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Pet Talk: Dogs for the Deaf provides a good friend who listens, too | OregonLive.com
Tigard resident Janice Justice finally got her ears back, but they don't look like your ears or my ears. Instead, her hearing instrument takes the form of a small, furry Shih Tzu mix named Scooter.
Justice, a chiropractor and teacher at the University of Western States, lost her hearing years ago after an illness. She was frightened and disoriented. Then she discovered Dogs for the Deaf, a southern Oregon-based nonprofit that trains homeless dogs to help people with special needs.
They placed her with Cajun, a pointer/heeler mix. Cajun was Justice's hearing dog for 14 years. But about a year ago, Cajun passed away.
Adjusting to life without her canine companion was scary and difficult for Justice. She wears a hearing aid, but she doesn't wear it when she sleeps, and she can't hear noises from a distance.
"These dogs, they truly are your ears," she says. "To not have that feels very isolating."
She'd find notes left on her front door because she couldn't hear the person knocking. She got angry looks at the grocery store when someone was trying to speak to her and thought she was ignoring them. She might unwittingly drop her keys without hearing the telltale jangle.
An independent, professional woman who enjoys traveling, Justice decided to move in with family in Cajun's absence.
She also applied for another hearing dog.
Based in Central Point, Dogs for the Deaf has placed more than 3,000 dogs in homes across the country to help with people who have special needs. The 33-year-old organization relies on donors and places the dogs free of charge.
Dogs for the Deaf trainers scour animal shelters throughout Oregon, Washington and California for the right dogs, says Carrie Brooks, a certified audio canine instructor.
"Really it's more the temperament we're looking for, rather than the breed," she says.
The trainers look for dogs that are friendly and confident. They observe how they react to loud noises or sudden movements.
"People on the waiting list are not placed on a first-come, first-served basis," says Beth Hay, client services coordinator for Dogs for the Deaf. "It's based on making the best possible match for the dog."
A typical wait list is four to five years, but as a previous hearing dog recipient and a great match for Scooter, Justice's wait was much shorter.
Brooks and a co-worker found Scooter as a stray at the Marion County Dog Shelter in Salem when he was about 9 months old.
They knew Justice needed a dog that would do as well accompanying her to her clinic and classes as hopping on a plane to take a trip. "Because she's so busy, we wanted a dog that could take everything in stride -- what we call a 'bomb-proof dog,'" Brooks says.
It takes four to six months to properly train a hearing dog like Scooter. He went through a lengthy learning process involving sound work, obedience and behavior training and socializing. After determining he was ready, Brooks recently drove up to Portland to help transition Scooter in Justice's home.
While Scooter is a very different dog from Cajun, Justice was thrilled with the match.
"It's just so wonderful to know I have ears again, and he's such a sweet little buddy," she says.
He's trained to alert her to specific, potentially lifesaving sounds: a fire or smoke alarm, the kitchen timer, a knock at the door, the telephone, Justice's pager, the sound of her name. Brooks helped him identify the source of each of these sounds and ensure Justice knows where they're coming from.
When he hears one of these sounds, he alerts her and waits until she acknowledges him. When he knows he has her attention, he'll lead her to the source.
During a recent practice test, the kitchen timer went off and Scooter cocked his head at the beeping sound. Justice's head was turned away, and Scooter gently put his paws on her knees and waited until she looked him in the face. Satisfied, he led her to the timer; Justice rewarded him by giving him his favorite toy.
At work, Scooter will play a valuable role. Justice often works alone in the evenings to complete charts or finish paperwork. If someone comes into the clinic, she won't know the person is there until he or she is right in front of her. She can't hear someone calling her name.
Now, she says, "When I'm alone in the clinic, he will be with me at my side."
She knew they were progressing as a team one night during their transition period, when Justice was working late on her computer at home. Scooter pawed her and walked to the bedroom -- his way of showing her he was tired after a long day's work.
She'll definitely sleep a little easier now, knowing she has someone to hear for her -- and speak for her, too.
"It really helps to have a little billboard out there," Justice says of her little dog in the orange vest. "Deafness is an invisible disability, but he makes it visible in a really heartfelt way."
Tigard resident Janice Justice finally got her ears back, but they don't look like your ears or my ears. Instead, her hearing instrument takes the form of a small, furry Shih Tzu mix named Scooter.
Justice, a chiropractor and teacher at the University of Western States, lost her hearing years ago after an illness. She was frightened and disoriented. Then she discovered Dogs for the Deaf, a southern Oregon-based nonprofit that trains homeless dogs to help people with special needs.
They placed her with Cajun, a pointer/heeler mix. Cajun was Justice's hearing dog for 14 years. But about a year ago, Cajun passed away.
Adjusting to life without her canine companion was scary and difficult for Justice. She wears a hearing aid, but she doesn't wear it when she sleeps, and she can't hear noises from a distance.
"These dogs, they truly are your ears," she says. "To not have that feels very isolating."
She'd find notes left on her front door because she couldn't hear the person knocking. She got angry looks at the grocery store when someone was trying to speak to her and thought she was ignoring them. She might unwittingly drop her keys without hearing the telltale jangle.
An independent, professional woman who enjoys traveling, Justice decided to move in with family in Cajun's absence.
She also applied for another hearing dog.
Based in Central Point, Dogs for the Deaf has placed more than 3,000 dogs in homes across the country to help with people who have special needs. The 33-year-old organization relies on donors and places the dogs free of charge.
Dogs for the Deaf trainers scour animal shelters throughout Oregon, Washington and California for the right dogs, says Carrie Brooks, a certified audio canine instructor.
"Really it's more the temperament we're looking for, rather than the breed," she says.
The trainers look for dogs that are friendly and confident. They observe how they react to loud noises or sudden movements.
"People on the waiting list are not placed on a first-come, first-served basis," says Beth Hay, client services coordinator for Dogs for the Deaf. "It's based on making the best possible match for the dog."
A typical wait list is four to five years, but as a previous hearing dog recipient and a great match for Scooter, Justice's wait was much shorter.
Brooks and a co-worker found Scooter as a stray at the Marion County Dog Shelter in Salem when he was about 9 months old.
They knew Justice needed a dog that would do as well accompanying her to her clinic and classes as hopping on a plane to take a trip. "Because she's so busy, we wanted a dog that could take everything in stride -- what we call a 'bomb-proof dog,'" Brooks says.
It takes four to six months to properly train a hearing dog like Scooter. He went through a lengthy learning process involving sound work, obedience and behavior training and socializing. After determining he was ready, Brooks recently drove up to Portland to help transition Scooter in Justice's home.
While Scooter is a very different dog from Cajun, Justice was thrilled with the match.
"It's just so wonderful to know I have ears again, and he's such a sweet little buddy," she says.
He's trained to alert her to specific, potentially lifesaving sounds: a fire or smoke alarm, the kitchen timer, a knock at the door, the telephone, Justice's pager, the sound of her name. Brooks helped him identify the source of each of these sounds and ensure Justice knows where they're coming from.
When he hears one of these sounds, he alerts her and waits until she acknowledges him. When he knows he has her attention, he'll lead her to the source.
During a recent practice test, the kitchen timer went off and Scooter cocked his head at the beeping sound. Justice's head was turned away, and Scooter gently put his paws on her knees and waited until she looked him in the face. Satisfied, he led her to the timer; Justice rewarded him by giving him his favorite toy.
At work, Scooter will play a valuable role. Justice often works alone in the evenings to complete charts or finish paperwork. If someone comes into the clinic, she won't know the person is there until he or she is right in front of her. She can't hear someone calling her name.
Now, she says, "When I'm alone in the clinic, he will be with me at my side."
She knew they were progressing as a team one night during their transition period, when Justice was working late on her computer at home. Scooter pawed her and walked to the bedroom -- his way of showing her he was tired after a long day's work.
She'll definitely sleep a little easier now, knowing she has someone to hear for her -- and speak for her, too.
"It really helps to have a little billboard out there," Justice says of her little dog in the orange vest. "Deafness is an invisible disability, but he makes it visible in a really heartfelt way."