Not any more.

"We recently went to the grocery store to get a box of brownie mix and it was a 45-minute trip. People stop and talk to you," said Ikenberry, who harbors no illusion that the women are the attraction. She knows it is the dog at the end of the leash wearing a red vest that reads, "I am a service dog."

The pair love it, though, because it means they can teach people about their nonprofit Eyes Ears Nose and Paws. The program trains assistance dogs to help people with mobility issues or who have diabetes. The dogs alert them when their blood sugar levels are too high or too low and summon help if needed.

The idea came to Cunningham when her dog, Finner, developed hip problems and could no longer participate in search and rescues they had been doing as members of two North Carolina search and rescue teams. The Assistance Dog Institute in Santa Rosa, Calif., caught her eye and in 2007 she went out and spent a year there training.

"There was nothing like this in the Triangle so it was not like she could come back and join a group," Ikenberry said. "It made sense to start an organization and make it happen."

So they have. The women recently presented a grant application to the Chapel Hill/Carrboro Human Services Advisory Boards. Board members, foster parents and admirers filled the audience. Renee Zimmerman spoke in support of the program, with her assistance dog from another program, Nixa, lying at her feet.

An injury affected Zimmerman's balance, coordination and small motor skills.

"Nixa gave me back my life," she said. The dog can pull off Zimmerman's socks, support her full body weight and help right her if she becomes unsteady.

Cunningham has trained dogs for 26 years. While she was working for her associate's degree at the Assistance Dog Institute, she was the lead trainer for eight service dogs and worked with 50 other dogs. But one just has to meet the program's newest foster dog, Little B, to grasp Cunningham's connection with the canine world.

As this 4-month-old puppy walked across the parking lot toward Elmo's in Carrboro, a startled flock of birds flew up. Little B turned their way. Cunningham drew his attention back to her and praised his quick heeding. He sat quietly under the diner booth for an hour, needing only a few quiet reminders that he wasn't to touch any dropped food or silverware.

"When he was just eight weeks old he was able to turn on a light switch," Cunningham said. Not a switch on the wall, as Little B is still a pipsqueak. Cunningham explained that to begin teaching a puppy this skill, one takes a light switch and makes a small extension on it to make it easier to bump. Then it is put at the puppy's level where he will accidentally touch it. Each time that happens, the puppy is rewarded.

At the Human Services meeting, Little B demonstrated his ability. For those watching, it was a marvelous moment. For someone who has disabilities, it symbolized more than we can imagine.

"Assistance dogs give their handlers the gift of freedom," said Ikenberry.