In August 2001, I joined a now-defunct AmeriCorps program called the National Rapid Response Corps and was assigned to serve in a Los Angeles service center of the American Red Cross. According to the program description, my main responsibilities would include teaching CPR and First Aid and assisting families in recovering from local and national disasters. Us new recruits were very excited to be part of this great program and spent those first weeks glued to the Weather Channel, wondering if (and kind of hoping that) the latest hurricane would result in us getting “the call.”

None of us imagined it would come on September 11th--we were a mere month into our program and fresh out of training. But there we were, suddenly smack in the middle of a national crisis that even our leaders had no precedent for. We joined our country in stepping forward into the unknown, scared but willing.

On October 1, 2001, I got my deployment orders. At all of 23 years of age, they assigned me to Pier 94 as a caseworker for those who had lost their livelihood. My responsibility for six weeks was to meet with individuals--usually twice my age or more--to listen to their stories, assess their loss, and provide assistance.

The clients I met with had managed to escape with their lives, but they had little else. My clients were mostly members of the peripheral industries that supported--and relied on--the business of the World Trade Center. My clients were the drivers, the dry cleaners, and the food vendors that served a now demolished cornerstone of the American economy. They weren’t the ones in the headlines. They weren’t the ones in the news. They grieved in private, not even a blip on the media radar.

These clients had often spent their lifetimes building their own businesses from nothing, and now they had--once again--nothing. I watched as grown men cried, wondering how they would take care of their families. And then I’d watch the shame about their grief creep in, as they considered the many others who had lost so much more.

I’d assure them that their pain and loss was just as real. No matter what was going on with anyone else, it was okay that they were sad and scared, too. I tried to hold it together as adults fell to pieces in front of me.

And as they’d try to sort through their emotions, I used pre-determined formulas to calculate exactly what their loss equaled in financial aid. No matter how much I was able to push through the system…no matter how often I was able to justify giving the maximum assistance allowed…it was always completely inadequate.

I was completely inadequate--or at least, I felt like it.

I mean, there I’d sit with a 64-year old man whose clients were now dead and whose regular route was now covered under 5 feet of debris and horror and the best I could do was offer him a $1500 voucher? But the clients never asked for more. They always appreciated whatever they received.

However, no matter how grateful my clients were, I ended each session with deep sorrow, guilt, and anger at not being able to provide more, but there was no time for me to dwell on that. My job was to be strong for them. To help them. To instill hope. It was not about how sad I was that I couldn’t do more in the wake of such tremendous tragedy. So, I’d just sit there and shove it down and try not to think about it. I’d make it through my twelve-hour shift, go back to my hotel room and just sit there in numbness. Then I’d try to sleep but would be unable to, and it would start all over again the next day. I didn’t talk to anyone about this--after all, I had lost nothing. Much like my clients often felt about themselves, I was not a victim. I wasn’t even volunteering on the front lines or doing search and rescue. I had it good. I had no right to be sad. I had no right to cry and therefore, would not.

Until I saw the dogs.

I can’t remember the first time I saw one, but I remember the feeling--like being picked up and held close. It was like being recognized and then embraced by an old friend. They had sniffed out my broken spirit and were licking the wounds on my confused, scared, and sad heart that I didn’t believe I deserved to have. But they knew better.

Over the days and weeks, I came to have my favorites (Wusel was my best bud), and eventually, I started taking breaks so I could specifically go in search of him. Up to that point, taking breaks had been difficult for me to do. The line of people waiting to receive assistance was hours long, and I never could justify leaving my station, even for a minute, when there were so many clients waiting.

The dogs gave me a reason to get up, and when I did, they found my pain and held it for me. I shed my first tears on Wusel’s furry neck. And after I did, I felt the weight in my chest start to lift. So I visited again the next day. And the next. The dogs sat with my grief so I could sit with my clients’. The dogs validated my pain and in turn, I validated my clients’. Without the work Wusel did for me, I couldn’t have done the work for my clients.

So now it’s ten years later, and Wusel (and many of the 9/11 TDI dogs) has since passed, but his legacy remains. I wasn’t a victim. I never even saw Ground Zero. But Wusel recognized and embraced my pain all the same. And he healed me. And because he healed me, I was able to help heal others.

By Sarah Sypniewski

8.2.11

"One particular person that we saw every day in one of the centers we visited was a beautiful eighty-seven year old lady. She had the spirit and movement of a thirty year old. 'I see God in the eyes of this dog,' were the comments to each of us. 'The world needs ninety-nine Therapy Dogs and one human.'"

Paws for Disaster Stress Relief- Tuscaloosa Tornado, April 2011

After tornadoes devastated the town of Tuscaloosa, Alabama, the TDI’s Disaster Stress Relief Dog teams traveled to the disaster site. Teams from New York and New Jersey drove down to Alabama by van and met up with teams from Florida, Georgia, South Carolina and North Carolina. The teams were stationed outside of Tuscaloosa at the Rolling Hills Camp Grounds in Calera. Each day they would travel to relief sites set up by volunteers and relief organizations both local and national. The victims and helpers appreciated the Disaster Stress Relief Dogs and the brief respite that the dogs and handlers provided from the surrounding chaos. Sometimes people need affection and comfort. Who better to fulfill those needs than man’s best friend? The Disaster Stress Relief Dogs program strongly believes in Therapy Dogs International’s slogan “A Dog Will Love You Forever.” This idea is reflected in their relief efforts and is the reason for their success.
The town of Tuscaloosa is blessed with the most incredible and caring people. On one of the weekends four local churches sent out a request for volunteers and over 2,500 people responded. The Give + Tuscaloosa Volunteer Reception Center was well managed and efficiently placed the incoming volunteers throughout the community. Water and food were provided by churches for the volunteers. A food truck operated by a local family also provided free and delicious lunches. It was heartwarming to hear that one resident set up a grill in a parking lot of a strip mall and started serving free food to tornado victims. Other helpers soon followed suit and eventually the entire parking lot was filled with volunteers offering all kinds of help from food to medical services. “No one can do everything, but everyone can do something.”

With canines on leashes, a group from Therapy Dogs International arrived at Christian Service Mission in Birmingham last week, seeking information about where they could be of service.

The group had been in Tuscaloosa for a week-and-a-half, providing their own unique style of relief with their Disaster Stress Relief dogs for victims of the April 27 tornadoes. Someone from Unleash Magazine suggested they come to Birmingham to visit with more tornado victims.

“We’re winding down our time in Alabama,” said Ursula A. Kempe, president of TDI. “We went to a school to visit with children directly affected by the tornado, ones who had lost everything. It was difficult to see all the sad faces, but I think our visit was successful. We brought some smiles to their faces.”

Unfortunately, the group never made it back to Birmingham. One of the dogs was injured doing tricks and the husband of one of the handlers was having surgery. Plus, some of their Disaster Stress Relief team members had jobs they needed to return to.

Kempe did fly back to Birmingham on Tuesday to pick up a motor home they had purchased and was going to drive it back to Flanders, N.J., TDI headquarters. They were not bringing another group down.

The acquisition of the motor home was made primarily so the dogs can have a respite from the heat when they visit disaster areas, because the dogs can be out in the heat for only an hour or so before they need to cool off and rest.

The TDI Disaster Stress Relief Dog group that visited Tuscaloosa included members from New Jersey, New York, Florida, Georgia, North Carolina and South Carolina.

“We have about 20,000 people involved with approximately 24,000 Therapy dogs all across the country,” Kempe said. “Therapy dogs originated with us. We are on the United Way list of organizations for disaster relief.”

TDI was formed in 1976 in New Jersey with five handlers and six dogs, but quickly discovered a need for expansion. The organization has several programs, such as hospitals, nursing homes, shelters, schools and libraries.

It’s been proven clinically that through petting, touching and talking to animals, people’s blood pressure is lowered, stress is relieved and depression eased. Therapy dogs also provide hugging time for the professionals (including police officers, firefighters, medical professionals and other relief workers and volunteers, as well as members of the clergy), who suffer their own emotional pain when dealing with the devastating pain of others.

The non-profit organization registers all breeds of dogs. Some dogs have pedigrees, while others have been adopted from local shelters or are rescue dogs. To belong to TDI all dogs must be tested and evaluated by a certified TDI evaluator.

The Disaster Stress Relief program started following the Oklahoma City bombings in 1995.

“After the experience gained in Oklahoma City, we realized how important the use of therapy dogs is in working with people affected by a disaster,” Kempe said.

TDI also worked with those affected by 9/11 terrorist attacks in New York/New Jersey and Washington, D.C. and with victims of Hurricane Katrina. The 9/11 encounters turned into a learning experience.

“After 9/11, we saw we needed more advanced training for special Disaster Stress Relief dogs and the handlers needed more training,” Kempe said. “We have to test their suitability to serve in the field. We let them go out the first time and if they do well, we let them join.”

To belong to TDI, all dogs must be tested and evaluated by a certified TDI Evaluator. A dog must be a minimum of one year of age and have a sound temperament. Each dog must pass a temperament evaluation for suitability to become a therapy dog, which includes the American Kennel Club’s Canine Good Citizen Test. The test also includes the evaluation of the dog’s behavior around people with the use of some type of service equipment (wheelchairs, crutches, etc.).

One of TDI’s Disaster Stress Relief Dog teams responded in the aftermath of the devastating fires which burned more than a thousand homes in the Bastrop area. The TDI DSRD team volunteered with six special trained dogs. These dogs and their handlers work with people who have been affected by a disaster. This includes not only the people who have been directly affected but also all the relief teams, from the Incident Commander and his teams, to the fire fighters and other personnel. Petting a dog can really help in times of extreme stress. Bringing comfort and stress relief is the special mission of our DSR dogs.