Whoever says puppies are always cute has clearly never raised one.

Just a few weeks ago, my family started raising a scruffy poodle named Tara for Fidos for Freedom, a nonprofit organization that, among other things, trains dogs to become hearing dogs or service dogs for the mobility impaired. I assumed that, because Tara was specially chosen for the duties that await her, she would be a genetic wonder, a puppy prodigy, who really did not require any training whatsoever and was completely capable of taking care of herself.

I was definitely mistaken.

"Quiet, Tara!" has become a common catch phrase at the dinner table, because dinnertime seems to be Tara's primetime for barking at the two other dogs in the house. And for a dog who barely weighs more than 10 pounds, her bark is unbelievably loud.

But Tara isn't only playful during dinner. When we let her outside into our fenced-in backyard, she somehow manages in Houdini-like fashion to slip through the impossibly thin gap between the pickets and runs away, mocking anyone who dares chase her. One of her favorite activities is running under beds and quickly darting from side to side, making it nearly impossible for anyone to catch her and pull her out. And, while hiding under the bed in an oh-so-adorable manner, she has taken to grabbing the clothes out from under my bed which my mom might have asked me to put away.

I don't know if I can ever forgive Tara for revealing my favorite hiding spot, forcing me to actually put my clean clothes in my dresser. In fact, Tara loves clothes, for example, slippers. She likes to chew on my slippers, as if we haven't bought her more dog toys than any puppy would know what to do with. Of course, like every good service dog, she will return the slippers, soggy and decorated with teeth marks.

However, I would never have agreed to help raise a dog if I didn't actually like dogs. And Tara certainly has her share of adorable puppy moments. After a long day of chasing her amusing human caregivers around the house, she takes to curling up in my lap. Her peacefulness while sleeping is so adorable that I almost forget the energy she is capable of exerting.

Also, like any good "mother," I must point out Tara is ridiculously smart. She catches on to all the obedience skills we teach her with ease and has quickly learned how to sit to receive optimal pets. I am definitely not biased -- Tara is a genius.

Furthermore, as Tara will one day accompany a hearing or mobility impaired person everywhere they go, I may also have the task to introduce Tara to the multitude of places that people typically go without their dogs. I can only imagine escorting Tara to the movies or a restaurant, or asking for her opinion on dresses at the mall.

Alright. So Tara really isn't that terrible.

Unfortunately, part of being a puppy raiser is that, once the puppy is between six months to a year old, I will have to give her to a professional trainer. While I am convinced Tara is so smart, she will hardly need a trainer to be a suitable service dog, it is a necessary next step in her formal training to become Tara the magnificent service dog. Now that I have grown to love Tara like I love my other two dogs, I find it impossible to look to the future and see that Tara might not be part of my life as early as next fall.

Because Tara will have to be trained to listen to her client and her client only, I won't even be able to pet her while she is working. I know, however, that one day Tara will make a wonderful gift to any person -- a gift of greater independence from a faithful, dedicated, and loving companion.

I just hope I will find the strength to part with this gift that I will be getting to know for such a short time but who has already wedged her way under my bed and into my heart.

Samantha Kelly is a senior at Glenelg Country School. You can e-mail her at cdumler@theviewnewspapers.com.

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