Tag Archives: guide dogs

Guide Dog 2.0, One Year Later: The Big Apple Reveal

25 Thursday Jan 2024

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One of the things I looked forward to from the day I got my acceptance to Guiding Eyes was the New York City trip. Yes, I know, going for a training day with a new guide dog is different from going for a vacation. But I LOVE NYC for some reason I can’t quite articulate.

I got up on time, did the morning routine, and then we headed over to the closest train station. We practiced working on a train platform, which would come in handy when I got home and used our LRT. “Juno” laid under the seat like the good girl she is and took a nap. When the train pulled in to Grand Central Station, I worked with a trainer I’d never worked with before. She was fun and flexible and had no problems taking photos of me and “Juno” in Grand Central Station.

A masked woman in a red shirt is standing beside a yellow lab guide dog. Grand Central station is recognizable and visible in the background

Once we left the hustle and bustle of Grand Central Station, each guide dog team and trainer went our own way. Some took a subway further down the line and then walked to our final destination – a well-known local burger spot. Others, like us, went to street level, walked as far as we could, and then hopped the subway to get to the burger place. I took an opportunity to practice my targeting skills with pedestrian controls, which were not always readily available on our prior training routes. While this impacted our forward momentum, I got some valuable feedback about timing and placement and how to target effectively. We did walk about thirty blocks, and “Juno” handled the hustle and bustle of New York like the pro she is. We encountered lots of foot traffic, little dogs, strange vehicular traffic, and construction, and my girl worked through it like it was nothing. I was so proud! Once our trainer recognized the time, we found the closest subway station and went underground so that we could meet up with everyone at the burger place. let me tell you, it was a ton of fun getting three dogs and a bunch of humans around a couple of tables! And We laughed a lot, shared the fun and interesting things we encountered, and ate some scrumptious burgers!

Once we were done eating, we realized that it was raining. And not lightly sprinkling raining; the skies would open up, and we’d get caught in the middle. Thankfully, someone drove one of the vans down, and we all piled in before we all got soaked and started to smell like wet dog! As the van made its way down the streets of New York, it got cold enough to slightly snow. I looked forward to seeing how my girl would work in the snow and hoped we’d get some more before we flew home, just because I knew we’d be arriving home and encountering a bunch of it! The van crept along, and we made it back in time to warm up, do some light training work, and turn in for the night.

And after nearly a week of teasing my friends, family and colleagues, and one of my classmates throwing out nonsensical names on social media in an effort to be hilarious, Our work in New York made me feel like it was time to reveal my girl in all of her glory. For nearly ten days, my social media world knew her as “Juno”. One year ago, I formally introduced her as Yasha – a special dog who deserves a special name. And while I can’t claim to have named her, I think it suits her very well.

2023: The Year of Treading Water

31 Sunday Dec 2023

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I look back over the past year, and realize just how much has happened, how hard it’s been, and how little I’ve written about the whole thing. Jenny retired. I trained with a new guide dog who, in October, was diagnosed with a mast cell tumor that thankfully got removed but resulted in a complicated healing process. My schooling misadventures feel like how I tried to write about them earlier this year – fits and starts and momentum and slammed-on brakes. We adopted a fourth cat. I’m going through a period of self-discovery that I’m not ready to discuss yet, but it does bear mentioning here because it’s part of all the things I’ve done in 2023 and will move forward into 2024.

In short… this year has been harder than I ever expected it to be. I feel like I’ve spent most of it treading water, being handed a lifeline (like a new opportunity), and then getting buried by another wave that might not be really massive, but certainly feels like it. But for the first time in most of a year or maybe longer, I feel like I’m breathing now. I know more about what I need to cope, and hope in 2024 I can share more about this self-discovery journey I’m on… but first let’s look back over 2023, such as it was.

Jenny’s Retirement

Jenny has been retired for nearly a year. She showed me in very real ways in the fall of 2022 that she was ready. My decisive dog – who made even incorrect decisions with 100% confidence – was reluctant to make decisions if there was more than one option. I still tear up thinking of the ways she tried to gently tell me she was ready – being more interested in hanging out with other people, general restlessness, slowing down on routes – until she told me in the most obvious way she knew how that she just was ready to be done. She loves retirement, but whenever I can I love taking her on leash trips to pet-friendly places; she loves those trips, too. She loves curling up and napping in her crate, enthusiastically greets me and Yasha, her successor, whenever we get home from work. She’s made friends with our newest cat, who I am convinced should’ve been born a dog. Her life is about snuggles and playtime and love, and she’s loving retirement!

Introducing: Yasha

IN January, 2023, I took a trip to Guiding Eyes for the Blind in New York to train with a 3-year-old yellow Labrador named Yasha. They tell you not to, but I had a hard time not comparing her to Jenny. Both girls are smart, both are stubborn. But where Jenny thought everything work-related was a new adventure and would do just about anything unless there was a very compelling reason not to do that thing, Yasha is more cautious and insists on a “business plan” as to why my decision(s) should override hers. The first year has been challenging in a way Jenny’s first year with me was not. I took her to the vet in October because I had some concerns about some symptoms and behaviors, and it turned out that she had a mast cell tumor. We spent most of October and November in and out of the vet – removal of the tumor, suture check post-surgery, redoing sutures when one or two blew out 10 days post-surgery, redoing sutures ten days after the first set was re-done, staples ten days later because it was clear sutures weren’t working, and then removal of the staples and hoping for the best when all of those didn’t hold. Thankfully, her prognosis is good, and her surgical site has healed over and is growing fur again!

But our first year wasn’t all about surgeries and vet visits – thankfully! We got to travel this year. Our first trip, to Vancouver, was a good experience for us. Like me, people in my life seemed to compare her to Jenny; or at the very least made comments about her hard-headedness, while I was trying to pick my battles with my new young dog. Our trip to California in December was a great team-building experience, because for the most part, it was her and I taking on Sacramento and San Francisco – areas I knew only slightly. She freaking rocked it, and loves the challenge of new places. One of her fun quirks is her “regrouping” strategy; if she figures out that neither of us know what we’re doing, she’ll take me to an out-of-the-way space to take a deep breath, get our bearings, and then come up with a game plan. She’s found great places to do this (like out of the way corners), and less than ideal ones (like bike racks), but I love her intuitiveness and how we are connecting in these ways. As I come up to one year with this smart, stubborn, serious working dog, I am glad we’ve had these times together, and I look forward to so many more adventures.

Yasha, a Yellow Lab, is wearing a teal body suit, and she is laying across my lap. This photo was taken not long after her surgery.

So… we Have a Whole Menagerie!

Jenny retired, I trained and brought home Yasha. My partner trained with and brought home a new service dog of his own. So, in the span of about 3 months, we adopted Madonna (a cute white and black cat that everyone calls “Maddie”), and brought home two new Labrador service dogs. This meant our household included 3 Labrador retrievers, three cats, and two humans.

So what did we do?

We adopted another cat. This one, a boy. Wiley is sweet and funny and a little bit foolish – how else can you describe laying in the middle of the floor, getting tripped on, and still not moving? We named him Wiley because he convinced us that he was a chill, mellow marshmallow of a cat… and then started tipping over water bowls in his excitement to go to a new home. He likes to sit beside me when i drink my coffee in the mornings, and can make a cat toy out of just about anything. Wiley is so sweet. He gets along with the dogs (Yasha’s his best friend in the whole wide world), loves Maddie, doesn’t mind getting bossed around by Monkey, and is still figuring out how not to get the crap beaten out of him by Wolfie. That last one is a work in progress.

Our menagerie makes us laugh every single day. Whether Jenny is trying to play with Wiley, or Monkey’s finding interesting and bizarre places to nap, or Yasha is throwing toys at whoever she wants to play with her… I laugh every single day. There’s almost always someone to snuggle with. There will always be fur on my floors, and I’ve made peace with that; but the love and laughter is worth more to me than perfectly clean floors.

School Is… School!

I’ve written before about how school is going. It’s been great in some areas and extremely frustrating in others. I’ve had course coordinators and tutors be extremely supportive – from making accessible format materials and answering all my questions, to the point of contacting accessibility services on my behalf because “it’s your job to learn the material, and it’s my job to make sure that happens” – and those that were much less helpful. I am finishing two courses right now for which I’ve requested extensions while starting two new ones. Online education for me has been a mixed bag, and I do want to write more about it as I move along this journey. But right now, writing about it seems counter-productive; it feels like I should be doing the school things, rather than writing about them.

Cool Unexpected Opportunities

As much as it feels like I didn’t do much in 2023 because I was so busy treading water and putting one foot in front of the other, I stumbled into some cool new opportunities this year. A friend reached out to me late in 2022 about a local docuseries about guide dogs she was participating in, and thought I could share my story too. At the time, Jenny’s retirement was imminent, and I felt it was just the wrong timing, especially with that experience being so raw and training with a new unknown dog, so I let it go and didn’t contact the creators and (I realize now) just hoped it would go away. But life has a funny way of throwing opportunities back at you. Next thing I knew, I was being interviewed on camera, talking about guide dogs, and – after a few months – viewing the final product. Edmonton’s Guide to Guide Dogs debuted in September and can be found on Youtube and Telus Optic TV. I’m glad I was a part of it, and hope it can entertain and educate about the important work that guide and service dogs do in our city.

On top of that, this year found me opening the door to becoming a real published author! I am one of 15 authors whose stories will be shared in an upcoming publication “Run for your Life”, which will be released in March, 2024. The writing was both easier and harder than I thought it would be; I’d written about running for years now. But telling your story as it is intertwined with other peoples’ is a complicated business. how much can you tell of your story without veering off-course and telling the stories that truly belong to others? I think I succeeded in telling my story, and am excited to hold in my hands a real physical book with my name in it!

Speaking of running… I ran my fastest half marathon in years in Edmonton in August! I also ran the Vancouver Half in May, and had a wonderful time! And in December I ran/walked a marathon! I went back to Sacramento to run the California International Marathon, even though I found out in July that the support that’s been provided to visually impaired runners for the past 15 years would no longer be provided. My training was insufficient (I had a hard time training with guides this fall), and my lack of motivation didn’t help. But I crossed the finish line and made a new friend in my guide runner in the process.

So… now what?

Normally, my partner and I light a fire and burn all the paper and cardboard things we’ve accumulated during the year as a symbol of ushering out old things so we can move forward in the new. But it’s so dry and warm that we have no snow to buffer against the fire. So… I guess… I’m thinking about the fire that will be whenever it’s safe to do so. I’m thinking about all of my hopes for 2024; more writing, more jewelry making, and maybe more music. I plan to run a marathon in 2024, but I will be careful about the race I choose, and make sure ahead of time that I’m able to secure guides regularly to train – the past two years have not made this possible. I hope to get through school and re-discover the joy an excitement that I only now realize has been left behind in much of the frustration I’ve faced over the past few months.

In short… In 2024, I just hope. I hope to breathe. I hope for strength. I hope for grace. And I hope 2024 is gentler to me than 2023 has been.

However the past year has been for you, I hope the coming year brings you love, peace, rest, discovery, joy, and productivity – in whatever healthy ways those things look like for you.

Hanging up the Harness: On Guide Dog Retirement

14 Saturday Jan 2023

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UPDATE: April 2, 2023: I finally found the video of the naughtiest and most hilarious thing Jenny has ever done. Enjoy!

Last night, after a long work day, Jenny and I made our way to one of my favourite restaurants in the city and met a few friends – new and old – to celebrate Jenny’s life as a guide dog and her well-deserved retirement. OK, let’s face it, it was for the humans… but Jenn did get to break a few rules, like accepting pets under the table and giving kisses to one of her favourite humans while he put a snazzy new bandana on her.

Over fried chicken, Dorito mac and cheese, and dog-themed beers, my friends and I laughed and joked and talked about this incredible dog and the career she has had. And as I am mentally processing her retirement and training with my next dog, it seems only fitting to pay tribute to her on a blog that has seen her grow up from a rookie guide dog into the wise old soul that she is.

Jenny’s Career, By the Numbers

Number of years as a guide dog: 9.365 (exact calculation since graduation on October 3, 2013)

Number of hours she’s slept under a desk: 16,000 and probably more (40 hours a week for 50 weeks over 8 years and a bit – more, if you don’t count the time she spent hanging out with me while I spent a year job hunting)

Number of jobs she’s accompanied me to: 6

Number of job interviews she’s barked in: 1 (see below for more on that)

Number of kilometers we’ve run together: I stopped counting ages ago – 1500? 2000? More?

Number of finish lines she’s been at: 8 – 3 as a runner, 5 as a “spectator” (read: napping until she notices I’m there and then wiggling her bootie off)

Number of flights she’s been on: 50? Probably more

Number of provinces she’s visited: 6, possibly 7 (BC, Alberta, Saskatchewan, Manitoba, Ontario, Quebec, and maybe – as a rookie but I always forget what year I went – Nova Scotia)

Number of states she’s visited: 8 (Washington, Oregon, California, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, New York)

Number of cats she’s lived with: 7 – not all at the same time, don’t worry!

Number of doggie friends she’s made: too many to count

Number of human friends she’s made: Everyone, ever – unless you are one specific individual who will remain nameless because they hold the strange distinction of being the only person on this planet that Jenny has not liked

But it’s not Just about the Numbers

Of course it isn’t. You don’t live with another being, day in, day out, for years, and not feel like you know them better than you know yourself. Jenn’s made it easy; she communicates extremely effectively – I once wrote that no one needs a Jenny dictionary. I’ve written a lot about Jenny on this blog – she inspired my first tattoo, made me a runner, and has otherwise taken the world by storm. She has done absolutely nothing half-way – when she’s on, she is on, and when she’s not, she is so very very off. I am convinced she took pandemic shut-downs personally, because after periods of isolation she brought her A game to guiding, as if to say “If you were giving me a break, I’ll show you I didn’t need one; I’ll be the best guide dog ever so you’ll take me more places!” She has known that she’s known that she’s known that she’s right, and has still had the confidence to allow me to make colossal mistakes and then just sit down, head cocked to the side, nudging me with her nose as if to say “When you’re done not listening to me, we have places to go.” Her quick thinking has saved me from getting hit by inattentive or illegal drivers at least two dozen times during her working life, and probably more that I don’t know about. She’s traveled to New York City, one of the busiest, bustlingest cities in the world; crammed herself in the back of a Nissan Altima for a whirlwind awesome road trip; traveled alone with me for nearly a month, visiting new cities every few days… and a bunch more adventures in between. She’s raced with me to finish lines, trained me to finish lines, and met me at finish lines when she decided that she was so over this running thing. Jenny’s not-so-tiny body has squeezed under seats on airplanes, in trains and cars and buses, at concerts and hockey games and plays and operas. She’s guided through crowds so big and loud I couldn’t hear myself think, and shown initiative when I felt so lost and confused that she just knew that if she found something – anything – familiar, we’d put our heads together and we would be OK. Her emergency surgery and miraculous recovery confirmed for me that I am a much better traveler with a harness in my left hand than a cane in my right.

I heard for years that, when your dog is ready to retire, they will tell you. I believed that saying, in a way, but not really. But much like making a soul-deep connection you never knew you needed, you’ll never really know until it happens, and then you know. I knew there would be a time when Jenny’s age would make it likely that she’d slow down, but I never thought we’d be in a time where it was obvious – she was done. And, in her subtle yet in-your-face style, Jenny has shown that she is ready to hang up the harness, whether I am ready or not.

I could go on here for pages and pages about my thoughts and feelings during this time of transition from one dog to another. Maybe one day I will. But for now, this space is for Jenny, to honour her and her amazing brain and personality – and by extension her amazing career as a guide dog – and how she’s done everything she’s ever done with her whole heart. Those of you who’ve met Jenny during her long and amazing career, please chime in here; I’d love to remember with you.

And because I am extremely emotional right now, and need a good laugh, please find:

The Top 5 Naughtiest – And Most Hilarious – things Jenny has Ever done In harness

5. Barking – once – at a dog mannequin in Old Navy – it was just standing there staring at her!

4. Carrying a loaded hot dog bun through an Edmonton pedway. She carried it most of the way through the pedway, let me have a 5-minute conversation with building security, and then showed me she had it while wagging her tail as if to show how good and restrained she’d been. The bun – perfectly intact – went into the garbage.

3. Barking – once – at the company CFO during a job interview. While I was busy trying to gather my composure, convinced that this would be the end of my chances with this company, the man who would later become my boss – without missing a beat – said, “Oh, that’s OK, we all act that way around him.” I worked for that company for a year and a half.

2. Walking down the hall to another office and eating the office dog’s food – while he just sat there and watched her do it. I’d been telling her for months that she had the right to scold him for being naughty, and she had done nothing; I guess this was her way of showing him who’s boss!

1. Running on to a goalball court… in the middle of a game. In her defence, who uses a squeaky toy during a game when they know there will be guide dogs present? There is video evidence of this, but I cannot seem to find it anywhere; please take my word that this is by far the most hilarious and naughtiest thing that Jenny as ever done in her life! (Update April 2, 2023, in case you missed it, I found the video!)

So, What’s Next?

I am blessed to have had more than 9 years with Jenny’s harness in my left hand. She’s more than earned this retirement. Her remaining years will be here at home, with the humans she loves, the cats she thinks she can boss around but mostly ignores, with her days full of love and attention from anyone who wants to give it, and maybe a second career as a therapy dog. I’m a better traveler – and a better human – having had her by my side during so many transitions and experiences in life. Jenny girl, you deserve the best life has to offer you; thank you for giving me the best years of your life, and mine.

Guide dog 2.0: ACCEPTED

28 Saturday Aug 2021

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I got the email in the spring: I’ve now been accepted to train for my second guide dog! I’m both excited and nervous, and it feels like things are both moving too fast and too slow. I’m not ready, even as I know that Jenny is nearing the age where she needs to retire. Thankfully, though, she’s not quite there… yet.

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Happy International Dog Day!

26 Thursday Aug 2021

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For some reason I don’t know – and don’t have the energy or inclination or desire to look up – someone has assigned today as International Dog Day. In honour of this day, I wanted to pay tribute to the dogs that have squirmed their way into my home and my heart.

Motley: A Kid’s Best Friend

I don’t have a childhood memory at home without Motley. She was just always there, having predated my arrival by at least a year. I’ve been told that she took her job as my protector very seriously, calmly guarding my nursery room door from an unsuspecting babysitter who tried to go in there to get my diaper bag. As I grew older, and we moved to the home I remember growing up in, Motley was a constant. She had no problem letting kids ride her, was terrible at tag, and didn’t see anything wrong with eating the peanut butter sandwich that 5-year-old me carried outside right at her nose level. She seems so large in my memory, because in relation to me, she was a big dog. But in fact, it was her heart that was huge, not so much her frame.

Pebbles: “Who, Me?”

Not long after Motley crossed the Rainbow Bridge, my Mom and I brought home two puppies. bandit bonded strongly with my Mom, and Pebbles… she did her own thing. Pebbles was a bundle of energy, had no listening skills to speak of, and seemed to be getting in to everything! If you called Pebbles, she would ignore you so intensely that you wondered if she had a hearing problem. But if you called Bandit, Pebbles would come running to you, stretch out a paw, and grace you with her attention.

Pebbles wasn’t well suited to our home. After nearly two years, we found a new home for her on an acreage, where all she had to do was keep her new canine brother company. She could run all she wanted, swim in the pond, and play with the kids who just loved her. And when her new brother was called in, Pebbles would come running, stretching out a paw, knowing that she came when she was called.

\Jenny: The life Changer

Jenny is a dog unlike any other, both in my heart and to many who meet her. She works and plays, listens and disobeys, in equal measure and with equal enthusiasm. She’s taught me how to be a good guide dog handler – because I made so many mistakes with her in the beginning. I wouldn’t be a runner without her. She’s been able to pivot from a city-commuting, packed-social-calendar guide dog to a homebody overnight. She’s taught me how to trust another being with my life, because she shows me every day that she’ll keep me safe. She loves completely and exuberantly, has hilarious ways of showing that she’s right about stuff, and is constantly learning and thinking and growing.

I’ve said it before, but I want to be like Jenny when I grow up. If I can have half of her good qualities – and look as good at her human age (65+) as she does – I’ll be thrilled!

How about you?

I’d love to hear about the dogs that have impacted your life. pet dogs? Service dogs? Office dogs? Tell me about them in the comments below!

Follow your Dog

18 Wednesday Aug 2021

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I talk a lot about Jenny on this blog.

Jenny… my sidekick, my partner in crime, my guide dog. I’ve had her harness in my left hand for almost eight years. It is abundantly clear that we have far more years of partnership behind us than we do ahead. I’m not even sure that our partnership has multiples of years left. I’ve found myself talking more about her retirement lately – of course I am, especially in the process of applying for Guide Dog 2.0 – but it still feels both like it will happen tomorrow, and like it’s a million years away.

But while she’s still my steady and reliable guide, she still reminds me that I need to follow her, dammit! And she has the most adorable ways to show me that I am being foolish. I often tell the story of the time I seriously over-corrected her – thinking she was distracted and veering way too far to the right. My “correction” had us crossing a busy downtown street… diagonally. Not realizing my error until later, I got up on the opposite curb and asked my dog “what the hell was that?” She calmly walked me around the corner to the light pole, and stubbornly sat down, cocking her head to the side. The thought bubble above her head couldn’t have been more clear: “Are you quite done?”

That instance was years ago – frankly, I should’ve known better. But Jenny is nothing if not forgiving, and smart, and intuitive. I honestly believe that she took her lack of useful work over the past year and a half personally, because she’s rocked every new thing I’ve thrown at her in the past few months. And even in the mundane and routine , she’s got her way of baffling me, while simultaneously putting me in my place.

Today I decided to go to an unfamiliar restaurant for lunch. I’d been there once before (with my dad, traveling in his car, about seven or eight years ago?) I left work and made my way through the parking lot, redirecting Jenny from the other restaurants in the area that we’ve been to before. I waved her forward, through the parking lot, and asked her to find a door. There’s more than one door – in fact, there’s about ten of them – and she took me to the one door to the one restaurant I wanted. I don’t think her tail stopped wagging the entire time she was showing her stuff.

On my way home, my mind was full of complicated thoughts. It has been a hard day and a long week, and I truthfully wasn’t paying as much attention to my orientation as I should have. I made a turn, and about a hundred feet past the corner, Jenny made a sharp turn to the left. Thinking she was severely distracted by something across the street, I waved Jenny forward. She angled in front of me, as though to block me from the rest of the sidewalk. Was there construction? I waved her forward again, and again she angled in front of me, preventing me from moving forward. I snapped out of my mental funk and realized she hadn’t been distracted at all – she was taking me to the crosswalk that we cross regularly. As soon as I turned around and headed back toward that crosswalk, my faithful, forgiving guide dog wagged her tail frantically, as if to say, “See? You really should listen to me.”

I do listen to Jenny more often than I don’t. She speaks so loudly with her whole body. I wonder how Guide Dog 2.0 will communicate? Will they be gracious, or stubborn? Will they throw up warning messages (“Are you sure you want to go straight/cross this way/take this turn?”) or just let me figure out my own foolishness? Will I be open to learn what they will teach me? I certainly hope so.

YOUR book Reviews: All about Guide Dogs

25 Wednesday Apr 2018

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I know, I know, book reviews are usually published at the end of the month.

But it’s almost the end of April… that counts right?

I’m publishing this blog post today because it’s International Guide Dogs Day!

 

I had a book review all ready to go today on the blog, and then I decided not to publish it – that whole nugget of wisdom “If you don’t have anything nice to say…” is applicable here. I realized that I didn’t want to commemorate this day with a blog post of a book that I found light, fluffy and aggravating in equal measure; there’s got to be more enjoyable books out there featuring guide dogs.

So, I’m coming to you, my readers…

What are some of your favorite reads featuring guide dogs? Are there some books that you recommend with caution? What about those that could be better?

If you’ve ever worked with a guide dog, known someone with a guide dog, or just love stories about dogs… chime in here!

I can’t wait to get some great recommendations!

 

The Epic Road Trip of Awesome Day 4: Entertaining Angels

23 Saturday Sep 2017

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Tuesday, August 29, 2017
I know I didn’t sleep well last night. My deflated air mattress had JUST enough air in it to feel like a slightly deflated water bed, and neither Ben nor I could move comfortably without disturbing each other. I know now that I will never ever ever get a water bed like the ones that so fascinated me as a child.
Jenny is not on her bed by my feet, or snuggling with me; she’s waking up Dwight and Sarah with kisses and tail beatings. It’s 5:30 AM or so, and we’re all wide awake.
Last night at the grocery store, we bought bacon and eggs for breakfast. Ben gets up, cleans the plates from last night’s burgers as best he can without dish soap, and starts making breakfast on the camp stove. I start folding up sleeping bags. I’m in the process of moving one sleeping bag from tent to roof bag when I see a flash of orange from the corner of my eye. I know without thinking about what I’m seeing that it’s orange. I turn to look more closely with my limited vision, and the sun is starting to rise, blanketed by a smoky haze that – until now – I haven’t been truly able to detect visually. It looks incredible to me, like a sunrise but not, and I stand for a moment in awe of it.
We sit around the picnic table eating eggs with chopped up bacon. Ben and I discuss needing to get a new, more compact, air mattress, and dish soap and something to wash dishes in. I count out bills and hand them to Ben, since I’ve got plans in Portland today and he’s got time to buy these things.
We’re fed, as well-rested as can be expected, but severely under-caffeinated (we forgot to pack coffee supplies). The tent is disassembled, the roof bag packed and loaded onto Hoshi, and we hit the road.

Cascade Peaks Campground – Portland, Oregon
Distance: 140 miles (225 km)
Travel Time: 2 hours, 45 minutes

We don’t have room for the big air mattress – in the tent or in the car – especially if we’re going to buy a new one. We check out of our campsite and leave the air mattress at the main office building with a note that says it should go to anyone who may need it.
My phone briefly connects to the WiFi signal, and I’m thrilled that a book I’ve had my eye on for months is on sale on Audible today. Unfortunately, no matter what I do, I can’t seem to purchase it on my phone – due to the ancient nature of my “semi-intelligent brick” or the weak Wifi signal here.
We turn on to the highway and are thrilled that Dad’s strategy of tying up the loose ends of the roof bag’s straps has eliminated the humming noise we heard the first day of our trip. Right on the highway, we locate a coffee shop with a drive-through window. We buy our drinks and get ready for the drive to Portland. Sarah’s thrilled she can get a breva, and she offers Ben a sip of hers. He likes it, and drives on.
We put on the music as we travel I5, and I realize that we didn’t have the music yesterday. Maybe that’s why our short trips felt so long. By 9:30, I open up the GoPicnic box and start passing packs to anyone who wants one. Sarah and I are doing workouts today, so we need the quick bursts of energy the food gives us. I trade Sarah my applesauce for her edamame seed blend, and eat something every 10-15 minutes – the seed blend, crackers and turkey slices, fruit and nut mix – until we pull in to the parking lot at 10th Planet at 10:30.

We all enter the gym, and Sarah introduces herself. She’s been in touch with them, asking if she can join 1-2 Jiu Jitsu classes while she’s in town, and they welcome her instantly. She fills out forms and pays for her classes, we all take turns using the public washroom, and her class begins almost immediately.

Ben asks about places to go to take pictures, and the man behind the desk (I think he said his name is Bam) gives some great directions. After a few minutes, Ben and Dwight go back to the car, and I’m Just about ready to settle in to a chair and wait for my guide runner, when I realize I forgot something.

I take Jenny and fly over to the car, thankful that they haven’t left yet. I’m wearing my sandals, not my runners, and my running shoes are still in the car. I quickly change footwear, wish the guys luck, and tell them I’ll see them in a couple hours.

Before taking off for this trip, I put out feelers for a guide runner at any of the stops we would make. A friend mentioned United in Stride, a tool to pair visually impaired runners with sighted guides. I got in touch with Mark, who agreed to run with me, and was so accommodating of my shifting plans and changing meet-up locations and schedules. We’ve agreed to meet at 11:00 at 10th Planet, and it’s just past that. I try and pull up the email he sent me with his phone number to touch base, but the wifi doesn’t work and the email, for some reason, isn’t stored on my phone.

Jenny and I wait outside in the growing heat of the day, and Bam comes out a couple minutes later to wait with me. Mark pulls up and Bam introduces himself, then me, and Mark and I laugh about our seeming inability to keep track of each other’s phone numbers. Since my phone isn’t REALLY a phone anymore, he couldn’t have reached me, even if he had tried to call.

Jenny hops up into the back of Mark’s vehicle. She’s thrilled that she has easy access to a window to look out of – something that’s been in short supply in our little Nissan. I apologize to Mark for any nose prints, and he laughs and says he has kids- nose prints are nothing.

The traffic is heavy today, and we make it to Leif Erickson Trail a full twenty minutes later than planned. But the conversation on the way is easy and fluid, and I’m completely comfortable with Mark acting as my guide.

Before we hit the trail, Mark grabs the T-shirt I had agreed to purchase from his online store. I make sure it fits by putting it over my current running shirt; it’s slightly big, but not baggy. I put the T-shirt in the car and make sure my shoes are laced up.

Mark asks if he can get a picture of the three of us – me, Jenny, and Mark – before we get all gross and hot from running. I quickly agree, and we sit on Mark’s tailgate, my calf coming in contact with a tail pipe. Before it burns, Mark quickly grabs a cold water bottle, holding it against my calf for a full minute, apologizing the whole time. I tell him there’s nothing to apologize for, and my calf feels fine. We snap the picture; I think Jenny likes Mark.

Jenny is giving Mark a kiss as we take this picture

 

We hit the trail running. I tell Mark that I think Jenn’s going to kick my butt for the first mile at least, and I’m not wrong. My training plan has me doing an easy mile, three hard miles, then another easy mile, but Jenny has made other plans. She’s been cooped up in a car for three days, and by God she wants to RUN! I have two choices: fight, or adapt. I choose to adapt, but that first mile is grueling, run in less than 9 minutes (faster than my usual pace). Mark advises of changes in terrain, is confused by Jenny’s placement toward the edge of the trail, and we need to fine-tune our placement (Mark moves a couple steps behind me and Jenny is much happier). At every quarter mile, Mark announces the distance on posts along the trail. Parts are shady, others are baked by the sun. I’m thrilled by my first trail run in a year, even in the heat. I alternate the miles – hard-slow-hard-slow-hard – as best I can, given the terrain, the heat and distractions – mostly off-leash dogs – on the trail. Mark holds a water bottle for me and hands it to me when I ask. Jenny takes any opportunity to drink, something she almost never does when running at home. We push through the last mile and make it back to the vehicle. I feel proud, even though my speed isn’t quite what I expected, and Mark and I chat on the way back to 10th Planet about marathons and future running plans (his first guiding experience was at Boston).

I try and call the gym to leave a message for Ben  that we’re running late – traffic, again, is surprisingly slow – vbut Mark and Siri aren’t getting along. He hands me the phone and, for some reason, I’m able to get Siri to play nice. Mark laughs and calls me a show-off.

We make it back about twenty minutes later than planned. I thank mark profusely and introduce him to Ben, Dwight and Sarah before he drives away. I load Jenny into the car and go into the gym to freshen up as best I can, changing in to my new T-shirt and heading back to the car to get back on the road.

Portland, Oregon – Memaloose State park

Distance: 77 miles (124 km)

Travel Time: 2.5 hours (including stops)

 

I ask the guys about their shopping trip, and hope Ben has gotten some of the pictures he’s been wanting to take for days. The shopping trip was a success – if an expensive one – and we now have two camping mats similar to Sarah’s and a folding basket to wash dishes in. It took all the money I had handed to Ben (and then some) to purchase these items, but they were able to swing by a food truck for burgers and stop at Voodoo Donut (as recommended by a friend). The pictures, however, are much less successful because of the smoke that hangs in the air.

 

Looks pretty smoky

Donuts are probably not the best post-run food ever, but I need the sugar. Sarah is thrilled with her experience at 10th Planet, and we’re both so much more relaxed. I don’t think I knew how much I needed a run until after I’d had one, and I’m thrilled to have gotten a chance to fly.

Sarah and Dwight are both fans of Elliott Smith, so we put on some of his songs on this portion of the trip. I’m struggling to get into this music, because – while I don’t think anyone can deny his talent – the dark and brooding nature of these songs aren’t compatible with my current headspace. I stay silent on the subject, though, because to me it’s not a huge deal; this portion of the trip is short, and I’ve gotten to do something I really wanted to do, the least I can do is allow others to enjoy the music.

We stop in a small town for a bite to eat; Sarah and I haven’t had lunch. We find a grab-and-go barbecue place, but are glad to be able to sit inside an air-conditioned building while we eat. We both enjoy our food, then Ben and Sarah swing over to a Walmart for a few supplies. Having purchased everything they need, we get back on the highway and head for Memaloose State Park.

The first thing we notice upon pulling in to our camp site is a barking dog. I smile, as this means that my friend Tami and her husband (our suppoer hosts) are here! It’s only 4:30 or so, and we mentioned we might be there by 6:00, so I am in a way surprised to see them already.

The barking dog is Loki, a 3-year-old standard poodle that Tami has owner-trained as a guide dog. I wait to bring Jenny from the car (thankfully it’s cool enough to leave her there for a few minutes) so I can greet Tami. We’ve known each other online for the past few years, and it turned out to work extraordinarily well that we’re in this area at this time. Tami and her husband Wayne live in eastern Oregon, but made plans in Portland this week, so a great camping spot to make friends and feed people (as Tami says Wayne likes to do) about halfway between their place and Portland was perfect.

I bring Jenny over to cautiously greet Loki. He’s still barking as we approach. I put Jenny in her Newtrix, just so I can have more tactile feedback on her head movements. Tami backs up with Loki, praising him for a quiet approach. But Loki gets within about five feet of Jenny and starts barking again. Jenny, annoyed that this poodle is barking in her face, lets this go on for about ten seconds before she moves forward and barks twice right back.

We separate the dogs (Loki goes in the truck, Jenny goes back in the car), and we set up the tent. The wind is blowing a beautiful cool breeze, but we have no tent pegs to anchor the tent. Once the tent is set up, the sides start blowing with the wind, and we place our backpacks and other items in the corners and sides of the hexigonal tent to keep it from blowing away.

Wayne and Ben get dinner started. Wayne’s got the steaks going while Ben uses the camp stove to make corn on the cob. We’ve tested out the new wash basin to clean our camping dishes, and – after a momentary fear that the plastic will melt or be damaged by hot water – our dishes are clean! While food is cooking, we set up the sleeping mats and air mattresses, and – miracle of miracles – they all fit snuggly in the tent.

Tami and I mutually decide that the dogs might never be best friends, so while Jenny is now out on the camp site with me, Loki is still in his space. Tami uses her white cane to walk over to where I’m sitting at our site’s picnic table. She’s embarrassed by Loki’s reaction and I’m quick to reassure her that she’s doing the right things by reworking a situation as far as it will go. I’m also thrilled that she respects her dog and mine enough to allow that extra space and the realization that they may not become the buddies we’d hoped they’d be. We talk about dogs, about books, about travel and camping, about our mattresses not fitting in the tent and the need to buy new ones. When I tell her the tent was supposed to fit seven people, she pauses a few seconds and asks, “What, are they all five-year-olds?”

When dinner is ready, we all crowd around Tami and Wayne’s picnic table. Jenny and Loki are as far apart as they can get, and they very pointedly ignore each other as the six of us eat and laugh and chat, throwing away our paper plates in the covered cans provided by the camp site. We’ve set up our camping chairs near the picnic table and open the leftover drinks from the cooler as we chat – sometimes as a big group, sometimes in smaller 2-person pockets. Sarah uses her phone to log on to my Audible account for me so that I can purchase that on-sale book (you can’t beat a book for $2.95), and I smile and thank her. The sun sets, the air continues to cool, and the crickets (sounding different from last night’s chorus) come out of hiding. Jenny and Loki continue to ignore each other, until Tami gives Loki a treat that Jenny shows too much interest in for Loki’s liking. It takes Jenny a little too long to lay down and turn her back to Loki again, but in the end they are content to coexist and ignore each other’s proximity entirely.

The showers close at 10:00, so at about 9:30 I grab my toiletry bag and walk with Sarah over to the showering room. Sarah describes it as almost jail-like, and while it’s not exactly super well-lit, the water is hot and the water pressure strong. I’m so thrilled to be cleaned up after the heat of the day. When we return to the camp site, Tami and Wayne are back in their space with Loki, and Jenny is curled up in the tent with Ben and Dwight. The crickets sing me to sleep as I think about all the amazing people who’ve opened their spaces, their hearts and their lives to me – even for a moment – today.

Happy birthday, Jenny! If I Could… I’d Give you Cake

04 Saturday Mar 2017

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Dear Jenny,

 

I wake up this morning, like any other, and realize that nothing has changed. You wake up with a stretch and a yawn and a dozen enthusiastic tail wags and a scratch and a vocal cue that it is really time to go outside now… and nothing has changed for you, either.

But Jenny, my wonderful, enthusiastic, sassy, intelligent, impulsive, quirky guide dog… You’re FIVE YEARS OLD today! You may not know the significance of this day, beyond the fact that today you get to go for a long run in the dog park (weather permitting), get to spend some time hanging out with some of your favourite people, and enjoy a brand new beef bone and a brand new squeaker ball… but even the idea of this day leaves me breathless.

It started about a month ago on the bus. I get asked regularly about you, Jenny… about what breed you are and how long we’ve been a team and how old you are. The first time I uttered the phrase “She’ll be five in…” I couldn’t believe what was coming out of my mouth.

Five years old!

But it’s more than this.

About the time I started realizing that your FIFTH birthday was coming up the very same week I started a shiny new job, I looked back at our journeys and how truly, truly interconnected they really are, and always have been.

Let’s remember, shall we?

Jenny at 7 weeks old

Jenny at 7 weeks old

When you were born, on March 4, 2012, I was working in an office at a job I loved fiercely. What I didn’t yet know was how much my job would change over the next couple of weeks. I still loved my job, my coworkers, and some of the new changes… but I wasn’t doing the job I was originally hired to do. These changes opened up doorways to my future, just as you would in the years to come; they also gave birth to the advocate in me, something I would need when fighting for access rights, employment, and personal autonomy.

Jenny at 6 months old.

When you were six months old – getting bigger, learning new things, eating pages out of library books – I knew my time at that job would soon come to an end. Growing is painful, and necessary. Change is painful and necessary. But As I was struggling and wriggling out of the safe cocoon of that long-time job, you were getting bigger and changing and taking steps forward and backward and forward again. By the time you turned ten months old, I had turned my face to the wind and waited to embrace new employment opportunities.

Jenny at 10 months old

You grew bigger and stronger, still curious about life. You lost interest in library books and gained interest in training. You made mistakes but were given the opportunity for another chance to make things right. I’ve since learned how very very important this is to you.

jenny-in-chinatown-in-front-of-post-with-asian-writing

You started advanced training in May 2013. At this time, after months of searching, I started work at a call center for a pizza restaurant. I enjoyed the work and the flexibility it offered (enough flexibility to enable us to train together and still keep my job). I know you enjoyed time with your boarder and her dog and time spent with your brother and the other dogs in the training van – everyone told me so.

I got the call that you and I were a match just two days before my birthday. I couldn’t think of a better present. That summer was a challenge for our little family, but we were all excited about welcoming you to it.

I remember our first walk – just after our first meeting – like it was yesterday. You went FAST! This little spitfire of a black lab was going to give me a run for my money. All I remember thinking was… why is this dog swerving? When I learned that you were avoiding all of those poles along the sidewalk that my cane hit on a regular basis, just because that’s what you were trained to do. Our speed, your precise movements… I knew you were the best dog for me. We started training the day before you turned 18 months old.

 

From that point on, we’ve been a team. Sometimes we’ve been so in tune with each other that I can’t believe we’ve only known each other for 3.5 years – think running along the paths of our neighborhood, our trip to New York City, or going through a sudden job loss and more job interviews than I can count. Sometimes our communication clearly sucks – one of us clearly doesn’t want to listen (and usually it’s me). You communicate so effectively that I swear you could learn English if you wanted to – from telling me a best friend is at the door, to signalling your painful allergy symptoms, to groaning your boredom during long meetings… no one needs a Jenny dictionary. You’ve made dozens of friends – both human and dog – and won them all over with your charming personality, your big brown eyes, and open heart. You may never understand what you’ve brought to me. Even this past week in navigating a new office, you’ve impressed me with your willingness to just go with your gut and see if we’re going the right way – and by the end of the week, we’re not lost in a maze of hallways and cubicles anymore.

 

Jenny, my girl… I want to be just like you when I grow up. I want to love my routine but be ok with sudden changes. I want to make snap decisions, right or wrong, and follow the path I take – because my gut (and yours) is usually right. I want to love openly and completely, with no reservations, qualifications, or expectations beyond time, presence, and returned affection. I want to be so joyous that the world will know that it’s a beautiful place… and I want my joy to be so evident that a rare grumpy day will be just as obvious.

 

I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without you. As much as guide dog training taught us to work together, you taught me even more about life. You’ve taught me to let go of my rigid expectations, to go with the flow. You’ve shown me that you can make mistakes – even big ones – and learn from them if you don’t give up. You’ve shown me that it’s OK to be scared but to face your fears anyway. Over the years, we’ve faced some scary situations – from cars pulling out in front of us, to a fight breaking out around us, to the sudden sound of automatic hand dryers. We’ve been through them together. You’ve literally saved my life more than once – from speeding buses or creepy people who want to pick me up at bus stops. You’ve left such a mark on my life and my heart that just last week I got a tattoo of your pawprint with your name inside it. It’s a visible reminder of all the things you’ve given to me so selflessly. I can’t wait to see what the next five years of our journey will bring!

 

Since I can’t give you cake, a ball and a wrestle and a snuggle will have to do. But it doesn’t seem nearly enough.

 

Happy birthday, Jenny Pen. Here’s to many more.

With all my love.

 

P.s. HUGE thanks to BC and Alberta Guide Dogs, Jenny’s puppy raisers, boarders, trainers, my husband, friends, and family, and all of those who’ve loved her along our journey.

P.p.s. Pictures courtesy of BC and Alberta Guide Dogs.

Girl on the Run: you do WHAT with Your Guide Dog?

20 Friday May 2016

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Until this past year, I didn’t consider myself a runner. Before I played goalball, I didn’t consider myself an athlete, either. Growing up, I firmly believe it had little or nothing to do with my blindness, but my interests went in different directions (music and books and learning languages, mostly). But in the way of most schools everywhere, all students – including this bookish, creative blind student were made to do things they aren’t interested in, or even want to do… something I whined about at the time, but am grateful for today. I try not to think about this much, as is the way of most high school memories… but I’m sharing it with you because… well, because I want to.

Grade 8, PE class. The time of year that all the students go for a 3 mile run (the exact distance I’m not quite sure of; the fact I was completely unprepared for it, I have no doubt). I was an out-of-shape thirteen-year-old who hadn’t done much physical activity since walking away from competitive trampoline more than a year earlier. I found myself walking more than running, but something in my brain clicked about 200 yards before the end of the run. My legs just went and took over my body and my brain, and I was running flat out. I know people were calling my name, I know at one point they were screaming at me to stop, but my feet and legs and body kept moving, and I just couldn’t stop… until I ran full-speed into a telephone pole.

I gave up running after that. To this day I don’t know if it was the fact that my interests truly did go in different directions, or the thought that I was too embarrassed to risk getting another shiner on my forehead. I was a blind kid with little true desire for physical activity, and – even though I was encouraged to pursue track and field – I resented the idea that I would need a sighted guide runner whose pace I would likely slow down, and it all just sounded so unfair. Besides, I had other things that took up most of my time, so I didn’t really miss it much.

I often think about that path not taken these days, since taking up running again. I’ve done a fundraising run in support of the local blind sports organization for the past five or six years, but beyond that, until this past couple years, it hasn’t been a burning need for me. Maybe if I had the confidence to run, or easier access to guide runners locally, or just more time to kill, maybe I would have done this sooner. But I can’t think that way, really, because it’s time to look forward, not back. I’m lacing up my shoes, harnessing up my guide dog, and going for a run.

Whoa whoa whoa! I am doing what?

I’ve written before about running with my guide, but since it’s a relatively unusual activity to do with one’s guide dog, and I get asked a zillion questions about why I would do this at all, here’s the route I’ve taken to this point, and where I want to go.

It all started a couple years ago after the fundraising run; I had made a great connection with my guide runner, and she and I agreed to go running together. This would involve going home from work, leaving my guide at home, taking my cane, catching the bus, going for a run, catching the bus home… and to me, that was a lot of planning for a quick run, as much as I loved running with my friend. Add to this the fact that I have a guide dog who genuinely likes to go fast (and occasionally we have “arguments” about such things), and I figured I could at least try running with her.

A friend makes sports-style harnesses and I asked her to make one for me. It has a lot of room for the dog to move and acts like a traditional harness in all other ways. The pull in the handle took some getting used to, but once I understood the feeling of the pull in the harness, we were ready to go! I started small (like, around the block small); if Jenny hated it, I didn’t want to make her run with me. She took to it so quickly that over just a few weeks, then months, we increased our speed, distance and complexity of routes. Our winter was short, so it didn’t take long for us to really get moving this spring. This past month alone, we have done our longest run ever (more than 7 km), had our fastest ever run longer than 5 km, and did our first ever big group run in support of the Fort mcMurray evacuees. That last wasn’t a flawless experience, but it taught me how to handle it, and gave me hope for other big group running events later on in the spring and summer, and even beyond. My goal is to run an organized 10K by the end of the season; we’re well on our way!

I’ve made some mistakes along the way – misjudging if my guide wanted water (the answer is usually “no”) or underestimating her willingness to go at fast speeds – but when we have this matching jogging-pace speed and are completely in sync, there’s no feeling like it. Many people ask me if I’ve ever been hurt; the answer is yes, but it’s got nothing to do with Jenny and everything to do with my thinking I know more than she does. If I listen to her quick, decisive, flawless guiding moves, I know I’m in good paws. More than once I let Jenny set the route (or, at the very least, don’t direct her as much); our neighborhood is a veritable labyrinth of angled sidewalks, roads that intersect and curve around back to each other – a residential runner’s paradise. I can focus on my feet, on my music (90s music is the best to run to!), on the feeling of wind in my face and the smell of pine sap in the air. I don’t have to think too much about where I’m going, what street I’ve crossed, if I’m lost or not, I can just run. I know my guide will run me home when she needs a drink of water.