A Time to Heal : Adopt-a-Seal Program Briefly Unites Boy and Pup, and Benefits Are Lasting

George looked up at Adrian Clifton with liquid black eyes and barked. The 4-month-old pup was trying to coax a handout from his 11-year-old adopted master.

When he didn’t get one immediately, George tried a trick he had taught himself, one that never failed; he rolled over. The small, brown-haired boy--with some assistance from his mother--raised himself from his wheelchair and threw George a six-inch herring.

The young harbor seal gobbled it down.

To Adrian’s delight, George rolled over again, but this time there was no reward. It was time for a trip that would change the sleek, brown seal’s life; a trip that had been planned--and dreaded--by all who met George since he arrived sick and desperate last April at Friends of the Sea Lion Marine Mammal Center in Laguna Beach.

George was going home to the sea.

The marine mammal center was founded in 1971 by John Cunningham and a handful of other volunteers.

“Like many fledgling groups, we were unsure of what would happen or what was really needed to make the center a reality. Our foremost goal was to save marine animals that had been hurt from natural causes or had run afoul of the 20th Century,” said Cunningham, a marine biology teacher at Laguna Beach High School.

“We wanted to rehabilitate, then release, our patients back to the sea in a healthy, playful condition. These are wild animals, not pets, and part of the natural resources that contribute to the beauty of Orange County.”

Because of many caring believers, Friends of the Sea Lion did become a reality and has continued its growth to its present status, that of being the Marine Mammal Rehabilitation Research and Education center for all of Orange County.

“We have been actively involved in gathering data and participating in workshops to increase the knowledge of environmental concerns, and we have reached out to thousands of minds, young and old, to present information about the needs of a healthy marine environment,” said Cunningham, president of the center.

They moved to their present location at the red barn in Laguna Canyon in 1976, when officials at the sewer plant they were located behind asked them to move because the center’s fishy smells were offensive to sewer workers.

The city of Laguna Beach rents the barn and land to the nonprofit organization for $1 a year. The foundation now has a membership of more than 2,000 with about 30 volunteers who work on a regular basis at the facility. One of those gently accepted a bewildered seal pup.

Only a month old, George was on the brink of death. He had lost his mother during a storm. He needed a friend. So did Adrian Clifton.

Adrian, left a quadriplegic by cerebral palsy, had long yearned for a pet.

“We tried Adrian with a dog and cat, but both animals moved so fast they triggered instinctive reaction--he assumed a fetal posture,” said Pam Clifton, Adrian’s mother, with whom he resides in San Juan Capistrano.

“A friend suggested I contact the center about their Adopt-a-Seal program,” she added. “We thought that the slow movements of the seal might not trigger that reaction and we were right.”

Judy Jones, a five-year volunteer and director at the center, explained the program.

“For a $100 donation you adopt one of the animals brought in for rehabilitation,” Jones said. “This entitles you to name the pet, visit it, feed it and be present on the day it’s returned to its natural environment.

“The average cost of feeding a seal of George’s size runs around $6 per day, so all donations are really appreciated. Some of the animals only stay a short time, but others have remained up to a year.”

“George was brought in about the time we were looking, and we fell in love with the little guy,” Pam Clifton said.

She said it was a natural pairing. “George was so small and underdeveloped when they found him that he had to be tube-fed. He had no idea how to eat fish, and he needed constant attention.

“Adrian was born three months premature and weighed only two pounds. He also had to be tube-fed,” Clifton said.

Adrian could empathize with the tiny, defenseless pup. George needed constant attention; he needed to be taught how to eat, and he needed to learn how to get along with members of his own species as well as survive in his natural environment.

The Cliftons learned much about marine mammals through the program.

“For instance, the ‘seals’ you see in animal acts are actually sea lions,” Pam said. “They are distinguished by hind flippers that can rotate under the body, thus allowing the animal to walk on all four flippers on land. They also have external ear flaps and are sociable and intelligent.”

“George is a harbor seal, Mom,” Adrian reminded.

A harbor seal’s hind flippers cannot be used for walking. The seals are smaller than sea lions, and have only a hole with no ear flaps leading to the inner ear. They also are shy and not as intelligent as sea lions.

“George’s pool mate, Repeat, is an elephant seal,” said Adrian, looking quite pleased with himself.

Judy Jones smiled at Adrian as she explained about Repeat.

“Like George, Repeat was separated from his mother at an early age. He is about the same age as George, but weighs three times as much and is almost twice his size. Because of an adult elephant seal’s immense size--some weigh in at 8,000 pounds!--thick layer of blubber and lethargic nature, elephant seals were hunted and killed in large numbers for their oil during the 1800s. By 1907, less than 100 known individuals remained,” Judy continued.

“But in recent years, both American and Mexican governments have recognized the value of these other marine mammals in a marine environment and have established, by law, protective acts to restrict hunting.”

Judy bent down and fed Repeat a fish through the chain link fence of his enclosure. Repeat looked like a large caricature of George. He pulled himself over to the pool and slid in.

Because of this uncontrolled hunting of the 1800s when the biggest and best animals were taken, the animals today are less intelligent. They also lack sufficient genetic variability to enable them to adapt to changes in their environment. There are only approximately 30,000 elephant seals alive today.

All living organisms must possess this ability to adapt or adjust to changes in their environment if they are to survive. Today, due to a shortage of suitable breeding beaches, overcrowding and disease, the future of the elephant seal is very much in doubt.

“Repeat won’t be ready to be released for about another month,” Judy said. “He still needs to put on a lot of weight. He also needs to learn to be more aggressive. He reminds me of Ferdinand the Bull who just wanted to smell flowers. Repeat lets little George boss him around,” Judy said with a laugh.

Most animals brought to the center are released, but three current residents must remain in captivity if they are to survive. Carly, a beautiful, golden 5-year-old female sea lion, is epileptic. She is on medication.

Stubbs, a 2-year-old male sea lion, and Lance, a year-old male, both are blind. These animals are handled daily so they become used to human touch and are taught a few voice commands. This makes it easier to place them in parks such as Sea World.

It is not always easy to find them a home. Most aquariums and parks have their own breeding facilities and seldom take outside animals. Carly and Stubbs have been with the center for almost a year.

The day picked for George’s release was also Adrian’s 11th birthday. George wasn’t particularly concerned by the crowd which had gathered to see him off. In his three-month stay at the center, he had been the focal point of many lectures presented to schoolchildren, Boy Scout and Girl Scout troops, and Adrian’s physically and visually impaired classmates from Castille School in Mission Viejo.

George had also visited many of the local schools as part of the center’s efforts to promote interest in and study of marine mammals. So he wasn’t particularly concerned about climbing into his pet carrier once again.

George was taken in his carrier to Crescent Beach in Laguna. The door was opened. George slowly stuck his nose out. This was no classroom, although people he recognized were there.

He hesitantly pulled himself out of the cage and looked around.

“Goodby George,” whispered Adrian. “Goodby.”

George waddled to the shoreline, stopped and looked back at his human friends. A large wave broke on him, knocking him over. He recovered, only to be tumbled by another.

“We taught him how to eat fish, but his swimming coach didn’t do such a hot job,” joked one of the center’s volunteers.

However, instinct soon took over and within minutes, he was diving through waves. Twice he came out and stared at Adrian and his previous handlers as if to say: “What are you guys waiting for? Come on in--the water’s great!” Finding no takers, he swam out of view for the last time.

Adrian was philosophical about George’s departure.

“I was very lucky to have the opportunity to adopt such a wonderful pet as George,” he said in his slow, slightly slurred speech.

“I’ll remember George the rest of my life,” said the freckle-face boy from his wheelchair as he looked dreamily and sadly out to sea.

“This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”