Sometimes Liv Tempesta feels like she doesn’t have any emotions. That comes with the territory when you’re coping with clinical depression.
The 19-year-old sophomore at Temple University last year tried a new type of treatment: a cat. Skittles, her 8-year-old tabby and her first emotional support animal, lived on campus with her in Johnson Hall her freshman year, forcing her into a routine and snuggling up with her when she was affected.
Now, in some ways, he’s made her feel whole.
“If I have feelings for this animal,” she said, “that means I’m still human.”
Emotional support animals, or ESAs, are owned by people with mental health disorders and deemed necessary by medical professionals. The animals, which typically have not had special training, gained popularity in 2015 when they prompted a federal guideline for housing providers, but they seemed to go viral last year following news stories about someone trying to take a dog or a peacock or a goat onto an airplane.
Ever since, ESAs have become the target of ridicule: Popeyes released an “emotional support chicken” carrier available only in airports. Ellen DeGeneres poked fun at them in her recent Netflix special. Some talking heads have questioned whether ESAs are just elaborate scams.
But despite the cries of “they’re just trying to bring their pet everywhere for free,” people — particularly those of the younger variety — are still turning to emotional support animals as a means of treating depression and anxiety.
Besides perhaps airports, nowhere is the trend more apparent than on college campuses, some of which have seen residence halls turn into Animal Houses as more students file paperwork to keep an emotional support cat, dog or hamster in their dorm room. The ESA trend took hold over the last several years while rates of anxiety and depression among college students have soared in the last decade.
In the 2017-18 school year at Temple, six students requested permission to keep such animals on campus. This school year? Twenty.
Most local colleges and universities with on-campus housing have policies related to both service animals and ESAs, which are different. The Americans for Disabilities Act describes a service animal as one that is trained to perform a task its owner can’t. For example, a trained service dog may lead a blind person while they walk or protect the head of a person with epilepsy when he or she has a seizure.
ESAs, also sometimes called “assistance animals,” usually aren’t trained as such and serve the purpose of comforting their owner, making them indistinguishable from a regular pet to an outside observer. At most schools, students must show that the animal was designated necessary by a medical provider.
In 2016, St. Joseph’s University implemented an emotional support animal policy, stating students must notify the school’s Office of Student Disability Services of their need and accept responsibility for the animal’s actions, said Christine Mecke, director of Student Disability Services at St. Joe’s. Likewise, Drexel put in place a policy including emotional support animals in 2015, while Villanova’s emotional support animal policy went into effect last summer.
The permission needed to bring an ESA on campus isn’t difficult to obtain, and those who can’t get a “prescription” from a doctor turn to the internet. CertaPet, one of the most recognized companies that certifies ESAs, connects clients with mental health providers from across the country who conduct a clinical assessment via phone and, if they deem it medically appropriate, email a letter that satisfies ESA housing or travel requirements. The whole process can be done in a matter of hours and for about $150.
Prairie Conlon, the clinical manager at CertaPet, said she knows some people may feign a mental health disorder so they can bring their pooch to college or the grocery store or another country with them for free. She’s admits there’s “a lot of fraud out there.”
She said ESAs are medically legitimate, though, and “animal-assisted intervention” is her specialty as a therapist.
Problem is, the research on ESAs is scant, and many therapists won’t “prescribe” them. Center City-based therapist Madeleine May said she’s only ever written one ESA letter for a client and instead refers patients to third parties. She questions whether ESAs can help patients expand social skills or if they instead function as a “crutch,” but she said an increase in college students requesting them makes sense.
“Depression, loneliness and anxiety, they’re on the rise on college campuses, and even if you don’t have one of those diagnosed illnesses, transitioning can be hard,” she said. “I think about people who are soothed by touch and tapping into a sensory experience. Dogs could be a good thing.”
Benjamin Daniels, clinical director at Equilibria and a psychologist based in Center City, said ESAs may help reduce anxiety for some people, but there’s a risk the animal serves as a “safety signal,” meaning the person believes they’re safe only because the animal is around.
“Then a person becomes dependent on that animal to be able to function in the world,” he said. “It’s a double-edged sword in that way.”
Tempesta said her emotional support cat helped her socially — his presence forced her to meet other people on her floor who wanted to play with him. Additionally, she said, “it’s nice to know that you’re wanted.”
“If I’m stressed about doing homework or if I had a bad day and am crying on my bed,” she said, “he will come up and lay on me and start purring.”
