Ladies and gentlemen, step right up! Witness the spectacle of the savage, snarling, snapping beast.
Jennifer Waite is sick of the media circus. The rhetoric in the morning papers and the pronouncements of publicity-seeking politicians just don’t jibe with her experience of living with a pit bull. Her dog, ‘Hershey,’ couldn’t be further from the stereotype. Says the payroll clerk, “She just has this warm way about her that makes you relax and be calm, and smile. You just want to pet her.”

No surprise that a dog owner is quick to defend her pet. Except that Hershey has the credentials to back up her owner’s claims. You see, Hershey was a St. John Ambulance-certified therapy dog. She was also one of a handful of recipients of a Toronto Humane Society award, last May, honouring community heroes (canine and animal-helping humans).

Waite had dogs growing up, and had “always wanted to have a therapy dog.” When she moved to Georgetown, Ont., a few years ago, she began looking for a dog with the right temperament. Hershey’s breed wouldn’t have been her first pick.

“I had a fear of pit bulls, to be honest, because I had believed all the media hype.”
She began to re-evaluate her opinion when she got involved with animal-rescue organizations, many of whose ‘clients’ were pit-bull-type dogs. It was while visiting dogs at a kennel owned by a member of a Guelph-based rescue organization, Barley’s Angels, that she came across Hershey. The chocolate-brown, 50-pound female was described as an American Pit Bull Terrier. She’d been rescued from a puppy mill, where she’d been confined, “24-7,” to a cage.

Waite went into Hershey’s play area and sat down with her. “She would just crawl into your lap.” And when the dog enthusiast left that day, “[Hershey] just gave me this look that I will never, ever forget.”

That look haunted Waite. Her boyfriend was uncertain about Waite’s choice of breed. So was a neighbour who had a new puppy. But after she took her now-fiancé to meet the pit bull, any doubts he had vanished.

Her initial plan was to provide a foster home for the dog. But it wasn’t long before she took the step of adopting Hershey. She’d found her new pet. She’d found her therapy dog.

The St. John Ambulance (SJA) therapy-dog program certifies dogs with the proper temperament to visit patients in hospitals and residents of seniors’ homes. Typically, a therapy team commits to performing a one-hour visit, once a week. The program costs nothing for handlers to join, and the certification process doesn’t take long. Dogs aren’t expected to be obedience superstars. Rather, they need to be completely unflappable – gentle dogs that can’t be spooked. The dogs – it’s usually a group – are tested by canine behaviourists. These experts attempt to stress the dogs and assess their reactions. Just one example Waite pointed out: when the dog isn’t paying attention, a garbage bag filled with empty pop cans is dropped on the floor. Hershey’s reaction to the jarring sound was happy indifference.

The test takes place in one day. “You either pass or you don’t,” Waite says.

Hershey passed. At the time, her breed wasn’t an issue. Waite was told by SJA that they don’t discriminate by breed, but rather go by the temperament of the dog.
Hershey and Jennifer began their careers at a senior centre attached to a hospital in Georgetown. Then they started visiting a retirement facility in Milton.

Thursday night was ‘dog night.’ The team set up in a common room and were joined by another team, consisting of a handler and ‘Miss Madigan,’ a Bullmastiff. Sometimes three residents would make the trip down to the common room. Other times, they’d have 15.

A therapy dog’s mission is to improve the emotional and physical health of the residents. “[Visits have] such a great effect on their well-being, their mood, their blood pressure,” says Waite. She had seniors “actually getting down on the floor, lying on the ground and letting Hershey lick them all over. [Women would] giggle like little girls.”

The visits got the residents moving their arms and legs, and interacting socially.
Overall, says Waite, Hershey had a calming effect. Even the staff, she thought, was, “100-per-cent behind the idea.…”

Unfortunately, Hershey’s work as a therapy dog officially ended on August 29 – a casualty of the Ontario government’s pit-bull ban. When Bill 132 took effect at the end of August, Waite received a “generic” e-mail from SJA, thanking the human-canine team for their service but informing her that, for liability reasons, Hershey could no longer participate in the program.

This came as a surprise to Waite. Earlier in the year, when the bill first passed in the provincial legislature, she took the step of asking SJA if they wanted her to bow out of the program. They refused her resignation. According to Waite, they said, “I’m sorry, but you’re not quitting. You’re a great handler and a great team. You do a lot of good work and you’re not leaving.”

Why the change? The Director of Community Services at the Ontario headquarters of SJA, Brian Cole, forwarded a copy of a letter – presumably the e-mail previously described by Waite, that states SJA’s opposition to breed bans, but also calls for the withdrawal from the therapy-dog program of all dogs defined in Bill 132. It claims that the organization was left with no alternative:

“Failing to modify our program in response to the legislated requirements could put this organization at risk and substantially increase our liabilities.”

The group was protecting itself. In the unlikely event that a therapy dog – a banned pit bull – injured someone, SJA would face a legal and public-relations nightmare. Even having a pit bull in the program might draw censure from an ignorant journalist or an overzealous government official.

It’s the kind of tough choice managers hate to make. Their decision was perhaps understandable, if not particularly laudable: Expediency trumped principles, even if it meant doing an about-face on an implied commitment allegedly made to Waite. The organization was practising triage – jettisoning (at least) one volunteer and her dog to protect the whole.

This type of damage control, however, can whittle away at an organization’s integrity. Doing the wrong thing for the right reason is little solace to a committed dog handler or the elderly people who have come to rely upon visits from a much-loved therapy dog. It’s ugly seeing an institution that prides itself on its humanitarian mission caving to political pressure.

Cole also forwarded a copy of a letter SJA sent to Michael Bryant, Ontario’s Attorney-General and author of the breed ban, expressing reservations about Bill 132, as well as Bryant’s reply. With the exception of a few sentences in the final paragraph, Bryant’s response was a form letter that didn’t address the unique circumstances of therapy dogs.

Waite doesn’t simply feel abused by Bill 132 and let down by SJA. After an emotional farewell visit at the seniors’ residence before the ban went into effect, Waite never brought Hershey to the facility again. That didn’t stop the administrators from taking the unnecessary step of posting a sign at the front entrance stating that banned dogs were not permitted on the premises.

Not surprisingly, the handler feels “a little jaded” by the whole experience.

Misguided fear abounds in Ontario these days. Hershey is an exceptional dog, but according to Waite, a loving disposition is typical of pit-bull-type dogs.

“They’re loyal, they’re comedians and they’re happy dogs. They just want to hang out with their people, have fun and relax. They’re wonderful with kids [and] they’re wonderful with people.”

From paragon to pariah – a dog born into misery who became a healer and a hero has now been victimized again. A dedicated volunteer has lost faith in her community. And a group of seniors has been deprived of a best friend.

By Eric Sparling
Eric Sparling is a freelance journalist who lives in Waterdown, Ont. He has contributed to numerous publications, including the Toronto Star, Oxygen and The Globe and Mail.

(Appeared in December, 2005 issue)