Mica makes the grade: a hearing dog trains hard to offer her ears and heart to her human companion

Animals, Jan-Feb, 1997 by Pamela Sacks

A hearing dog trains hard to offer her ears and heart to her human companion.

Mica, a ball of silky orange hair on four dainty legs, dashes to the door in response to several loud knocks. Then the seven-pound Pomeranian races to her trainer, who is sitting at the dining table in a specially equipped apartment at the headquarters of National Education for Assistance Dog Services, Inc. (NEADS) in Princeton, Massachusetts. She taps Kathy Foreman on the hand with her wet nose, looks at her expectantly, and zips back toward the sound. Foreman walks over to the door and immediately begins to applaud. Eighteen-month-old Mica, once surrendered to a shelter because she was too much for her first owner to handle, is the epitome of a good hearing dog: energetic, intelligent, independent, highly responsive to sounds, and willing to consistently carry out her assigned tasks. WIth bouncy enthusiasm, she will stop whatever she is doing and become the ears for the person it is her mission to help. The importance of such companionship to someone with a hearing impairment can be dramatically apparent. Fifteen hearing dogs trained at NEADS over the past two decades have saved their owners from fires by alerting them to smoke alarms. Such heroics are a logical extension of the more subtle but at times also life-altering effects of what hearing dogs do day in and day out--tell their human housemates about noises around them and about others' attempts to communicate with them.

For Dianne Aquilino, a teacher from Mount Vernon, New York, the pressure to get to work on time used to be a source of tremendous anxiety. She worried so much about oversleeping that she would go to bed at 9:30 every night. There were times when she woke up in a panic, looked quickly at the clock, then showered and dressed before realizing it was only 3 a.m. All that stopped after she got her first hearing dog, Hank, who nudged her awake each morning when the alarm clock rang.

For the Reverend Sandra Hunting, who lives in Hubbardston, Massachusetts, following a conversation was the problem; as she slowly lost her hearing, she was becoming a recluse. These days, Elvis, part dachshund and part terrier, helps her lip read by alerting her to who is talking by looking at that person.

The hopes of Mica's future owner, 65-year-old Frances Stopinski, seem similarly modest. She is looking forward to the sense of security that comes with knowing she will not miss a phone call or a delivery. Drummer, her first hearing dog, knew how to let her know when a pot was boiling over or the washing machine was off balance.

Several weeks before Mica is to meet Stopinski for the first time, Foreman and her tiny trainee practice the four stimuli that all hearing does are taught--telephone. alarm clock, doorbell or knock, and smoke alarm. "You can make a dog do anything, but when she gets with a deaf person, she has to want to do it. It's all positive reinforcement," explains Sheila O'Brien, executive director of NEADS, the oldest continuing program in the country dedicated to placing hearing dogs. By now, Mica has mastered the basic three-point routine--going to the source of a sound, to her trainer, and back to the source. She is considered to be "on track." A tea kettle, microwave oven, emergency vehicle's siren, and Stopinski's name will be easy to add to her repertoire.

Despite Mica's skill and willingness to please, her most difficult test still lies ahead. The last week of training will be spent with Stopinski on the NEADS campus, a 6,000-square-foot training and kennel center and blue two-story clapboard house surrounded by 12 acres of wooded hills. The staff has paired the two, taking into account Stopinski's nurturing personality, her sense of humor, and her request for a dog small enough to pick up. All this careful consideration notwithstanding, the trainers know that the matching of dog and owner is serendipitous; success will depend on chemistry as much as anything else.

On some occasions, the crucial moment when dog and owner click as a team is instantaneous. Other times, it takes a little longer. Aquilino immediately fell in love with Hank, the schnauzer she got in 1984. Now 13, Hank is hard of hearing himself. He lives with Aquilino, but spends his days at ease, his former job now performed by Duncan, the black-and-gray cairn terrier Aquilino was matched with last April. Duncan is energetic, with a go-get-'em approach to life. But in his case, the bonding took some time. The two were back home for a week when Duncan made some canine faux pas that amused Aquilino--she can't recall just what it was--and she realized, "I love this dog!" When a match does not work, NEADS staff members never force it. They simply try again with a different pairing.

During the final few days of the three-month training program, the dog's attachment and willingness to work must shift from framer to owner. To hasten the process, the two are tied together with a green leash attached at one end to a collar and at the other to a belt. The dog learns to stay with the person, who quickly gets a sense of his or her newfound responsibilities. Hitched together, the pairs practice in the training apartment and share living quarters in the campus house. The dogs stay close as their human partners learn about grooming and veterinary care.