"Look Mommy!" the small girl squealed, watching my 9-pound Papillion service dog pick up the car keys I'd dropped. "That doggy wants to drive the car!"

Driving a car is one of the few things my service dog Peek can't do for me. However, the tasks he performs for me each day more than make up for his inability to play chauffeur. As a person with a disability using a wheelchair for legs, I remain independent and self-sufficient because Peek handles tasks, which are difficult or painful for me to perform.

Each morning Peek hears the alarm clock ring, then slaps the snooze button with his paw for 5 more minutes of snuggling in bed. After nature breaks, he helps tug off my pajamas, then hands them to me to fold and put away.

When I am dressed, Peek knows it's time to make the bed, and jumps in position on the far side of the mattress, waiting for the cue to "tug the covers." Grasping the sheet between his teeth, he pulls it up toward the bedstead, and then repeats the task with the comforter. "Pillows," I whisper. Peek pulls them into place then looks to me for another cue. I dream of ways to teach him to pour me a cup of coffee, but so far the training techniques elude me.

When breakfast is finished, Peek helps me with the housework. Following me from room to room, he picks up any object. I point to the cordless phone, and he fetches it and places it on the hook. The TV controls are deposited on the end table. Peek reluctantly stashes away all his toys in his toy box, sighs, and follows me to the kitchen.

I point to the lower cupboard and say “Open.” Peek pulls on the leather thong attached to the handle, then waits, as I throw trash into the container under the sink, before closing the door with a swipe of his paw.

Because I get dizzy when I bend over, on laundry days Peek’s job is to tug the clothes out of the dryer and put them in the clothesbasket for me, while I sit in my wheelchair and fold them. And although he’d prefer to sleep in the pile of dirty clothes, he does my bidding by bringing me the next load to be washed – one piece at a time.

When we have outings, Peek jumps on my lap and presses the handicap door opener button for me. We roll to the elevator, where he again presses the button with his nose, and we are off.

The public is used to seeing large breeds doing service dog work, but a toy dog performing these tasks always raises eyebrows. Comments of “Oh, he’s so cute!” soon turn to “Oh, he’s so helpful!” when they see a toy dog do many of the things a large breed service dog can do.

Most large service dog training programs overlook the amazing abilities of toy working dogs. They prefer dogs like Golden Retrievers, which have a history of even temperament, and whose size and strength make them easily adaptable to those with a wide variety of disabilities. And it is true that large dogs are needed for those requiring assistance in pulling wheelchairs, pulling heavy doors, or getting in and out of the tub. But not all people with disabilities require that level of assistance. Many with mobility impairments mainly need a dog to do retrieval tasks, and a toy dog is indeed a viable option.

For those living in small apartments, a toy service dog may be ideal. Traveling by car or plane is certainly easier with a smaller dog. In restaurants, they fit easily under a chair or table, and more discretely than their large canine counterparts. Clean up after nature calls is easier, and the amount of food consumed is considerably less.

Toy breeds have much to offer as service dogs. But it will take advocates to spread the word and herald the successes of those already working in the field before they are taken seriously. I look forward to the day when a cruise through the mall will gain me comments of “Oh, what a fine working partner you have!” instead of “Oh, what a cute puppy!”

It can happen.

Originally published Interactions, Vol. 15, No. 33, 1997, pp. 14-15.