As Spiker romps through the grass with Marcy after his lesson, it's obvious that the two have bonded. "I was afraid to get close at first," Marcy admits. "But once I got to know him, I just couldn't give up on him."
When Simpson assigns a dog to a student, she also hands over the animal's case file. The kids learn about each dog's background and personality; in class, they discuss their dogs' challenges and how to overcome them. "They have to analyze the dog's behavior: Why is he doing that?" says Simpson. "And they also have to do that to themselves: What in my past is causing me to act this way?"
So far, most of the pairings have worked. Only a couple of dogs have been sent back to shelters for being aggressive, and only a few kids have been expelled from the program.
But eventually the dogs do leave. After two months, they've learned basic commands, corrected the worst of their behavior problems, and are ready for adoption. Each year, about 100 dogs come through the program and are advertised on websites like petfinder.org and dogfriendly.com. Simpson has no trouble placing the animals, which are ideal for people who want to adopt a rescued dog but lack the time or expertise to train one.
"Let's get a move on, Mulley," says Teal, gently tugging her Australian-German shepherd into the gym. Mulley was beaten by her former owner, leaving her easily intimidated and hungry for affection. "I have to be real slow and patient with her because of her background," says Teal, 15.
As the other handlers line up with their leashed dogs for a drill, loud barks bounce off the walls. "That is not appropriate behavior-tell them to stop," shouts Simpson.
"Stop!" the kids command.
There is immediate silence, broken by a few whimpers. "Good. Let's go," says Simpson. "Heel!" The handlers trek across the gym as Simpson calls out other commands, which the teens pass along to their dogs. "About-turn, halt!" "Forward, left turn!" "Forward, right turn!" "Sit!" "Shake!"
"Good girl, Mulley!" Teal says after the session, noting that the dog's improved attitude reflects her own. "She's stubborn like me. I want to do my own thing, but now I've learned to slow down a little."
Patience, persistence, praise, and practice are the watchwords of Simpson's program. But they can't protect her students from the pain of separation. The kids will soon turn the animals over to their new owners.
For some, the sorrow can be overwhelming, and a few have needed grief counseling. "We try to emphasize that they're helping the dog and the community, but it still hurts pretty deep," says Simpson.
Justin, a slender 14-year-old with blond hair and a shy smile, is worried about giving his dog, Cherry, to a new family. "I wonder if they'll treat her as well as I did," says the boy, who's been in and out of trouble since age 12, when his father went to prison. "I was pretty freaked-out when they brought me here," he recalls. "But now I've mellowed a lot. Cherry helped me. I can tell her anything."
When Justin was first introduced to the two-year-old Shar-Pei-Lab mix, she wouldn't make eye contact. So he sat in the dog's kennel holding a treat until Cherry inched her way over. Within minutes, the two were friends. "I'll be sad when she leaves," Justin says, the dog in his lap. "I wish I could take her with me when I get out."
To ease the transition, adoptive families take the dogs home on weekends at first. Later, the kids conduct exit interviews with the new owners, discussing the pet's care and training, history and health, likes and dislikes. Says Simpson, "They take a lot of pride in knowing they've molded these dogs into good pets."
Marcy still has a few months to go before she's released. But it's time for her to say goodbye to Spiker. On graduation day, she leads him through several commands in front of a crowd of kids, instructors, and prospective owners. When the applause dies down, she puts on a brave face and gives her dog one last biscuit before crouching down and hugging him. Spiker's new owners, Kerry Kellogg and Sean Eller, are here to take the dog home to Kellogg's seven-year-old daughter.
Marcy watches as the couple lead Spiker out of the kennel, her sadness lightened by the knowledge that she'll soon begin training another dog: a five-month-old German shepherd named Spunky. Beyond that, the future looks good.
"When I get out of here, I'm going to work with dogs, maybe become a groomer," she says. "Then I can have them around me all the time."



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