Furry And Feathery Therapists

By Anastasia Toufexis

"Affection without any ambivalence," rhapsodized Sigmund Freud, "a feeling of close relationship, of undeniably belonging together." He was speaking not of mothers or even of psychoanalysts but about Jo-fi, his pet dog. Americans understand. An estimated 52 million dogs reside in U.S. homes. Also 56 million cats, 45 million birds, 250 million fish and 125 million other assorted creatures. Yet despite the antiquity and ubiquity of the human-animal bond, neither Freud nor anyone else has shed much scientific light on the phenomenon. "Animals are so taken for granted," says Alan Beck, director of the University of Pennsylvania's Center for the Interaction of Animals and Society. "We have the gut feeling they're good for you, but how they're good and what can be done with that, we don't know." Now things are beginning to change. A variety of health professionals have started to assess rigorously pets' impact on physical and mental health. Meanwhile, the beneficiaries of programs in prisons, hospitals and nursing homes do not much care about cool science but are warmly grateful for what amounts to animal therapy. A groundbreaking study came in 1980, when researchers from the Universities of Maryland and Pennsylvania reported on the survival rate of 92 patients with serious heart trouble. Of the 39 without pets, eleven were dead within a year. The remaining 53 had animals ranging from an iguana and Bantams to the typical cats, dogs and fish; just three of those patients died. The results were not due to increased exercise, like walking a dog. Even owning fish proved a boon. Later research provided a partial explanation: an animal's presence helps lower blood pressure and reduce stress.

More recent studies suggest other pluses. In a 1984 Philadelphia study of patients about to undergo dental surgery, some were hypnotized, others were told to look at an aquarium full of fish, and the rest sat quietly for 20 minutes. The first two groups experienced the least discomfort. Surprisingly, watching fish was as effective as being hypnotized. Why animals are so soothing is still a mystery. Psychiatrist Aaron Katcher of the University of Pennsylvania speculates that stroking animals and talking to them stimulates < the brain's production of its pleasure chemicals, the endorphins.

Psychological benefits have also been documented. Troubled teenagers, for example, are more likely to open up when a therapist brings a dog along. Carol Antoinette Peacock, a psychologist in Watertown, Mass., starts treatment of new adolescent patients with an introduction to her dog Toffy. "It helps them to trust me," says Peacock, who finds that patients sometimes express their feelings through the animal. "They'll say, 'Your dog looks pretty sad,' meaning 'I'm pretty sad.' "

The human-animal bond has long lifted spirits at home, and now is bringing that touch of hearth to institutional settings. In U.S. prisons, the Birdman of Alcatraz has numerous descendants. In Lima, Ohio, at a facility for mentally ill inmates, part of the courtyard resembles a barnyard. Sheep, goats, ducks, rabbits -- even deer -- roam around. "We're finding the prisoners who have pets are less violent," says Psychiatric Social Worker David Lee. In a double bonus, women inmates in Gig Harbor, Wash., are training special dogs to aid the handicapped. For one family with a daughter who suffers from a neurological disorder, a dog was schooled to pick up signals of an impending seizure and alert the girl and her parents. "The dog knows before the girl does that she is going to have one," says Leo Bustad, president of the Delta Society, a Renton, Wash., group that funds pet studies.

Hospitals are finding that animals ease patient isolation, as well as anxiety and distress. Three of the most popular visitors to elderly patients at Beth Abraham Hospital in New York City come from the A.S.P.C.A.: Jake, a bull mastiff; Boris, a 50-lb. Samoyed; and Regina, a tortoiseshell cat. At Children's Hospital in Denver, staff members and volunteers bring in their dogs, cleanly clad in smocks or T shirts, and make rounds of wards. Retirement and nursing homes are welcoming pets too. The Tacoma Lutheran Home in Washington boasts a menagerie of furry and feathery live-ins. Some have aided in physical therapy. A stroke patient who had lost motor skills groomed an Angora rabbit; another worked on speech problems by talking to a cockatiel.

Reflecting the growing sense of the difference animals can make, regulations for federally subsidized housing now assure that the elderly and handicapped can keep pets. Last month the Ralston Purina Co. announced a $1 million program to help local humane societies and shelters fund the initial costs of adopting a pet for those over 59.

Pets are no cure-all, of course. "If you feel sick, you can't just pet your dog and call the doctor in the morning," says Veterinarian Larry Glickman of the University of Pennsylvania. Moreover, they require care, can bite and cause allergies. But what they bring can be hard to improve on. New Yorker Reuben Selnick, 61, a recovering alcoholic who adopted a cat named Oliver in Purina's pilot program, speaks for many. "I was at a very low ebb when I met Oliver," he says. "Now I have something to live for."

With reporting by Christine Gorman/New York and Mary Wormley/Los Angeles