A miracle dog for Reese

It was a Tuesday evening in late March at Glynner's Pub in
Rochester, Minn. Brad and Joanie Trahan were settling their family
into their usual table when their middle son, Reece, who has severe
autism, began to whine and flail his arms. "Don't bite, Reecey," his dad, Brad, intoned, once again stopping
his son from nervously biting himself on his bruised forearms.

During dinner, Reece, nearly 7, kept his father busy. First he
darted toward a heaping nacho plate at a nearby table; Brad
intercepted him just in time. Later, Reece stacked and unstacked
cups, moving Brad's hand to help him with his cup, taking a sip,
putting it down, asking for more. Brad patiently did the tasks his
son set for him. It looked exhausting.

That was before the arrival of Pudge, a black Labrador who began
living with the Trahans in March after a 2 1/2-year wait.

The idea of using service dogs to aid autistic kids is relatively
new. National Service Dogs (NSD) of Kitchener, Ontario, first
experimented with the pairing 11 years ago and has placed about 125
dogs, only two of them in the United States. NSD also is one of the
few service dog providers that specializes in training dogs for
kids with autism.

Service dogs make autistic children safer, can help them interact
socially and can reduce some parental stress if families go into
the relationship with realistic expectations, said Kristen Burrows,
a researcher from the Ontario Veterinary College at the University
of Guelph.

Reece's autism was diagnosed in January 2003, three months before
his third birthday. He doesn't speak. He wears a diaper. He moves
constantly, his hands working beads, phone cords, bouncy balls and
other favorite objects. He has a limited ability to interact with
people, even his family. His behavior has been unpredictable.
Crowds, loud noises and transitions agitate him.

In April, the Trahans again went to Glynner's for dinner - this
time with Pudge. Reece was agitated. He pressed his thumbs up into
his earlobes and swayed, whining. He resisted Brad's attempts to
reassure him. Brad hooked the tether that Reece wears on his belt
to Pudge's vest.

Reece resisted, wrenching at the 5-foot tether and pulling it
taut. Pudge lay still as the sphinx, stopping Reece from darting
across the restaurant. After a minute, Reece gave up. Then he
stepped over his dog to the table and calmly began to sip at a
glass of water.

He went on to feed himself and play quietly as his parents
chatted over a leisurely dinner. A first.

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Miracle dog

On March 31, the Trahans, including Brad's parents, traveled to
Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport in a limousine, courtesy
of a family friend, to pick up Brad and the dog. Brad's flight was
delayed; the family loitered around the baggage carousel until ...
Brenden, 8, bellowed "DAD!" and broke into a sprint, with Payton,
3, at his heels.

Both kids leaped into their dad's arms; he staggered up the hall,
with a child on each arm while leading a handsome black dog in a
purple work vest. Back with his mother, Reece giggled and skipped
at the sight of his father, and snuck sidelong glances at the dog.

"Reecey, c'mere, bud," Brad said, taking Reece's hand and pulling
him to the reclining Pudge. "You'd better get used to him. You're
gonna like him, aren't you?"

Reece giggled.

"Reecey, can you pet Pudge?" Brad urged. "I know you hear me. Pet
him."

Reece's hand hovered a moment over the dog's black head, then
pulled back. The other family members moved in, patting and cooing
over Pudge, who rolled over for a belly scratch.

"You're a miracle dog, aren't you?" remarked Gene Trahan, Brad's
father.

After several shy attempts, Reece leaned in and put a hand on
Pudge's head for a moment, before snatching it away. Instead, he
nudged the dog's paw with his toe and giggled again.

That night in bed, Pudge curled up at Reece's feet. For the first
time in nearly seven years, Reece slept the whole night through in
his own bed.

Unlike many kids with autism, Reece loves hugs, rough-housing and
tickles. He uses gestures to communicate his needs. He is also
singularly happy; his giggle could fill a room. Still, Reece's
autism has taken a toll on the family. Before Pudge, they rarely
went to church as a family, had never taken a family vacation,
feared going to unfamiliar places. Brenden and Payton are
self-possessed and independent, but Brad and Joanie worry that
they've had to grow up too fast.

Over the first couple of weeks, the Trahans acclimated to having
a dog in the house, and Pudge slowly got to know his charge. Brad
and Joanie noticed small changes in Reece's behavior. He continued
to sleep through the night. He was more likely to hang out with the
family in the evenings, rather than hole up in Brenden's room with
his toys and Barney videos. He started to eat dinner at the table
with the family.

On walks around the neighborhood, Brenden and Payton held the
handle on Pudge's vest, to help him practice for Reece's first
hookup.

The big day would come on a snowy April afternoon when NSD
trainer and co-founder Chris Fowler came to inspect Pudge's living
conditions, test Brad's training, assess Reece's developing
connection to his dog, and finally connect them.

In the driveway, Brad hooked the tether onto the D-ring on
Pudge's harness. Brad took the leash and guided Pudge onto the
sidewalk. Reece giggled and minced along on his tiptoes, a picture
book in one hand and his white and blue phone coil-cords in the
other. Fowler, Brenden and Payton hovered behind. Joanie beamed for
a moment from the front door before grabbing her jacket and joining
the parade down Colleen Street.

Fowler and Brad called out encouraging words:

"Good boy, Pudge."

"Good job, Reece, good job."

Pudge halted at the corner. Reece stopped at his side and looked
around expectantly. When Brad called "Forward, Pudge," boy and dog
continued across the street. Now, Reece seems to look to Pudge for
guidance. When they're not together, Reece looks around on the
floor for his dog. The biting and the frustration have all but
ceased when Pudge is with Reece in public.

"He just seems to know that Pudge is there," said Brad, "and he
knows when Pudge goes, he's got to go, too. It's like he and Pudge
are communicating that to each other."

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Show and tell

On April 17, Brad and Joanie unloaded Reece, Pudge and Payton
from the family van and trooped into Rochester's Riverside
Elementary School for show-and-tell in Brenden's second-grade
classroom.

Brenden stood confidently with his father before a circle of his
classmates as Pudge snoozed at his feet and Reece wandered happily
around the bright room.

Brenden and Brad answered lots of questions about Pudge, whether
he likes to play, how hard he works. A little girl in braids
volunteered that her cousin has autism. Another student asked
whether Reece can be cured.

A couple of days later, Brenden brought home a classmate's
drawing of the dog, and another sheet of paper with "PUDGE" written
on it. Reece picked up both sheets off the kitchen table; he
carried them all day and took them to bed that night.

Reece still is sleeping all night in his own bed. One recent
night at bedtime, Reece unexpectedly threw his arms around Pudge
and laid his head on the dog's haunch.

The past weeks haven't been without challenges. Brad was asked to
remove Reece from a play the family attended, because other viewers
complained about the sound of his beads and giggles. That was
demoralizing, Brad said.

Still, the small steps have been undeniable. Late last month, the
family went to the Minnesota Capitol for a National Autism
Awareness Month rally. It's still a novelty, Brad reflects, that
they can feel confident about going into a crowd without fear of
Reece darting off or falling apart. Also last month, the family
went to church together for Brenden's first communion. Reece sat
contentedly through a 90-minute service.

"We do feel that Pudge is bringing him confidence and calmness,"
Brad said. If all goes well, Pudge may be accompanying Reece to
school by January.

As for Brad and Joanie, their hopes for Reece have taken off.

"He's already met some of our expectations," Brad said. "We're
more hopeful. And we're not only hopeful. It's going to happen."

Today, Pudge will go with the rest of the Trahan family to mass
at Resurrection Catholic Church. On June 10, they'll go to the
Metrodome for Autism Awareness Day with the Minnesota Twins.

"Last year we were fearful," Brad reflected. "This year we're
going to go with a lot more confidence because Pudge is going to be
with us."

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Maria Elena Baca - 612-673-4409