EVERY Thursday, Duncan Hanna patrols the corridors of the Children’s Hospital of New York with three of his pals: Moo-Shu, a 7-year-old Shar-Pei; Tommy Lee, a 4-year-old corgi; and Mo, a 3-year-old white poodle who likes to wear pink ribbons.
Duncan is a 4-year-old Doberman trained as a therapy dog. A very good one, at least according to 2-year-old cancer patient Chase Molinari.
“He gets so excited whenever he sees the dogs,” says Chase’s mother, Carrie Molinari.
“These dogs are so loving and so gentle. It brings Chase’s spirits up to spend time with these animals. For the rest of the day, he’s happier, he smiles more and his appetite is better. His whole spirit is improved. He realizes that he’s not in the hospital as a punishment.”
The four canines are part of a growing trend. Schools, children’s hospitals and nursing homes are increasingly turning to animal-assisted therapy since studies have show that interaction with animals can reduce depression and increase self-esteem and overall happiness.
The Delta Society, a non-profit organization that pairs people who have disabilities with professionally trained animals, says there are now more than 2,500 pet-partner pooch-and-owner teams in the United States.
“There is a certain sense of comfort children get from a loving animal that can take months to achieve with a human being,” says John Truman, deputy chairman of pediatrics at Children’s Hospital.
“A child will often not want to speak his or her mind to a doctor, and very often will talk through a dog. They’ll tell the dog that they’re sad, or that they miss their sister or even just that they would really like a Big Mac.
“Once we know what’s upsetting them, we can take steps to make them feel better.”
Therapy dogs often become a support for terrified kids.
Poodle Mo, for example, has a couple of fans who refuse to have blood tests done unless she’s there.
“The child feels more secure, knowing the animal is there,” says Truman. “It’s often easier to tell a child unpleasant news, such as he or she will require another operation, if the dog is around.”
Joseph Beato-Lora, 2, has been in and out of Children’s Hospital for the past six months with leukemia.
“He lives for those weekly visits from these dogs,” says his mother, Belkys. “He’s crazy about them, and could spend hours petting them and playing with them.”
Last week, little Joseph couldn’t pet his beloved pals because he was in an isolation room after a bout of chemotherapy.
But his face lit up when Tommy Lee and Moo-Shu put their front paws on the window separating them from the toddler and licked at the glass.
“Just seeing them is often enough for him,” Belkys Beato-Lora explains.
“It makes me feel better to see them, too. They are so cute and so well behaved. Every time I pet them, I relax a little.”
Two elements combine to create the ideal therapeutic team — the right dog personality and an owner-dog duo that’s willing to put in the necessary hours of obedience training.
“A fabulous therapy dog is one that has an outgoing and stable temperament, one who loves children, but who is unflappable,” says Cara Campbell, who trains the dogs at Vancouver Pet Assisted Therapy on the Upper West Side.
“If a dog can walk through a sea of McDonald’s hamburgers and never once leave his owner’s side, chances are he’ll make a good therapy dog.”
Therapy dogs are also required to have all their normal vaccinations and have their stool tested to make sure they’re not carrying deadly bacteria, such as E. coli or salmonella. They’re trained not to bark, jump or lick, and are bathed before every hospital visit.
Animals have had a role in hospitals since the early 1940s, says Alan Beck, director of the Center for the Human-Animal Bond at Purdue University’s School of Veterinary Medicine in West Lafayette, Ind.
“Farm animals, such as cows and pigs, were brought into hospitals to visit shell-shocked Air Force members,” he explains. “The theory was that this would give the men, many of whom were farmers, a sense of normalcy.”
Research has shown that therapy dogs have been able to elicit speech from autistic children who have never spoken and from disturbed children who do not talk at school.
Hospital workers say the presence of the pooches lifts their spirits, too.
“It’s so hard, day in and day out, to see all these children in so much pain,” says nurse Lisa Manente.
“But these dogs are so well-trained and well-groomed. They greet everybody with a wagging tail and a sweet smile. Well, when you see them, suddenly your world seems brighter.”