Pet Rescue

Dogs - what are they for? Well, this Golden Retriever led his five-year-old owner out from a life of severe autism

Running a child-related business, people often hit me with the old line about never working with children or animals (usually as if they're the first to say it). Well I'd like to go on record and state that there's zero chance of the latter, most particularly when it comes to dogs.

In design terms, dogs would never get a Quality Mark, would they? I mean, all their good points are compromised with user-unfriendly flaws such as permanent halitosis, an inability to chew their food, and an inclination to dump in the street given half a chance. But the Big Question for me has always been more fundamental. Like nuns or Graham Norton, what are dogs actually for? Leaving aside the more obvious talents such as middle-managing sheep and nosing out crack in Left Luggage.

My own household has a resident Spaniel, which gives me plenty of opportunity for observation, but I've still never come up with a satisfying answer, despite the Fido-philes in my family buying presents for me to give it at Christmas and encouraging the pair of us out on 'bonding walks'. Someone even suggested we all went to see Marley and Me, just to soften me up. Like that's going to happen.

I don't want to prejudge Marley and Me, but one glance at the trailer suggested that it's fairly heavy on Labradors and fairly light on helicopter gunships. But I also correctly assumed that my canine-enthused kids might appreciate the book of the film, so, to show some measure of solidarity with them I headed out for a copy. And while I wouldn't say the trip gave me the Big Answer, it certainly brought to light a really good use for a mutt.

One boy and his dog

Waterstones' Animals section may be small, but it's shoe-horned with insightful tomes like Zoo Vet Frolics or Treat Your Hamster for Scabies. So casually slipping Marley from the shelf, whilst pretending to be hunting for something on Estonian impressionist painters, a whole pack of further dog-orientated titles was revealed, including - intriguingly - one about an autistic boy.

At age three, Dale Gardener was diagnosed with a 'triad of impairments', a condition which compromises the key areas of imagination, communication and social skills, and it was this fact, rather than the furry friend on the cover, which prompted me to start reading. Running a professional practice which relies on each of these areas, it's unthinkable to me that anyone could lack any of them, and, without such elements in place, a child is going to struggle. Such was Dale's story - and for several years his exhausted parents tried with little success to break through his limited vocabulary of thirty words and inability to express himself or relate to others. By page 102 the prognosis was looking pretty bleak.

Enter Henry, a Golden Retriever. Henry arrived as a family pet, but unexpectedly provided the catalyst that Dale needed. Early the following morning, Dale was found playing alone with the dog, talking to him fluently - the first such communication he had ever had. Moreover, in the ensuing weeks, Henry became a silent interpreter, a conduit through which Dale and his parents could communicate more deeply with one another. By introducing concepts when necessary - 'Henry needs his bath now', 'Henry needs to sleep', 'Henry needs his dinner', 'Henry needs his hair brushed' - Dale became not only compliant but keen for the first time to follow suit. (Worming wasn't mentioned on this list).

The dog became the focal point when reasoning through a course of action. 'We'll buy new shoes' became 'we'll buy shoes in order to go walking with Henry'. When people stopped to pat the dog, this served to increase Dale's interest and dramatically improve his social skills. Within a short time, interaction was replacing isolation. Dale began to make eye-contact. Henry even stimulated a first attempt at a portrait - and this from a five-year-old who previously couldn't even grip a pencil.

Now I might have the word creative on my business card, but this is so left-field to my dog-deprived way of thinking, it's plain genius. And I'm all the more impressed since it turns out that Henry appears not to be just the exception that proves the rule.

Dogs, it seems, are used in the treatment of a range of conditions including autism, speech and emotional disorders and schizophrenia. Animals provide a non-threatening way of engaging children, and putting them at their ease. In fact, a whole menagerie of therapy creatures are now available including cats, miniature horses, rabbits, parrots, and - wait for it - domesticated elephants. (I can hear your hollow laughter clearly but the link is www.elephanttherapy.org where you can make up your own minds.)

I wanted to find out more. So that's the reason, in case anyone spotted me, why I found myself exiting the shop with Marley and Henry, albeit secreted in my bag. I didn't want anyone to get the mistaken idea that I'm a born-again dog enthusiast.

But I'm constrained to admit that anything that improves a child's life so immeasurably is worth its weight in Pedigree Chum. Maybe dogs can have their day. Perhaps I just need a bit of pet therapy myself. Anyway, I'm actively looking for elephants on eBay.

	A Friend Like Henry Nuala Gardener Find on Amazon

Despite the title, the book focuses mostly on the boy, Dale - not surprisingly, being written by his mother - but A Friend Like Henry will appeal to those Fidophiles amongst you who like a warm inner glow with your milky coffee. Don't let your dog get ideas above its station.

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