It takes a

village to raise a guide dog.

If you doubt

it, ask Maria Cheek. Or her mom. Her Uncle Mark, or her neighbors.

Ask Ann and

Ron Bowman. Ask Duane Tallman and other veterinarians who contribute medical

care. Ask the merchants who don't merely tolerate but welcome guide-dogs-in-training

in their stores.

Ask pastors

and teachers and hairdressers and classmates they'll tell you.

It takes a

village, maybe even a county or two.

Maria is a

nearly 14-year-old Peachtree City eighth grader who became intrigued with

the idea of raising a future guide for a blind person when she saw Ann

and Ron Bowman with their first dog in church. The yellow Lab was not

only well-behaved and quiet while in the pew, but walked to the altar

rail with the Bowmans when they received Communion, lying down and very

properly crossing her forepaws.

That was Hera.

Since Hera, the Bowmans, who live in Palmetto, have had two more pups.

The second was discovered to have mild hip displasia and would not be

acceptable as a guide dog. She may soon be working for the Customs service.

Their current

dog is Rachel, who came from Leader Dog in Rochester, Mich., when she

was seven weeks old and, like her predecessors, accompanies Ann Bowman

wherever she goes.

"I go

shopping with her in all kinds of stores, and they've always made us welcome,"

she said. "We go to grocery stores and restaurants, the post office,

the hairdresser, playgrounds, motorcycle races anywhere we can go, she

can go." On the rare occasions that a question arises, it is usually

resolved by showing a copy of the Georgia law permitting guide dogs even

those in training into every public place.

"The dog

must be wearing the training jacket," Bowman said. "And they

don't get that until they're about four months old. They must be housebroken

and able to follow the basic commands. But when that jacket comes off,

they can play like any pup, and they know it."

Inspired by

the Bowmans, Maria took on Mutzi last spring, and became one of the youngest

puppy raisers Southeastern Guide Dogs Inc. has worked with. Sure, her

family helps, but Maria is chief care giver and trainer for the jet-black

Lab.

At 80 or 85

pounds now, the big fellow will top out near 100, Maria says. When a stranger

came into their family room recently to meet him, Mutzi barked good-naturedly

and lunged, nearly pulling his slender trainer off her feet.

But that was

OK. They still have work to do. And when he's not wearing the jacket that

tells him and the world that he's working and must behave, he too is allowed

to be a playful pup.

"Wearing

that jacket tells him it's time to work," Maria explained. "And

he loves it. It gets him used to wearing a harness later."

Mutzi received

his rather odd name from a sorority in Florida which sponsored him, Maria

said. Puppy sponsors make a donation of about $1,500 to get a pup started

in life: his vet bills, initial inoculations and placement costs. That

entitles the sponsor to name the dog and follow his "career"

until he reaches his final destination at the side of a visually impaired

person.

At least that's

the goal. Some dogs, for a variety of reasons, just don't make it as guides

for the blind, but there are several worthwhile alternative ways they

can serve. They can be trained to alert the deaf to the sound of a telephone

or doorbell or traffic. They also become companions for those whose mobility

is restricted, retrieving dropped objects and opening doors.

If for some

reason a dog does not prove suitable for persons with disabilities, he

or she may become a bomb- or contraband-sniffing dog, or part of a border

patrol team with the Immigration and Naturalization Service. Dogs with

particularly good blood lines and dispositions may become breeders a possibility

for Mutzi, since he was not neutered at six months as most dogs-in-training

are.

So far Mutzi

has mastered "heel," "stay," and sitting on command,

and must sit before going through a door or eating. He is not allowed

to play with a ball for the safety of the blind, is never allowed on furniture

and may not eat table scraps all restrictions that do not apply to Soppy

the Cheek family mutt, nor to Heidi the cat.

"Mutzi

can't go to Grandma's any more," Maria noted. "She just got

new white carpet." She hastened to add that this rule had more to

do with shedding than in-door accidents, which have been rare.

Maria and Mutzi

belong to a support group comprised of puppy raisers from several counties.

The group meets every two weeks for discussions or to hear speakers such

as guide dog users, and includes a professor at West Georgia College in

Carrollton who takes his dog-in-training to class.

Even more important

is Maria's "support" group at home: her family and friends.

When she's at school and her parents at work or asleep after a night shift,

Maria's uncle, Mark Williams, who lives with the family, feeds Mutzi and

takes him out for walks and the necessities of life. Williams, 53 and

mentally retarded, is not expected to train the dog, but has bonded with

him and takes satisfaction in knowing his help is indispensable.

"We couldn't

do it without Mark," said Amy Cheek.

A friend's

dad also helps, and has enjoyed the experience so much he plans to participate

in the program soon himself.

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