“Good girl,” I said. “You’re a SuperFeist.”

7

Lawyers Get Involved

DECADES AGO, WHEN COLLEGES had fewer rules and regulations, dogs were a fixture on campuses. Most fraternities had a dog, and professors often brought their dogs to class. What would college be without a dog chasing a Frisbee on the quad?

Sadly, those days are long gone. They were gone even before I went to college. But it’s even worse now. Not only are dogs nowhere to be seen on a campus, but most universities explicitly forbid them. Only a handful of colleges, including Caltech and MIT, allow pets, and those are cats only. Lehigh University in Pennsylvania allows one cat or dog per fraternity or sorority, but it must remain in the house at all times. The only universities that allow dogs a relatively free run of campus are Stetson University and Eckerd College in Florida, the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, and Washington and Jefferson College in Pennsylvania (although in the latter case you need to prove that it is a family dog you have owned for at least a year).

Emory University is not pet-friendly. Its policy manual reads, “Because of restrictions governing University insurance policies, concerns for the integrity of research projects, and interest in the welfare of faculty, students, staff, and visitors, it is the policy of Emory University that animals not be permitted in University buildings.”

Insurance policies? Is the welfare of the university really threatened by dogs? It sounded like some lawyer had visions of a rabid dog running amok.

There was, however, a loophole in the prohibition against dogs: animals used for research were allowed. But this meant that several committees, buttressed with lawyers, would need to sign off on it. I mentally prepared myself to do battle against an army of “No.”

When we do brain-imaging experiments on humans, all the procedures must be reviewed by a panel intended to protect volunteers from harm. Having performed close to a thousand MRIs on human subjects over the last decade, I have become accustomed to the approval process. But this time was different. We were going to scan dogs.

It is one of the sad facts of biomedical science that the road to scientific progress is littered with the bodies of both humans and animals. The modern era of human experimentation began with the Nazis. Doctors and scientists performed horrific experiments on people held in concentration camps, and all of this was justified in the name of scientific progress. During the Nuremberg Trials, these atrocities came to light. As a result, a code of conduct was established for how to do medical research without putting people at great risk. These rules have evolved over time, especially after some horrible lapses in judgment, like the Tuskegee syphilis study, which ran from 1932 all the way to 1972. In the Tuskegee study, researchers withheld treatment to disadvantaged African Americans without their knowledge so that the scientists could document the natural course of syphilis. In 1974, after the study was shut down, the National Research Act established a commission for the protection of research subjects. The commission produced a landmark document called The Belmont Report, which not only summarized the history of human biomedical experimentation since World War II, but also laid down guidelines for experiments involving humans.

The Belmont Report contains three basic principles for human research. First, there must be “respect for persons.” This means that every person has the right to make his or her own decisions, including whether to volunteer for research. In other words, you cannot force or trick someone into participating in an experiment. Second is the principle of beneficence, which means that we should maximize the good resulting from research. This also means we should not harm people in the name of research. There is a bit of a gray zone here, however, in the recognition that all research carries some risk. As long as the potential benefits outweigh the risks, then the research is generally considered okay. For example, an experimental drug for cancer may have terrible side effects, but if it has the potential to save the subject’s life, then the benefits might outweigh the risks. Finally, there is the principle of justice, or fairness, which means that scientists cannot use just poor people for research, because this would unfairly take advantage of their need to make money by renting their bodies for medical research.

While it has taken decades to work out how these principles are applied in practice for humans, the situation is entirely different with animals. The law does not recognize animals as having the same rights as humans. Legally, animals are considered property. This means that researchers can, within limits, do whatever they want with them. Usually, this means the death of the animal.

As bad as that sounds, the care of laboratory animals is highly regulated by the Department of Agriculture. The Animal Welfare Act, signed into law in 1966, specifies how animals used in research should be treated. Periodically updated, the text of the law is a mind-boggling list of rules that describes everything from cage requirements to veterinary care to methods of euthanasia.

The act requires any entity that performs research on animals, such as a university, to establish a committee to review and approve research protocols. This committee is called the Institutional Animal Care and Use Committee, or IACUC. The acronym is usually pronounced eye-a-kuk.

Let’s say I wanted to conduct some behavioral research on Callie at home, like figuring out the best method to get her to come when called. As long as I didn’t violate any animal cruelty laws, I could do whatever I wanted. Use a long leash? Fine. Try an ultrasonic whistle? Check. Use an electronic shock collar? Still okay. I wouldn’t need anyone’s permission to do any of this.

But if I asked the same question in an academic setting, like the university, it would fall under the legal jurisdiction of the Animal Welfare Act. If I wanted to write an academic paper on which dog biscuit was most effective for training, I would still need to get IACUC approval. The main difference between doing research at home and at the university is that the university is considered a “research facility” that receives money from the federal government. As part of the deal for receiving federal funds, the university must abide by all federal rules and regulations. One big part is compliance with the Animal Welfare Act. (The other is compliance with human research regulations like the ones established in The Belmont Report.)

Although I was accustomed to navigating the maze of human research rules, I had had no experience with the animal rules. Surprisingly, the rules of animal research were a lot more complicated. Unlike humans, animals have no choice in whether they want to participate in research. So while a human can theoretically judge the risks and benefits and make an informed decision, animals cannot. As a result, the rules around animal research acknowledge that their lives will be awful and limit as much as is practical the pain and suffering they must endure.

None of this seemed terribly relevant to the Dog Project. After all, the dogs were going to be people’s pets. They weren’t going to be housed at the university. The plan was for the owners to train their dogs at home and, when they were ready, bring them in for an MRI scan. Andrew and I figured this should be pretty simple. We wrote a document describing our plan for the experiment. This document spelled out the research protocol. It contained everything from how we would select the subjects, to how we would train them, to how we would protect their hearing during the scans. It even included a consent form (for the owner, not the dog).