Wednesday, April 24, 2002
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Wednesday, April 24, 2002 |
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It takes a village to raise a guide dog By SALLIE
SATTERTHWAITE
It takes a village to raise a guide dog. If you doubt it, ask Maria Cheek. Or her mom. Her Uncle Mark, or her neighbors. Ask Ann and Ron Bowman. Ask Duane Tallman and other veterinarians who contribute medical care. Ask the merchants who don't merely tolerate but welcome guide-dogs-in-training in their stores. Ask pastors and teachers and hairdressers and classmates they'll tell you. It takes a village, maybe even a county or two. Maria is a nearly 14-year-old Peachtree City eighth grader who became intrigued with the idea of raising a future guide for a blind person when she saw Ann and Ron Bowman with their first dog in church. The yellow Lab was not only well-behaved and quiet while in the pew, but walked to the altar rail with the Bowmans when they received Communion, lying down and very properly crossing her forepaws. That was Hera. Since Hera, the Bowmans, who live in Palmetto, have had two more pups. The second was discovered to have mild hip displasia and would not be acceptable as a guide dog. She may soon be working for the Customs service. Their current dog is Rachel, who came from Leader Dog in Rochester, Mich., when she was seven weeks old and, like her predecessors, accompanies Ann Bowman wherever she goes. "I go shopping with her in all kinds of stores, and they've always made us welcome," she said. "We go to grocery stores and restaurants, the post office, the hairdresser, playgrounds, motorcycle races anywhere we can go, she can go." On the rare occasions that a question arises, it is usually resolved by showing a copy of the Georgia law permitting guide dogs even those in training into every public place. "The dog must be wearing the training jacket," Bowman said. "And they don't get that until they're about four months old. They must be housebroken and able to follow the basic commands. But when that jacket comes off, they can play like any pup, and they know it." Inspired by the Bowmans, Maria took on Mutzi last spring, and became one of the youngest puppy raisers Southeastern Guide Dogs Inc. has worked with. Sure, her family helps, but Maria is chief care giver and trainer for the jet-black Lab. At 80 or 85 pounds now, the big fellow will top out near 100, Maria says. When a stranger came into their family room recently to meet him, Mutzi barked good-naturedly and lunged, nearly pulling his slender trainer off her feet. But that was OK. They still have work to do. And when he's not wearing the jacket that tells him and the world that he's working and must behave, he too is allowed to be a playful pup. "Wearing that jacket tells him it's time to work," Maria explained. "And he loves it. It gets him used to wearing a harness later." Mutzi received his rather odd name from a sorority in Florida which sponsored him, Maria said. Puppy sponsors make a donation of about $1,500 to get a pup started in life: his vet bills, initial inoculations and placement costs. That entitles the sponsor to name the dog and follow his "career" until he reaches his final destination at the side of a visually impaired person. At least that's the goal. Some dogs, for a variety of reasons, just don't make it as guides for the blind, but there are several worthwhile alternative ways they can serve. They can be trained to alert the deaf to the sound of a telephone or doorbell or traffic. They also become companions for those whose mobility is restricted, retrieving dropped objects and opening doors. If for some reason a dog does not prove suitable for persons with disabilities, he or she may become a bomb- or contraband-sniffing dog, or part of a border patrol team with the Immigration and Naturalization Service. Dogs with particularly good blood lines and dispositions may become breeders a possibility for Mutzi, since he was not neutered at six months as most dogs-in-training are. So far Mutzi has mastered "heel," "stay," and sitting on command, and must sit before going through a door or eating. He is not allowed to play with a ball for the safety of the blind, is never allowed on furniture and may not eat table scraps all restrictions that do not apply to Soppy the Cheek family mutt, nor to Heidi the cat. "Mutzi can't go to Grandma's any more," Maria noted. "She just got new white carpet." She hastened to add that this rule had more to do with shedding than in-door accidents, which have been rare. Maria and Mutzi belong to a support group comprised of puppy raisers from several counties. The group meets every two weeks for discussions or to hear speakers such as guide dog users, and includes a professor at West Georgia College in Carrollton who takes his dog-in-training to class. Even more important is Maria's "support" group at home: her family and friends. When she's at school and her parents at work or asleep after a night shift, Maria's uncle, Mark Williams, who lives with the family, feeds Mutzi and takes him out for walks and the necessities of life. Williams, 53 and mentally retarded, is not expected to train the dog, but has bonded with him and takes satisfaction in knowing his help is indispensable. "We couldn't do it without Mark," said Amy Cheek. A friend's dad also helps, and has enjoyed the experience so much he plans to participate in the program soon himself. |
