Big dogs a big help to the disabled
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More than two decades after being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, Jim Nadeau still resisted using a cane to help maintain his balance.
"I fought that for a long time," recalled Nadeau, 57, of Woburn. But, he said, "You only fall down so many times before you give in."
When the effects of the disease began to take a toll, instead of reaching for something made from aluminum or bamboo, the 6-foot-7-inch military veteran found an alternative that was more his size: a 165-pound Great Dane named Homer who had been trained to work as a service dog.
"I can hold onto him because he's like a rock," Nadeau said on a recent morning near the food court at the Burlington Mall. "That makes all the difference in the world."
From guide to hearing dogs to canines who assist people with mobility problems, it's a line of work that's more commonly associated with breeds such as golden and Labrador retrievers. But Carlene White has a different take.
"For this kind of work, you need a big dog. You can't put a long handle on a cocker spaniel and think you're going to get there," said White, 71, who has run the nonprofit Service Dog Project on her Ipswich farm for five years. "That's what a lot of these service people are trying to do, and it's not fair to anybody."
While she is relatively new to the service dog trade, White has made a career of training animals. She spent more than 30 years running Animal Episodes, an agency she founded that provided animals for commercials, films, and parades.
"It's not easy," she said with a laugh. "You've got these million-dollar cameras staring down your throat and all you want the dog to do is breathe."
With her sights set on Great Danes, White has placed more than a dozen dogs, usually with people who have mobility-related disabilities from conditions such as multiple sclerosis and Parkinson's disease. The organization, with 20 volunteers and three part-time employees, operates on a $75,000 annual budget, most of it from donations.
To apply for one of her dogs, a candidate must possess or be eligible for a disabled parking placard or license plate, putting the responsibility of determining whether someone is disabled in the hands of state officials. "There are a lot of people who try to abuse the system, so that's my first requirement," said White, who graduated from Colby College with a degree in math.
It's a process that can take more than a year, and applicants spend some of the time learning to care for their new companion on the farm where White breeds the dogs and raises the puppies.
Before Hester Newbury, 65, returned to her Groton home with her Great Dane Abaih last summer, the effects of multiple sclerosis over the past 40 years had practically forced her into seclusion.
"I stopped going out because I looked drunk," said Newbury, a former teacher. "Basically, it was embarrassing."
Abaih has given her "a new lease on life," she said. "When I fall, which I do, I just grab hold of her and pull myself back up."
White's goal is to get the dogs to "achieve boredom," so they're not riled up by daily commotions such as car horns and road construction.
She takes one or two of the dogs out for a few hours each day. They usually run errands and make the rounds in a 17-year-old ambulance she bought on the Internet for $9,000.
In the process, she has worked to raise awareness about the Americans with Disabilities Act, the 1990 legislation that requires businesses to allow people with disabilities to bring their service animals into whatever areas customers are allowed.
Besides large-scale retailers such as
"It's like they're part of our family," said Deb Laflamme, a healthcare counselor at Brooksby. "They're not a common breed, and people always have so many questions because they don't get to see them every day."
Those who receive dogs from White pay only the $25 application fee. Most dogs can cost upward of $5,000 just to get started, according to figures from Assistance Dogs International, an organization of programs that train service animals.
When it comes to selecting specific breeds, "If it meets the person's needs, there's nothing in the federal regulations" restricting Great Danes, said Corey Hudson, president of ADI North America.
With Homer by his side, Jim Nadeau is among that demographic.
"I went out to the farm and there were 30 of these things running around, and it was the coolest thing for me," he said. "This was something positive. Instead of looking forward to a walker or a wheelchair, they were talking about something alive, and when you live with a disease day in and day out, you really need pluses."
On a visit to the Burlington Mall, a 10-minute drive from where he lives with his wife, Ann, almost a dozen people approached the couple, offering compliments or asking questions about the large, black and white dog that slept quietly beneath their table. And that was an hour before most stores were open.
"Excuse me, but this is the most beautiful, beautiful animal I have ever seen," said 82-year-old Jean Doe of Medford. "They made such a presence when they walked in here."
"I've never seen as big a dog as that," Elizabeth Monk, 77, of Burlington, added a few minutes later.
Meanwhile, Jim Nadeau took it all in stride, using each encounter as a chance to pitch the organization and hand out a few business cards.
"It's not easy for me to have a conversation with strangers, but Homer just makes it a piece of cake," he said. "People come over and they're very interested in the dog. It just breaks down all kinds of barriers."
To learn more, go to servicedogproject.org.
