| ‘The Animal Was the Answer'
By Josh Farley
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Used By Permission © 2007 Kitsap Sun
"Life started for us," Lisa Jacobson says, on May 26 — the day Topper arrived.
The 86-pound black lab-golden retriever mix wasn't just a pet the Jacobson family had adopted. He came to their home with a higher purpose.
Justin Jacobson, 9, gets a wet kiss from his service dog, Topper, after playing fetch at his Seabeck home. The dog will also lick his face if he senses an epileptic seizure coming on. Larry Steagall | Kitsap Sun
Frank and Lisa Jacobson's son Justin, 9, was diagnosed with autism when he was 3. They persevered through the neurological disorder's symptoms — random outbursts and running off, for example — that appeared as Justin got older.
But the onset of 30-minute epileptic seizures last year that took Justin out of school and put him into the hospital for more than a month was overwhelming for the family.
There was a ray of hope during the hospital stay — it came from a random visit from "Teddy Bear," a dog that traversed Mary Bridge Hospital to put smiles on the faces of patients.
Justin took to the dog immediately. The animal seemed to put the boy at ease; his insecurities faded away.
"It's really unexplainable," Lisa Jacobson recalls, "But I knew the animal was the answer Justin needed."
The use of dogs in the treatment of autism, however, is not common — at least yet. Only 1 percent of those suffering from autism use one, Jacobson said.
Justin Jacobson, 9, takes an early morning bus rideto JacksonPark Elementary School. Larry Steagall | Kitsap Sun
Topper's arrival took a miracle, Jacobson said.
'An Instant Bond'
Autism, a widely-varying spectrum disorder that often affects a person's ability to communicate and socialize, is still a relatively unknown neurological disability despite its prevalence. One in 167 people suffer from it, according to researchers studying the disorder at the University of Washington.
The Jacobsons have found that out the hard way.
"You get so frustrated when even the doctors tell you 'I don't know,'" Jacobson said.
On top of thousands of dollars per month in prescription drugs, experimental treatments pop up frequently, and for parents like the Jacobsons, they were searching for anything that would help Justin.
"We've done the (gluten-free) diet thing, we've monitored, we've kept journals," Jacobson said. "(But) I just knew the animal was the answer."
Justin Jacobson, 9, right, hugs his friend Cody Hammond, 9, during lunch at Jackson Park Elementary School. Larry Steagall | Kitsap Sun
Through friends, the Jacobsons found Andrea Crispin, a dog raiser and leader for guide dogs for the blind.
Crispin was the family's best chance to get a dog. But other questions loomed: what about school?
In all school districts in Kitsap County, one student, who attends a CK school, uses a seeing-eye dog.
Would Justin even be allowed to take one into the classroom?
Crispin, who works for Guide Dogs for the Blind Inc., went to work for the family in finding a dog.
Turns out there was one in her own backyard.
Topper, 4 years old, had worked as a service dog for a man in Kent, but the man lost the need for his services. Crispin, who refers to Topper as a "gentle giant," adopted him herself. Still, she knew what he was capable of.
 Justin Jacobson, 9, gets a goodnight kiss from his dad Frank, while his mom, Lisa, says goodnight to Topper, who sleeps with Justin. Larry Steagall | Kitsap Sun "He's an awesome pet, but it just seemed like he needed a job to do," Crispin said. The Jacobsons had hoped since the dogs' hospital visits for the opportunity to have a canine of their own. Meanwhile, Justin's symptoms made it difficult to even go to the store. He'd often run off, and he was getting too big to sit within his parents' confines of a shopping cart. That all changed when Justin got a companion and treatment plan rolled into one — on four paws — on that day in May. "It was love at first sight," Crispin said. "It was almost like an instant bond for Justin and Topper." Paws of Comfort
It is no secret that dogs have used their senses to serve humans for generations. They've used their noses to track fugitives and sniff out bombs and drugs for law enforcement. They've used their eyes to guide humans who've lost their own vision. They've used their ears for those who've lost their hearing. And they've given their fury companionship for those diagnosed with depression or a serious illness. Topper's senses, however, are less overt.  Justin Jacobson, 9, plays fetch with his service dog Topper at his Seabeck home after school. Larry Steagall | Kitsap Sun
In short, Topper gives Justin "something to focus on," Jacobson said. But the dog instinctively identifies two symptoms that help the boy.
When an epileptic seizer begins to come on, Topper will comfort Justin by licking his face and nuzzling him. When Justin "spaces out" and loses focus — a condition that could contribute to the seizures — Topper nudges him, which spurs his concentration.
An autism service dog serves as a bridge between the child "and the world," said Adrienne Rousseau, a board member of the National Autism Association and mother of an autistic child who also has a service dog.
"Some autistic children do not form bonds readily with people," she said. "The dog is a source of unconditional love and acceptance. Just to have a bond, helps (the child) form an ability to develop human relationships."
Justin is proof of that.
"I feel his love in my heart," he said of Topper.  Justin Jacobson, 9, raises his hand to answer a question in his fourth-grade class at Jackson Park Elementary School. The Central Kitsap School District has given permission for his service dog Topper to accompany him in school. Larry Steagall | Kitsap SunBut Topper's senses even detect when Justin is "out of balance," Jacobson said, such as after a blood draw when the 9-year-old's body is creating new cells. The Jacobsons recognize Topper is an extraordinary animal. Such expertise can be expensive, said Wendy Fournier, a spokeswoman for the National Autism Association, who gave a ballpark estimate of $10,000 per service dog. Rousseau added, however, that parents can get a service dog for little or no money, thanks to grant programs, nonprofit organizations and fundraisers. From 'Disability' to 'Ability' On June 21, the Jacobson family made their first trip to Costco with Topper. "It was fabulous," Jacobson recalled. "He walked calmly with the dog. It gave me a sense of security." But Jacobson knew that Justin would need to go back to school. He'd lost much of what he'd learned — even his reading skills — because of the seizures.  Justin Jacobson, 9, and friend Cody Hammond, 9, walk Topper during recess at Jackson Park Elementary School. Larry Steagall | Kitsap Sun
The Central Kitsap School District approved bringing Topper to campus. In late August, Topper and Justin walked the halls to get acclimated to the school.
The first day went without a hitch.
"It was way smoother than anyone expected," said Jackson Park Principal Tess Danubio, who introduced the pair at an all-school assembly.
Justin's fourth-grade classroom, taught by Wendy Saxon, is tasked with telling the school's students what Topper does.
"The whole class is very accepting," Saxon said. "They're going to be good ambassadors."
There are a few ground rules. Students aren't allowed to pet Topper but, obviously, can acknowledge he's there and that he's working.
In class, Topper lies on his side while the spiky-haired fourth grader does his school work. Justin reaches down to pet his snout every few minutes.
 Justin Jacobson, 9, goes head-to-head with his service dog Topper, as he waits for his school bus outside his Central Kitsap home. Justin is autistic, and his parents have found that Topper helps ease his symptoms. Larry Steagall | Kitsap Sun Jacobson said Topper has opened up possibilities they'd never imagined. Justin is socializing and working with classmates like never before, she said. The Jacobsons even received an e-mail titled "Wow" from a school employee who witnessed Justin and Topper go to the library to check out a book — a trip he could never before make by himself. "It has been so much disability, disability, disability," she said. "(At school) we could see his ability." Topper isn't just a treatment for the 9-year-old, however. In the name column atop of Justin's assignments, he isn't the only one listed. He writes instead: "Justin and Topper." "They are one now," Jacobson said. On the Web
For more information on autism service dogs visit:
http://www.4pawsforability.org
http://www.autismservicedogsofamerica.comUsed By Permission © 2007 Kitsap Sun
Former trainer gets her own guide dog
By Ranny Green
Special to The Seattle TimesCopyright © 2007 The Seattle Times Company Janine Prindle works with her new guide dog, Cranberry, near the campus of Guide Dogs for the Blind in Boring, Ore.When she and her family became involved in raising guide-dog puppies in 1987, Janine Prindle, a White River School District educator in Buckley, Pierce County, envisioned needing one of the dogs herself eventually.
"Sometimes life has a tendency to come full circle," she said.
Prindle raised 32 puppies in her home with sons, Doug and Aaron, and husband, Jack, and serving as the matriarch of Future Vision, a group that raises puppies to become guide dogs. She recently received her own helping eyes, 18-month-old Cranberry, a female yellow Labrador retriever.
Prindle was diagnosed in the early 1980s with a degenerative eye disease that became more acute in recent years. She had doubts she would qualify for a dog.
"I thought I had too much vision," she said.
But tests revealed that her peripheral vision was down to a 15-degree field; 20 degrees is the cutoff to qualify for a guide dog.
The vision loss forced Prindle to drop her full leadership role in Future Vision and surrender her driver's license last year, but she plans to continue to work with people who raise guide-dog puppies.
"My central vision is good," she said. "I can still read and do most things when focusing ahead, but I can't see anything low, like an obstacle on the sidewalk or in the school room, or even sunken living rooms. That's where Berry is a huge help."
Because Berry is a working dog and not a pet, Prindle explained proper service-dog etiquette to students at Elk Ridge Elementary School, where she works.
"Everyone has been incredible," she said.
Prindle, whose Future Vision members raised about 190 puppies the past two decades, was paired with Berry at the Guide Dogs for the Blind campus in Boring, Ore., for a month of training. They graduated May 5.
Before the ceremony, Prindle met Sheri Katz and Chris Bell of Portland, who raised Berry.
A few moments later, they exchanged gifts; Berry received a big bone and a toy, and the couple presented Prindle with a photo album of Berry's puppy days.
The second lifetime memory occurred during the graduation itself when Katz and Bell handed Berry's lead to Prindle on the stage.
"I'll never forget it," Prindle said. "My sons and I have always been on the other side.
"There is a great pride when you see that one-time, rambunctious little puppy, matured and mannerly standing alongside its lifetime partner. But I have wondered how it felt to be on the other side of the dog during the ceremony."
Getting her own dog reinforced her pride in two decades of volunteer work with them.
"There is the puppy-raising experience, sure, but equally important has been how it has helped the young people grow and built a solid sense of teamwork in their families," Prindle said. "There's not a price you can put on that."Copyright © 2007 The Seattle Times Company
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/southeastkingcountynews/2003732102_prindle03s.html | | Raising Bay -- a puppy with a purpose
Copyright 2006 Yakima Herald
SARA GETTYS/Yakima Herald-Republic
See the Original story
Maggie Rieckelman, left, and Kris Knight meet the puppy their families will be co-raising during her first year as a guide dog in training. Bay is an 8-week-old yellow Lab who came from the California campus of Guide Dogs for the Blind, a nonprofit organization that provides guide dogs for visually impaired people. After several days in various means of auto transport, Bay was driven to Yakima by Michele Cawley, the adviser to the local group that trains dogs. "I think Michele saved us the best one," Knight says as she greets Bay.
By ERIN SNELGROVE
YAKIMA HERALD-REPUBLIC
Like the tenacious reporter who moonlights as Superman, Bay has two identities.
When strapped in her green coat and harness, the 15-month-old yellow Lab is all business. She won't beg or whine or run away on a whim. She does as she's told.
But at the end of the day, when that coat slips off and the harness is set aside, she transforms into a typical family pet who chews on her bone and savors rub downs.
This is Bay's life, training to be a guide dog for the blind.
"A dog has to want to be a guide dog," says one of Bay's caretakers, Pat Smith of Yakima. "Some dogs just want to be pets. You can tell early on."
Housemates Smith and Kris Knight have shared Bay with Maggie and Ed Rieckelman since she was 2 months old. Each month, the Yakima residents take turns training her and feeding her. They bring Bay to their jobs, drive her to the vet and proudly chant off her numerous accomplishments -- just like any dog owner would do.
But Bay isn't theirs, not really. After raising her for more than a year, they'll drive her to an Oregon school for additional training, say their goodbyes and hope she graduates. Letting go is hard, they say, but they do it -- confident Bay has a greater purpose to fulfill.
"You have to think of it like a child going to college," says Smith, 57. "We hope that she becomes a guide. We've worked hard, so hard to do that."
One trait the Rieckelmans share with Knight and Smith is their mutual love of animals.
The Rieckelmans, both 53 and employees of Isaak's Home Furnishings, have had dogs since their three children were young. Knight, a customer service representative for an insurance agency, was born in a family that showed poodles. And Smith, a firefighter dispatcher, continuously had dogs on her childhood farm.
Becoming a puppy raiser felt right for both families. To date, the Rieckelmans have raised four puppies, while Knight and Smith have raised eight.
"You have to love animals because it does take a lot of commitment," Maggie Rieckelman says. "It's a good way to come out of your shell."
When Bay was brought to them, she was a little, golden fur ball who loved to be loved. She'd lay in her owners' laps, wag her tail incessantly and jump at the chance for a car ride.
Bred by Guide Dogs for the Blind, Bay was friendly and intelligent. She worked hard and she had excellent health -- all requirements for her future job.
But like any puppy, there was an adjustment period. First, she had difficulty digesting her food, causing discomfort for her and little sleep for her caretakers. She also displayed her dominance early on. As Knight puts it, Bay acts like she's a queen who should be worshipped.
Still, Smith, Knight and the Rieckelmans knew what to expect. They each had years of experience raising guide-dog puppies, and they stuck with the program because of their desire to help people in need.
"Once you go to a guide-dog graduation and you hand a guide dog over to a blind person, it's an overwhelming feeling," Maggie Rieckelman says. "It's hard to explain."
It's all about obeying the rules
The job of the puppy raisers is to train the dogs in basic household rules. This includes such commands as "Sit," "Stay" and "Do your business" and the more complicated rules of keeping off furniture and behaving in public. They're also charged with making sure the puppies are friendly and well-traveled.
The Rieckelmans keep in constant contact with Knight and Smith about Bay's progress, relating everything from her eating schedule to her willingness to comply with house rules.
"It's not as easy as it looked," says Knight, 56, who was inspired to enter the program after seeing kids training dogs. "Once you get into a routine, it's OK. ... Your first puppy is an eye-opener."
The importance of following rules is especially important for puppy raisers to master -- even if this means treating the puppy differently from other pets.
Smith and Knight own two other dogs, as do the Rieckelmans. But even though those pets can leap around the house and play with an assortment of toys, Bay can not.
She's not allowed to play with balls. She must stay off the furniture, and she can't roughhouse with the other dogs.
Her reward will come later, when she enrolls in the Guide Dogs for the Blind School in Boring, Ore. There, Bay's personality will be assessed to ensure she has the disposition and fortitude to be a guide dog for the blind.
She'll learn how to lead a person in a straight line, how to avoid obstacles in a path and even how to read traffic signals. The training could take anywhere from five months to a year, and even then, she may not graduate.
If she suffered from medical problems, was afraid of smoke or became confused in big cities, for example, she would become disqualified. Instead -- if the conditions were right -- she could help the hearing impaired, become a search and rescue dog or be trained to assist people prone to seizures.
"There are a lot of reasons a dog can't become a guide," Knight says. "A good temperament is what gets the dog through."
Preparing to let go
Knight and Smith agree that being a puppy raiser can be tough and frustrating. Dogs will disobey. They'll bark, whine, jump, run, refuse to budge. And they'll do this in public. Still, when people see the puppies in their green jackets, they'll applaud Knight and Smith for their efforts.
"People just tell you how great you're doing it," Smith says. "It makes me feel good. ... You can talk to people and meet people anywhere with these dogs."
Bay's progress has been monitored all along by Michelle Cawley, a Guide Dog for the Blind representative out of Ellensburg. Having watched Bay mature firsthand, she believes the dog has immense potential.
More importantly, though, is watching Smith, Knight and the Rieckelmans, who put everything they have into making Bay a superior guide.
"You have to love the other person more than you love yourself," she says about the willingness of puppy raisers to give up their dogs. "You have to remember what a difference the dog makes for another person's life."
No matter what happens, Bay's caretakers will be kept informed on her progress and where she ends up. They admit that letting her go will be hard. They'll miss her. They'll cry.
Still, they wouldn't trade their experience with her for anything.
"You're just glad to do it," Knight says. "The end product gives me the chills."
Heading off to guide school
The day before Smith and Knight drove Bay to school, they clipped her nails, gave her a bath and brushed her teeth one last time. They got up early the next morning on March 24 and hit the road by 8:30. The drive took three hours.
Once they arrived in Boring, Knight did everything possible to postpone the inevitable. She and Smith toured the campus, hung out in the parking lot and snapped a few more pictures of Bay.
But even that could only last so long.
"I gave her one last kiss and hug," Knight says, recalling when she handed Bay over to a trainer. "Bay was looking over her kennel, just staring at us. That's when I lost it. I couldn't watch her any more. ... I cried on the way home."
More than a month after dropping off Bay, Smith, Knight and the Rieckelmans have positive news to report on her progress. She's passed her medical screening and has demonstrated her willingness to avoid distractions and obey commands.
Now, she's in Phase 3 of the 10-phase process. This is when she'll take more van rides and mall walks. She'll be introduced to curbs and street crossings, and she'll learn more difficult commands, like "right" and "left."
Admitting there's no guarantee about Bay's fate, Knight and Maggie Rieckelman say they hope for the best. No matter what happens, they agree their lives have changed for the better because of her.
"It's given me more confidence," Knight says about being a puppy raiser. "It makes you feel good about yourself."
* Erin Snelgrove can be reached at 577-7684 or
esnelgrove@yakimaherald.com.
How to volunteer
No prior experience is necessary to become a puppy raiser, but qualified candidates must be interviewed, fill out an application and agree to join a local puppy-raising club.
Other rules include:
* All household members must be committed to raising a puppy, and the puppy must get along with other pets.
* The puppy must be supervised all day.
* The puppy must be on a leash when not in a secured area, and the puppy must sleep indoors.
* Puppy raisers pay for dog food, toys and other supplies -- most of which is tax deductible. Guide Dogs for the Blind pays for vet visits and leashes.
* Puppy raisers must use approved training and management techniques and meet with Guide Dog representatives, who will evaluate the puppy's progress.
* The puppy must be released back to Guide Dogs for the Blind upon request.
More information
Guide Dogs for the Blind is a nonprofit organization that gives the dogs to the blind for free. For more information about this program or volunteer opportunies or call 800-295-4050.
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