My experience with Autism Dogs Charity

Update (24th February 2023) — I’ve had many responses since I published this a few days ago, including one from ADC. I have added my thoughts about the responses at the bottom of this article.

I’m an autistic adult in the UK. A few years ago I applied to the assistance dog programme offered by Autism Dogs Charity (ADC)*. I began the process with them in 2021, and they abruptly dropped me from the programme in November 2022. The entire ordeal of the programme, as well as the way ADC ended it, was a contributing trigger to a severe and ongoing mental health crisis.

I’m writing this because I want to prevent other people like me from having the experience that I did. I’m reluctant to publish it, because ADC is overall an organisation of very nice people who care about what they do and want to help others. But unfortunately the nature of their organisation, training, and experience mean that their attempts to help can cause more harm. If they had acknowledged their failures or apologised meaningfully, I would not be publishing this. But I have been left feeling that my only choice is to publicly share my experience, so that others can make an informed decision.

It’s difficult to summarise what happened, because there were so many different and sometimes unrelated issues during the programme. They’re broken down into issues with my dog and issues with the people in the organisation:

• Issues with the dog
  ◦ Coprophagia (eating faeces) considered acceptable
  ◦ Dog too young to evaluate or train
  ◦ Outdated and debunked training methods
• Issues with people
  ◦ Poor and unplanned education
  ◦ Unqualified and incorrect judgements about my and my partner’s health and abilities
  ◦ Chaotic, unprofessional, and duplicitous communication
  ◦ Failing to adapt to our lack of dog experience
  ◦ No clear policy on or consideration of breed preferences
  ◦ Ignoring autistic communication needs

Some of the sections also jump around chronologically, so here is a timeline of the main events mentioned in this post. In brackets are events which I only found out about later on, after making a GDPR request and seeing internal documents about me.

• Summer 2019 — I sent my application forms.
• January 2020 — My application was officially accepted.
• June 2021 — After covid-related delays, I was enrolled onto the waiting list.
• 22nd October 2021 — I told ADC’s psychotherapist that I would find the grooming requirements of a poodle easier than a labrador, and she agreed to pass that on.
• (31st October 2021 — The CEO emailed the psychotherapist to say that ADC would have declined my application if they knew I needed a poodle, and that she intended to talk to me about this.)
• 28th January 2022 — ADC contacted me to offer a match with a labrador. I replied to remind them of the conversation I had with the psychotherapist, and they then said they would source a poodle.
• 9th August 2022 — I was officially matched with my dog, a 9-month-old, un-neutered standard poodle.
• 27th-29th October 2022 — My family and I attended residential teaching at ADC’s farm.
  ◦ 27th October 2022 — We had the first sessions of family teaching, including misogynistic youtube videos and discussion of debunked and aversive training methods.
  ◦ 28th October 2022 — During the practise “sleepover”, my dog ate faeces, I had an autistic shutdown, and ADC staff had to come and collect the dog early.
  ◦ 29th October 2022 — The CEO reassured us that it was normal to struggle at family teaching and that everything would be okay.
  ◦ (29th October 2022 — The CEO told trustees that she doubted I could give any dog a happy life.)
• 30th October 2022 — The CEO asked my family and I for feedback about what would help us move forward with the programme.
• (31st October 2022 — The CEO told trustees that during family teaching we said nothing and ignored the dog, calling it the oddest experience she’d had.)
• (31st October 2022 — The psychotherapist told trustees that my expectations were off in our conversation a year earlier.)
• (31st October 2022 — In a whatsapp conversation, the board seemed to decide to drop me from the programme.)
• (1st November 2022 — The CEO told staff she intended to ask me for more information about my health.)
• 7th November 2022 — The CEO sent me an uncaptioned video message to tell me I was being dropped from the programme.
• 6th December 2022 — I detailed these issues to ADC in a formal complaint.
• 20th December 2022 — ADC responded to my complaint, dismissing and denying most of the issues I raised.

The rest of this article will be a point-by-point explanation of each specific problem, along with any response ADC gave to it. At the end is a conclusion of the overall issues.

In this article I have not identified any specific individuals by name. Because ADC is such a small organisation, it’s probably impossible to keep anyone truly anonymous. But please do not attack or publicly identify anyone even if you do recognise them — my complaint is with ADC as an organisation and with their assistance dog programme, not with the individual people involved.

Issues with the dog

Coprophagia (eating faeces) considered acceptable

Part of the programme involves residential family teaching— in October 2022 my family (all of whom are neurodivergent) and I stayed for several days close to ADC’s farm to be taught about handling an assistance dog.

At the end of the second day of teaching, my dog was dropped off at our accommodation for a “sleepover.” The trainer looked at the back garden and assured us that we could let him outside off-lead to toilet because it was fenced. When we let him out in the evening he toileted and then immediately began eating the faeces, ignoring repeated leave calls, and we had to chase after him to interrupt and bring him back inside. I had an autistic shutdown, and my family had to deal with the situation and call ADC to collect the dog early.

Coprophagia is obviously a major problem for any potential assistance dog, since they must not constitute a hygiene risk, and are likely to need to pick up objects with their mouths and give them to people. I have since spoken to several experienced assistance dog trainers who agree that coprophagia should be an absolute exclusion criteria for any prospective assistance dog — and that most ADUK programmes follow that guideline.

ADC were aware that I have anxiety around hygiene and contamination, and they were also aware that my family and I had no prior experience with dogs. On the first day of training we had been told in passing that coprophagia is something that some dogs do and isn’t necessarily a concern. We were not taught in detail how to toilet a dog or how to recognise that a dog needs to toilet.

The day after the incident it became clear in discussion with ADC staff that coprophagia was a known and ongoing problem with my dog, which we had not been warned about. They claimed that it was because the custom-manufactured food they give their dogs is so nutritious.

In hindsight, when ADC told us that coprophagia is something “some dogs” do, they were probably trying to prepare us for my dog’s coprophagia issue. This meant they could later dismiss my alarm by saying they had warned us. Giving this vague and indirect warning to an autistic person with hygiene and contamination anxiety was completely inadequate. I suspect ADC simply hoped that it wouldn’t come up during the sleepover and they might never have to address it directly.

ADC’s response: They stated that they believe coprophagia is not a hygiene risk for assistance dogs, and can be managed by the handler.

They also said that my matched dog did fit their selection criteria, is still a suitable candidate, and as such will be offered to another client of the programme.

Dog too young to evaluate or train

I was matched with my prospective assistance dog in August 2022. He was nine months old at the time and hadn’t been neutered yet. In ADC’s programme guide, they say that at match, dogs will be at least a year old and already neutered.

At the time I didn’t question it, because I’ve never had a dog before and I wanted to trust that ADC knew what they were doing. But during visits with my dog, me and my family were repeatedly told that he was “just a puppy”, that he was hormonal, and that these were getting in the way of his training.

I’ve spoken to several experienced assistance dog trainers since then, and they universally agree that a dog needs to be at least a year old to even be properly evaluated for suitability as an assistance dog. Some trainers recommend a minimum of two or even three years. Puppies can be tested for temperament but until they reach adulthood it’s impossible to guarantee that they will succeed. It’s clear that a nine-month-old puppy is far too young to be considered or trained for service work, and in retrospect that was apparent from my dog’s behaviour when I met him.

ADC’s response: They said that I misinterpreted their policy, and instead it means that the dog will be at least 12 months old when delivered to the client.

(If this interpretation is correct, then I no longer believe that my dog was too young according to ADC policy — instead I believe that ADC policy is simply unsuitable. Experienced assistance dog trainers widely agree that one year of age is too young to properly begin training an assistance dog, let alone to deliver a “finished” dog to a client.)

Outdated and debunked training methods

During the residential family teaching, the head trainer talked about the methods ADC use to train their dogs. He explained that dogs will try to be dominant over humans, and that must be prevented to get a dog to be obedient. He taught us that training should involve 99% positive reinforcement, and 1% corrections or punishments to enforce obedience. He mentioned that “purely positive” or “force free” trainers refuse to use any corrections, and as a result dogs are allowed to do whatever they want and fail to learn the rules they should follow. And he illustrated this with a story of a guide dog organisation which switched over to force-free training methods and had a drastically reduced success rate.

During a heel-walking practise session, I was instructed to give a sharp tug on the lead to correct my dog when he became distracted. I was told several times that my tugs weren’t firm enough and I needed to pull harder. I found this very difficult because it was obvious that it was an aversive experience for the dog, and I didn’t want to hurt him.

When I later researched training methods myself to learn more, I found that several of the claims the head trainer made have been discredited by evidence and research.

• A 2009 peer-reviewed study concluded “there is no reason to suppose that “trying to achieve status” is characteristic of dog-human interaction”.
• A 2020 peer-reviewed study found that aversive training methods make dogs more stressed and aren’t any more effective.
• L. David Mech, the author who popularised the “alpha wolf” theory espoused by ADC’s head trainer, formally retracted his analysis of dominance social structure in 1999.
• When Guide Dogs for the Blind changed away from aversive training methods, their success rate increased from 45–50% to 60–85%.

I am unsure why the head trainer of an assistance dog organisation would seemingly not have incorporated these advancements in behavioural science into his work. I cannot help but suspect that his aggressive attacks on opposing training methods — even though my family and I arrived as “blank slates” with no preconceptions — may have arisen from his own awareness that his methods are increasingly outdated. It felt like he was trying to bias us against anything we might find later that would undermine his approach. Continuing education and research should be central to any dog training programme, and ADC assures us that it is, but it seems that they choose to only follow developments which support their existing methods.

ADC’s response: They mentioned that their training methods meet the standards of the various organisations they are accredited by, and that their head and supporting trainers have years of experience and relevant qualifications. They said that the team strives to stay up to date with scientific developments (but did not respond to any of the specific sources I provided which discredit their current approach).

Issues with people

Poor and unplanned education

Of the training modules we were given during the residential family teaching, one consisted entirely of being shown a series of YouTube videos, with frequent disorienting pauses for unplanned commentary from the head trainer. In at least one case, the trainer said he had not watched the video before, but had simply searched for relevant terms and played the first result. Several of the videos contained hardly any information relevant to the subject of the module.

One particularly unpleasant video (which I link to reluctantly only as a reference, and not an endorsement) consisted entirely of a misogynistic diatribe from a dog trainer, about the “single white childless women” who disagree with his training approach. The video didn’t contain any useful information about his actual training methods, it was exclusively focused on the drama of publicly naming and attacking people who disagree with him. There was absolutely nothing for us to learn from the video except that the person who made it was aggressive and sexist. The head trainer attempted to reassure us that it wasn’t misogynistic, because the people who disagree with these training approaches really are single women.

ADC’s response: They said that their training modules are always planned in advance, and they aim to present a range of different training methods for completeness. They apologised that the content of the video had made us uncomfortable.

Unqualified and incorrect judgements about my and my partner’s health and abilities

When ADC told me I was being dropped from the programme, my partner contacted them to ask for more explanation (since I had become unable to interact with ADC directly myself due to distress). We were told it was because of my “growing health concerns.” This was a very confusing response, because my health has not changed over the last two years. In my original application I explained that I had suspected Ehlers-Danlos syndrome (EDS) and suspected postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS). I received formal diagnoses for these conditions recently, but the symptoms had been present for years before I ever contacted ADC — formal recognition had no impact on my day-to-day abilities. If anything, having confirmed diagnoses has improved my understanding of and my ability to handle the health issues which I have had for a long time.

I was never asked directly about whether my health or abilities had changed. ADC never asked if I felt I would be able to perform specific tasks or activities regularly, or asked how my health might affect them. From internal emails (which I saw after making a GDPR request), it looks like at one point the CEO intended to ask me for more specific information about how my health issues affect my daily activities — but this never happened. I was never given the opportunity to decide for myself whether I had the ability to do what was required for the programme.

In explaining why they ended the programme, ADC also said that my partner’s health concerns had grown. This was a surprise to my partner, whose condition has been consistent for many years — and in fact gradually improving with the use of mobility aids and PA support. ADC never asked me or my partner directly about their health, whether it had changed, or what capacity they had to support me.

I can only assume that ADC staff made these assumptions about my and my partner’s health based on the superficial observations that:

• We both used wheelchairs when we attended the residential teaching. We had informed ADC about this in advance, but it was the first time they had seen either of us using wheelchairs.
• We were both tired when we got to the residential teaching, because we are both physically disabled, and we had travelled for seven hours to get there.
• We were both overloaded during the residential teaching, because we are both neurodivergent, and were subjected to three busy days of new situations, concentrating on poor-quality education, and interacting with unfamiliar people.

Our abilities during the residential teaching were clearly not representative of our abilities during everyday life. But instead of asking us for more information or voicing their concerns, ADC made sweeping unspoken assumptions and didn’t give us any opportunity to correct them. My partner and I both feel insulted and violated by the fact that a group of strangers who are not medical professionals decided that our health had deteriorated based on superficial evidence, and without ever asking us directly. ADC seemed to judge our level of disability based on the mobility aids we used, ignoring that we had invisible disabilities which were always present — and ignoring that both of us have found using wheelchairs greatly improves our energy and pain levels.

ADC’s response: They simply reiterated that they “observed” that both mine and my partner’s health had worsened over the course of the programme. The observations they described were that we were both tired during the residential training (because of the amount of travel and overloading activity), and that I had lost weight and looked “frail.” They also mentioned that they didn’t know the training would be difficult for us, because we did not mention our concerns in advance. (We did not mention them because we were not asked.)

Chaotic, unprofessional, and duplicitous communication

Overall, ADC repeatedly failed to be direct about their expectations of me or my family. I was not told what ADC wanted me to do, and I was not told when I failed to do it. I was given no opportunity to learn or correct my mistakes. Instead, ADC allowed problems to build up without mentioning them, and then dropped me without any clear explanation or chance to improve. Their communication throughout was unprofessional, duplicitous, and unclear.

After the residential teaching (when my dog ate faeces, I had an autistic shutdown, and he had to be collected early), the CEO reassured my family and I that everything was going to be okay, that it was normal to have struggles at this stage, and invited feedback from us. We answered with some suggestions and requests for things which would help me to learn and benefit from the programme in future. But it’s now clear that this was never a genuine request for feedback, because the previous day the CEO had privately written to the trustees “I doubt they are able to give any dog a happy life.”

In another internal conversation with trustees after the residential teaching, the psychotherapist wrote that “I recall in [our session] all that time ago that expectation was a bit off.” I was never told about this at the time, so I still have no idea which expectation was “off”, or what I should have been expecting instead. If my expectations were so wrong at that early stage, I would expect ADC to either end the programme or correct me, not to continue without comment.

In a later internal conversation in November 2022, the CEO wrote of me and my family that “despite their intelligence they really don’t have a grasp on what we do at all” — once again referring to expectations that were never explained or corrected at any point during the programme.

Based on the documents I saw after making a GDPR request, most internal discussions about me were in the form of informal whatsapp conversations with no agenda, voting, or minutes. This includes the trustee meeting in which ADC chose to drop me from the programme — there seems to be no actual record of this decision at all.

In another trustee conversation after the residential teaching, the CEO described their time with me and my neurodivergent family as the “strangest” and “oddest” experience they’ve had. These are words which are frequently used to dismiss, insult, and ostracise autistic people, which seems shockingly unprofessional from a charity specifically created to support autistic people.

ADC’s response: They pointed out the various meetings and documents I had during the programme which they said serve to communicate their expectations (without pointing out any of our specific misconceptions). They also mentioned that they have been accredited and commended by the National Autistic Society for their training topics. (After their response we still have no idea what it is that we apparently failed to grasp about ADC.)

Failure to adapt to our lack of dog experience

From when I first applied to the programme, I was very upfront about having no previous experience owning pet dogs. During the residential teaching, my family were also honest from the start that they had minimal collective dog experience. We all reiterated this at many points during the teaching, and tried to remind staff that even fundamental things which seem obvious to “dog people” would need to be explained to us from scratch.

Despite this, ADC still expected us to instinctively know things which we had no experience of. For example, staff mentioned that my dog would stand by the door after they left the room because he wanted to follow familiar people. When they left him alone with us to have lunch, he stood by the door, and then urinated on the floor. Afterwards staff told us that we should have known when he went over to the door it meant he needed to go outside to toilet. We didn’t know where the staff would be during lunch, and didn’t have a way to contact them. We knew that staff often had to move around other dogs roaming outside of the room when we needed to leave, and were never told what we should do about that if we thought my dog did need to go outside.

My prior pet experience is with cats and other smaller animals. The “polite” way to interact with a new cat is to ignore it, and give it the opportunity to approach of its own accord. This is what I tried to do when meeting my dog, because I didn’t want him to feel overwhelmed by attention from strangers and wanted him to be free to interact only if he chose to. I was never told that I was being tested on my interactions with the dog, or given an explanation of what I was doing wrong so I could practise engaging in the right way.

During the first training modules, we were instructed that my family should strictly avoid being too “interesting” to my dog, and should mostly ignore him to encourage him to interact with me. But in internal discussion, the CEO criticised my family because “they literally ignored” my dog. It seems there was an unspoken expectation that my family should disregard the instructions they had just been given, in order to demonstrate engagement during the training. This was never directly explained to us, and we were not given any opportunity to understand or learn how to show engagement in the way ADC wanted from us.

ADC’s response: They said they observed a lack of empathy and compassion towards the dog, which they say started before we were taught that my family should mostly ignore him. They attempted to clarify by saying that “‘mostly’ does not mean completely, and that ignoring can be interpreted as being disinterested in the process and the dog.” (I think this illustrates well that even ADC can’t explain what display of engagement they were expecting from us, and we had no chance of intuiting it ourselves. We are a group of neurodivergent adults, and we were very interested in the process and the dog — ADC simply refused to consider that as autistic people we might express that interest by focusing quietly.)

No clear policy on or consideration of breed preferences

When I first made contact with ADC, the CEO and I briefly discussed dog breeds. She explained that ADC usually use labrador retrievers or first-generation crosses with them, but that they have also occasionally used other breeds, including pure poodles. I wasn’t asked if I had any specific needs or preferences regarding breed, either in that conversation or at any point during the application.

Part of the programme involves having a session with ADC’s own psychotherapist. During that session, I realised that according to the programme guide the next stage would be matching me with a dog — and that I had still not been asked about breed requirements. So I brought up the topic myself, even though I wasn’t sure if the psychotherapist was the right person to talk to about it. I explained that I would cope better with the grooming requirements of a poodle than a shedding breed like a labrador. The psychotherapist agreed to pass on that information to the other staff to help them choose a dog.

In an internal email shortly after the session (which I saw only later in a GDPR request), the CEO told the psychotherapist that ADC would have declined my original application if they knew I needed a poodle. She wrote that she intended to talk to me about it, but this never happened, and instead the programme continued with no further discussion. A few months later I was contacted and offered a match with a labrador retriever. I replied to remind them of the conversation I’d had with the psychotherapist about breeds, and I was then told that ADC would source a poodle for me instead.

It is still not at all clear to me what ADC’s policy is on breed selection or how they follow it. I was never told that a poodle was not an option, or that my application should have been declined from the start. The application didn’t involve any discussion of grooming needs or sensory preferences in regard to dog breed, size, or coat — even though these are all very significant factors to consider for any prospective dog owner, and particularly for many autistic people.

I now suspect that part of the reason there were issues with my dog is because ADC struggled to find a suitable adult poodle, and instead rushed to find a puppy that was too young to evaluate or train. If ADC knew they were unable to provide a poodle, they could have been honest with me and ended the programme at that point, instead of wasting time and money on an unsuitable dog before blaming me when the programme failed. Better yet, they could have asked questions upfront about breed requirements, or given clear information about the breeds they can (and cannot) provide during the application stage.

ADC’s response: They said that they use their years of experience to make dog matches based on the information in the application, which doesn’t involve directly asking the client about their own breed preferences. (The application form asked general questions about my diagnoses and living situation, and didn’t cover practical dog-related issues like brushing, grooming or vacuuming.)

Ignoring autistic communication needs

When I applied for the programme, I was given a form to fill in which included questions on my communication needs. In my answers I explained that:

• I find it easiest to communicate in writing.
• I struggle with spoken conversations.
• I cannot process audio or speech well.
• For important conversations, email or text is always preferable.
• I cannot intuit what information is relevant to give or when, if I am not asked specific questions.
• When learning, I need written instructions with lots of detail and explanation, given to me in advance so I can process and ask questions before doing anything.

These needs — most of them extremely common among autistic people — were consistently and repeatedly ignored by ADC staff throughout the programme. During the residential visit, most of the teaching was presented in the form of videos or talks, sometimes with supporting powerpoint presentations. We were sent copies of the powerpoints after the training, but didn’t have any written information to refer to during the sessions. Some of the modules had no powerpoints and we never received any written information on them.

In the notes of a team meeting about my case (which I saw only after they dropped me from the programme and I made a GDPR request), staff discussed my “failure to be able to translate some key/basic information into practical tasks.” I was unable to do this because I was never given written instructions, even though I explained very early in the process that this is what I need in order to learn. Struggling to generalise or apply lessons is a common trait for autistic people, and ADC made no effort to adapt their teaching in order to help me do this.

In a conversation with the trustees (again, seen only after I was dropped), the CEO criticised my family and I because we “literally said nothing” during the residential teaching. I was quiet because I was working very hard to listen and concentrate on information that was in a very difficult format to process, as my communication needs were being ignored. The rest of my family are all neurodivergent (autistic, ADHD, or both) and so they all also have difficulty with communication, concentration, and sensory processing. When I discussed this with them afterwards, they all agreed that they were quiet because they were trying — and struggling — to focus on the training. I am still genuinely confused about what ADC would have preferred us to do, since listening quietly and not interrupting during a presentation is a basic manner that my family and I all learned in school.

Most significantly, when the board decided to drop me from the programme, I was informed through an uncaptioned video message sent to me via whatsapp. This is among the least accessible forms of communication I could possibly receive, and it shows that my communication preferences had been completely ignored throughout. The CEO said that her justification for sending a video was to let me see her facial expressions, but this was clearly nothing to do with my own needs — since I had never suggested that facial expressions were at all important to me. In hindsight I feel that choosing to send a video was more about the CEO’s feelings than mine.

My needs were repeatedly ignored, in favour of what was easy or comfortable for ADC staff. I was given training in ways that the staff knew were inaccessible to me, and then I was blamed for not being able to learn from it or not appearing to engage in the “correct” ways. Neurodivergent readers — just like my family and I — will surely be familiar with these sentiments from traumatic school experiences.

ADC’s response: They said that because they had previously interacted with me face-to-face and through video calls, they assumed this was perfectly suitable and that my earlier stated preferences could be ignored. (Being able to push through one video call at the expense of distress and exhaustion does not mean that video calls are easy for me, or that my preference for text has changed.)

They acknowledged that being given written information in advance, and video transcripts, would be helpful in teaching— and said they intend to do that with future clients.

They explained that they chose to send a video message about dropping me from the programme because it would seem the most personal and caring. (I would have found it much more personal and caring to receive a text message which took into account my own stated communication needs as an autistic person.)

Conclusions

ADC showed an overall lack of organisation and internal communication during my time on the programme. This meant that my needs and requests were repeatedly ignored or forgotten about, because staff apparently had no central record of discussions related to my case which they could refer to. On several occasions, ADC clearly should have told me that I was not a suitable candidate or my needs could not be met, but instead of being recorded these decisions were lost and forgotten until the next issue arose. And when these questions and problems built up to the point that ADC could apparently no longer ignore them, they suddenly dropped me from the programme and placed the blame with me instead of taking responsibility for their own mistakes.

The senior staff seemed to lack understanding in how to interact with autistic adults. This was quite surprising as they specialise in working with autistic people, and particularly disappointing since their CEO and many staff members are autistic themselves. But the staff seemed to have no idea how to respond to me and my family of neurodivergent adults advocating for our own needs. We were frequently subject to unspoken expectations, vague instructions, and failures to adapt communication and teaching. And when this resulted in us not understanding what to do or not behaving as expected, we were never given clear information that anything was wrong or how to improve.

Finally, the selection and training of my dog did not seem to be of a sufficient standard to produce a successful assistance dog. The head trainer espoused outdated and debunked dominance theory and the use of aversive corrections. My dog was selected and trained as an adolescent, much too young to be stable in temperament, and his behavioural issues were dismissed or considered insignificant.

In my complaint I made several specific requests and recommendations for ADC to improve their programme, which were largely ignored and dismissed. They did not offer an apology, but said that they were saddened to have to end the programme. I do not believe that the organisation will make any significant changes based on my feedback. Their complaints policy gives the option for a second response from an impartial person, but because the company is so small, I do not believe that any other member of the organisation would be truly neutral or give a different response. So I felt the need to write this, to try and prevent other people from having the same experience I did in future.

Update — 24th February 2023

I have had countless responses in the few days since publishing this article.

Sadly, many of them are from former clients and other people who have had contact with ADC, sharing that they had similar traumatic experiences to me. Lots have privately told me that they were terrified to speak out about the issues they had, for fear of retribution. I’ve heard stories of people being bullied and threatened into silence. It has made me even more glad that I decided to publish this, to show that it is safe to express negative reviews of ADC, and to show that people who have been bullied don’t need to remain scared and isolated.

ADC have also responded directly in a comment, stating that they “do not agree” with the content of my post. They don’t specify which parts they disagree with. The majority of my post is simply descriptions of events that happened, based on evidence that ADC themselves voluntarily provided to me.

I assume they disagree with the small number of points where I have given my own opinion or interpretation, such as my claim that eating faeces is not acceptable behaviour for an assistance dog, or that misogynistic youtube videos are not a way of providing high-quality education. If those are the points they disagree with, then their views are already represented in the article because I have included their earlier statements.

If they are claiming to “disagree” with the facts I have presented — such as the direct quotes from their staff members and documents — that means they are accusing me of defamation and so I assume they intend to take legal action. Of course I will be happy to provide my evidence for all of these quotes to the courts as required.

Footnote:
* At the time I applied, the company was called Autism Dogs CIC. Not to be confused with Dogs For Autism, an unrelated charity I have no experience with. Also not to be confused with the Assistance Dogs Council, another unrelated charity with the same initials.