Wonder dogs - Telegraph "We think we know what this is," she told them gently. We think Jacob has Autistic Spectrum Disorder (ASD). It was devastating news. At present ASD has no cure and the Atkins, like many parents before them, felt their hearts sink as a future scrapbook of all their son's milestones - university, job, marriage, children - suddenly slipped through their fingers. No drugs have been proved, conclusively, to help with autism and theories about particular diets or therapies still require years of rigorous investigation. But today, contrary to the bleak prognosis given to them by experts, Jacob is thriving. In fact, when I met him at home one afternoon, as he showed me his collection of Michael Morpurgo books, I was struck by just how similar he seemed to any other 10-year-old boy. All thanks to the arrival, in 2009, of a yellow labrador called Tom. "Although Jacob was statemented in 2007, he didn't receive an autistic diagnosis until 2009," says Teresa. After that, Stephen and I did some research and we came across the website for [the charity] Dogs for the Disabled, which said it provided dogs for children with autism and I thought I could really see that helping Jacob. Of all the domesticated animals, dogs seem most attuned to our sensibilities. After the First World War, they were trained as guide dogs for soldiers who had been blinded by mustard gas, and a few decades later, it was realised they could be taught to help the deaf as well. But only recently has it become obvious just how useful dogs can be. They are now being placed with people with cerebral palsy, spina bifida, multiple sclerosis and other conditions that rob an individual of their independence, and proving so adept at their jobs that they're taking over much of the work previously done by carers. Properly trained, a dog can pick up dropped items, help with dressing, turn on lights, empty a washing machine, call lifts, carry shopping bags, put a card in a cashpoint machine and even extract the money. They have also been shown to have an incredible calming effect on those with autism. Before the Atkins took delivery of Tom, who was trained from a puppy at the Dogs for the Disabled centre in Banbury, Oxfordshire, one of Jacob's most nerve-racking traits was to bolt off if he became stressed or anxious. Going anywhere outside the house was fraught with danger because there was always the risk that Jacob would run off into the road without looking. "He has no real perception of danger," says Teresa. But Tom has been taught to wear a special harness and walk with Jacob, who is attached to the harness with a lead. Tom trots in front, and will automatically sit down if he senses Jacob is about to run off. This hasn't just made life easier for Teresa, it's also widened Jacob's horizons. Last autumn, the family went to the cinema and stayed until the final credits for the first time ever, thanks to the presence of Tom at Jacob's feet. "Before, we'd have to leave after 10 minutes," says Teresa. But Jacob knew Tom was there and he could get down on the floor and give him a cuddle if he felt anxious. It helped him relax. The same thing applies to restaurants. And at home, Tom provides a focus for his young owner. Jacob enjoys feeding and grooming him (which simultaneously reminds Jacob to wash himself and brush his own teeth) and Tom is a constant, much-loved companion. When I asked Jacob how he thought he'd changed since Tom came on the scene, he displayed a surprising level of self-reflection - something that research has shown is rare in people with autism. "I used to run off and hide because, well basically, I was stressed about things," he said. Even without Tom, Jacob would be at the high-functioning end of the autistic spectrum (many people with ASD will never hold a meaningful conversation or read a book) but the Atkins say the improvement in Jacob's behaviour since three-year-old Tom arrived has been immeasurable. They intend to keep him as an assistance dog until he is eight or nine - the retirement age for labradors - and hope to then rehouse him as a pet. "Tom is not going to cure Jacob's autism," says Teresa. We're still going to have stressful times, but he gets over them quicker because of Tom. Jacob can cuddle up to him on the sofa or just wriggle his toes in his fur. It's made a massive difference. He knows me inside out Mandy Ireland and Woolfie Seventeen years ago, Mandy Ireland was out riding near her family's home in Castor, Cambridgeshire, when a dog ran into her path. Her horse reared up, she fell to the ground and the next thing she knew she was in hospital. Ireland had broken her spine and would never walk again. "You have two choices," says the 32 year-old. You give in or you get on with what you've got. There've been ups and downs, of course; the "why me's and the anger, because you can't do things. But then you realise that there's usually a way round things. In Ireland's case, the way around has been sniffed out by a devoted German shepherd dog called Woolfie. Seven years old, he has been with Ireland almost since the day he was born and has become her surrogate carer. He has been trained to open and close doors, pick up the phone and the remote control, empty the washing machine, take the washing out, pick items off the shelf in the supermarket, hand Ireland's purse to shopkeepers, and help her carry bulky items like lavatory rolls or kitchen towels. At the end of a tiring day, he helps her undress and provides a haunch to lean on when she transfers from her wheelchair to her bed. It is no exaggeration to say the dog has given Ireland her life back. "Before Woolfie I went out and about, people took me places, but I never felt like I lived, I just felt like I existed," she says. You could only do things when you had someone there, you could only go places when somebody could take you. Now I can do what I want and Woolfie won't complain. I feel I live the life I want to. The first person to realise that dogs had the potential to help more than just the blind and deaf was a PhD graduate from the west coast of America called Bonnie Bergin. Her charity, Canine Companions for Independence, began in Santa Rosa, California, and expanded throughout the Eighties to centres in New York, Ohio and Florida. But it was not until 1988 that trainers, using Bergin's techniques, began working with dogs in Britain. Today, there are still only about 500 assistance dogs currently serving in this country. The two main charities, Dogs for the Disabled and Canine Partners, operate in a similar way. First, puppies are placed with volunteers, known as puppy socialisers, who look after them for 14 months and teach them to be good dogs; familiarising them with trains, buses, shops, restaurants and other public places. Then at 14 months the dogs return to the charity where they are assigned a trainer. Over the next six months, the trainer teaches them to pick up items, open doors and all the other tricks that make them so useful to their eventual owners. Although, in Ireland's case, a trainer from the charity Dog AID trained Woolfie in Ireland's own home. Finally, they are matched with someone on the charity's waiting list and the prospective owners spend an intensive two weeks at a residential unit, learning to handle the dog. In the main, German shepherds and labrador retriever crosses (who combine the loyalty and reliability of a labrador with the more circumspect nature of a retriever) make the best assistance dogs, although Italian spinones have also been successful. "Dogs enjoy being assistance dogs," says Steve Billington, Dogs for the Disabled's director of marketing. It's a game to them; they don't know they're doing a serious job. Dogs also help wheelchair users to feel less isolated. "If you're out in a wheelchair on your own, people turn away and cross the road," says Billington. Whereas if you have a labrador or retriever with you it opens conversations. Dogs for the Disabled has tested this phenomenon. Volunteers have been sent out to walk around a park first without a dog and then with. The experiments have shown that without a dog the volunteer has no social interactions, and with the dog, he has around 10. Some dogs are even capable of detecting early signs of an epileptic fit or hypoglycaemic attack before their owner is even aware of it themselves. Woolfie warns Ireland, who suffers with severe asthma, when she is about to have an asthma attack. "He gives me between 10 and 15 minutes warning," she says. He starts pawing me or touching my hand with his nose. If I ignore that, then he'll start barking. At first I thought it was just coincidence, but it's happened too many times. In the case of hypoglycaemia, it is thought that falls in blood sugar level change a person's scent and dogs can be trained to spot this. When it comes to Ireland's asthma, she believes Woolfie's canine hearing picks up wheezing deep within her lungs before it becomes audible to humans. "He knows me inside out," she says. When I'm awake, she's awake Howard Varney and Saskia Howard Varney wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for his golden retriever, Saskia. A former member of the Coldstream Guards, who served with the Army for 10 years, Varney, 52, is in the grip of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). He only sleeps for two or three hours at a time, suffers from nightmares and terrifying flashbacks and battles daily with severe depression. His condition has destroyed his marriage and another long-term relationship and left him feeling alienated from his children. It is only his responsibility towards Saskia that keeps him going. "A little while ago I drank three-quarters of a bottle of whiskey and took an overdose of pills and was quite happy to end it all," he says. I rang my partner and told her what music I wanted at my funeral and all those sort of things and, without me saying anything to her, Saskia just came up and laid on the settee next to me. As soon as she did, Varney had a change of heart. "Straight away, I thought "This is ridiculous. This is stupid."" He made himself vomit and, in the process, saved his life. Since then, he has started psychotherapy at a hospital in south London, but Saskia remains his most important carer. When I'm awake at one or two o'clock in the morning, she'll be awake. She doesn't mind having a cuddle or going for a walk. You wouldn't get that from a partner. Saskia also encourages him to step out of his front door and has given him the confidence to travel on the Tube (despite feelings of claustrophobia) and attend social events. Saskia has never been trained and there are no assistance dogs in Britain who have been taught to care specifically for PTSD, but a new charity, Hounds for Heroes, is in the process of training puppies to help members of the Armed Forces or emergency services who can no longer work. Dogs for the Disabled is also exploring PTSD, as well as other psychological conditions. The charity is currently looking to fund a pilot project to teach labradors and retrievers to become "dementia dogs"; reminding people to take their tablets, raising the alarm in an emergency and helping around the home. "The potential for dogs to help people is still largely untapped," says Steve Billington. And there are some benefits to owning a dog that we often take for granted. "It's my job to make sure Saskia's fed and bathed and that gives you a sense of responsibility," explains Varney. When she looks at me, it's a look of real devotion.