Sock It to Me or, My Service Dog Ate It

by Dean Kramer
October, 2008


I saw a cartoon in which Timmy has fallen into a river and is being washed downstream. “Lassie!” He cries,” Get help!” That’s the first panel of the cartoon. In the second panel Lassie is seen lying on a couch in a psychoanalyst’s office waving her paws and weeping with grief.

 My first service dog was a West Highland white terrier, Griffin. She was well schooled in obedience and, additionally, was able to go get my neighbor when I fell or got stuck somewhere on the property and couldn’t walk out of the situation on my own.

Before MS I had been a dog trainer, so I trained Griffin myself. But I also consulted with a service dog-training agency run by a colleague. This colleague eventually tested Griffin to make sure she was “proofed” against things that might interfere with her working and behaving well in public.

Griffin and I worked together until she died of old age in 2004.

Meanwhile my MS had worsened and I needed different skills in a service dog. Many people with MS use dogs for help with balance and walking. The dogs trained to this skill are large, usually Labs. The dogs are often taught other skills as well. They can help with dressing, pull a wheelchair, open doors, and fetch and carry things.

I don’t need help with walking because I use a scooter or wheelchair. But I do need a dog to bring me things and, more necessary still, to pick things up that I drop. My hands are numb and it’s often difficult for me to feel objects or distinguish them by touch alone.

I also wanted a small dog. My thinking was that I wanted to be able to care for the dog at least as well as I wanted it to care for me. Being alone most of the time, I considered that if a Labrador became sick or injured I would never be able to carry it to the car to get to the vet’s office. But I would be able to handle a small dog.

I chose my current service dog because, when I visited him in the shelter where he’d been dumped, he showed a very strong drive to pick things up and carry them. He’d been brought to the shelter because (among other annoyances) he picked up anything that wasn’t nailed down and ran off with it.

The first thing I did when I met him was to drop a knotted handkerchief on the floor of the “interview” room. The first thing he did was pick the handkerchief up and run away with it, turning back toward me and waving it in his mouth—an invitation to chase him. In fact, “Chase” was his name.

When I neither yelled at him for grabbing the handkerchief nor ran after him, he brought it to me on his own and dropped it at my feet. I knew right then that I could work with him. So I adopted this 7-month-old puppy and we began to educate each other. Right away, I did as the shelter people suggested and changed his name (to “Trisket”) to avoid any negative associations left from his original owners.

He’d been at the shelter for over 2 months and the people there had begun his basic obedience training. I use obedience commands as a way of life with my dogs, whether or not they are service dogs. “Sit”, “Down”, “Stay”, and “Come” are all integrated into our daily activities. That part of our communication was terrific.

However, no one had taught him “Leave it!” or (belatedly) “Drop it!” As a consequence he continued picking up whatever he found. I didn’t want to correct him or in any way discourage him from picking things up since that was the skill I wanted to enhance.

I was prepared to be patient for the good 2 years I knew it would take to make a service dog of Trisket.  But Twink, my partner, found it difficult to adjust to living with a dog that stole anything he could carry and took it outside through the dog door into the back yard.

I am somewhat compulsive about my personal possessions. I’ve always lived in small spaces and learned to put things away. Twink has lived in large houses. She lost several pair of underwear, some important papers, used tissues, a pair of glasses, a few pens, some cosmetics (thank goodness she buys cruelty-free organics) and his favorite thing of all, socks.

She’d say, “Please, can’t you do anything  to stop his behavior?”

But I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted, instead, to teach him to bring me the things he’d stolen.

So that’s where we began. I’d see a pair of underpants in the back yard and I’d point to them and say (in the happiest, most excited voice possible) “Trisket, get it!” Trisket would run to them, pick them up and race around the yard with them while I shrieked, “Good boy! Good boy!”

The next step was to get him to bring me the panties. I used a dog treat made of lamb jerky and, as he raced around the yard, I yelled, “Trisket, bring it!”  When he came anywhere near me, I praised him. When he came close enough to take the treat an exchange was made—I got the panties and he got lamb jerky and praise.

I always carry a small bag of lamb jerky in my pocket and it wasn’t long before he would bring me whatever stolen object I pointed to. So I taught him “Drop it!” and made him let go of whatever it was before he got his treat.

Once he understood “Drop it!” it was easy to stop him from making off with things when I caught him in the act. When he’d dropped something I rewarded him and added, “Leave it!” to prevent him from picking it up again.

After some time he was pretty secure with get it, bring it, drop it, and leave it. It was time to teach him to get specific things and to discriminate between, say, a pen and the TV remote.

Trisket is going to be 4 years old this December. He has become a very useful companion. He knows the names of several objects and will retrieve them for me. He helps me with the laundry by pulling clothes out of the dryer. If I drop something he will pick it up, put his paws on my lap, and wait for me to take it from him. If I drop something I don’t want him to pick up (like medication, for instance) I just tell him, “Leave it!”

Trisket and I have practiced, “Get the phone” over and over. But you never know whether the lesson has truly taken hold until the day you actually need your dog to perform.

I fell one day a few months ago and needed the cordless phone to call for assistance. I sent Trisket for the phone. He dashed upstairs and I heard him drop it on the floor. I repeated the command, “Get the phone” and added, “Bring it”. Seconds later he stood in front of me with the phone in his teeth. A lot of lamb jerky was then consumed.

Interestingly, as he has developed his skills his thievery has become negligible.

He still expresses great interest in socks, though.

The other day I came upstairs to the bedroom. Trisket was lying on the bed staring at me in an intense, meaningful way. I couldn’t figure out what was up until I noticed a ball of socks on the bed beside him. Then I noticed I’d left my sock drawer open. I had to smile because, even though he’d taken a pair of socks out of the drawer, he hadn’t run off with them and he seemed to be saying, “I only did it to remind you to close your drawer.”

Next, I plan to teach him to help me remove my socks when I undress. It’s skill lots of service dogs are taught, and something tells me it may be right up his alley.