The Case Against Emotional Support Animals

Loving dogs doesn’t necessarily mean loving them on airplanes

The first big "adult" thing I did after I graduated from college was adopt a dog. She was a Westie named Genevieve, and for fourteen years, we were inseparable. Right after my first baby was born, we discovered a tumor in Genevieve's eye, and the vet told me that she was going to need her eyeball removed. I was so consumed with worry about Genevieve that I vividly recall thinking, I'm pretty sure I love my dog more than I love my baby. Don't worry—I came around to the baby—but I'm telling you this story to show just how much I loved having a pet. She, unfortunately, passed away soon after my second baby was born, and I miss her terribly.

Even though I love dogs, I understand that many people feel differently. Of course she provided me feelings of love and comfort, but she elicited in other people feelings of fear, anxiety, and disgust. So, when Genevieve was alive, I tried to be respectful and to keep her away from people who weren't dog people.

Which brings me to Emotional Support Animals.

I have several concerns about ESAs and their growing prevalence in our communities. To be clear from the outset: I'm specifically discussing ESAs, not service animals like seeing-eye dogs or seizure alert dogs. The distinction is crucial. Service animals undergo rigorous training to perform specific, life-enabling tasks. ESAs, by contrast, are defined by their passive role of providing comfort through their presence.

Currently, ESAs are granted special protections in shared living spaces and on airplanes. With documentation from a mental health professional, you can allow your ESA to live with you in an apartment that is designated pet free, and you can bring your ESA onto an airplane with you, sometimes avoiding the requirement to keep them in a carrier and bypassing the additional pet fee that's usually charged for them to fly.

I don't think ESAs should have legal protections at all.

First, there's the widespread abuse of the system. Many people obtain ESA letters and register their pets simply to circumvent restrictions and exercise their preferences. This isn't speculation. We've all heard stories of people gaming the system to live and travel with their pets.

Second, there is a striking lack of empirical evidence supporting ESAs as a therapeutic intervention. Unlike established mental health treatments that undergo rigorous scientific validation, like exposure therapy and anxiety-reducing medications, the therapeutic benefits of ESAs remain largely anecdotal. While many people—like me—report feeling better with their animals, we need more than personal testimony to justify these sorts of accommodations.

Third, ESAs can actively harm others in shared spaces. Consider individuals with severe pet allergies or those with genuine animal phobias. Their medical and psychological needs are effectively subordinated to those of people who have ESA accommodations. ESAs almost always create an impossible situation in which accommodating one person's needs directly conflicts with another's health and well-being.

Fourth, ESAs compromise the effectiveness of service animals. People who are less familiar with service animals than they are with ESAs think you can treat all those animals similarly—like pets. But engaging with service animals distracts them from their job and reduces their usefulness to the individuals who depend on them.

Finally, the proliferation of ESAs risks devaluing the entire concept of disability accommodations. When ESA fraud is rampant, evidence is weak, and requirements are loose, it casts doubt on other legitimate accommodations. It creates challenges for people with disabilities who increasingly face skepticism because their accommodations get lumped in with ESAs.

I anticipate pushback on these points. People will share stories about how their ESA helped them through depression or anxiety. These experiences are valid and meaningful to the individuals involved. However, perhaps it's time to acknowledge both the comfort that pets can provide and the need for evidence-based, equitable solutions to mental health problems that don't come at the expense of others.

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I really wanted to post something from the Wicked movie, but I really don’t want to spoil anything if you haven’t seen it yet. Go! In the meantime, here’s another great example of Jonathan Bailey following in Norbert Leo Butz’s footsteps.