Otis doesn't quite get it. The service-dog-in-training is supposed to pick up his leash and hand it to Ariel Clark as part of his public-access test.

But Clark, who is autistic and suffers from seizures, carefully pronounces her words in a monotone voice. There's no intonation that might provide the dog with a better clue as to his task.

"Otis, get your leash," Clark tries again, a tinge of frustration emanating from an otherwise even tone. "Otis. Leash."

The two are at a standoff at DeVargas Center, their final series of tests that cap two weeks of intensive lessons and practice sessions. Shoppers walk by, oblivious to their struggles. Clark's mother, Kimberly, watches, as well as Jodie Backensto, an Assistance Dogs of the West trainer and, at this moment, the public-access tester. Backensto encourages Ariel Clark to try again.

Otis wags his tail, but does not pick up his leash.

Ariel Clark and Otis have been through a lot the past two weeks. The two have aced simple tasks, such as using an elevator, walking up stairs, going into a restaurant and heeding whispered orders at the library. It's all a part of learning more than 90 commands that Ariel Clark will use with Otis on her way to independence. She's among four clients who took the placement training in April, one of whom had to drop out because of illness.

Ariel Clark breathes deeply and tries the command one more time.

"Otis. Get your leash."

This time, Otis responds, wagging his tail again as he brings her the leash. Kimberly Clark claps her hands with joy.

"He's so gifted," Kimberly Clark says about Otis. "He is so much like Ariel."

Otis will be among nine dogs set to graduate from Assistance Dogs of the West in a 6 p.m. ceremony Tuesday at the Santa Fe Community Convention Center. Tickets are $10 and are available through the Lensic box office, 988-1234, or at the door on the day of the event.

Jill Felice, founder and program director of the nonprofit group, said watching the dogs grow from puppies with boundless energy to focused service dogs is always amazing.

"They act like high schoolers," Felice said. "At this stage, there's always some finishing work to be done, but when they get with a client, it all solidifies. When you're placing dogs, it's always such a wonderful feeling to see that happen."

The intense work with a variety of trainers helps. ADW, since its founding in 1995, has taught elementary, middle and high-school students, juvenile-detention center and developmentally and physically disabled students to train assistance dogs. About 250 people a year go through those programs, which are taught at 17 private and public locations, said Carolyn Clark Beedle, the group's executive director.

Training individual dogs can take up to two years. About eight out of 10 dogs — breeds of all varieties, although the majority are retrievers — who enter the program are successfully placed with clients. ADW estimates it costs about $15,000 to train a dog. Clients pay $3,500 per dog, which helps offset the cost of the placement training.

A service dog has been a long time coming for Ariel Clark, said her mother, Kimberly. She's tried to convince doctors that an animal would be helpful since her daughter was 16.

Now that she's finally got one, Ariel Clark said she'll no longer have to pretend to have skills she doesn't have.

"I would often just have seizures and be really lost at what to do or who to focus on," Ariel Clark said. "I would just be wondering where help was and try to find it or do if for myself."

Now Otis, a gentle Labrador, can warn her if she might be going into a seizure. He'll nuzzle her, she said, or give her a touch that will help to bring her back to the physical world.

"For much of my life, I've just wanted to live on the spiritual realm," she told a group of student trainers at Santa Fe Preparatory School. "That was the area I understood, the area that I could communicate well in. Now that I'm able to work with this service dog, he seems to be able to help me function a lot better."

That help in dealing with real-life issues is what Beverly Francisco-James hopes her service dog, Tilley, will do for her. The retired veteran suffered a brain injury six years ago that left her partially paralyzed and blind in one eye. She also suffers from short-term memory loss.

Her doctors suggested getting a service dog, but she resisted. Finally she grew tired of running into things and feeling lost in crowds.

"I had to learn how to compensate for my disabilities," Francisco-James said. "I look normal, like a person without any problems. But I don't see or feel anything on my left side. People will come up to me and startle me and I'll get scared. Tilley's on that side now."

Aside from the confidence that a service dog builds, Francisco-James said she can now go through life without bumping into things, like trees or restaurant tables.

"I can do things on my own now," she said. "Before I just tried to go where I needed to go, not where I wanted to go. Today, we did a scavenger hunt in Old Town, and it was fun."

For Alice Lee, who has ataxia, a genetic neural muscular condition that affects her balance and coordination, a service dog has been the constant support in her life for the past eight years. But it's time for her service dog, Morgan, to retire. She has been working with ADW since January for a replacement.

The transition has been difficult, Lee said, learning new commands and adjusting to a new dog, Beedle. Morgan is on an extended vacation with her daughter in Portland, Ore. She recently sent him a yellow raincoat for those wet Northwest days.

The placement training was exhausting on all levels, Lee said. Despite a walker for balance, Lee said she found herself falling every day, sometimes five or six times, in the parking lot, at home or in her yard.

"Luckily, I haven't broken anything yet," Lee said. "Beedle will help me conserve energy. I drop things a lot and she'll retrieve things for me so I don't have to bend over. That's when I lose my balance."

The independence she finds through a service dog helps her continue to mentor, garden and cook. The dog is also a great equalizer.

"The focus isn't on the disabled person, it's on the dog," she said. "People will smile at you and talk to you."

One problem with the intense training has been the emphasis on Lee's disabilities. Her sister died last year of the condition, and Lee said she sees the ataxia taking more and more of her energy.

While Lee said she's accepted her limitations, she feels she's moved beyond it. The classes, however, make her face difficult realities.

"I'm a person with disabilities, but I do all these other things, too," she said. "You want to be OK, but you're not. I told Wayne (her husband) the first night I came home from training: 'I don't want this disease.' "

Some of the dogs in this year's graduating class have stepped up to the plate, Felice said. Asa, a dog specifically trained to detect seizures, jumped into his role immediately, Felice said. The client, Katie Patten, 16, was forced to drop out of the classes when she started suffering a series of seizures.

But the dog immediately came to Katie's aid and remains with her in Arizona, Felice said. A large percentage of dogs can detect seizures, but it usually takes some time with a new client, she said. Those dogs are taught to lie down with the person having the seizure or go get help, usually five or 10 minutes before the actual seizure takes place.

Asa took it a further step, she said, alerting Katie's mother, Julie, and bringing her back for help.

"He's putting two and two together to make four," she said. "We don't usually see that in a relationship so quickly. This happened within 24 hours (of placement)."

Other dogs aren't as successful. Beedle, Alice Lee's dog, for example, began acting out about week after placement. Lee said that happened with her initial service dog in Washington state. Lee grew close to Beedle, but said she had to accept that they weren't a good match. "To find a good canine partner is no easy thing," Lee said.

Beedle will be reassigned, Felice said, after more testing. It's only the third time it's happened in the 120 placements the group has made.

"It's nobody's fault really," Felice said. "It's not the dog's fault, not Alice's fault, not the organization's fault. We thought we made the right placement for both parties to be safe in the world and it didn't work out. We made a bad choice, and we have to make a better choice."

Felice said the group will begin trying to find the right dog for Lee after the graduation ceremonies. It might take time, but the commitment is there.

"We have to be flexible to everyone's needs," she said. "The dogs teach us to be flexible because they are who they are. When one plan doesn't work, you move to another plan."

Contact Ben Swan at 986-3051 or bswan@sfnewmexican.com.