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Soft fur and hard realities

By JIM VERHULST
Published December 19, 2004

Okay, so I went to a birthday party for a dog last week.

It's not the sort of thing self-respecting journalists tend to write about because it sounds, well, just a little goofy. The birthday girl's name is Cindy and she turned 1. I guess in dog years, she is probably 7. Or is it 8?

Her canine compadres all came over for a romp in Cindy's back yard, followed by a treat of Frosty Paws, a frozen doggy dessert in a plastic cup.

The party wasn't silly at all - no dogs dressed in clown costumes or any such foolishness. It was fun, and it was important because it marked a key milestone in this young pup's life. You see, she is growing up to be a guide dog, as are all of her mates who came to the party.

The humans at the party are foster parents to the puppies. They have been approved by Southeastern Guide Dogs Inc. to raise the pups after they are weaned until they return to school to train as guide dogs, when they are between 1 and 2 years old.

The foster parents' job is to prepare the puppies for a career of helping others, and then to give up the young dogs who have become a part of their lives. So a first birthday for one of these puppies is no small thing.

The foster parents, normal people with normal jobs, tend to know the puppies' names better than they know each other's. For this reason, the humans end up being referred to, in our case, as Skipper's Mom and Dad. I tried to resist this, but it's just easier in the end. And day by day, the name feels like a better fit.

Raising Skipper is actually a school service project for my oldest son, a junior at St. Petersburg High School, but the job inevitably has become a family project. Skipper is a little more than 5 months old, and she's a smooth-coat collie - think Lassie with a buzz cut - and, of course, she has grown on the family more than we intended. Skipper joins two cats. She doesn't get along with the big dumb one who pees on the sofa, but she does fine with the small smart one who doesn't.

The rules from Southeastern Guide Dogs across the Skyway in Palmetto are specific and strict, and we're always referring to the three-ring binder (provided) to make sure we're doing what we're supposed to. There was no small amount of foster parental pride when she learned to "down" - lie down like a sphinx - or to follow any of the other commands she must learn. It's like watching your baby learn to walk. And, of course, Skipper is smarter than the others. Honest.

The puppies, gangly legs and all, are supposed to go out in the world with their families. After all, that's where they will work when they are trained. So they go to restaurants, movies, sports events, schools, always wearing a blue coat that indicates they are puppies in training. When they are "in coat," they have to behave. When they aren't, they can just be puppies.

But puppies being puppies, they are not always that good at behaving. A fair part of the party conversation turned on that aspect - puppies who "sing along" at concerts or who see what they can sneak at the pet store.

The puppies are specially bred for their task. Our puppy comes from a West Coast strain just introduced to make the collies a bit more assertive and to improve their eyesight.

Naming rights for the puppies are sold just like for Raymond James Stadium or the St. Pete Times Forum. In Skipper's case, she was named by Navy WAVES, hence the nautical moniker. The money helps keep the guide dog school going and to cover vet bills.

The dogs will learn many things, including intelligent disobedience, which basically means refusing to do something stupid.

At the party, the talk turned to the particular traits of each breed. The collies are smart herders, who know what they need to do but will think for themselves, if need be.

One woman illustrated this point with a story. A blind man with a collie guide dog got off at the wrong bus stop. He had bad knees and was struggling to walk up a hill. Disoriented, he leaned against a wall and yelled for help. No one came to his aid. Finally, he told her "Take me home." She did him one better. She took him back to the bus stop where together they could work their way home.

When the time comes for Skipper to go to college, as they call it, I hope she remembers where home once was.

[Last modified December 19, 2004, 00:15:16]