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A cornhole tournament for working canines in South Jersey

Rescue 22 aims to connect service dogs with veterans at no cost.

Jonathan Belton, 39, of Boca Raton, Fla., a sergeant in the Marine Corps, with his service dog Loki, 2, a Belgian Malinois. The two were competing in the Bags, Brew, and Barks Charity Cornhole Tournament at the Total Turf Experience in Pitman, N.J., on Saturday.
Jonathan Belton, 39, of Boca Raton, Fla., a sergeant in the Marine Corps, with his service dog Loki, 2, a Belgian Malinois. The two were competing in the Bags, Brew, and Barks Charity Cornhole Tournament at the Total Turf Experience in Pitman, N.J., on Saturday.Read moreTyger Williams / Staff Photographer

Louis, a golden retriever, really wanted to eat someone’s brownie. Hatfield, a chunky white Lab, looked like he wanted to take a nap, but little boys kept hugging him.

Even Loki, a high-energy Belgian Malinois named after the Norse god of mischief, seemed to be dozing off on the three-point line of a basketball court while his owner talked about traumatic spinal injuries suffered in the Marine Corps.

Each dog was on duty, however, and with just one spoken word, or even some barely perceptible change in their owner’s heart rate, their training would kick in. They were all working dogs, there to help their owners physically and psychologically.

“He saved my life. That’s how important he is,” Sarah Lee, an Air Force veteran from Florida, said of Louis.

The three dogs had come to the first Bags, Brew, and Barks Charity Cornhole Tournament at the Total Turf Experience in Pitman, Gloucester County, Saturday. The fundraiser, to be held annually, was for the Rescue 22 Foundation, a nonprofit that aims to connect veterans with highly trained rescue dogs.

Lee served in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Africa but doesn’t discuss how she injured her back or how she lost her foot, but she said Louis is trained to notice her signs of PTSD. Lee has a law enforcement background and, initially, she’d wanted a tougher-looking “pointy-eared” dog like a German shepherd or a Malinois.

Louis is furrier, his tail constantly wagging, and his legs kick out when people tickle his belly. It’s nearly impossible for strangers not to pet him, Lee said, despite the patches on his working harness.

“I was thinking, ‘I’m not having a golden retriever, it’s just not me,’ but look at him,” she said. “He’s always in a good mood.”

Angela Connor, Rescue 22′s cofounder, said the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs does not pay for service dogs, and that’s the void the foundation hopes to fill for veterans. The specific training regimen can take years and cost tens of thousands of dollars. Some dogs can fetch medication, others can notice an oncoming panic attack.

“These dogs are truly indispensable,” Connor said.

Money was raised Saturday through sponsorships and a large cornhole tournament, featuring both novices and highly skilled teams who brought their own bean bags.

“Corn Pops and Scooby Snacks, please report to Court D,” a tournament director announced.

The event raised about $37,000, a little short of the $50,000 Connor had hoped for.

Jonathan Belton injured his spine in a Marine Corps parachute accident. He’s had three surgeries and if and when he needs it, he can tell Loki to “stand” and the dog knows what to do.

“He will lock his legs. If my back goes out and I can’t get up, I can tell him to brace me or even ‘pull’ me up and he’ll do it,” said Belton, a Florida resident.

Belton said Belgian Malinois are true athletes, capable of jumping 6-foot fences. They need both physical and mental work, every day.

“He’s pretty relaxed because he was on the treadmill today,” Belton said.

Hatfield, the white Lab, is a mobility and PTSD dog for Brandon Rumbaugh, a Pittsburgh resident who grew up in Philadelphia. Rumbaugh, 34, was gravely injured by an improvised explosive device in 2010 in Iraq, while scrambling to rescue a fellow Marine who’d also been injured. He lost one leg, just below the hip, and another, below the knee.

“I certainly shouldn’t have survived,” he said.

Hatfied, Rumbaugh said, often acts as a brace for him if he’s unstable. His size — 100 pounds — helps.

“You can see he’s pretty chill and likes to lay around,” he said. “But he’s my buddy.”