Emotional Support Animals 

D. E, Larsen, DVM

When I was in a solo practice, in the small town of Sweet Home, Oregon, free time was very precious. It helped a little that Sandy worked with me in the practice. Of course, there are pluses and minuses to such an arrangement, but for the most part, we make it work.

Once in a while we were able to plan short trips. But most of the time, they just happened on the spur of the moment. The kids were at the Grandparents, the clinic was empty and the appointment book was open for the afternoon.

“Let’s run over to the coast for a late lunch,” Sandy sail.

“Sounds like a great idea if we can get out of town before the phone rings,” I replied.

We hung a sign on the door and rushed home to freshen up a bit. Then we pointed the car west and started out. It would take us a little of an hour and a half to get to our favorite restaurant in the little village of Depoe Bay. It would be a little after two in the afternoon when we arrived. Past the lunch hour and in the middle of the week, there was no real need to call for reservations. I pressed the gas pedal a little harder than I should have.

I started to relax when we topped the last hill coming into Newport and get a clear ocean view. We turned north on the Coast Highway and before we knew it, we were pulling into the parking lot of our restaurant. We stopped for a moment before entering and enjoyed the waves crashing over the rocks that jutted out into the ocean.

We were seated at the windows and the place was nearly empty of other diners. It was one of rare moments on the Oregon Coast where the weather was clear, the ocean was rough enough to be entertaining and the crowds of people were gone.

We ordered lunch and an shrimp cocktail for starters. Lunch was going to expensive, but with stolen time and a perfect setting, a few dollars were easy to spend.

Welk were just finishing our soup, Sandy’s clam chowder and my smoked salmon chowder, when I watched a couple of middle aged ladies come through the door. They were carrying a small pet carrier.

There was quite a discussion going on with the Maitre d’. I was sure it was over the pet carrier. Under Oregon Public Health Law, animals are not allowed in restaurants, with the exception of trained service animals covered by the ADA.

This was about the time when people were starting to use the title of emotional support animals for all sorts of animals. Emotional support animals are not covered by the ADA, and in Oregon, they are not allowed in restaurants.

The rules are black and white and written to protect the bonafide service animal owners rather than the establishments trying to follow the rules. In any case, the ended up seating the two ladies and their pet at the table behind Sandy.

Sandy had her back to this whole affair, and I did not bring it to her attention. The lady with the carrier was seated facing me and front of the carrier was placed on the chair beside her.

I looked close, ant there was a pair of eyes in the carrier that seemed fixed on me. It was a damn snake. 

Our stolen moment was close to crashing. I made the quick decision to not say a word. The risk to use was small and Sandy was enjoying the day. And lord knows, she deserved the moment.

I know there are people who keep reptiles as pets. But I am not a veterinarian who feels it is wise to do so. Reptiles are intermittent shedders of Salmonella bacteria. That means all reptiles. They cannot be reliably tested because one day they will test negative, and a week later they will be positive. So under all circumstances, they are a dangerous pet. That includes the turtles many kids play with and the snakes that nearly naked ladies wrap around their necks (not these ladies).

I swallowed hard, and watched Sandy enjoying her panfried oysters. It was one of her favorite meals, but there were a limited number of restaurants that she trusted to order them. I slowly ate my grilled salmon and my eyes shifted between Sandy’s eyes and that pair of eyes in the box over her right shoulder. Those eyes were always fixed on me.

We finished our lunch and watched the ocean for a short time before paying the bill and heading out for the rest of the afternoon on the coast. Sandy had no idea that she ate lunch in the company of a large snake.

We arrived back in Sweet Home just before dark. The message machine was empty, the kids were away, now to top the day off with a perfect evening. A rare event, indeed.

The next day, I called the manager of the restaurant and explained the situation and the law. He apologized and said he would get back to me after checking out the situation. 

When he called back, he said the staff remembered the ladies and stated how difficult they were. Nobody knew there was a snake in the carrier, but the ladies expressed it was their emotional support animal and demanded accommodation. He did call his county health department and they concurred with my opinion.

“This leaves us in a very difficult situation and with little of no support from the health department,” the manager said.

When I called the county health department, they concurred with me but offered little help for the establishment.

“The ADA limits what an establishment can ask to confirm that the animal in question is a bonafide service animal,” the inspector said. “Our hands are tied.”

“Well, you might want to develop a set of guidelines for the restaurants,” I said. “And you might want to start enforcing the law.”

“Enforcement is difficult beyond just fining the establishment,” the inspector said.

“Then, if you’re not going to enforce the law, you should change it,” I said. “But before you do that, you might want to know why the law was put in place in the first place.”

Sandy was standing at the office door when I hung up the phone.

“What was that all about?” She asked.

“I was just talking with the Lincoln County Health department about the snake we ate lunch with yesterday,” I said.

“What snake?” Sandy asked.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you the whole story!” I replied.

Photo Credits: Sandy – personal photo; Snake – Engin Akyurt on Pexels.