One year and two days ago, I threw a party with a few friends at a now-closed chicken restaurant I loved to celebrate the storied career of Jenny the guide dog.

One year and one day ago, my partner arrived home with his new service dog after two weeks away. Looking back, he had the harder job; I had two weeks with a working guide dog and three cats to watch over, only one of the cats was really upset about his absence. He had his new young working dog, my retired guide dog, and three cats to watch over while I was away… the retired guide dog was about as upset at my absence as the one cat was upset over his.

One year ago today, I started a whole new adventure. And since guide dog training is exhausting unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, blogging about it at the time was not on my radar. So now I’ll take this opportunity to write about meeting my new guide dog, through the lens of one crazy year. I’ll be writing it as a retrospective; every day was a new experience in getting to know my dog, so I’ll reveal bits and pieces every day over the next two weeks as I learned them a year ago.

One Year Ago… A Journey Begins

The bag was packed. For those who have been around long enough to remember the Intrepid Journey? That bag. Jenny saw the bag and went nuts. She wagged her tail and turned in circles and shoved her head into her harness handle. THE BAG IS PACKED AND BY THE DOOR AND WE ARE GOING!!!!

But we weren’t.

I cried my eyes out and told her she was so very good, but she couldn’t come with me to the airport even if she really really really really really wanted to. She was retired now, and I couldn’t take her with me to guide dog school; my focus would have to be getting to know and bond with my new young dog. I cried in the car while my friend drove me to the airport. I really missed Jenny’s guiding skills and love of airports while I waited for gate assistance at the airport. Traveling with a white cane is very different from traveling with a dog. I am competent at both, but find it takes far more energy to travel with a cane; the cane detects obstacles, and I’m the one who has to figure out what the obstacle is and what options I have to negotiate it. I once wrote that “my worst day with a guide dog is exponentially better than my best days with my cane, especially in unfamiliar places.” This is still true. Throw in the emotional gut-punch of Jenny’s retirement, and I was tired long before I even boarded my first flight. I think I slept all flight long.

Then I changed planes in Seattle. I disembarked and was met by someone with the ricketiest wheelchair I think I’ve ever encountered. I walked briskly with my cane and my heavy backpack and he insisted I needed to get in the chair. I kept walking and told him he could either provide me good directions, or I’d figure it out myself, but I was not getting in that wheelchair.

He made the smart choice and gave me moderately tolerable directions. I was ravenously hungry, and told him I’d like to stop for something to eat. He got me to a non-descript eating establishment/kiosk/store? (I’m still not sure what) and told me to order. I had no idea what was available (sandwiches? pizza? crackers? candy? exotic never-seen-before cheese?) Another customer showed me such compassion and told me the sandwiches looked good. I chose one at random; at that point I was so hungry I didn’t care what I ate. I then walked over to my gate, ate my passible sandwich, and thought about my new guide dog. What would they be like? Could i work with them after getting into such an amazing rhythm with Jenny? Would Jenny get along with the new dog, or be upset that I was leaving every day with another dog?

My flight was called. It was getting real now. I boarded my plane, closed my eyes, and prepared to sleep the night away as the plane flew several hours east. When I landed, I would be that much closer to meeting my new dog.

I was excited.

And terrified.