Sit, Stay, Say Goodbye

New York Times

27-03-2025

In the year since Pat and Jane Hipsley brought home Pogo, they've spent hours teaching the Labrador puppy how to walk by their side and ignore cooing strangers; how to roll, retrieve her leash and ride an escalator. They've learned that Pogo is not a fan of tight spaces, and that her favorite snack is a carrot. Every night, Pogo has fallen asleep at the foot of their bed. Each morning, she has greeted them with a wagging tail.
And in a few weeks, as with 17 other puppies that came before her, the Hipsleys will say a tearful goodbye to Pogo, maybe forever.
In the world of service dogs, the Hipsleys are known as 'puppy raisers,' volunteers who house, socialize and transport puppies to and from weekly classes from their first weeks until they're ready for formal training, at around 18 to 24 months. The work is done to benefit a stranger, someone who will rely on the dog to treat a disability or live more independently.
While service dogs were once mainly used as a navigational tool for the blind, the animals have proven to be an effective therapeutic tool for conditions as varied as autism, epilepsy and post-traumatic stress disorder. Today, people count on dogs to alert them to dangerous changes in their blood sugar, to disrupt panic attacks and to detect the smell of allergens.
But as demand for the dogs increases, the organizations that provide them are facing a shortage of volunteers to raise them as puppies. It's a challenging, time-consuming gig that typically pays nothing and requires forging an intimate bond with a dog only to give it away.
This 'critical' volunteer shortage is leading to yearslong wait times for service dogs, according to Assistance Dogs International, the accrediting body for nonprofit service dog providers.
The nationwide nonprofit Canine Companions needs about 500 new puppy raisers a year to keep pace with demand, and its wait times for a service dog can reach 18 months, said James Dern, who leads the organization's puppy program. At some other organizations, people may have to wait even longer. Ashley Frantz, a 40-year-old woman in Virginia Beach, Va., who sustained physical and emotional trauma while serving in the Navy, waited two years to be matched with a dog. The experience, she said, was 'incredibly defeating.'
'Puppy raisers are the backbone of our organization,' said Molly Elmore, the volunteer program manager at Warrior Canine Connection, a service dog nonprofit in Boyds, Md., that pairs service dogs with wounded veterans who have mobility issues, traumatic brain injuries or PTSD. 'They're the only way it all happens.'
Finding a New Purpose Amid Grief
On a Saturday morning in February, at the Hipsleys' home in Catonsville, Md., Pogo was asleep at Ms. Hipsley's feet, cuddled up with two other puppies the Hipsleys had raised: Blair, who was back for a visit, and Devin, whom the Hipsleys later adopted. Four-month-old Marita, who had arrived the previous week, stood at the edge of the dog pile, unconvinced she needed a nap.
The Hipsleys began puppy raising in 2015, less than a year after their son Chris died by suicide. Chris, a decorated Army medic, had developed severe PTSD during three tours in the Middle East. The Hipsleys had pleaded with him to apply for a service dog, but he was resistant.
After Chris died, the couple felt compelled to help other veterans, but weren't sure how. Then a friend told them about Warrior Canine Connection, the nonprofit in Maryland that helps wounded veterans.
'It was just like fate — this is what we were supposed to do,' Ms. Hipsley said.
Soon, a bouncy black lab puppy named Jack moved in. The busyness of 'all things puppy,' Mr. Hipsley said, was a comfort.
'Jack probably saved our lives,' said Mr. Hipsley, 71, a retired business executive.
As Mr. Hipsley talked, Pogo moved from the floor to his side, where she pushed her nose between his clasped hands, demonstrating a skill she'll use when her future handler experiences distress.
'She feels the tension in me,' he said, rubbing her ears.
'She'll do that,' Jane explained. 'She gets the stress cues.'
Making It Work
Today, the Hipsleys typically raise two or three dogs at a time, often taking on the organization's most challenging dogs; one had a leaky bladder, one was recovering from shoulder surgery and another liked to hurdle other dogs in class.
They try to divide responsibilities evenly. Ms. Hipsley focuses on walks, Mr. Hipsley on teaching commands. Potty training is a team effort. 'It's just like a baby,' Mr. Hipsley said. 'Whose shift is it?'
The time commitment can sometimes keep people from volunteering. Michael Yau, 42, and his wife figured they were too busy to become puppy raisers. The couple, who live in Orinda, Ca., both work, and they have three children under 7, as well as a pet golden doodle.
But Mr. Yau, an entrepreneur, was inspired to volunteer after attending a Canine Companions fund-raiser that showcased client testimonials; it was the first time Mr. Yau's wife had ever seen him cry.
Expectations for puppy raisers can differ by organization. But their most important assignment is socialization. Under the Americans With Disabilities Act, service dogs are allowed in most public places. But staying focused despite the sights, sounds and smells of the world takes a lot of practice.
When the Hipsleys' puppies are young, socialization is mostly about exposure; their youngest puppy has been getting accustomed to the sound of traffic at an intersection near the couple's home. Older dogs go on longer excursions and face greater temptations. At 21 months, Pogo recently lounged beneath the table of a busy Panera while the Hipsleys ate lunch with friends.
Despite their own busy lives, the Yaus have been able to make it work. 'The puppy gets fully integrated into your life,' Mr. Yau said. The family even took the first puppy they raised, a yellow lab named Fonzi, to Disneyland by plane.
At Fonzi's graduation ceremony, the family was able to pass the Labrador's leash to his new handler, a young man with autism.
'It was a bittersweet moment,' Mr. Yau said, 'and such a seminal moment for our kids to learn about service.'
Today, the Yaus are on puppy number two.
Bittersweet Goodbyes
Every once in a while, the Hipsleys receive photos, updates and heartfelt thank yous from the people who have benefited from their efforts.
One of them is Ms. Frantz, the former member of the Navy who waited two years for a service dog. She was ultimately paired with a black lab named Patty, whom the Hipsleys raised. The effect, Ms. Frantz said, has been profound. She once chewed her fingernails down to the quick, avoided social interactions and couldn't go to Walmart without having a panic attack, she said.
Patty has changed that. Ms. Frantz's anxiety has dissipated, and she he has found herself striking up conversations with strangers while shopping. She is well aware of the role the Hipsleys played in her improvement.
'Just look at what they did for someone that they didn't know,' Ms. Frantz said. 'I wouldn't be getting better without them.'
In the Hipsleys' home, a photo of Patty sits on one of their living room shelves, along with the rest of their 'sorority,' as they call it, since 16 of the puppies have been female. 'At this point, we have more pictures of dogs than we do our grandchildren,' Mr. Hipsley said.
After 18 rounds of puppy raising, the Hipsleys have learned how to soothe the sweet sorrow of parting with a dog: by getting another one.
So in the weeks leading up to Pogo's departure, the couple brought home Marita.
'I haven't had a dog yet that I didn't cry about,' Mr. Hipsley said. 'There is pain, but when you see the good that it does, well, that takes the pain away.'