Raising Arizona's Homeless Children with My Canine Companion

Abstract

Homeless children face problems besides severing community ties and changing schools. They often have to give up the family pet. In some cases, family members or neighbors step up and care for the pet while the family finds permanent housing. Other times, the pet is surrendered to a shelter. This commentary describes pet therapy through Gabriel's Angels with homeless children at a family shelter in Mesa, Arizona. On January 6, 1994, a car hit me while I was walking my two dogs after work. Disabling brain and other injuries ended my social work career. After a lengthy recovery, I reinvented myself as a writer, animal shelter volunteer, and pet therapist. Now I teach kindness, compassion, and empathy to Arizona's homeless children with my dog, Luke, a wiry-haired mutt I adopted in 1999. We're part of Gabriel's Angels, whose philosophy is to break the cycle of violence in abused and at-risk children through pet therapy. All dogs must register with the Delta Society, a nonprofit group that works to further the human-pet bond. Next, dogs must pass the Delta Society's rigid behavior evaluation. Furthermore, dogs have to be healthy, current on vaccinations, and licensed. They must be friendly to strangers and comfortable around wheelchairs and walkers. Dog owners must submit fingerprints, pass the FBI background check, and hand in three letters of recommendation. Handlers or their dogs who fail these requirements are rejected. On our first visit to La Mesita Family Shelter in the summer of 2001, a dozen children swarmed around me and Luke, all begging for a piece of my dog. I hadn't realized how needy homeless children could be. I spent most of my career working with adults. wants to meet you too, but everyone has to line up to be introduced, I said, attempting to maintain order around children jostling to be first. There's plenty of time. You'll all have a chance to pet my dog and say hello. After each child stroked Luke's head, told him he was a good boy, and rewarded him with a treat, they settled down. As we sat around a table, they peppered me with questions about Luke's habits. What does he eat? Where does he sleep? Does he watch the Animal Planet? At the end of our visit, I said that Luke and I would return every Tuesday afternoon. That was the beginning of my six-year journey with Arizona's homeless children. Homeless children are often emotionally fragile because of the disruption in their lives. Treasured pets were ripped from them when their families' lives crumbled. Losing a pet leaves children feeling confused, bewildered, and angry. In Maricopa County, there are some resources with the sheriff's department and a private animal shelter to temporarily place pets if domestic violence is involved. But most Phoenix shelters have little room or funding to house pets for homeless families while they are in transition. Adjusting to a homeless shelter can also be traumatic. Not only have these children been banished from their homes, they have left classmates and broken community ties. Luke and I bring a shred of stability, along with hope. The maximum stay is four months. In exchange for free housing and child care, parents have to secure employment, a place to live, or both. Substance abuse is prohibited. Families who dabble with drugs or alcohol are asked to leave. Otherwise, able-bodied parents pitch in and perform chores to keep the shelter tidy. Each family is assigned a case manager to help them gain independence. Some children live with single mothers. Others arrive with both parents. Now and then single dads find themselves at La Mesita. I have met grandparents who lost everything but refused to give up. Most CCC Code: 0037-8046/10 $3.00 [c]2010 National Association of Social Workers families scrape by in low-wage jobs. Health care, if it is offered, is usually beyond their means. Affordable housing is the big hitch. …