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Vacaville's Mike Penketh
and his 7-year-old golden retriever, Magy, are
teammates, educators and best friends. (Greg
Trott/Reporter photos) |
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\To be added\The Reporter - Lifestyles_files\mht2B2(1).tmp) | People often go
through life changes, but not at 250 mph.
Mike Penketh's life took a sharp turn on Utah's Bonneville
Salt Flats when the car he was driving crashed as he neared
263 mph.
The next thing the Vacaville man knew, it was 10 days later
and he was waking up from a medically induced coma at the
University of Utah Medical Center in Salt Lake City. Then his
wife, Maryann Harr, delivered the bad news.
"When my wife said my hands were gone, I wasn't surprised,"
Penketh, now 58, says. "When I woke up, I started a new life.
What's done is done. I'll never grow hands back."
It wasn't easy. There were dark days. Like the times he
would think, "Where's the nearest bridge?" Or when he would
tell Maryann, "You're not going to love me like you said
before."
Maryann not only loved him more, she became "the
cornerstone of my life," says Penketh.
Luckily, the former Marine fighter pilot has a penchant for
seeing heads instead of tails. That's why he was on the Salt
Flats in September of 1993 - another life challenge.
The Sunday before, Penketh placed first in his division at
the Reno Air Races as he performed aerobatics in his sport
biplane. And now, three days later, he was trying to break the
land-speed record - 263 mph - for his specialty type car.
"I would have broke the record if I hadn't crashed," says
the former airline
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Penketh shows students at
Cirby Elementary in Roseville how his prosthetic arms
work. |
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\To be added\The Reporter - Lifestyles_files\mht2B2(1).tmp) | pilot in a
matter-of-fact tone.
The centrifugal force, Penketh believes, sent his arms
outside the cockpit and caused them to be sheared off.
But, despite the loss of two limbs, Penketh will tell you
that the crash changed his life for the better.
Better than being a champion aerobatic pilot? Or better
than driving cars that smash speed records?
Yes. Even better.
These days Penketh has banded together with a nonprofit
organization called A Touch of Understanding, a volunteer
group that educates school children about the disabled.
And Penketh has also discovered a new sport that runs at a
slower and less dangerous pace than planes and cars. With a
special four-legged friend named Magy, Penketh now fills his
weekends competing in the canine sport of agility.
But it's his work with A Touch of Understanding that has
lit Penketh's inner torch. This work has exposed Penketh to
new friends, enriched his daily existence and made him a
better husband, he says.
In what way?
"Patience," he says. "I was never very patient ... I
learned to appreciate my wife."
And better because he met his best friend - Magy.
Magy is a golden retriever. A service dog. Specially
trained to aid those with disabilities.
"Nothing matches what Magy does for me," Penketh says.
Except, perhaps, enlightening children about the disabled.
Penketh's relationship with A Touch of Understanding began
11 years ago after he read a newspaper story about the group.
"I thought, 'That looks like fun,' " Penketh recalls. "The
best therapy for me is talking about my disability."
Together, Magy and Penketh travel to mainly Sacramento-area
schools to help children understand what people with
disabilities go through daily, that "we're all the same people
inside. Our goal is to show the kids we're just like they are
- we just use different tools to achieve the same goals."
Penketh was eligible for a service dog after his accident,
but felt that a dog would be wasted on him. He was highly
functioning - he still performed in air shows with the use of
his myoelectric prosthetic hands - and didn't consider his
disability to be much of a hindrance, except when it came to
buttoning his shirt.
But it was his good fortune to attend an open house put on
by a group that trains service dogs - Canine Companions for
Independence.
He was amazed by what he saw.
"They're incredible dogs," Penketh says. "They can open
doors, drawers, pull wheelchairs, pick up a dime and hold it
all day. Those dogs are fantastic."
Penketh then asked a man with CCI a silly question: "You
have any flunky dogs? The guy was kind of offended. He said,
'We don't have flunky dogs, but we do have change-of-career
dogs.' "
So
a friend with CCI
began looking for a change-of-career dog for Penketh.
When he got a call from this friend, she told him to drive
to a Roseville puppy school for service dogs.
"I asked her why. She said, 'Because Magy is waiting for
you.' "
When Penketh arrived, the first thing he saw was the golden
retriever perched upon her crate, holding a key chain in her
mouth, tossing it up and down as she played catch.
She was farmed out of CCI because she had a bad habit -
Magy chewed her paws. Her job is to help people - not be
helped. Her paw-chewing would require attention, something
many people with disabilities would not be able to give her.
"We were a perfect match," Penketh says.
Since then the two have given more than 600 presentations
on disability awareness to some 20,000 school kids for A Touch
of Understanding.
"She steals the show wherever she goes," Penketh says of
the now 7-year-old retriever.
But that only takes up a couple of days a week. On the
weekends, the two have competed for the past two years in the
canine sport of agility. You've probably seen agility on TV:
Dogs leaping off piers into water, weaving in and out of
sticks, running obstacle courses.
The latter is Penketh's and Magy's specialty and they do it
well.
Magy and Penketh have won agility races 35 times. In their
home is a wall dedicated to their awards. Penketh calls it
"Magy's Wall."
Magy and Penketh are the first service dog/disabled handler
team to earn championship status.
Call them a dream team.
And "team" is an appropriate word to use.
Magy goes EVERYWHERE with her master - even when he heads
to the bathroom.
When asked if Maryann, a recently retired flight attendant
Penketh met in 1980 while flying for AirCal, may get a tad
jealous of the bond dog and man developed, Penketh nods his
head. But Maryann has her hands full with a new housemate of
her own - a golden retriever named Taylor.
Recently, Penketh and Magy traveled to Roseville where the
Touch of Understanding team gathered at Cirby Elementary
School for a two-hour clinic. The first hour consisted of
giving kids hands-on experience.
"For a few brief moments," Penketh says, "they get to
experience what it's like to be blind, in a wheelchair,
without arms."
The second hour, the team broke up into different
classrooms. Penketh and Magy ended up in Room 16, where they
are joined by Paige and Courtney, two teens with disabilities.
Paige, 14, instantly grabbed the kids' attention, telling
them about the stroke she suffered at birth and how it froze
the entire right side of her body.
"Let me tell you how lucky you are," she told the children.
"I've had to go through therapy my entire life. All you have
to worry about is school - how I envy you."
Paige relayed her story with a smile, often laughing at her
shortcomings.
She's hoping for her own service dog, but it could be
months or years before she gets a companion like Magy.
Paige said to the kids, "I can't wait to have someone
always there - someone with fur."
Speaking of Magy, she rested next to her master, one eye
open, keeping a watch on him. When he stood, she stood. When
he walked to the head of the classroom, so did Magy.
The kids couldn't wait to pet her.
Penketh gave one last message to the children, "Stay in
school. Tell me you're going to high school."
Hands were raised.
"Tell me you're going to college."
Hands rose again.
"School is the easiest thing you're ever going to do," he
told them. Whether they believed him or not is up for debate.
But what isn't is the bond between man and dog.
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