Giving Paws

June 13, 2013

Timmy, a gangly seven-month-old black Labrador, does a lot of the things you’d expect of a dog his age. He chews on sticks, barks when he spots other canines and greets new humans with a swiftly wagging tail.

Unlike most young dogs, he quickly drops those saliva-drenched sticks when instructed. With the right hand cue or equivalent verbal prompt, he’ll settle into a lying position, even when there’s a squirrel nearby doing his or her best to distract the pup.

Timmy is being groomed to become a guide dog with Guiding Eyes for the Blind, a non-profit that’s been training dogs to work with the visually impaired since 1954, and that level of self-control will be of utmost importance to the puppy’s future owner.

From about eight weeks until 16-18 months old, dogs like Timmy live with volunteers who teach them guide-dogging fundamentals, after which they return to Guiding Eyes for four to six additional months of preparation. Happily, even after a pooch is placed, Puppy Trainers are given updates on their “students,” often retaining lifelong relationships with the dogs and their new owners.

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It helps that Guiding Eyes pays for vet bills and medications in addition to crate and collar. Between training, supplies and care, the organization estimates that its average lifetime expenditures total roughly $45,000 per dog.  That may sound like a lot of money, but, then again, these are particularly valuable dogs, with an important purpose. Since Timmy’s been living in New Haven, he’s learned a bunch of commands, from your typical “sit” and “stay” to the not-so-typical “close,” which signals that a dog should be “sitting really, really close” to its owner, particularly helpful when a person needs guidance in a crowded place. Socialization—allowing the dog to observe and become comfortable in a variety of situations, and with a variety of different people—is another important part of the process for volunteers, ensuring dogs feel as comfortable in a quiet field as they do on busy city streets, and among human crowds.

“You love them,” Gribskov says. “You teach them that working with humans is rewarding.”

Observing her interact with Timmy is a great way to see these ideas in practice. Volunteers are taught to use positive reinforcement: when Gribskov asks Timmy to drop a stick and he complies, she quickly delivers a small treat and tells him he’s a “good boy.” When he sits at her command, she does the same.

Training the dog to do more complex maneuvers means breaking the command down into simple steps, Gribskov says. Teaching him to walk to a specific location and lie down there—which sounds like it would be extremely difficult—simply means dissecting the action and teaching him each step, with treats and verbal encouragement along the way.

As training progresses, there’s less gustatory and more verbal praise, Gribskov says. You won’t see a volunteer yell at or scold their dog beyond a firm, “No,” nor did I observe Gribskov keeping Timmy from engaging in normal puppy behavior—creeping slowly towards a bird he found very interesting, for instance—when I visited with them on the New Haven Green.

The adorable, gangly young Lab and his temporary owner have clearly bonded, which leads me to ask the question that Gribskov says she gets asked all the time: How is she going to let him go?

She says she doesn’t worry too much, knowing what Timmy’s future has in store. “This is a dog who is meant to do a very specific and amazing thing,” she says. “And I’m helping him do that.”