LOS ANGELES — Underwater treadmills. Acupuncture. Laser muscle therapy. Deep-tissue massage. It sounds like the cushy treatment regime at an exclusive health spa, and it is … for dogs.
Welcome to the weird world of canine rehabilitation, a burgeoning field of physical therapy for post-surgical pooches and unhealthy hounds.
“Most veterinary surgeons will say a dog doesn’t need a pain-management program, but that’s utterly ridiculous,” Leslie Gallagher, founder of canine rehab Two Hands Four Paws in Los Angeles, told The Daily.
“It’s glaringly obvious when a dog is in pain.”
Gallagher’s rehab is one of the largest such centers on the West Coast, treating more than 500 pain-addled dogs a month.
This year she expanded into a sprawling facility that includes an indoor pool for hydrotherapy and multiple private examination rooms stocked with ultrasound machines, laser devices, acupuncture kits and doggie medicine balls.
“If you see a response in dogs, you know it’s real,” explained veterinarian Nicola Hardgrove, the medical director at Two Hands Four Paws, as she inserted acupuncture needles into an injured cocker spaniel.
“In humans, you have the whole placebo effect, so it’s a little harder to tell what’s really working.”
A pioneering canine therapist when she began in 1997, Gallagher now competes with more than a dozen dog rehabs in California and hundreds nationwide.
The University of Tennessee now offers a certificate program in canine therapy, and a private school called the Canine Rehabilitation Institute has been training therapists who specialize in four-legged patients since 2003.
Two Hands Four Paws charges $240 for an initial consultation and $100 per session afterward, though it offers discounts to rescue groups that save injured dogs from being euthanized.
The $100 price tag means that some dogs that could benefit from canine therapy never get it, while other dogs get more than they need.
Gallagher said one celebrity client has his assistant drive his dog over five times a week just to go swimming, mainly because he doesn’t want the pooch befouling his own pool.
“Then there are the people who bring their perfectly healthy dogs in for a massage twice a week,” she said. “But that’s probably just an L.A. thing.”
Welcome to the weird world of canine rehabilitation, a burgeoning field of physical therapy for post-surgical pooches and unhealthy hounds.
“Most veterinary surgeons will say a dog doesn’t need a pain-management program, but that’s utterly ridiculous,” Leslie Gallagher, founder of canine rehab Two Hands Four Paws in Los Angeles, told The Daily.
“It’s glaringly obvious when a dog is in pain.”
Gallagher’s rehab is one of the largest such centers on the West Coast, treating more than 500 pain-addled dogs a month.
This year she expanded into a sprawling facility that includes an indoor pool for hydrotherapy and multiple private examination rooms stocked with ultrasound machines, laser devices, acupuncture kits and doggie medicine balls.
“If you see a response in dogs, you know it’s real,” explained veterinarian Nicola Hardgrove, the medical director at Two Hands Four Paws, as she inserted acupuncture needles into an injured cocker spaniel.
“In humans, you have the whole placebo effect, so it’s a little harder to tell what’s really working.”
A pioneering canine therapist when she began in 1997, Gallagher now competes with more than a dozen dog rehabs in California and hundreds nationwide.
The University of Tennessee now offers a certificate program in canine therapy, and a private school called the Canine Rehabilitation Institute has been training therapists who specialize in four-legged patients since 2003.
Two Hands Four Paws charges $240 for an initial consultation and $100 per session afterward, though it offers discounts to rescue groups that save injured dogs from being euthanized.
The $100 price tag means that some dogs that could benefit from canine therapy never get it, while other dogs get more than they need.
Gallagher said one celebrity client has his assistant drive his dog over five times a week just to go swimming, mainly because he doesn’t want the pooch befouling his own pool.
“Then there are the people who bring their perfectly healthy dogs in for a massage twice a week,” she said. “But that’s probably just an L.A. thing.”
