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© St. Petersburg Times, published December 22, 2002
St. Petersburg Times staff photographer Ken Helle had always been curious about Southeastern Guide Dogs Inc. in Palmetto. Where did its dogs come from? How were they trained? And where did the dogs end up?
He contacted Southeastern, a nonprofit organization that places guide dogs with blind owners at no charge. With the group's cooperation, Helle set out to photograph the making of a guide dog from its birth to its placement. The dog he tailed was Holly, the female yellow Lab you see here.
During his work, Helle was introduced to the puppy-raiser program, in which families keep guide dog puppies as pets until the dogs are mature enough to begin training. Holly was fostered by the Sandberg family of Tarpon Springs. The Sandbergs allowed Helle to photograph them living and playing with a pet they knew they'd eventually have to part with.
Today Holly is the best friend of and guide to a 65-year-old woman in Charlotte, N.C. This project, conceived in 1998, chronicles more than four years in a working dog's life.
Southeastern Guide Dogs uses six breeds: Labrador retrievers, golden retrievers, Australian shepherds, Hungarian Vizslas, German shepherds and collies. It also crossbreeds Labs and goldens, and collies and shepherds. Here, Diana Herold, then Southeastern's head of whelping, comforts Attie, a yellow Lab in the midst of birthing a litter. (The dogs hadn't been given names when this picture was taken, but Holly is in there somewhere.) Southeastern is always looking for people to sponsor dogs. The cost of breeding and training a guide dog and training its owner is $15,000.
This is Holly at 2 to 3 weeks old. (Okay, everybody, one, two, three: Awwwwww.) Southeastern keeps newborn puppies for nine weeks, then places them with foster families that raise them, usually until they're 14 to 20 months old. (The Sandbergs kept Holly a little longer.) The families housebreak the dogs and teach them how to behave well in public. Of the 300 animals Southeastern places each year, 60 to 70 percent will end up having what it takes to become a guide dog. "They can't have any traffic shyness or be fearful of any situation," says Kim Marlow, Southeastern's development director. "And they have to be willing to accept the responsibility of having somebody's life in their hands."
Mike and Jean Sandberg say they signed up to be puppy raisers because they want to teach their children -- Kris, 14, Leland, 11, and Annelise, 10 -- to give to others. Ask the kids about raising Holly and they'll just say it was fun. They took the dog everywhere they went -- to the grocery store, to church, to a pool party for other puppy-raiser families (here, Jean holds Holly's leash while Annelise pets Holly's brother). They even took Holly to music and ballet performances. "She was a very well-cultured dog," Jean says. Maybe, but Holly did not have perfect manners. Once, Annelise turned her back in the kitchen and her French toast disappeared.
"Holly was the best alarm clock I ever had," Jean Sandberg says. At 7 each morning, Holly woke the children with a lick on the ear, as she starts to do here to Annelise. At 8 a.m., Holly would curl up in a corner, and the kids would begin their studies (they were homeschooled at the time). Holly got her education during her two years with the Sandbergs. Jean took her on airplanes and buses, and everyone helped teach her basic obedience. Then one day Southeastern called and said it was time for Holly to begin her formal training. The family knew it was for the best. "We're a family of faith, so we knew that God already had Holly's owner picked out," Jean says.
The curb is a bane to blind people because they can fall off it or get hit by cars just beyond it. One of a guide dog's most important jobs is to stop at every curb. It takes a lot of repetition for dogs to get the idea. Here, Southeastern trainer Katherine Ulrich praises Holly for a job well done during lessons in Bradenton. Ulrich knows about the dangers of intersections. Recently, she was working with a dog and its blind owner in Winston-Salem, N.C., when two cars collided nearby. One of them struck her and smashed one of her legs; she won't walk again for six months. The dog and its owner weren't hurt. And Ulrich is quick to say that the dog couldn't have done anything to save her. "Just one of those freak things."
Most of us look at an escalator and see an easy way to get to the appliance department. Dogs see danger. "They think of it as an obstacle because it is moving," says Heidi Illgen, who trained Holly on escalators. Usually Illgen waits until she has worked with a dog for 10 hours or so before she takes it on an escalator. Then she steps on, calls the dog to follow and gives the leash a little tug. When the dog follows, she showers it with affection. Once in a great while, a dog will catch a toenail and end up bleeding a little bit. Most come to love the escalator. "Once the dog is comfortable with it, that's the first thing they'll take me up to," Illgen says.
Mary Klattenhoff of Charlotte, N.C., was born blind. She asked for a guide dog after her mother, who "was my eyes for a lot of things," had a stroke. Southeastern matched Klattenhoff with Paddy, a black Lab. "I'm a Missouri Synod Lutheran, and she would go to the altar with me to take communion. They never gave her communion but not because she didn't ask." For years she and Paddy were inseparable. When Paddy got too old to guide her, Southeastern got Klattenhoff a new dog: Holly. Here, she and trainer Ulrich introduce Holly to Klattenhoff's friend Earthlun "Fergie" Ferguson. "Fergie loves dogs. I was very proud to show him Holly."
A while after she got Holly, Klattenhoff brought her back to Florida to visit Southeastern and see the Sandbergs (left to right, Mike, Leland, Jean, Annelise and Kris). Such reunions are often fraught with emotion. "The big fear of the person getting the dog is that the dog is going to remember the person who raised it and it's not going to love me anymore," says Illgen, Holly's trainer. The Sandbergs were instructed to remain seated while Klattenhoff got settled ("They told us to stay," Jean Sandberg says). But Holly wasn't as polite; when she saw the Sandbergs, she ran right to them, her tail swinging like crazy. After they hugged and kissed her, she returned to Klattenhoff and lay down by her side. The Sandbergs haven't seen Holly since.
Klattenhoff's old guide dog, Paddy, now enjoying retirement, is different from Holly. "Paddy's my "What the hell' dog," Klattenhoff says. "You tell her to do something and you get the feeling that she says, "I don't want to do it, but what the hell, I'll do it anyway.' Holly's more headstrong. She knows what she's supposed to do, and you'd better do it her way." Also, Paddy is sociable in a way Holly is not. When Paddy lies down, she faces the door so she can greet people. Holly always faces Klattenhoff. (This picture was made at the blind services agency where Klattenhoff worked until recently.) Klattenhoff says she'll always be grateful to the Sandbergs. "I want them to understand what they have done for me. They have really given me a gift."
For information about Southeastern Guide Dogs Inc. and the puppy-raiser program, please call toll-free 1-800-944-3647 or see the organization's Web site, www.guidedogs.org.