So maybe this is where it all started, I'm not sure. I realized my practice was stumbling a bit. Could be the global economic downturn, could be the national psychoanalysis downturn. Didn't know, really didn't want to care. What I knew was that I needed a change, some kind of internal kick in the pants to get me restarted. I began searching for the answer. Days turned into sleepless weeks. I became a bit desperate, at times; I even turned to the Internet Openline for direction. No luck. I figured if I looked long enough, something would give, some direction would show itself.
It seemed so simple, so basic, that was the brilliance of it. In one word the answer was dogs. That's right my friends, dogs.
I was right. I don't know how it happened. Maybe it was an epiphany. I knew it once I thought it. It seemed so simple, so basic, that was the brilliance of it. In one word the answer was dogs. That's right my friends, dogs. Open your practice; open your doors to dogs. Currently, I see a Border (not borderline) Terrier in supervision, a German Shepherd in once a week psychotherapy, and a Standard Poodle in standard psychoanalysis (four sessions a week, on the couch.) All, by the way, at full fee. I realize some readers might not think this is really psychoanalysis. Those readers are too dogmatic. As I interpret the barks and whimpers it becomes apparent more referrals are on the way. For the purpose of this paper names of the particular dogs have been withheld to protect the confidential nature of the work.
This is a paper on psychoanalysis, so I need to insert the obligatory reference to Freud. Freud liked dogs. That's it, all done. Treating dogs does present some problems. Talk about diversity. Each breed brings unique challenges. The German Shepherd is my most challenging patient. Weekly, he lumbers into the office and lies down, usually on my feet. For the entire hour, I sit, motionless. Simply stated, the dog terrifies me. Part of my fear has to do with the fact that lying on my feet is a 130-pound dog that bears a striking resemblance to Mike Tyson in his prime. That is, 130 pounds of pure muscle. Additionally, I have been informed that this is an attack dog, and that there is a one-word password that will turn him into an analyst killer. I have been reluctant to ask what that password might be for obvious reasons. I sit there trembling inside that I may inadvertently verbalize the one word that will turn me into canine lunch. It would take a medical examiner with my dental records to identify the remains. I still wonder if he doesn't eat copies of Modern Dog magazine while in the waiting room. This is not the optimal psychological space to operate from while treating a dog.
As we had moved into the middle phase I was beginning to think the dog needed medication. The use and effectiveness of medication in this area is very controversial. Medication might make his presumed aggression more manageable to me at least. It took me some time to appreciate my wish for medicating the dog had to do more with an experience of mine than the dog's. When I was eight, I had been bitten by a German Shepherd. I had repressed this experience throughout my own analysis. I now wanted to medicate my own projected hostility. I knew this was influencing my treatment of the Shepherd so I had to reenter my own analysis. With this piece of countertransference cleaned up, I have been able to work more attuned with the Shepherd.
The Standard Poodle is generally a joy to work with. Typically, he comes in and lies down, all very passively. He possesses unique olfactory sensitivity. Recently, he started smelling everything in the office. It took a little bit of time to sniff out his sense of scent had to do with his realization that I treat other dogs. This has opened the work up to a previously unexplored area regarding members of his litter. Many a session has been devoted to discussing his relationship with a female litter mate.
Noteworthy, our Tuesday sessions occur immediately after my lunch. The majority of that session consisted of the dog sitting on my lap licking me in hopes of recovering any morsels of the sandwich I have just consumed. This introduces the sensitive area of boundary violations. Many early psychoanalysts have written extensively against the idea
Peter Ruderman, M.S.W., is a training and supervising analyst with the St. Louis Psychoanalytic Institute. In his free time he enjoys studying humor.
of touching your patient or, God forbid, being licked by your patient. Controversial as it may be, I argue that the analyst must be comfortable with himself in this area to facilitate the analytic process. In my initial work with dogs, I forbade this and the resulting shame and humiliation for the dog were disastrous to the process. I had one dog bark uncontrollably before chewing up my pillow and charging out the doggie door.
Finally, as I am sure you can imagine, supervision with dogs is not unlike any other type of supervision. The quality of the experience is a direct derivative of the supervisor and candidate dog dyad. Working with this particular Border Terrier, a second year candidate, is very comfortable for me. She comes in very well prepared and able to discuss her control case. She is a very experienced clinician, having worked with a variety of breeds throughout her career.
The case we focus on is of a Dachshund in the second year of analysis that had severely compromised parenting and has grown up quite dysregulated. The work goes well. Periodically, we have struggled with a parallel process within the supervision. At those times the Border Terrier will spend the hour scratching herself, something the Dachshund does with some frequency. The Terrier quickly responds to interpretation and we are able to understand the varieties of meaning of this particular dynamic. One problem arose when the Border Terrier was briefly taking prednisone to deal with some severe seasonal allergies. This resulted in a side effect of increased urination. Fortunately for me and my couch, we averted a possible catastrophe.
One final word if anyone is contemplating going into the arena of working with dogs. Kurt Eissler had it right with his idea of parameters. I strongly suggest having a bowl of water at the ready, to keep your patient hydrated. While some will suggest it is too gratifying, I have found it facilitating. I do not offer any doggie treats though.
Incidentally, I have submitted claims for reimbursement to insurance companies. Not surprisingly, the Standard Poodle was rejected; the insurance company found the four times a week frequency not medically necessary. I was relieved though that that the German Shepherd was covered without question. With the thought of the widening scope of psychoanalysis I need to mention that I will soon be taking cats into treatment. I just need to work through where to put the kitty litter box.
I am fully aware that a brief paper of this nature will stoke the already burning question about certification and the training analyst system. I have written this knowing I subject myself to attack but feel quite able to defend my position.