craig and prince

IT TAKES TWO
By MARTY MORRISON
The Free Lance-Star
When Craig Bennett and his dog, Prince, are in public, Prince is on the job.
At home, things aren't so serious. The two enjoy playing together.
CRAIG BENNETT peered into the prize box of plastic flutes, toy cars and stuffed animals in Nancy Bernsteins room at Grafton Village Elementary School. Craig, a first-grader, had earned enough incentive stickers in his speech lesson to select a toy that day, but none seemed to suit. Then he spied it. He slid his arm inside the box, carefully wrapped his thumb and fore finger around his choice and pulled out a miniature black stuffed dog. The tag says his name is Ebony, Bernstein told Craig, but he looks just like Prince. Arm in arm with his teacher, Craig plodded precariously in stiff high-top gray boots to a near by table. Craig reached down to show his toy to the real Prince, a Labrador/ Greyhound mix who is his best buddy. Prince jumped up excitedly and licked Craig's hand and the stuffed dog. Craig flashed wide, toothy grin and waited for Princes familiar response. The dog slurped his slobbery tongue over Craig's face. Side, Craig commanded him. As other children work on their lesson, Becky feeds Craig lunch while Prince quietly lies underneath his own desk. Prince joined Craig by one side as he and Bernstein walked to a sturdy stroller Craig uses to get around the Stafford County elementary school. Once Craig was seated, Prince jumped up so Craig could reach his leash, then walked beside the stroller while aide Michelle Weaver pushed Craig to class. Prince is a working dog. The 2-year-old Lab mix has been Craig's right arm since September. He stays by Craig's side all day long at home to help him dress, and at school and church to help him balance when he walks and break his fall if he loses his footing. But Prince has proven more than a help mate. He is Craig's best friend. He takes good care of me, Craig said as Prince licked his face. Dangerous delivery
Craig nearly died during his birth at a Pensacola, Fla., hospital on July 5, 1993. His mother, Becky Bennett, had gone into labor two days earlier, Becky was 10 days past her due date. Her husband, Allen, a Marine Corps helicopter pilot, had just returned from overseas duty near Italy. Prince sleeps with Craig every night. Becky puts Craig to bed with a rub down and a song. The grueling labor lasted 24 hours before doctors delivered Craig by emergency Caesarean section. The baby heart rate had plummeted to 19 beats per second.
He had stopped breathing, but once revived, the 7 pound, 5 ounce infant was whisked to neonatal intensive care. He rallied enough to go home with his parents by the end of the week. Two weeks later, he moved with his parents to Dumfries, so Allen Bennett could start a new assignment at Quantico Marine Corps Base. Craig seemed to weather the move well. He appeared happy and healthy. Then at the baby two-month checkup, the couple got more disturbing news. A physician suspected Craig was profoundly deaf. Over the next couple of months, different doctors told the Bennett's. Craig was blind and that he might have a chromosomal disorder that causes mental retardation and physical deformity. Eventually, though, tests ruled out all those suspicions. Becky and Allen didn't know what to think. They knew their baby was happy, but he wasn't progressing at the same rate as the baby books described for his age. By his first birthday, Craig was still as limp as a rag doll and weighed only 16 pounds. He didn't sit up, roll over, crawl or talk. His hands seemed locked into fists. A month later, a doctor diagnosed Craig with cerebral palsy, a motor disorder resulting from brain injury usually before or during birth. The Bennett's now believe that diagnosis is correct. Allen was transferred again, to Hawaii. There, the couple enrolled Craig in a preschool for developmentally delayed children, and Becky started her own research. She became certified in massage therapy after she read about the positive effects of infant massage. She learned about a Hungarian technique that uses exercise and positive reinforcement to teach disabled children to be more self- sufficient. Craig still couldn't talk, but he learned to use sign language to get his point across. By age 2, Craig would slap his leg whenever he saw a dog then he'd slap his chest. Becky didn't understand at first. Then it hit her. Do you want a dog? she asked him. Every night, Craig soaks in the hot tub with Allen to loosen and soothe his muscles. He blinked an emphatic Yes! A budding friendship Becky started checking into the possibility of a companion dog. But the first agency she tried would consider only older children and had a long waiting list. Craig persisted. He wanted a dog. Becky heard about a Manassas training Centre after the family returned to Virginia in 1998 and moved to a subdivision off Deacon Road in southern Stafford. At first, Lydia Wade, owner of Blue Ridge Assistance Dogs in Manassas, was skeptical of pairing a dog with a young child, but she agreed to consider Craig, then 5. The first dog she tried didn't work. Then she introduced Craig to Prince, whose birthday coincided with Craig's July 5 birthday. The two bonded quickly. Both are shy, and neither likes loud noises. At more than 60 pounds, Prince weighed twice as much as Craig, but the dog was intuitively gentle with his young friend. The Bennett's spent the next nine months visiting Prince in Manassas on weekends. They got to know him and learned the training commands. Prince bolts down a hill after Craig and Allen. The family took advantage of the recent snows to play together. When they'd drive up in their mini van, Prince would race to the door and bark excitedly. Craig hated the departures and cried himself to sleep on the 45-minute rides home. And Prince would pace from window to window as the mini van pulled away. Boy and dog with stood a 10-week separation that summer while Craig and his mother attended a therapeutic camp in Canada. There, Craig learned to sit up, to stand using braces and later to walk with the help of the stiff boots. Craig's vocabulary improved, and he started talking more as he interacted with older children at the camp. But he missed his dad, and he missed Prince. In Manassas, Prince also longed for his buddy. To ease the separation, Becky sent Prince a sheet Craig had slept on. Halfway through camp, Allen surprised Craig by bringing Prince for a visit. They spent the weekend tossing tennis balls. After Craig returned home last September, boy and dog reunited for good. With the help of Stafford occupational therapist Julie Chisholm, Craig is able to type his name, though it takes nearly four minutes. Like two children On a recent morning, Prince sprawled in his usual place across the foot of Craig's bed. He popped his head up as Becky entered the room. Craig slept on, buried beneath Star Wars sheets and a Dalmatian print blanket. Cmon, Prince, wake Craig, Becky said. Prince bounded off the bed and nuzzled Craig, then tugged his shirt. Becky carried Craig downstairs to soak his legs in an herb bath to help loosen his muscles. After a breakfast of Cocoa Puffs, mother, son and dog moved to the family room floor Becky gave Craig his daily massage while Craig watched his Favorite TV cartoon, Dragon Tales. Prince chewed on ice cubes on a pallet by Craig's side. A few minutes later, Becky carried Craig back upstairs to his room. At Becky command, Prince tugged off Craig's pajama top. She directed Prince to bring Craig his T-shirt. Prince quickly obliged. Each night before bed, Allen brushes Craig's teeth while Becky takes care of Princes. Becky pulled the shirt over Craig's head, and Prince tugged at it until it covered the boys chest. The writing on the T-shirt said, I'm just trying to be the person my dog thinks I am. Becky asked Craig to prompt Prince to get his leash and harness. Leash, Prince, Craig said. Prince returned with his orange Garfield and Odie leash, and his purple harness equipped with a bicycle handle for Craig to grab. The harness tag describes Princes mission to others: Please don't pet me. I'm working That he is Prince picks up things that Craig drops, opens and closes drawers, and nudges under Craig when he falls. He can pull up Craig's bed covers at night, although Craig said he can do that him self now. Prince also helps his friend in ways Becky doesn't appreciate. Prince chomps down vegetables that Craig doesn't want and hides his leash at his young friends instructions. Prince doesn't like to be far from Craig's side. At Hampton Karate School in Stafford one afternoon, Prince whined by the door way while Becky and an instructor helped Craig practice karate stances. Prince whimpered and inched closer to them. Finally, Becky took Prince into a small room and closed the door. Becky and Allen feel like they're raising both Craig and Prince. They're like two children, Allen said, and were expecting the younger brother to take care of the older brother. Craig is all boy. One afternoon, he flailed his hands and body to his favorite Backstreet Boys tunes and maneuvered a hand control to operate a miniature racing car on a track. He played hide-and-seek from both Prince and Mom, and then cajoled a visitor into a game of checkers, promising a blood bath. Craig also is determined. His weak muscles make it hard for him to articulate words, but he repeats words over and over again to make his point. Walking is a struggle, but its good exercise and he's getting better at it. To stay on track, he tries to accomplish tasks in a set time three minutes to walk into class, for example, or five minutes to write his name using the computer. Has tenacious about doing his home work, completing work sheets his mother tapes to the floor so they won slide away. Prince is still learning his duties. He some times doesn't under stand Craig's indistinct commands and looks to Becky or Allen for direction. They know they need to allow Prince to become familiar with Craig's speech even though its quicker to give commands them selves Despite the time-consuming process, they make sure Craig has a hand in feeding Prince and handling his leash. They know Princes role as a helper will improve over time. For now, its enough that boy and dog are best friends. I like to hug him, Craig said as he lay on top of Prince one after noon. Prince responded with a lick.

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