Many owners consider their pets to be part of the family. The relationship is symbiotic: the animals get to live in a loving home while providing mental and physical health benefits to their owners. And while raising a dog is much different than taking care of a cat, tortoise or gecko, the affection felt by owners is universal.
Hattie the Miracle Dog
Photography by Heidi Reuter
When Hattie Fitzpatrick left the home of the family that raised her to become a guide dog for a blind woman, her original owners thought they would never lay eyes on her again.
Then a doggone miracle happened.
“Hattie was my sister's project as a teenager,” Emily Fitzpatrick Kenniston recalls about her younger sister Anna Fitzpatrick Layer. “She's one of those people who just does so much good so quietly.”
At the time, the Fitzpatricks lived in New Jersey. A dog lover like the rest of her family, Anna learned about the puppy-raiser program offered by The Seeing Eye, Inc., the world’s oldest guide dog school headquartered in the Garden State.
The organization loans out puppies to families who raise and socialize them, acclimating the animals to crowds and noises, an essential step for their eventual role as guide dogs.
“We got our beautiful puppy in the summer of 2004,” Kenniston says. “Hattie was a golden retriever/golden labrador mix. In 2005, we moved to Berks County. Hattie, of course, came with us. In November of 2005, we got the call from The Seeing Eye that it was time to return Hattie, and that was just a brutal day.”
If a puppy doesn’t pass the organization’s rigorous seeing-eye training, it can return to its raisers. Kenniston admits the family said a few prayers hoping for that scenario. But Hattie sailed through the test and was matched with a blind woman.
Grieving the upcoming loss of her pet, Anna knitted a blanket to be sent with Hattie.
“Maggie, the woman who got Hattie from The Seeing Eye, found out who my sister was through the information on the blanket, and it started a friendship for the seven years that Hattie was Maggie's guide dog,” she says. “But the miraculous part of the story happened in 2013, which was a horrendous year for my family. That summer, Maggie called and said: ‘Hattie’s ready to retire. Would you like her to come home?’ And she gave her back to us. So, Hattie came home and was very much responsible for getting us through a tough time as a family.”
Hattie also knew when to say goodbye. Anna was set to become a military wife in the spring of 2016, which meant immediately traveling around the world. The prospect of leaving Hattie behind became a major stressor. Two months before the wedding, Hattie crossed the rainbow bridge.
"She was a real hero,"
“She was a real hero,” Kenniston says. “It's not talked about enough that service dogs undergo a tremendous amount of stress. They are the eyes, the ears, they handle the emotions of the people who they love. And that does take a lot out of them.”
Anna, who also raised Flossie and Ivory for the organization, continues her selfless service. For the next three to five years, she will be stationed with her husband, son and daughter in Belgium.
For those seeking a way to give back, Kenniston recommends fostering seeing-eye dogs — if you feel your heart can take it.
“You fall in love with the dogs, but you are foster care at the end of the day,” she says. “But when you foster a therapy dog of any kind, you are doing God's work because of what they do for people — think of veterans with PTSD, kids on the autism spectrum. It cannot be overstated the kind of joy that you can bring to someone else.”
Making Therapy Less Awkward
Photography by Heidi Reuter
Dogs have always been there for Renee Stout, even when no one else was.
“I was a kid of divorce, so my dog was like the sibling I didn't have,” the licensed clinical social worker says. “I felt lonely as a kid, and my dog really helped that.”
With outpatient mental health practice Clear Water Wellness, Stout has been “making therapy less awkward since 2017.” And dogs play a significant role in that.
“I feel like what makes therapy awkward is the stigma that's around it, that you're going to sit across from someone who's got their nose up in the air, filled with clinical judgment,” she says. “I wanted to take all that out. I wanted to keep everything super clinical without the ‘ick.’ You come into our office, and it feels like your home.”
Stout founded the animal-assisted therapy program at Bethany Children's Home in Heidelberg Township with her late chocolate lab, Latte. She then moved on to Berkshire Psychiatric, a mental health clinic in Reading, where she continued offering animal-assisted therapy to teenagers, LGBT groups and others before starting her own practice.
At Clear Water Wellness in Wyomissing, her Newfypoo (a Newfoundland/poodle mix) named Bowie has taken on the duties once handled by Latte. Bowie’s major role is increasing clients’ comfort, especially younger ones, and helping to build a rapport.
“If you can draw on any common theme between them, that's a win,” Stout says. “And it's so awesome to be able to use the behavior of a dog when you're working with a 6 year old. When she barks, I can ask, ‘What do you think she's trying to communicate with me? Are all of her needs met?’ And that allows the kid to tune into their own stuff.”
Clear Water also contracts with Conrad Weiser School District, where she often notices children bonding and making connections while petting Bowie.
The improved behavior and demeanor of children and teenagers around pets, especially dogs, has been a passion of Stout’s for most of her adult years. She even wrote a thesis about the effects of animal-assisted therapy in a group setting.
“The group with an animal present had a much easier time opening up and participating,” she recalls. “Because honestly, what's going to make a group of closed-off teenagers laugh more than a giant, fluffy dog farting in the middle of the group? And they see how I treat her, and that is super helpful in mirroring behaviors with kids.”
Pups have to be at least one year old and pass the Canine Good Citizen Test to become a certified animal-assisted therapy dog.
A less strenuous and less regulated way for a dog — or any domesticated animal — to make a difference is by becoming an emotional support animal, or ESA. Those animals make a difference just with their presence, helping to relieve symptoms associated with a mental health or psychiatric disability. Clear Water also helps clients to get their animals registered as an ESA.
Stout believes most pets are emotional support animals by default, even if they’re not officially classified as such.
“If you ask people to think about who was there for them in their darkest times, it’s often a pet,” she says. “Because they don't judge us that same way. It’s like a human relationship without all the nonsense.”
It’s all about Gracie
Photography by Heidi Reuter
Melissa Blatt frequently brings her golden retriever Gracie with her to Greenwich Lenhartsville Elementary School. They’re both employed there, Melissa as a fifth grade teacher and Gracie as a therapy animal.
But there’s no question who’s top dog.
“Oh my gosh, everybody loves Gracie,” she admits. “I have become invisible at my elementary school. They used to say hello to me. Now they act like I'm not even there, and it's all about Gracie. They're calling out her name on days when she's not there. When the kids come down the hall in the morning and they see she's there, their faces just light up. And it's that same way everywhere we go.”
Blatt became interested in therapy dogs through her volunteer work with the United Way of Berks County and Victory Junction Camp, a camp for kids with serious illnesses and different medical conditions in North Carolina. She wanted a therapy dog to take to the hospital.
Nearly four years ago, the Blatts got Gracie as a puppy. It became obvious early on that she had the right temperament for the job. Last year, she became a certified therapy dog.
Along with Blatt’s elementary school, Gracie’s list of clients includes hospitals, libraries and assisted living facilities.
“We visit with staff members; we visit with patients, whoever needs just a little brightening in their day,” Blatt says. “Honestly, she doesn't do anything special. She doesn't have a whole bag of tricks or anything. She just loves to be petted. And she brings happiness and smiles everywhere she goes.”
One of those places is Maidencreek Place, a senior living community in Maidencreek Township.
"Our community feels like home, and Gracie adds that extra comfort of home when she visits," says Theresa Labour, Maidencreek Place’s community relations director. "Her soft fur, wet nose and wagging tail spread smiles throughout the community, and the residents love her so much."
Her workdays vary. When Gracie goes to Greenwich-Lenhartsville Elementary School, she's there from 7:30 in the morning until Blatt’s husband picks her up at 2:30 in the afternoon, though she does get breaks throughout the day. At her other locations, her shifts last about an hour.
Gracie knows it’s time to get to work when she wears her collar; she only wears it when she’s on the clock.
“She absolutely turns on the ‘come pet me’ when she has that collar on,” Blatt says.
And that’s the biggest difference between therapy dogs and service dogs.
“When service animals are working, you're not supposed to interact with them because they're doing a job,” she says. “Whereas therapy dogs, yes, you should.”
When she's not working, Gracie loves to play with her two other doggy sisters, Gertie, a yellow lab, and Maya, a black lab mix. And she likes to lie in the window seat and watch birds, squirrels and rabbits.
The ‘Maine Maine’ Attraction
Photography by Lauren Adele Little Photography
When Jermaine Edwards II turned 13 in May, he asked his parents if he could get a tortoise. Having watched YouTube videos about the reptiles, the eighthgrade honors student at Lancaster Country Day School thought it would be a good first animal to call his own.
When the family got to the pet store, two tortoises were available. Jermaine remembered seeing that some tortoises get lonely when they’re alone.
“So, I got two just in case,” he says.
And that’s how Prince (named after the Fresh Prince) and Sleepy Junior (named after his uncle, whose nickname is Sleepy) became part of the Muhlenberg Township family, which also includes parents Jermaine Sr. and Kristin and younger brothers Jayden and Jameson.
Jermaine then became intrigued about geckos, so he returned to the pet store and brought home two, one of which is named Phantom.
When he’s not feeding his animals vegetables, fruits and the occasional bug, Jermaine enjoys observing their silliness.
“The tortoises wake up, and they stretch their little heads out, and they’re just like, ‘Oh, I don't wanna be awake right now.’ I think they’re always angry to be awake,” he says. “And then the geckos are fun to watch because they jump everywhere. They're always jumping.”
If he’s allowed to, he hopes to take the animals with him to college.
“Jermaine and I did not have pets growing up, so this is a new experience for our entire family,” Kristin says. “I am proud of ‘Maine Maine’ because he is extremely responsible with his pets. He always wants to make sure he is doing everything he can to take good care of them.”
