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Saturday, May 5, 2001 Puppy love part of director's lifeFACES OF NOTE A greeting party is waiting at Janet Severt's door. Golden retrievers Cheyenne, Spirit, Disney and the trainee, Captiva, make a blond, circling whirl. Inside, vigorous barking suddenly sounds more like shouted hellos than warnings to the unwelcome, as it does on the other side of the door. Someone, though, hasn't joined in the chorus -- she's got a mouthful of something she shouldn't have. Severt wheels in on the scene. "Cheyenne, give me the goose," Severt says firmly, gesturing for the stuffed toy goose Cheyenne has in her mouth. Trained from birth to be a service dog just like her three compatriots, Cheyenne obeys. Amused, Severt mutters something about her "goofy goldens." Thirty-seven years after a blood clot hit her spine at 7 years old, putting her into a wheelchair, Severt says she wouldn't want them for anything less than her constant companions. "I need my dogs as much as I need my wheelchair," says Severt, who has no muscles in her hands, nor any movement below her chest. "They are as much a part of me." Severt is the director of New Horizons Puppy Training, a not-for-profit organization based in Orange City that aims to give people who have mobility difficulties an extra set of extremities in the form of a four-legged friend. Since 1994, she's overseen the all-volunteer efforts to breed, train and place about 40 Labrador and golden retrievers with clients. Worth about $10,000 each, these goldens and Labradors -- prized for their size and willingness to please -- knock down the barriers that appear in front of Severt's clients. They open refrigerator doors and cabinets, retrieve and carry packages and pick things up, like keys that drop, for example. "Spirit come here," Severt says, rolling into the kitchen. She taps a cabinet. "Open." Spirit grabs a rope with her teeth and pulls. The cabinet opens. "Spirit is my full-time helper," Severt says. Coming out of an era before people in wheelchairs were part of mainstream society, Severt was encouraged early on to be independent. Against the grain, she thought from the beginning that being disabled meant only that she had to do things differently. "This was in the days of no architectural accessibility, let alone attitudinal accessibility," Severt says. "In the '60s, you rarely ever saw people out in wheelchairs. They stayed home." Nowadays, she's on the road most of the time, visiting clients, raising money for the organization and making arrangements for breeding. The love affair started early on. Severt was a teen-ager in Gillette, N.J., when she saw the dogs training for Seeing Eye. Through 4-H, she became a foster parent for Seeing Eye puppies. Her family raised 11 of them. Now she relies on the same kind of foster families to raise New Horizons' puppies for their first 12 to 14 months. "In the foster homes, they learn how to be well-behaved pups," she says. "They learn how to learn and they learn how to please." They also come to New Horizons, Severt's home, for puppy classes. After the first year, the dogs receive further training at East Coast Assistance Dogs in New York. The difference they've made in Severt's life can't be measured. Disney, now retired at 13 years old, was with her before she had a motorized chair -- so she's literally pulled her master from one end of the country to the other. And then there are the intangible gifts they have brought. "People are still afraid to talk to someone who looks different," Severt says. "People look at me in a much more positive light when there's a dog at my side. "Instead of too bad, she's in a wheelchair.' It's Wow, cool, there's a dog.' " |
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