Learning to Love Again

PSYETA
Learn more about the Anicare
youth-reform program

June 2004

The teenagers waited anxiously on the curb for the van to arrive - their excitement palpable. Perhaps it came from knowing they were the "chosen," entrusted to a special mission.

This group was handpicked. As residents of Albuquerque's Youth Diagnostic and Development Center, a juvenile facility, they'd all had hard starts. They came from violent homes, broken homes, and from no homes at all. And now they were going to meet their animal counterparts, dogs who, like them, had entered the "system."

The kids' job wasn't simple. They were to spend three intensive weeks each caring for, training, and socializing a dog on the road to being adopted.

The dogs were timid and frightened, nervous and wary, and sometimes just too enthusiastic and rowdy. The kids also ran the gamut of personalities. Some were emotionally damaged, victims themselves, wary of people. Others were tough cookies, "thugs" many would call them. A few even had abused animals themselves. But all of these kids, like the dogs, had come from damaged backgrounds and needed help.

"S" was particularly elated to be chosen. At age 17, he was a strong, macho boy. He was proud that he had been picked and had already put in his bid for the kind of pup he wanted - a pit bull or Rottweiler or maybe a chow. It didn't matter which, as long as it was rough and tough just like him.

The van pulled up the drive, and the kids began to stir eagerly. The supervisors of Project Second Chance had teamed up with a local humane group, the Animal Humane Association, to provide the dogs who would enter the program. They already knew which dog would be paired with which youngster. The van doors opened, and the dogs were brought out one at a time to meet their new trainers. Most were nondescript - the medium-sized brown mutts who populate the city in overwhelming numbers. Each dog was happily led away by his or her new friend.

S stood anxiously. His dog was the last to emerge. His supervisor went into the van and escorted out his charge. The boy's mouth dropped open in shock and outrage. This wasn't the expected pit bull or Rottweiler. This was no lathering beast. This was ... this was a ... fluffy, white French poodle. And a female poodle. And with a decidedly girly name: Sadie.

"No way," he declared emphatically, his eyes condemning his supervisor with undisguised scorn. "I don't want that dog. I'm not taking that dog." This pooch could ruin his image in a heartbeat.

But as his supervisor, equally determined, explained, S was taking this dog. He'd signed up for the program, and this was the dog for him. The boy glowered and capitulated.

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