On the first Sunday of every month, folks with cancer or those who have loved ones with the disease can escape with their dogs to the country, arriving at a place far removed from thoughts about suffering and fear and grief.
On a 10-acre farm in Pleasant Grove that doubles as a dog training operation, there is a low-key program called A New Leash on Life.
"Being around your dog helps you focus on something other than yourself and what you are going through," said Nola Jones, owner of Performance Dogs in Action and dog trainer.
Her facility 25 minutes north of Sacramento in Sutter County provides obedience training, an agility course, sheep herding, dock jumping and, perhaps best of all in the dog days of summer, a pond for dogs to splash and swim and chill.
All the activities are part of the business Jones started 18 years ago. She charges $75 a month for agility lessons, $45 per session for herding, and $15 for 30 minutes of flying leaps off the dock.
The new cancer program, however, provides participants with access to the facility at no charge. It's something of a fantasy world for the dogs and an escape for their human companions.
Recent visitors to the farm said their dogs helped them through the worst of times. A cold nose, a wagging tail and unconditional love have a way of doing that.
"You know dogs love you no matter what," said Jamie Swanson, taking a break from the obstacle course with Daz, a hairless Chinese crested dog. "Your dog always thinks you're the best cook in the world and the best person in the world."
Swanson wore a yellow Livestrong wristband. She had cervical cancer 15 years ago and has long considered the now-retired cycling star Lance Armstrong an inspiration.
"I've worn it for years. I mean, Lance Armstrong -- come on," she said with a smile.
Dennis Driver went to the Sacramento Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals not long after he had surgery for prostate cancer.
He walked out with a border collie named Babycakes. That was four years -- and a gazillion tosses of the Frisbee -- ago.
In the dog world, that would be called a rescue. But Driver saw it the other way around.
"I frequently think of our relationship as being one of divine intervention. I felt an empathy that existed within my dog," he said. "My dog was the one that rescued me. She made me focus on something other than myself."
Driver added: "I experienced cancer as a journey, one that has taken me down many roads, several I would not have chosen for myself. It has actually proven to be a very enriching experience.
"It has heightened my personal level of compassion, made me more in tune with my surroundings and has helped me know there are people who care."
About 18 months ago, Driver, a human resources vice president for a Bay Area biotechnology company, began looking for a place to board his dog and found Jones' facility. He and "Cakes" soon became a fixture at the farm.
Not long after Driver shared with Jones his story about cancer, A New Leash on Life was born. Jones had already planned to use her property for community outreach.
"I was reminded of how many women I have known through dog agility who have had cancer," said Jones, 52, who has been showing dogs and training them since she was a child.
Jones lives on the property by herself -- but not alone. In addition to her eight border collies, she has 30 sheep, 22 geese, 27 ducks, a pot-bellied pig, a couple of rabbits, three guinea pigs and a variety of birds: pheasants, doves and a parakeet.
Pam Lunsford, whose husband died of cancer seven years ago, wishes he could have seen the farm and all the dogs.
"He was sick for seven years and I was all the care at the end," she said. "When he passed away, there was a big void in my life."
She now has two dogs. She first visited Jones' farm four years ago for agility training and has since won a national agility title.
"It's a whole new, wonderful family of people that I never would have met," she said.
Harold Toback made the trip from Fair Oaks to Performance Dogs in Action after hearing about A New Leash on Life. A nonsmoker and regular jogger for years, the 57-year-old has been going through chemotherapy for lung cancer since he was diagnosed four months ago.
He has an 8-month-old Labradoodle -- a poodle mixed with a Labrador retriever -- named Josie.
"I've never been scared by anything until this. I've had to experience that," he said as Josie played with several dogs near the pond and his wife looked on.
Along with the fear came change.
"I've learned to be more receptive and aware of life around me," he said. "I'm not just going through the motions. I've had to look inside and find out who I really am. In doing that, I've become a better dad, a better companion, a better friend."
Standing nearby was Diane Russell, only days away from her final radiation treatment for breast cancer. Her chow-Australian shepherd mix named Shadow has gotten closer and more intuitive as her treatments progressed.
"He's been my buddy, my companion," she said, noting that he used to sleep next to her but on the floor, then began sleeping across her feet.
"When I got my last treatment," she said, "he slept right across my chest." To see more of The Sacramento Bee, or to subscribe to the newspaper, go to http://www.sacbee.com/. Copyright (c) 2008, The Sacramento Bee, Calif. Distributed by McClatchy-Tribune Information Services. For reprints, email tmsreprints@permissionsgroup.com, call 800-374-7985 or 847-635-6550, send a fax to 847-635-6968, or write to The Permissions Group Inc., 1247 Milwaukee Ave., Suite 303, Glenview, IL 60025, USA.
Copyright (C) 2008 The Sacramento Bee, Calif.