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Imagine passing by a dumpster or throwing garbage away at the end of the day and coming to the realization that one of bags is moving. Maybe you hear a faint cry for help and that’s what makes you look or maybe it’s the motion.
No matter how it happened, my autism service dog, Tye, was found in a garbage bag in a dumpster in rural Missouri. He was taken to a shelter and shortly before he was to be euthanized, the shelter director called Dog’s Nation, a non-profit that trains and gives service dogs to those on the autism spectrum and veterans coming home who suffer from PTSD.
Tye was trained in all the basic tasks all service dogs need to perform and after he was at that point, he was assigned to me and trained to help me in a way tailored to my needs.
I spoke with owner and trainer Shawn Abell at that point and she wanted to know my living arrangement, what my environment was like, about my social life (or lack thereof) and places I like to visit/things I like to do, as well as figuring out how active I am.
Once she had that information she could pair me with a dog that could be trained to meet the needs we had talked about. For example, I’m a big guy. I weigh anywhere between 245-260. Ugh…
If I get in a crowded environment and start having a full on panic attack, Tye is trained to pull me out to the parking lot and away from whatever triggered my meltdown. A smaller dog can’t drag that much body weight, thus a back lab/boxer mix for me.
I’m an autism advocate, as is Shawn, and we run into each other on a regular basis and talk frequently. One night we we’re talking, and I mentioned that earlier in the dayI was at my desk and a HUGE panic attack came out of nowhere and I felt frozen for a few moments. After that, I was panicky but functional.
What is now my office, I believe was originally a sun porch when my log cabin in the Ozarks was built fifteen years ago. Now it’s enclosed and I spit out prose while looking at small versions of Deadpool, Jerry Garcia and a tye-dye Magic 8 Ball as I write.
There’s a half oval shaped cutout between my standing desk and the kitchen. When Tye sits in “his chair”, dubbed Tye’s Throne, we can see each other as I’m working.
I told Shawn that I noticed that after the panic attack started, Tye was still on his throne, though sitting and staring directly at me instead of laying down or looking out the window. She told me that in a complete separate room and though about fifty-feet apart, my four-year-old throw away rescue dog can sense my blood pressure rising.
Wow!
In summary, this dog, who was thrown in a dumpster to die has changed my life and improved it for the better. Is it a hassle sometimes trying to handle a dog and go about life’s daily events? Absolutely, but who doesn’t have some not so awesome moments with their best friend? The good definitely outweigh the bad. Here’s an example.
Two nights ago I was in the Emergency Room for some crazy wicked pain. Turns out, I get to have my gallbladder removed. (Yippee).
While I was laying in one of those stupid gowns, Tye was doing as he was supposed to and sitting/laying on the floor next to me. Once the door opened and the nurse walked in, he was up on his feet and checking everything out.
When the nurse approached with one of those butterfly needles, Tye immediately moved to a position about three feet away, but between the nurse and myself. He was giving me a buffer zone. After I pet his head and told him it was OK, he backed off another foot, but still maintained a barrier.
Tye has my back.
With his vest on, he’s my companion and helper. At home, once the vest comes off, he’s playful, jumps around and sits on his throne looking out the window, yet he is always keeping an eye on me.
Always working, Tye positions himself where he can keep an eye on me and on what’s going on around the rest of the house, generally in the vicinity of a ceiling fan.
When I get depressed, he senses it, comes to me and comforts me. If I’m sitting on the floor, Tye generally puts his paws over my shoulders, like a hug. When he senses a panic attack he lays so that his head is on my chest or stomach.
Tye almost always keeps his head in the vicinity of a hand. I know he likes it but I really believe that he pushes to have me do it when he knows I’m not myself because he knows it relaxes me.
He goes with me everywhere I go and love that I have him as a companion, but he hasn’t been the chick magnet I thought he would be. That’s probably more about me being autistic and shy and less him being adorable. Service animals are not trained as wingmen. But I digress…
Shawn relies on donations to run her non-profit as she literally gives the dogs away to the autistic and soldiers returned with hidden scars…
The cost of feeding the animals, veterinary care and shots, plus housing the rescued animals costs money and Shawn has no employees, only volunteers to help with the basic needs of the animals while Shawn trans them.
If you feel led to thank a service member or help an autistic person by getting them the help and the companionship they crave, I’m sure Dog’s Nation could use the assistance. I know Tye has made a world of difference in my life and I know I’m far from the only one on that list. Check out Dog’s Nation for more info.
Join us tonight on our Mental Health Social Interest Group call as we have the woman we just spoke of, Shawn Abell of Dog’s Nation, on the call to explain exactly what she does, what goes into training a service animal and much more. Join us at 9 pm Eastern/6 Pacific
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Don’t miss my weekly column, Not Weird Just Autistic, right here at The Good Men Project. Sunday afternoon we finish off a short series on bullying. Catch up on it HERE.
Talk to you tonight!
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