Guide to Giving
Super
Dogs
to the
Rescue!
How a local
nonprofit
produces some
of the world’s
best guide dogs.
418
Great Causes
Fall’s Fashion
Must-Buys
Hope, Change
& Tomatoes:
A Sarasota
coalition
brings justice
to the fields
SARASOTA MAGAZINE | GUIDE TO GIVING 2014
1
A New Breed of
SUPERHERO
kim longstree/ DogStreet Pet Photography t
A Palmetto nonprofit is now
producing some of the
best guide dogs on
earth. Adam Davies
sniffs out the story.
To donate or get involved with Southeastern Guide Dogs, visit guidedogs.org or call (941) 729-5665.
2 SARASOTA MAGAZINE | GUIDE TO GIVING 2014
AS
SEEN
IN
I
am sitting uncomfortably in an
un-air-conditioned building
on a remote, 35-acre campus in
Palmetto in a circle of 20 other
people. We all have an eager,
portentous look—we could be
here for a yoga retreat or a cult’s bonding
exercise or maybe a round of mixed-age
hokey pokey, but we are not. We’re here for
something rarer and much more thrilling.
The motley crew—elderly people, parents,
high schoolers, one bemused writer and
kids galore—are all unified in adrenalized
excitement. To express it in the emotional
mathematics of the many goggle-eyed
children in the room, the giddy anticipatory vibe is like Christmas morning times
Disney World times every birthday we’ve
ever had, and then, just when it seems like
no one can stand it for one more second, a
door flies opens and the madcap, bumbling, downy-soft puppies rush in.
What ensues is an absolute bacchanal
of face licking, tail wagging, lap bounding,
and all-around gamboling and merriment.
The puppies—only six weeks old—frolic
with each other, nibble on fingers, attack
shoelaces, pee exultantly in unexpected
places, and get cuddled, embraced, tickled, nuzzled, babytalked, and adored. A
yellow Lab slathers a little blond girl into
uncontrollable giggles. A black Lab, biting
down on a length of braided rope, plays
tug of war with a little boy. Three other
puppies get a running start and stampede
across the room until they slide splaylegged into my lap. And in the corner
one independent-minded fellow gnaws
on the plastic sheeting around one of the
bench’s legs that has already been chewed
so often, and so ardently, that it is almost
completely degloved.
This jamboree isn’t a promotion by a
pet shop or a breeder. These dogs aren’t
for sale. They aren’t vamping for adoption.
And although you can take one home with
you for a weekend—more on that soon—
none of these dogs will ever be owned
by anyone in this room, for these are not
normal puppies.
These young Labs and golden retrievers
and mixes are genetically elite; they are
elect; they are fated for greatness. They
have been bred in a state-of-the-art
canine laboratory to be the healthiest,
most intelligent, most loyal, most patient,
most super-heroic dogs anywhere in
this country.
After two years of highly specialized
training, they will become graduates of
Southeastern Guide Dogs, and they will
spend every day until their retirement
helping people—from the visually impaired to veterans to the elderly or injured
or depressed—with the most important of
all tasks: recovering their lives.
SARASOTA MAGAZINE | GUIDE TO GIVING 2014
3
zation has matched more than 2,800 dogs with visually impaired handlers, bringing them
freedom, mobility and dignity they could otherwise never have known. And starting in
2006, its Paws for Patriots initiative has placed service dogs with veterans with visual
impairments or PTSD and brought dogs to help veterans in military bases and hospitals
such as Walter Reed, Quantico and Camp Lejeune.
Each dog costs about $60,000 to produce, and their
training is a sophisticated two-year process that requires
the exertions of trainers, scientists, medical staff,
caretakers and volunteers.
It’s impossible to calculate the number
of lives that Southeastern has improved or
even saved, but here are some factoids that
illustrate the scope of their philanthropic
efforts: Each one of these dogs costs
roughly $60,000 to produce; their training
is a sophisticated two-year process that requires the exertions of trainers, scientists,
medical staff, caretakers and volunteers;
applicants to become handlers, who come
from all 48 contiguous states, are thoroughly screened by admissions officers,
and those who are approved are assisted
by a matchmaking service that includes
individual in-house visits to determine
what kind of dog would best fit their lifestyle, temperament, and physical needs;
these student handlers then come to the
campus in Palmetto for a 26-day training
course with the dog who has been specifi-
cally matched to them; and if a graduate
handler has a problem of any kind with
a guide dog, someone from Southeastern
will fly out to their home and help both
dog and handler work through it.
The cost to the dog’s handler for all of
this care and training? A mind-boggling
zero dollars.
Happily, with nearly $25 million in total
assets, Southeastern Guide Dogs can afford
it. But astonishingly, that money has been
accrued not by any kind of grant-writing or
governmental aid but entirely by donations.
The secret to their fund raising, Silverman says, is that people like to donate to
programs that are financially solid and that
accomplish real and tangible success.
“Well, that,” he says, “and this.”
Then he holds up a brochure with a picture of a beatific golden retriever puppy.
And Silverman is not kidding. These
dogs are so irresistible that sometimes
just an image of one is sufficient to pry
funds loose from donors who weren’t even
thinking about donating. A few years ago,
photos by Jennifer Vare
Southeastern Guide Dogs is the brainchild of Dr. Harris Silverman
and Robert Miller, who co-founded the nonprofit in 1982. Since then the organi-
Jennifer Vare
Staff veterinarian Dr. Kevin Conrad checks golden retriever Penny’s eyes. Opposite: Geneticist Rachel
Goldammer places semen straws into a canister that will be stored in the cryopreservation tank for future
breeding; the new $1.75 million Margaret and Isaac Barpal Veterinary Center.
for example, Isaac Barpal, an engineer
who developed one of the first hybrid
electric vehicles and was instrumental
in the creation of San Francisco’s BART
transit system, was riding his motorcycle
down the highway when he saw a puppy
on a billboard promoting Southeastern.
Charmed and curious, he pulled off the
road, checked out the campus, and, suitably
impressed, he offered—bang, just like that,
with the why-not caprice of a man making
a detour to pick up a gallon of milk at the
store—to pay via matching funds for a
state-of-the-art veterinary center.
Opened in 2013, the $1.75 million Margaret and Isaac Barpal Veterinary Center
is a 6,000-square-foot medical Xanadu
chock-full of cutting-edge technology.
There is an examination room with tables
on hydraulic lifts, an ophthalmology lab,
a genetics and reproduction procedures
room complete with cryogenic storage
preserving literally millions of dollars’
worth of doggie DNA, male and female
breeder wards, a treatment/recovery/ICU
center, a quarantine room with a special
ventilation system to provide negative air
pressure so no contaminants or germs
can escape, a surgical center with positive
air pressure for the opposite reason, and
a canine lounge that functions as a love
motel for dogs who are slated to procreate
au naturel. This particular room is kept
“dirty”—uncleaned—for three days after
copulations so as to create the aphrodisiacal funk that encourages dogs to
mate—but otherwise the whole place is
characterized by gleaming Apple computers, pouty elegant orchids, leather couches
and glossy polished surfaces, producing a
feeling much less like a veterinary center
than a concierge-grade medi-spa.
The rest of the campus gives a divided
impression, however. Some of the buildings, like the student dorms and the puppy
center and the CEO’s office, which is in the
former kitchen of a house, are aging and in
need of refurbishment or replacing; others,
like the Keith G. Hirst Canine Assessment
Center, are brand-new and purpose-built.
But wherever you go the attitude is one of
focus and discipline and activity.
Staff in sporty blue polo shirts stride
purposefully about, volunteers avidly
walk dogs on martingale leashes, tour
groups go by in delighted flurries, and
everywhere you look are dogs. Quite a
few of the 110 employees bring their own
pets to work, and if you combine them
with Southeastern’s official wards, there
can be as many as 200 dogs on campus
at one time, yet somehow they are never
underfoot. And strangely they produce
PHOTOS BY Jennifer Vare
almost no noise. You’d expect the place
to be a Thunderdome of barking and
howling and humping, but that is not the
case. True, the dogs chorus a bit at feeding
time, and in the puppy center you’ll hear
some playful yipping; but if you were to
gather together 200 human teenagers and
200 dogs and measure their manners with
a decibel meter, these dogs would win,
paws down.
How does Southeastern do it? How do
they take animals renowned for behavior
that includes dining upon their own feces,
chewing supposedly unchewable objects
and leg-humping guests at dinner parties,
and turn them into such gentlemanly
squires? According to CEO Titus Herman, one part of the answer is, simply, its
employees and volunteers.
“We just have the best people,” he says.
He could be referring to Rachel Goldammer, a geneticist who in only six years
of selective breeding has reduced the rate
of hip dysplasia from an average of 50
percent to a startling, nearly miraculous
3 percent and decreased the average
puppy mortality rate from 15 percent
three years ago to 1.5 percent. Then there
is Karen Mersereau, who assesses the dogs
after they come back from their “puppy
raisers” (volunteers who take the puppies into their homes to teach them basic
manners and trust) to decide the kind of
work for which a dog will be best suited.
Or perhaps Suzy Wilburn, who lost most
of her vision after she was diagnosed with
Stargardt disease at age 27 and who works
now alongside her Southeastern guide
dog, Carson, as the head of admissions
and graduate services, deciding which
applicants are best suited for dog ownership. (About 40 percent of applicants are
accepted.) Or perhaps Jacqui Garvey, who,
being in charge of the puppies from birth
until 10 weeks old, might just have—and
this is not hyperbole—the best job in the
entire world.
But the workers here, despite their dedication and boundless enthusiasm, are only
half the story. The other part, of course, is
the dogs’ remarkable training.
Over its 32 years, Southeastern’s
training regimen has evolved into an
exacting system that recalls in many ways
the training of Spartan boys. From the
highly advanced genetic science that goes
into breeding every dog to the meticulous
training, these animals are literally made
for their jobs.
Their training begins only three days
after birth.
They learn to trust the people who feed
and handle them. They must accustom
themselves to noises, various surfaces
and environments, and distractions.
They are encouraged to investigate the
unknown. They are assessed for per-
sistence (will a puppy disengage with
a food-stuffed kong to engage with a
human?) and patience (will it still engage
with a human after being ignored for 15
seconds?) and resilience (is it unruffled
by a motorized snowman that sings an
annoying tune?) and social interaction
(will it greet a breed of dog it has never
seen before?). In their quarters and play
pens they have toys dangling overhead
to encourage them to see things from
a human perspective—so they can be
aware of low-hanging branches or other
impediments that might pose a risk for
their handlers—and they are routinely
confronted with startling objects that they
learn to understand or negotiate, such as
mirrors and surfaces of different textures
and teeter-totters and ledges with drop-
offs. Then of course there is that “puppy
hugging,” to help socialize the puppies.
After only 10 weeks, they are able to sit,
go down, and walk more or less cooperatively on a leash, and they are given
names—an honor available to any sponsor
willing to part with $5,000. Then they are
sent out to live with their puppy raisers for
the next year and a half. During this time
the dogs will learn the routine matters of
being a dog. They become acquainted with
a home, a family, other pets, yards, sidewalks, stairs, squirrels, traffic, you name it.
At about 16 months the puppy raisers
must return their charges to Southeastern
Guide Dogs—a tearful event that is assuaged by a celebration that acknowledges
the gravity of the dog’s destiny—and then
they spend their next four to six months
being trained on campus. They will learn
a lexicon of over 40 commands, ranging
from directional signals like “forward” to
things as arcane as “find my keys.” They
will also have assessments to measure
things like their social tolerance (will
they let you fiddle with their ears or mess
with their teeth?) and physical sensitivity (does the harness change the way the
dog behaves?) and attentiveness (are they
distracted by the presence of other dogs?).
But perhaps most important of all, this
is when they learn “intelligent disobedience.” Most highly trained dogs are
expected to follow orders, and although
guide dogs will certainly follow orders
that make sense, they must also be able to
know when to override a command. If a
visually impaired handler is walking down
a familiar sidewalk, for example, and a
new pothole or other danger suddenly appears, the guide dog must know to move
in front of the handler and sit, blocking
their progress. Wanting to see for myself the accomplishments of these young canine
students, I decide to take advantage of
Southeastern’s many volunteer programs
to do some dog walking. (Other opportunities include signing up for half an hour’s
worth of puppy hugging, becoming a
puppy raiser, or even applying to borrow,
like library books, puppies or adult dogs
for the weekend.) I have a neighbor who
feels about Labradors roughly the way
most people feel about oxygen, so together
the two of us drive to Palmetto and check
ourselves out a dog.
Jennifer Vare
Opposite page, from top: Southeastern staffers perform a cardiac assessment on a dog; a mother
and her litter, some of the 250 or so puppies born each year on campus. This page, Jacqui Garvey, who
oversees the puppies from birth to 10 weeks of age, cuddles some of her charges.
SARASOTA MAGAZINE | GUIDE TO GIVING 2014
7
“Stop noshing on those flowers.” And later
propriety urges me to say, “Could you not
lick yourself there for quite so long and
with quite so much slobbering joy?”
The pulling is what startles me most.
TK is like an Iditarod sled dog with road
rage, straining against the leash so hard
that the suffocating constriction of the
It’s a measure of how lofty the guide dog calling is that
out of 10 dogs schooled at Southeastern, only four will
pass every hurdle to become guide dogs.
feet of our walk, however, I realize that I
will need a much larger, and more drillsergeanty vocabulary to deal with TK. The
first command I’d like to utter is, “Do not
pull on the leash so hard that it yanks my
neighbor out of her flip-flops.” Another is,
collar makes his breathing labored and
wheezy like an old refrigerator. The pressure is so intense that I marvel that he
doesn’t pass out from asphyxiation—or
yank my arm off. I do admire his zeal, but
I can’t imagine our TK making an unlethal
guide dog for anyone, and I say so to the
volunteers when we return him.
And in fact, not every dog at Southeastern is slated to become a guide dog.
Those that aren’t deemed suitable for
being matched with a visually impaired
handler—if they have a “lizard distraction,” say, or are too olfactorily oriented
or, like our TK, they have a medieval
torturer’s enthusiasm for separating limbs
from bodies—can instead take up service
as a therapy dog for a veteran with PTSD,
or perhaps as a sniffer or arson or ambassador dog. Some dogs aren’t right for any
of these roles, however, and in that case
they are slated for adoption. First dibs
go to their puppy raiser; then the dog is
made available to the public. The very best
dogs are destined to become breeders.
It’s a measure of how lofty the guide dog
calling is that out of 10 dogs schooled at
Southeastern, there will be one breeder,
KIM LONGSTREET/ DogStreet Pet Photography
Ours is TK, a muscular yellow Lab
whose skull is wide and thick and heartshaped like a viper’s. A volunteer familiarizes us with the rules—among them, we
must walk with the dog to our left; we
must carry a “busy bag” to clean up any
excretions; and the sole command we
are allowed to give is “sit.” After about 10
Jennifer Vare
Above: Guide dogs must learn to walk in harness in a variety of situations, from a pier on Anna Maria
Island to busy downtown Tampa. Opposite: Two children are inundated with affection at one of the
popular “puppy huggings,” which help socialize the dogs.
two career-change dogs, three that go
to adoption, and only four that will pass
every hurdle to become guide dogs.
All across the country, men and women
are leading lives of independence and
purpose thanks to these astonishing dogs.
The stories of the impact they have are
inspiring—and legion.
A former minister who lost his vision
and says he moved into assisted living in
Florida just waiting to die now has his own
place and travels the country giving motivational talks. A retired Army officer who
lost her sight to a virus she contracted in
Iraq became so depressed that she refused
to go out of the house, but thanks to her
black Lab George, she now races sailboats
in Tampa Bay, hikes in Peru and competes
in triathlons.
Then there is Mike Jernigan. A Marine
who lost both his eyes and almost half his
cranium in Iraq, Jernigan had 30 surgeries; his wife left him; he was so wracked
with PTSD and depression that he says he
“drank a fifth of Johnny Walker a day and
basically took off all of 2006.”
Then he heard about Southeastern.
Jernigan says his dog, Brittani, inspired
him to go back to school. He graduated
from USF, remarried and now works for
a nonprofit for war veterans in Dallas.
And he counts high among his accomplishments helping to establish Southeastern’s pioneering Paws for Patriots
initiative, helping other veterans reclaim
their lives.
All the handlers have boundless love
and gratitude for the dog that led them
out of darkness. As admissions director
Wilburn told me: “If I were given a chance
to have a surgery that could totally restore
my sight but would require me to give up
my dog, it would be no contest. I would
not get the surgery. I’d keep Carson.”
Contributing editor Adam Davies just completed
his second appointment as writer-in-residence
at New College of Florida; he’s won a number of
awards for stories for this magazine, including
for “Best Feature” from the South Florida Society
of Professional Journalists in 2013 and 2014.
Name: Gibson
Home: Sarasota, Florida
Age: 8 weeks
Education: Preschooler, Southeastern Guide Dogs
Profession: Guide dog (in about two years)
Studies: Behavior 101; Command .1
Favorite Activity: Standing, stretching, circling, then sleeping
Hobbies: Still under development (check me in six months)
Attributes: Calm intelligence, eagerness to learn
Destiny: To serve. To enable. To delight.
You’d never guess it now, looking at this little ball of frenetic fur, that
his destiny is to grow up to become a life-affirming hero. But with your
help, that’s exactly what can happen. Thank you, Gibson. The gifts you
will give someday are beyond measure—and will be exactly what one
deserving person needs to live, thrive and achieve their fullest potential.
Find out how you can help at GuideDogs.org