The Lost Dogs: Michael Vick's Dogs and Their Tale of Rescue and Redemption

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WITH HECTOR IN THE house, Cris Cohen was back to square one. He was setting up the small plastic crate beneath the window in the dining room. He was walking two dogs separately every morning. He was getting tied up in the leash and he was retracing the same old route past the little school and on to Sunset Park.

All these things reminded him of Jonny. He certainly missed the little guy, but he knew that would pass. It always did. Having Hector around helped. He demanded Cohen’s full attention. Another big, fawn-colored dog with a black snout (he could have been Leo’s twin), Hector had a series of deep brutal scars on his chest and front legs, and a few more on his snout and back legs. Unlike Jonny and many of the other remaining dogs, he’d definitely been fought. He’d also spent his time in one of the sparest shelters. And yet here he was, not perfect but in better shape than many others.

It became clear to Cohen very quickly that Hector was exceptionally smart. That meant he had great potential, but also that he would require more work. Like Jonny he could be a bit restless-remnants of the kennel stress-and downright mischievous. He stole socks from Cohen’s room, hid shoes around the house, and dragged the area rug from the bedroom down the hall to the living room.

He was also very people-focused and warm. He loved to be petted and to sit with someone. As Hector settled into the routine and began to relax, he progressed quickly. Cohen was happy to see the results, but he was struggling. He couldn’t stop thinking about Jonny.

Every time he took on a foster he gave a piece of himself away. It was impossible to do what he did without forming a close bond with the dog. The animal itself was less accepting of training if it didn’t feel a certain closeness and eagerness to please the trainer. In the past, that bond had always faded over time for Cohen. He figured the same thing would happen with Jonny, but it wasn’t. Just the opposite. He felt like he missed Jonny more and more as time went by. He had talked to Jen about his feelings a number of times, but now he became convinced he needed to do something about it.

Cris and Jen had a unique relationship. It was a partnership that extended not only to their work with dogs but their entire lives. They’d been engaged for three years and dreamed of marrying on a Spanish galleon that sailed up the coast of California. Planning it was a feat of coordination that had kept them at bay for many months, but neither of them particularly cared. They were together and staying that way, so they’d get to the wedding when they got to it.

The couple was lucky to share such a unique perspective on life and a sense that making each other happy came before all else. Cris knew how Jen would respond, and she did not disappoint. “If you feel strongly about it, you should do it,” she said. “Call up and see if you can get Jonny back.”

What she left unsaid was the part that gave Cris pause. He knew that taking in a second dog full-time meant the end of fostering. He liked working with the dogs and feeling like he was helping to solve the pit bull problem. When people asked him how he could possibly give up the dogs he’d fostered, after he spent so much time with them and put so much work into them, he would say, “Every one I keep is one more that ends up dying in the shelter.” In other words, giving up one gave him the opportunity to save another. Giving up those opportunities to help was itself hard for him to accept.

Besides, by now Jonny might very well have been adopted by someone else. Cohen dropped the idea and focused on Hector, who was turning into something of a rock star. By early May he’d passed the American Temperament Test Society’s canine test, a demanding multipoint examination of a dog’s disposition. If it passes it passes, if not, it can’t try again. Less than a month later, Hector aced his Canine Good Citizen test.

For Cohen these milestones were bittersweet; they were great accomplishments, but they brought back the dreams he once had for Jonny. He couldn’t get the little guy out of his mind. He continued to bring up the idea of getting Jonny back, and every time he did Jen encouraged him to go for it. Still, the foster question brought him to a halt, until one day a friend gave him a different perspective.

The friend pointed out that every time Cris went out with his dogs, to the school playground, the park, the corner store, people saw how well-behaved and friendly his pit bulls were. Simply by having these dogs and displaying the heights they were capable of reaching, he was helping the breed and contributing to the cause.

Cohen sat on that for a few days. He talked about it some more with Jen. Then one day he picked up the phone and called Donna Reynolds. “Can I have Jonny back?” he said.

All was quiet for moment, and Cohen knew what was coming. He’d waited too long. Someone else had adopted Jonny. Reynolds’s voice came over the line, slow and mocking: “Suckerrrr.”

Hector had moved out on Friday, June 13, 2008, off to a new permanent home in Minnesota, and Cris picked up Jonny the very next day. But the transition back was a little awkward.

Jonny acted like an adult visiting his old grammar school: everything seemed sort of familiar but it was different and strange at the same time. Jonny himself was different. When Cohen took him on his walks Jonny was no longer interested in the same things and didn’t seem to recognize his old stomping grounds.

Cohen remained patient and fell back on the old routine. Within a short time, it all came back. Jonny once again roamed his half of the house during the day. He slept in the sun spot with Lilly and chased her around the backyard. He snored in the evening as he napped and he even, once or twice, ran up the steps at the little school.

Bond reestablished, Cohen got back to work. He and Jonny resumed their training and within a few months the former caveman passed his American Temperament Test Society exam and then nailed the Canine Good Citizen certificate. It had taken many months, but Cohen was proven right. He’d seen that Jonny was a good dog with grand potential who simply needed direction. Now the little pooch had the paperwork to prove he was as good as any dog out there.

In the aftermath Cris sought a new goal for Jonny, but nothing came immediately to mind. Life went on. One late summer day, Cris and Jen took the dogs to the park along with Uba, another of the Vick dogs who lived in San Francisco. As Jonny walked down the sidewalk he watched Lilly and Jen in front of him. It was August and the heat bore down on them, so no one had much energy. They were headed for the park where they could at least take some refuge in the shade and possibly even go for a quick if illegal dip in the pond.

As always, there was a lot going on in the park, including some sort of event for kids. Jonny seemed curious and interested, so Cohen ventured closer. Jonny seemed intent on finding out more, so Cohen got closer and closer. Soon the children spotted Jonny and came over to check him out. Before Cohen knew what was happening a dozen kids were all around Jonny. They came at him from all sides, thrusting their little hands forward, petting him, rubbing him, bumping up against him. Cohen didn’t know what to do, but then he saw something he’d never seen before.

Jonny absolutely lit up. Cohen had read about pit bulls’ affinity for children, but because he didn’t have kids he’d never witnessed it. Now he had.

Jonny was at once very calm and happy but also totally excited. Cris showed the kids how to play with Jonny, how to pet him, and where he liked to be scratched. Jonny romped with them all afternoon. Suddenly the heat no longer had the best of him.

Cohen was inspired. He’d thought about doing therapy work before. He’d trained Lilly for it and even had her certified, but Lilly had physical limitations-arthritis and a back so bad that she’d undergone multiple surgeries-so it was painful for her make the rounds. After watching her struggle while completing the testing, Cris had never actually taken her out to do the work.

But Jonny was fine, and he seemed to love kids. There must be a way to harness that, Cohen thought. He did some research and found a program called Paws for Tales. It was a reading program for children run through Peninsula Humane Society and SPCA. It was designed to get kids into the library and reading, but also to allow kids who lacked confidence in their reading abilities to practice out loud in front of one of the most receptive and nonjudgmental audiences they’d ever find. Cris contacted the program’s administrators and found out how Jonny could get involved.

They told him Jonny would need to pass the American Temperament Test and have a Canine Good Citizen certification. Well, check and check. Then he would need to be a certified therapy dog. Cohen and Jonny got to work on that immediately.

Part of the challenge was getting Jonny to react properly to a book. If a child was holding a book in the air while reading, Jonny was supposed to stare at the kid as if he were hanging on every word. If the child held the book on the floor, Jonny should stare at the pages, almost as if he was following along or checking out the pictures.

It took another three months of intense effort-hand-fed dinners, morning and evening training sessions, and a clever innovation, a pen stuffed with food that was laid in the book to teach Jonny to focus on the spot. But Jonny got there. Cris took him in for a demonstration and evaluation by the program administrators. Jonny passed.

Finally, on November 18, 2008, less than two years after he was saved from an almost certain end at the hands of Bad Newz Kennels and slightly more than one year after he was spared from what seemed a second death sentence at the hands of the government, Jonny Justice walked into the San Mateo Public Library and lay down on a blanket in a cavernous conference room in the back of the building.

At 4:00 P.M. the doors swung open and a few kids came in, trailed by a parent. They sat in a little circle on the floor and one by one they moved onto Jonny’s blanket and read a short book-Biscuit’s New Trick or The Heart of the Jungle-their cracking voices swallowed by the silence of the giant room.

Jonny sat and listened as if he’d never done anything else in his life, as if he’d been bred for the job.