behavior is unheard of for a service dog.

  The Chartrands thought Bridgette didn’t want to go home because she had so enjoyed playing with all the children at the Thanksgiving celebration. They scolded her and put her in the car. Less than a block from their daughter’s home, Cliff had a seizure.

  “We know now,” Cliff says, “that Bridgette was trying to warn me not to get in the car. She wanted me to stay where I would be safe.”

  The first time Bridgette had alerted Cliff, she had done it quietly, by climbing in his lap, licking his face, and pawing at him. The second time, probably because she was in a strange place with other people present, and Cliff was walking, she barked and ran around. Because her behavior was so different the second time, the Chartrands didn’t realize what she was trying to tell them.

  Since then, Bridgette has alerted Cliff to an impending seizure many times. Usually she whines and paws at him. If he is alone, she also barks as a way to bring Carol or someone else into the room to help. It’s a different bark than what she uses if someone knocks on the door.

  If the seizure is a small one, Bridgette stays near Cliff, gently licking his face. If it is a major seizure, she gets far enough away that he can’t accidentally hit or kick her when his body moves uncontrollably.

  Due to other health problems, Cliff occasionally falls. When that happens, Bridgette runs to get the portable telephone. She picks it up in her teeth and carries it to Cliff so that he can call for help.

  Four months after Bridgette went to live with Cliff, Jeanne Hampl returned to Richland. On this visit, she watched Cliff and Bridgette perform together all the tasks necessary for Bridgette to get her official service-dog certification.

  A service-dog photo ID card—with pictures of both Cliff and Bridgette—is now carried in Bridgette’s pack. If Cliff is ever questioned about Bridgette’s purpose he can show her ID. This has happened several times. Once the security guard at a shopping mall didn’t want to let Bridgette go in the mall; another time, a bus driver said Bridgette couldn’t board the bus with Cliff.

  When Bridgette has her service-dog pack on, she knows she is on duty. The bright red pack has a patch that says, “Please don’t pet me. I’m working.”

  Cliff likes to take walks along the Columbia River, which flows near their home. Bridgette walks with him. As they stroll along the river, Bridgette is all business, her mind focused only on Cliff.

  Sometimes Carol takes Bridgette for a walk along the river. On those occasions Bridgette does not wear her service-dog pack. “She’s a different dog with me,” Carol says. “She barks at the ducks. She wants to sniff other dogs, and chase after birds. She wags her tail at little kids. She does all the things most dogs do—but only when she is not working.”

  Since Bridgette joined the family, Cliff’s seizures tend to be less severe than they used to be, and he has them less frequently. Owners of other seizure-alert dogs also report that they have had fewer seizures since their dogs have been living with them.

  Jeanne Hampl believes this happens because knowing the dog will alert them ahead of time lowers the owners’ stress level. Owners of seizure-alert dogs are also more confident about going out in public. If a dog starts alerting in a restaurant, for example, the owner can go quietly into the bathroom and lie down rather than having a seizure at the table.

  Cliff agrees that the emotional security of knowing Bridgette will alert him in time for him to protect himself definitely makes him more relaxed. But he does not try to analyze what Bridgette does for him; he simply accepts it gratefully and loves her.

  In a typical seizure, the unconscious person sleeps deeply for a time after the seizure stops and then gradually regains consciousness. Carol reports that when Cliff is coming out of a seizure, he now reaches for Bridgette and strokes her fur, even before he is conscious.

  For the first two years of her life, Bridgette had no name. One meaning of the word Bridgette is “lofty” or “noble.” Surely, the name is fitting for Bridgette, the seizure-alert dog.

  How to Help Shelter Dogs

  If you love dogs and want to help those who need a home, here are some things you can do:

  1.

  If you plan to get a dog, look for o
ne at your local animal shelter. Some pet stores allow shelter volunteers to bring adoptable dogs to the store as a way to show them to the public.

  2.

  Have your dogs spayed or neutered so they do not produce puppies. There are far more puppies born every year than there are loving homes to take them.

  3.

  Call your local Humane Society or other shelter and ask if they need anything such as dog food, old blankets, or chew toys. Then collect these items or raise the money to buy them and donate them to the shelter.

  About the Author and Her Dog

  Peg Kehret has received many honors for her books for young people, including “children’s choice” awards from fourteen states. She is the author of the popular titles Earthquake Terror and The Volcano Disaster. Her autobiography, Small Steps: The Year I Got Polio, won the Golden Kite Award from the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators and the PEN Center USA West Award in Children’s Literature.

  Peg and her husband, Carl, live in a log house in Washington State. They have two grown children and four grandchildren.

  They found their dog Daisy at the Humane Society when Daisy was six months old. Peg and Carl were working as volunteers that day, not looking for an animal to adopt.

  Then they saw Daisy, and their hearts melted. The staff told them that Daisy was a Cairn terrier, the same as Toto in The Wizard of Oz. Peg and Carl, who already had a dog and a cat, agreed to go home and talk it over.

  They never made it home. They sat in the Humane Society parking lot for a few minutes, then went back inside to sign the adoption papers. Daisy got spayed the next morning and went home with the Kehrets that afternoon. She is now chief squirrel watcher on their fenced ten acres of forest.

  Every night at bedtime, Daisy gets in her basket and Peg sings her a doggie lullaby. It is a ritual they both love.

  About the Photographer