Tag Archives: guide dogs

First They Denied Access…

09 Saturday Apr 2016

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Earlier this week, my friend Meagan wrote a brilliant blog post about selective discrimination. If you haven’t read it yet, you should, because it’s important. I had full intentions of writing about a similar topic from another angle; thankfully she is gracious enough not to point out that SHE wrote about it first…

Over the past six months or so, since becoming more involved in the disability rights movement and meeting more people, I’ve come face-to-face with some of my own ideas about disability, access, and availability of information. People with a wide range of disabilities – those who are deaf or hard of hearing, who use wheelchairs, who are on the autism spectrum, who live with PTSD – have been far more patient than I deserve. I’ve had my own sense of privilege pointed out – just because I have access to something doesn’t mean that everyone does, and how dare I sit back and be content that I have access to facilities, employment, or information, when the fight for equality is far from over for everyone else? If you live with a disability, and even if you don’t, I hope you’ll consider the next few paragraphs carefully, make whatever necessary changes in yourself, and realize that it’s up to you and me to make things happen, even if it doesn’t directly benefit us.

Let’s start with a few examples. Several followers on twitter have recently opened up a huge discussion about a popular podcasting website that provides audio posts for their blind followers, but delays (if it publishes at all) the publication of transcripts so that deaf or deaf-blind followers can follow along. Many blind people are pushing for TV networks and video-on-demand services like Netflix to provide descriptive video, even as closed captioning has been part of TV networks for years now so that those who are deaf or hard of hearing can more fully enjoy movies and TV programming. In either example, many of those who have received access to the information or service are strangely silent on pushing for others with different accessibility needs to have that same access for themselves. What about physical access to buildings? Just because I have two strong feet and the ability to use them to propel myself forward, how dare I take for granted the ability to walk into any building I choose – a shop, a restaurant, a concert venue – and not even have to think twice about it? Many wheelchair users have to contact restaurants ahead of time to ensure there are ramps to the building, or make sure the seats they purchased for that blockbuster concert are truly accessible. Many are too gracious to point out that we all have our own struggles, but that’s hardly the point now, is it?

 

Among service dog users, the guide dog is the most commonly recognized. But many other service dogs exist. What gives guide dog users (myself included) the right to police what specific services another’s service dog provides so long as it mitigates a disability? How dare we sit smugly by when other legitimate service dog teams are denied access to public facilities just because we are the privileged and most recognizable? What gives other service dog users the right to tell guide dog handlers how much more training our dogs need than theirs? I’ve seen all of this and more… and it’s ugly. And I’m not even touching on the service dog fakers…

 

The blind community in and of itself is not exempt from such stances of privilege. There is an outspoken outrage when a guide dog user is denied access to a restaurant, movie theatre, or taxi. Yet, in moments of vulnerability and candor, some blind people who prefer to travel with canes acknowledge that there’s a teeny tiny part of themselves that is grateful that the battle for access isn’t directly related to them. Until this past week when two blind friends using canes were refused entry to a restaurant because the eating area was upstairs, modern instances of service denial to the blind traveling with canes are exceedingly rare. Several of my deaf-blind friends have had blind people question their dignity and right to access information, resources, and employment services. None of these things are right, and no one should ever indicate that discrimination in any form is OK… and yet…

 

I’m going to go out on a limb and borrow an oft-quoted and paraphrased poem by Martin Niemöller. Maybe this will help the disability community realize that we’re not so different after all, and denying access to some of us should be considered equally as horrible as doing so to all of us:

 

First they denied access to the service dog handler, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a service dog handler.

Then they denied access to buildings for the wheelchair user, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a wheelchair user.

Then they denied access to information for the deaf, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not deaf.

Then they denied access and accommodations for the autistic, and I did not speak out— Because I was not autistic.

 

Then they denied access and dignity to those with PTSD, and I did not speak out— Because I did not have PTSD.

 

Then they denied access to me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

An Open Letter to Service Dog Fakers

18 Friday Mar 2016

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Listen to a reading of this postDownload

You and I haven’t had the displeasure of meeting, but you’ve met almost all of my friends at one point or another. You may think you’ve pulled one over on everyone, but you’ve actually made governments – state or provincial – stand up and take notice of what you’ve been doing. I wish I could say that it’s nice to meet you, but then I would be lying… something you do every day by passing off your pet (even a well-behaved one) as a service dog. Maybe you know in the back of your head that your actions may affect those of us with illnesses or disabilities who use service dogs to increase our independence or alert to oncoming life-threatening situations; maybe you just want what you want. You love your dog, I get it; I love mine, too. But just in case you weren’t aware, there are some broader implications of buying a $75 vest online and getting some doctor you’ve never met to sign a piece of paper indicating you need a “service” dog. You’ve heard the general arguments, and you keep doing this, so maybe it’s time someone asked some tough questions.

 

Is it Even RIGHT for your Dog?

If your dog doesn’t scrounge, bark, growl, lunge, wander around unnecessarily, or display other inappropriate behavior in public, move on to the next section; I have different questions for you.

Service dogs are well-trained and welcomed into public establishments for good reasons. They go through hundreds if not thousands of hours of public access training by owners, puppy raisers, and/or professionals, who work their way up to being able to take the dogs into malls, restaurants and stores. Not all dogs that are bred, raised, and go through service dog training complete it for a variety of reasons (much of it stress or health related). Even trained service dogs have “off” days but overall are well-behaved and continuously trained to be that way even after being issued to a handler with a disability or life-threatening illness. If a service dog is uncontrollable or aggressive or ill, and no amount of retraining can fix this, handlers go through the heartbreaking process of retiring the dog. In contrast, you just want what you want – your dog in a store with you – and don’t care about the sudden stress you’re putting on your dog. Your Fluffy, nine times out of ten, is incredibly stressed by your taking him into Walmart to buy your quart of milk, dozen eggs, and a replacement toothbrush, and can act fearful or aggressive due to that stress. And don’t get me started on your allowing your dog to get out of control, display aggressive behavior, to wander away from you, or to do other things for which a child would be asked to leave had they done them. In a terrific facebook post, a friend put this better than I ever could:

… look at it from that pet dog’s perspective. He has no idea what is happening to him, very likely does not like it, does not know how to behave, and doesn’t have a handler who is listening to any of the dog cues he is sending for: “Please don’t bring me here. I don’t like this. I’m scared or mad.” That dog is clearly saying one thing, but all that human hears is: “Me. I get to do what is convenient for me. Screw my dog. Screw the civil rights of other people. Me.”

 

Can you Expand your Dog’s Training?

If you’ve socialized your pet appropriately in pet-approved malls, restaurant patios, and stores, you have my gratitude. Dogs are a reality that our service dogs will encounter regularly, and the better trained or behaved your dog is, the easier it is for my service dog and I to go about our business.

But if you have the previously-mentioned “service dog” vest on your pet dog and take well-behaved Brutus or Fluffy into malls and stores where dogs are generally not welcome, not only are you committing a fraud by passing as someone with a disability or illness, you are making your dog unnecessarily dependent on your companionship. You think you can’t function without him, but in reality you are making him uncomfortable with his own company. If your dog can’t be left at home for a few hours without disturbing the neighbors with her barking or destroying your couches out of boredom, this makes my point for me. Why don’t you take some of that wonderful training foundation you’ve put into place and use it to work with him on separation anxiety? You’ve gotten the socialization training down pat, so take a little bit of extra effort and make all of our lives more convenient, not just yours. I have full confidence in you!

 

Do You Know Your Fraud Is Coming to An End?

Not only are legitimate service dog handlers sick of what you’re doing, businesses and governments are, too. This will affect your ability to pull off this fraud for much longer, particularly as it pertains to your misbehaving Brutus or Fluffy. Many of us service dog handlers are educating businesses on what is appropriate service dog behavior, what is a legitimate service dog being under control but having a rough day, and what is flat-out unacceptable. Businesses and service providers are being advised about the questions they can ask, what behavior is acceptable, and when they can deny service. Did you know that in most jurisdictions, businesses have the right to ask that any misbehaving dog – service dog or not – leave the premises? You’ve gotten by with your mass-produced “service dog” vests and registry cards (which, by the way, currently aren’t worth the plastic they’re printed on), counting on the fear of getting sued for asking you to leave your disruptive “service dog” outside or at home. But many of us handlers have your number and are contacting businesses and advising them of their rights (because, after all, they have rights, too).

What is also looking much more likely in a lot of states and provinces is a government-issued ID, which will make it much much harder, and the penalties much more expensive, to pass Brutus or Fluffy off as a service dog. And you know who’s going to have the burden of providing this legitimate piece of plastic for the asking? Someone like me, who thank you very much, is noticeable enough because of my service dog – you know, one that mitigates a disability? I hope that financial penalties for your fraud will be high, even as I don’t think it’s fair that I will likely one day have to show identifiable information to anyone who asks because you’ve chosen convenience and selfishness over my right to an autonomous and independent life.

 

Do you Actually want to Live My Life?

Speaking of living an autonomous and independent life, do you realize what these real service dogs actually do? They guide blind and visually impaired people safely through streets and malls and airports. They alert a deaf or hard-of-hearing handler of sounds in their environment. They pull wheelchairs and open doors and retrieve dropped objects. If their handler is going through a panic attack, it is the dog’s job to indicate that one is coming or remove the handler from the situation. If a diabetic’s blood sugar is low or an epileptic is going to have a seizure, these dogs alert them to get to a safe place or to take their medication. And I haven’t even scratched the surface. These dogs do a million and one little things that assist the independence of people with disabilities and/or with illnesses that could threaten their lives.

Have you lived a day where you hear a child ask what’s wrong with you, or how sorry someone is that you are blind or deaf or use a wheelchair? Have you been told that severe anxiety or post-traumatic stress disorder is all in your head while you’ve struggled to leave your house and feel safe in a crowd? Do you worry about packing enough food in case your blood sugar gets too low, or have this niggling sense of dread in the back of your mind about when the next seizure could hit? Do you struggle to obtain or maintain a job because people question your ability to perform job tasks, or feel like you have to hide a part of yourself in order to keep the job you do have?

I could go on and on with these questions, but I’ve made my point. Until such point as you’ve lived these lives – whether my own or that of someone I know and care about – then you have no business pretending that you do. Until you’ve had to chew out a parent for allowing their child to make inappropriate overtures to your service dog, until you’ve had strangers abruptly grab your body or mobility aid because they “meant well,” until you’ve been told that your panic attacks or flashbacks are all in your head and to suck it up and get on with it, you do not have the right to use a dog to pretend that this is your reality. If you wouldn’t take your pet dog dressed in “service dog” gear to a job interview because you wouldn’t want the stigma of disability attached to you, then how dare you do so when it’s convenient for you? You want the perks with none of the inconveniences, fears, and complexity that go along with them.

 

In Conclusion

Many people with disabilities live happy and fulfilled lives, some with service dogs and some without. For many of us, a service dog is the difference between independence and seclusion, confidence and fear, life and death. Are you still going to tell me that this little white lie – pretending you have a disability – doesn’t hurt anyone? Call me the next time someone talks to you like you’re a child, denies you an opportunity for employment, or makes you disclose the fact that you live with PTSD because you “look so normal.” If a store doesn’t want to welcome pets, that is their decision; but they can’t turn away people who use wheelchairs, walkers or canes, so they can’t turn away well-behaved service dogs accompanying people with legitimate disabilities. Unfortunately, actions like yours have caused stores and restaurants to turn us away, usually rudely and publicly. I’m sure your dog is lovely, but you have no business pretending he is what he isn’t, or you live with something you don’t. I don’t care what makes you knock off this self-centered entitled behavior – huge monetary fines, a pricked conscience, or embarrassment from being asked to leave by a well-informed employee of a no-pets-allowed establishment – but it’s time your nose stopped growing.

Don’t Fire your Employees!

15 Friday Jan 2016

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Yesterday this post made national news, and many guide dog users praised the city of Calgary and/or the cab company for firing this driver. Having seen (though not truly experienced) this situation many times, I’m not sure I am completely comfortable with this resolution…

 

The situation is not unfamiliar to many guide dog users: a taxi driver, store clerk, mall security officer refused access to a person with a disability accompanied by a service dog. In this case, the whole incident was captured on camera, and the driver was fined $750 and lost his job for refusing access. Such incidents are not uncommon, but appear to be less common than they used to be (according to many long-time guide dog handlers I know). According to the Alberta Service Dogs Act, the financial penalty is within the limit of the law. But human resources decisions are made by companies, and I wish them to reconsider their stance on firing employees who for the first time refuse service to passengers or customers with service dogs.

 

Don’t get me wrong – I understand the implications. An employee has represented your company badly and clearly broken the law. The provincial government’s financial penalty should have teeth, but making this a job-costing offense doesn’t serve your company or the employee who is fired, nor does it in the long run serve those who rely on service dogs. Such swift action tells the employee that his actions were wrong, but it doesn’t give them an understanding of why it’s wrong. I also firmly believe that it doesn’t give other employees an opportunity to learn from the experience, except for sending the message that “they need to provide service or lose their job.

 

I propose a different remedy:

  1. The financial penalty as outlined by Alberta law.
  2. A written reprimand in the employee file. If the employee in this case is licensed by the city, the city should receive a copy of such a reprimand.
  3. A probationary period (the length of which is at the discretion of the employer/city); If the access refusal happens again, THEN fire them. At least in that instance, they can’t say in any certain terms they didn’t know.
  4. Strongly encourage such employees to volunteer with service dog organizations. I firmly believe that many of these instances are based on a lack of education on what these dogs do. Their presence can provide a disabled person a degree of dignity that refusing access strips away. Maintaining volunteer relationships with service dog organizations may provide an opportunity for service providers to learn first-hand the work that’s involved in training these dogs.

 

This does not address the very real concern of allergies, because such an issue has already been addressed. It is made very clear that if someone is allergic to dogs, reliable documentation must be provided to the employer, and all efforts must be made for the safety and access of both the disabled person accompanied by a service dog and the employee or service provider with allergies. The above suggestions are for employees who for the first time refuse service to a service dog team.

 

In no way am I saying that such behavior is acceptable; I am simply saying that education goes a lot further than lowering a hammer. If an employer wishes to fire an employee for breaking the law and representing their name badly, that is their decision. But please don’t do it in my name.

When smoke Gets in Your Eyes

27 Sunday Sep 2015

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This past weekend, I had the opportunity to go “Fall camping”. For those who have never been (like me), it’s exciting and fun… except for the fact that you need to pack gloves, extra socks, toques (warm hats), realize that it takes forever to get a fire going, and layer up your blankets, because by gosh it gets COLD!

I loved it.

But the experience taught me some pretty startling truths – some humorous, some not so much – about my perception of myself, my own expectations, and how sometimes everything going to hell is just what you need to smack you in the face and get you back on track.

Let me preface this by stating that the trip was NOT a complete flop, and not even a bad trip. Just enough things went just sideways enough to make for some great reminiscences for the next camping excursion. Ben and I got to the camp site right on time, after a minor detour to the wrong campsite on the far side of the canal. Unfortunately, pulling in to the wrong campsite – a heavily treed area – signaled to Jenny that yes, yes yes, this was a PARK and this would be FUN, and let’s start whining the WHOLE rest of the way to getting back on the road and on route to our correct campsite. Thankfully this whining thing stopped until we literally pulled in, and she let out one plaintive yowl… and proceeded to hop out of the car and sniff all the trees and bushes within a ten-foot radius.

Our friends had been there for a couple of hours, had tried (unsuccessfully) to catch fish for dinner, and spent thirty minutes to get a campfire going. For some reason, the fly on our tent wouldn’t cooperate, so it took all four of us to actually get the thing assembled (this is what happens when you go camping less than once a year). We sat around the fire, but no matter what direction the wind blew, which chair I sat in, the smoke kept blowing in my face. Thankfully this doesn’t bother me too much, so I just rolled with it, drinking strong coffee and attempting to keep my already cold fingers warm. Jenny started shivering almost immediately, and was ecstatic to be able to lay on her bed on the cold ground. We enjoyed steaks, potatoes, and Greek salad for dinner, then donned extra socks, gloves, and/or sweaters and chatted around the campfire, complete with funny stories, whiskey, and beer, until one of the lanterns went out (about 11:30). Ben and I retired to our tent, and our friends headed to their camper…

Whoever can successfully change into their pajamas in a 2-person tent with their spouse and their dog inside it should get some kind of award. I can say this because I’ve successfully done it. Now, try telling said dog that yes, it really and truly is warmer under the spare blanket, NOT on top of it… one of those useful things they didn’t teach you at guide dog school. Repeat this three times during the night, lose your toque somewhere in your tent and wake up with a frozen nose, realize at 6:00 AM (while your dog has to pee) that your air mattress has a leak in it, and you’ve got a pretty good idea about the awesome time that was had by all in the Lang tent. No word of sarcasm… we had a ball… especially when Jenny woke up at 6:00 AM, wagging her tail against the side of the tent and giving Ben a tongue bath to wake him up; we laughed uproariously, making our friends wonder what in the world was going on just a few feet away from their camper.

The water at the pump had a sign on it that it wasn’t suitable for drinking, so we went into the nearest town (about half an hour away) and filled up on water, gasoline, and coffee. Jenny did terrific guide work in the restaurant, despite the fact that I didn’t have her regular harness with me, and we had to explain about six times that she is a service dog. Thankfully, we had our coffee in peace, filled up our water bottles and our friend’s Jeep’s fuel tank, and back to camp we went.

At this point, Jenny still thought that camp was the biggest off-leash dog park EVER. Her only exposure to wooded areas for the past couple years has been at off-leash or multi-use trails, and the trees and bushes and ground at camp all smelled SO AMAZING. Little matter that I was telling her to do something guide dog related (or even not guide dog related); listening was apparently optional. My city dog just wanted to get out her mojo. So we stuck a railroad spike into the ground, clipped her leash to it, and let her sniff around camp. This pleased her for about fifteen minutes… until she wanted her bed again – close to me, but far from the fire, please.

The fish weren’t biting. And the new campfire was taking forever to light. And the barbecue Ben was using slipped and fell off the picnic table, spilling a sizable chunk of bacon on the ground. Thankfully, we had enough bacon in the cooler – and eggs and Greek salad in the ice box – to make a terrific lunch. Undaunted, our friends wanted to go further up the canal to see if the fish were biting there, and I wanted to take Jenny for a hike…

But Jenny had other ideas. She didn’t get the memo that I had this awesome hike planned for us. Wouldn’t it be fun? No no no no no! It’s GRASS!!!!! And what do I mean that I want her to stay on-leash? This looks like a dog park! And not pulling? Pffffft. She’s off-leash at the dog park and doesn’t understand why I’m not happy. We spent the next thirty minutes like this, in a heated power struggle, until we walked back to camp and Ben and I reassembled the tent and loaded up the car. Our friends came back (still no luck fishing), minus a good lure that got caught in a log. As we drove away from a spectacular 24 hours, they were headed back out to give it one more try.

Camping has always taught me many lessons. As a small child and young teen, I was able to get away from the city and explore nature, pitch a tent, think my own thoughts, and just rest in the quietness of a summer night. This experience was wholly different, because I expected in some ways to be that same young girl with skills to assist those who were camping with me, even though I haven’t used any of those skills since I either had more vision or finished grade school… or both. I also expected Jenny and I – true city dwellers) to simply pick up and act like camping and hiking was no big deal, just another fun activity, not realizing that – like building a fire, catching fish, or cooking over a camp stove – it takes skill and practice to become profficient. Jenny and I both lost out in some big ways this weekend thanks to some expectations that I – ever the perfectionist, dreamer, nutcase – somehow got into my head. But we also walked away with some things, too. I’ve got a game plan for whatever remains of this fall, and next spring, to get out into more woodsy areas. Even if we never go hiking as a guide dog team, simply letting Jenny be a dog on leash and her understanding those limits will transfer into a much less frustrating camping trip the next time around.

By the way, I’ll go camping again. Even with gloves, toques (even ones that go missing), no fish, fires that take forever to light, and warm sunshine right next to nearly arctic shade, I far prefer fall camping to summer. You know why? No mosquitoes!

Run, Fido, Run!

29 Saturday Aug 2015

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OK, I’m going to say something completely obvious: Guide dogs are bred and trained to be guides.  Well, DUH!  But in addition to being guides, they are dogs, with all the needs, desires and interests of other living beings.  In honour of National Dog Day earlier this week, let me introduce you to several dogs – including mine – who have some pretty cool hobbies .

From the get-go, Jenny loved her new fashionable gear

Jenny loves her sports harness so much!

Jenny is a runner.  She has a runner’s body with sleek lines and long legs.  If it were up to her, we would run everywhere.  Since six months of the year our sidewalks and streets are covered in ice, that’s a pretty scary proposition.  But about six months ago, when the snow melted and we had both experienced a severely prolonged  case of cabin fever, I decided to channel some of that running energy, get myself back in to running, and take her out for a short jog around the neighborhood.  I had a harness made for her that we use exclusively for running, and as time went by we increased distance, ramped up the pace, and threw in street crossings and other distractions and complications.  As of this writing, we have done two runs longer than 3 km, each a little bit faster than the one before, and I’m hoping to get up to 5 km before the snow sets in.  I listen to myself and my dog, and we decide together what the pace is, when we’re done, and afterward Jenny gets rewarded with a whole bowl of water and – depending on her mood – a seriously good game of tug or an extended nap sprawled in the middle of the floor.

But I am by no means alone in running with my guide.  Last week, Guiding Eyes dog Klinger became one of the first guide dogs to be trained as a running guide dog.  This article made the rounds of social media, and while I believe it does have some representation errors (no guide dog is “certified”, they are trained; and this guide dog team was also trained as a running guide years before Klinger), I think it’s great that guide dog programs are putting in the work for athletes who wish to bond with their dogs in this way.  As stated in one of the articles, many of us have trained our guides ourselves to run moderate distances, but if someone doesn’t feel safe, or doesn’t have the knowledge, skills or willingness to train their dog to do this safely, if trainers and schools recognize all the wonderful things that have and can come of safely running with a guide dog, the more independent a blind person can be.

But running isn’t the only “guide” sport that a guide dog can enjoy.  My friend Rox has owner-trained several guide dogs, and has run with many of them.  She has done agility courses with some and herding with others as a form of training, sport and recreation for the dogs’ “down-time”, and is currently laying the ground work to be able to go bikejoring and skijoring with her current guide, Soleil.  The ground work for some of these activities builds on the skills that the dog already possesses, but changes some of the feedback that a guide dog team gives and receives.

My friend Brooke has several dogs, and has done tracking, field work, confirmation, and other activities with them.  Due to a recent timing conflict, she found herself bringing her guide dog, Rogue, to a field lesson with Arizona (the “real” student), and decided to try fostering some healthy competition between the dogs.  It went well enough that she decided to work with Rogue on this skill, alongside the tracking and confirmation shows (and I’m sure a million other activities) she already has on her resume.

Some of these activities are enjoyed with the support of traditional guide dog schools; some can only be enjoyed by owner-trainers or under the radar, as a traditional guide dog school may deem them against a guide’s training, or unsafe for the team.  But at the end of the day, if activities can be enjoyed by a dog and its partner alike, can be performed safely with training either by a school or by the handler, and it improves the dog’s confidence and doesn’t affect the dog’s work, then let’s have at it!  I have found for myself – and Rox, Brooke, and many others have expressed to me – that giving our working dogs these physical and mental outlets, the stronger our bond, the more focused and confident the dog’s work, the more training tools we have as handlers, and the happier everyone is.  Now, if anyone can tell me how to keep every single neighborhood dog from barking at Jenny and I while we go running past…

She talks to me… REALLY!

06 Saturday Jun 2015

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About ten years ago, I remember being really REALLY mad about something.  After that length of time, I honestly can’t remember what I was so angry about, but I do distinctly remember Annie running away and hiding in her “secret place” for several hours.  Annie – the cat who spent weeks following me around the apartment, who yowled every time I left her alone, who was so terrified I would never ever come back – picked that moment to tuck herself away in a never-to-be-found hiding place.  I had been angry before, and over the years I would be angry again, but Annie never again shied away from it.

 

Science has not been able to draw a definite conclusion about whether animals sense human emotions in and of themselves or react to our facial expressions, body chemistry, or other indicators that give them clues into our moods, fears, or medical status.  But from what I have observed – both from my pet cats and my service dog Jenny – there is some inexplicable way I communicate with them, and they with me.  For the sake of clarity – and because I’ve been asked more about Jenny’s role in this – \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\I will address a guide dog’s intuitiveness in the next few paragraphs.

 

Jenny LOVES babies.  They are her downfall.  We get on a bus and there’s a stroller on board, she HAS to calmly, sweetly, take me to the baby carriage and show me the baby.  Normally, when she is excited about something, she goes insane, wagging her tail, maybe pulling, maybe whining, but with babies she is calm and collected.  I’ve had people who are terrified of dogs thank me for having such a calm dog around their baby.  This calmness was further exhibited last weekend when we visited with two other couples, one of whom brought their toddler daughter.  Jenny was game to play with her, and the cutest half hour of doggie-baby playtime ensued.  I don’t know why she is this way with babies and small children – perhaps she is trying to tell me something? – but even if she is excited when she notices them, when they are near her, she has this zen calm that defies explanation.

 

I am by no means the only guide dog handler who has experienced inexplicable calm from her guide.  Jackie told me of an instance where she had major surgery, and was away from her guide dog (matched for only five months) for several days.  She was very concerned her guide would jump on her or be otherwise too rambunctious for her that could complicate the healing process by breaking her stitches.  When Jackie got home from the hospital, instead of the welcoming committee, Tulip ran toward her, stopped and sat, and waited for Jackie to call her forward.  During the course of Jackie’s recovery, Tulip gradually became more playful, but Jackie thinks that Tulip just knew that she wasn’t in a position to jump and run and play.

 

I don’t have anything nearly so dramatic with Jenny, but there are many ways in which Jenny communicates with me, especially when we’re working.  Sure, there are the obvious things (how she moves in the harness, I verbally praise or correct her), but it’s so much more than that.  It’s like having a dance partner who intuits the next six steps before you have time to get your shoes on.  When we have bad weather, or I am sick, it’s like Jenny knows that I need her to be extra focused.  We once had a whole bunch of freezing rain in the afternoon, and my walk from work to the bus stop took half an hour (normally five minutes) because the sidewalks were veritable ice rinks; Jenny worried about me the first three times I fell, then took an initiative, dragged me across the street to a safer sidewalk.  I had to get us back on our original path, but I loved her initiative, no matter her motivation.

 

But it’s so much more than that.  Even when she is out of harness, we are always communicating, whether it’s a scratch behind the ears, her resting on my feet, or the incredibly hilarious “mrrrrrrrrrrph” sounds Jenny makes when she is bored out of her mind and wants the whole world to know it.

 

But recently, a troubling trend began to manifest itself in Jenny – she began to bark in harness.  This has occasionally happened before, but in the beginning of March it began happening more frequently, nearly daily.  I knew we were in big trouble one day when I was at work, and Jenny and I were walking toward the back door to go outside.  Jenny turned around and let out a low bark at the two people who were behind us walking to the same back door.  After that, I called BC Guide Dogs, not even being sure what I should worry about.  The prevailing theory was that she was suspicious of people, but that didn’t sound quite right to me, and I couldn’t quite figure out why.  I was advised to make a “barking” log, marking down where we were, when it happened, what was going on, etc.  Within 48 hours, I had part of my answer: anything she barked at was on her left, and Jenny started frantically scratching and pawing at her face.  Her vet diagnosed her with seasonal allergies, and with a combination of allergy medication, personal observation, and Rescue Remedy, we’ve been able to almost eliminate the problem.  On the occasions these days (much more rare) when she does bark on approach, it’s to someone she knows on a day where her ears are sore (I can now tell based on how she holds them) and she wants to tell THEM that she’s hurt.  The irony of all this is that if my own ears weren’t so sore on those days, I doubt I would’ve made the connections I have.  I wish she’d picked another way to show me all this – you know, something less dramatic and startling – but I am glad she tells me these things.

 

As I write this, I wonder if the mystical connection between me and Jenny – or any animal and its “person” – is far less mysterious than I have made it out to be.  But whether it’s magic, observation, or pure dumb luck, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I expected Perfection…

30 Saturday May 2015

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Nearly two years ago, my guide dog Jenny was introduced to me by a BC and Alberta Guide Dogs trainer.  I should have had a clue that she might be a character when the first thing she did when entering my home was to eat the cat puke we failed to notice under the coffee table.  After four weeks of training, by turns exciting and frustrating, we were ready to take on the big bad world as a guide dog team.

 

But something happened along the way.  Maybe it’s me, a bit of a perfectionist by nature, but almost immediately after the trainer left, my wonderful quirky dog turned into a little hellion!  The first three months in particular, I expected Jenny to consistently act the way she had in training.  At a particularly low point, three months post-training, we had a LOT of changes at home, at work, and with schedules.  I am almost ashamed to say that neither Jenny nor I handled it well, resulting in a particularly problematic goalball tournament in Oregon.  I was SO close to sending her back; she was pulling, running me into people, scavenging, not listening… it was AWFUL!  What made things SO much worse was that almost all my friends had seasoned guide dogs, and I was told by many of them that their dog never got dog-distracted, scavengy, stressed, making big mistakes like these.  I outlined a bit about the turning point during that weekend in Oregon on a guest post on my friend Meagan’s blog; I still have a long way to go, but it helped to know that while the behaviors weren’t OK, they weren’t that unusual.

 

It was almost instantaneous!  Right after that conversation, I stopped fighting Jenny.  I stopped thinking emotionally about her behavior and started thinking logically.  That particular low point, my husband and I were both under immense stress; we had water leaking into our house, dehumidifiers running 24/7 with a white noise that could’ve been used as a torture technique, I had changed both my place of employment and my working ours… no wonder Jenny was on edge!  Once I “got it” and stopped trying to fight her in harness, we stopped having so many problems.  Sure, we had bad days and still will, but once I stopped trying to be Alpha, she stopped acting like a dog so much, and started acting like a guide dog.

 

But I never seem to learn.  Even now, I come home and give my husband a “report” on our day.  Sure, we’ve had awesome days and days that go down the toilet, but almost all days lay somewhere in between.  I distinctly remember a terrific guiding day Jenny had about six months ago.  I had to go to a sporting goods store in a mall we seldom frequent to pick up something, and Jenny and I had only been there once before.  Jenny flawlessly guided me to the store, and when I found out we were on the wrong floor, she guided me to the far side of the store to the escalator we needed.  It was a glorious thing!  She did terrific guide work the rest of the night… but when we got out of the building to go catch a bus, she had what I like to call “30 seconds of STUPID!”  For those thirty seconds, her nose was going double-time, looking for food, interesting people, and smelling the “pee-mail” at the base of the light post; but when we got to the corner, the figurative light bulb flashed above her head, and she sat at the curb and guided perfectly for the rest of the night.  I can laugh about it now, but at the time, I remember thinking “What goes through your head, silly dog?”  In our early days, I would bring up the thirty seconds of stupid, then the awesome guide work, but I realize that’s all backwards.  Even people can have great days, then in a moment of frustration let out something careless or hurtful.  What makes me think my dog and I are any different?

 

I can choose to regret those early power-struggle days, and in some ways I do.  But I learned so much from making those mistakes that I don’t know I can call it regret.  perhaps I can call it an education: it’s only as good as what you do moving forward, building on those lessons learned and learning new ones along the way.

Guide Dogs really DO teach you about Life

27 Friday Feb 2015

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So, for something a little bit different for this blog, you get two bloggers for the price of one!  We happened to be thinking about the same sort of thing
at the same time, and agreed to collaborate!  Since we are posting this entry simultaneously on each of our blogs, I figure an introduction is an order:

 

Blindbeader (real name relatively unknown): working her first guide dog, Jenny.  Somewhat of a perfectionist, loves the challenges of life but would sometimes
like the world to slow down a bit.  Eats too much chocolate, drinks far too much coffee, and yet somehow manages to stay employed, athletic, and reasonably
sane.

 

Jenny hates boats, and yet she and I are awaiting one in NYC

Jenny hates boats, and yet she and I are awaiting one in NYC

 

Francesca (Twitter handle @poetprodigy7): Working with her second guide dog, Zeus, AKA espresso on four legs. Writer, teacher, self-deprecatingly funny,
sometimes refers to herself as the blind Bridget Jones. Addicted to coffee, chocolate, Colin Firth, and the Big Bang theory (not necessarily in that order).

 

This is SO the life! Zeus is sleeping by the pool with a wine glass right beside him

This is SO the life! Zeus is sleeping by the pool with a wine glass right beside him

 

Guide Dogs – Living in the Real World

 

Francesca:
Several weeks ago, on a cold, gray, misty Monday, I dutifully donned my raincoat and ventured into the downpour to take my guide dog for his evening constitutional.
Under normal circumstances, he would, Labrador that he is, have raised no objections to getting wet; this day, however, he was recovering from a mysterious
episode of stomach upset, and I might have foregone the walk until the rain subsided, but for the fact that I was endeavoring to avoid an unmitigated disaster
of the nature that would require a professional carpet cleaner.

Given that both of us were wet, tired, and anxious, it should come as no surprise that Zeus’s distraction resulted in us becoming slightly (or completely)
disoriented. How was it that the dog who keeps me from falling down stairs and has been known to plant his paws between me and oncoming vehicles couldn’t
even locate our front door? Too wet to ponder the incongruity of it all, when we finally found our way back home, I promptly sat down on the couch and
cried for about fifteen minutes.

Anyone who has ever been the two-legged part of a guide dog team knows this story all-too well, and yet as many of us will attest, even on the worst days—when
your dog has barked in harness, or nicked a bite of your co-worker’s peanut butter sandwich—we’d far rather walk on the wild side of life with our crazy
companions than take that journey alone. Between two dogs, I have a combined total of nearly eleven years of experience as a guide dog handler, and I use
the term experience euphemistically here to mean: “I’m still alive, and not in a full body cast, so I must be doing something right.” When I experience
moments of self-doubt, I sometimes force myself to step back and think about just how much my dogs have taught me about friendship, bravery, and blind
faith. At the risk of sounding like the amazing guide dog whisperer, then, being a guide dog handler has taught me several lessons about life.

Blindbeader:
18 months ago, when I started training with my first guide dog, Jenny, I felt incredibly overwhelmed by the entire process.  I had practical questions
that had been asked and answered, but I wanted to know more about that emotional – almost mystical – bond between guide dog and handler.  The problem was, I didn’t even know what questions to ask, much less the answers I needed to hear.

Lately, I have come across many people who have just started training or just come home with new guides, as well as those that are in the application process
or waiting for class dates.  Here are many pointers that I wish someone had told me before I first opened my door – and my heart – to the most stubborn dog in the world.

Francesca:
A bad day is just that: one day out of the hopefully innumerable ones I will live. When I have a bad day at work, I drown my sorrows in tears and vodka.
When Zeus has a bad day at work, he wags his tail, licks my hand, and shrugs it off. Whether this is because he believes in a better tomorrow or because
Labradors have notoriously short-term memories, his approach seems far more emotionally balanced.

Blindbeader:
Your dog will test you, period!  It varies in scope, intensity, duration, and activity, but almost all new dogs WILL push the boundaries.  This does NOT
mean that there is anything inherently wrong with handler or dog.
I’ve been there, though, at a time when all of my guide dog handler friends told me that their dog NEVER did activity X or didn’t have bad habit Y.  Thankfully,
we worked through it with a lot of hard work, some frustration, and huge parties on street corners when Jenny took me to the lightpole without grabbing
the garbage at the bottom of it.
If the dog is being unsafe, however, or there hasn’t been improvement (And I mean, even a LITTLE), guide dog schools generally have followup services either on request or on a regular basis; use them!  Or ask questions of other guide dog handlers, who have been in the trenches and can offer a variety of suggestions.  I just have to remember that many first-time long-time handlers can have selective amnesia.  If I ever get that way, knock me upside the head!

Francesca:
Sometimes, work can wait. Even when my dog isn’t in harness, rarely is he off-duty. Even when we’re taking a leisurely stroll to nowhere in particular,
he is always multitasking, concentrating half on the business of fertilizing the neighborhood grass and half on the business of ensuring that I don’t sprain
my ankle falling over a tree root. Whenever he tosses his favorite toy into my lap or wedges his nose between my hand and the laptop keyboard, he reminds
me to check the proverbial warning light on my brain’s battery and occasionally power down and recharge.

Blindbeader:
I so second this one!  If a guide dog has time to be a DOG, to bond with his/her handler, it does make him or her a better guide in the long run.  It took
me about six months to realize when Jenny was exhibiting more frequent distracted behaviors, then it was time for a good long run, or a seriously wicked
game of tug.  That done, she would be able to focus on her work, and everyone was happier.

Francesca:
Learn to let it go. One day, my dog stopped me from falling off a drop in the sidewalk because I was far too intent on a conversation with my friend to notice the change in elevation. The moment we got home, he immediately rewarded himself by, for reasons which remain clear only to him, stealing a pair of my
underwear from the laundry basket. While I naturally corrected him for this, I didn’t dwell on the mishap with my usual scab-picking intensity, because
I was still grateful for the fact that I wasn’t doing the bunny hop on a broken leg. Case in point: things could always be worse. Appreciate it when they’re not.

Blindbeader:
Be prepared for your dog to occasionally make you look really really REALLY dumb.  I was in a familiar area while training with Jenny one day, and I told
her to move forward.  She stopped, I corrected her, and told her to move forward.  She eventually did… and led me straight into a gravel pit.  Oops!  The first thing they drill into your head at guide dog school is “Trust your Dog!” and this has served me well more often than not.  Sometimes I get to know why my dog did what she did; other times I just shake my head and just wonder why she chose to quite determinedly run me through that parking lot, but the dog has two working eyeballs, and I certainly do not!  Then again, there are times Jenny IS doing something she shouldn’t, making me look silly; in two minutes the dog will forget about it, and you should too!

Francesca:

It takes more strength to hold a grudge than to let go of one. Have you ever tried to stay angry at a Labrador? It works about as well as defying the laws
of gravity. No matter how frustrated I sometimes find myself with my dog, he always manages to win me over with his puppy dog penitence, and this reminder
to forgive and forget has served me well in the relationships I cultivate with others. Perhaps Woodrow Wilson said it best: “if a dog will not come to
you after having looked you in the face, you should go home and examine your conscience.”

Blindbeader:
Pick your battles!  There are some things guide dogs should NOT do:
scavenge, chase after other dogs, get up and wander around on their own.  That being said, all dogs have quirks; some can be trained out of them, others
are just interesting little fringe benefits.  Jenny does not like guiding me through puddles (or getting her feet wet at all); however, she will do it
if she has to.  I can decide that, well, she is the dog and I am the human, so by God, she will guide me through that puddle!  Or I can just be thankful
that my shoes stay dry and I don’t have to worry so much about the ice hiding underneath all that water.  Guess what I picked (Hint: my shoes tend to stay dry…)

Francesca:
You can, contrary to popular belief, perform essential functions without the benefit of caffeine. At least once a week, I am heard to declare that the
fact that I feed and walk my dog every morning before I’ve had my first cup of coffee testifies to my undying appreciation for the sacrifices he makes
daily to keep me safe. (Including making sure that I don’t mortally wound myself when I attempt to move without first fueling myself with caffeine). There’s
a reason I refer to my overly frisky, furry eyeballs as espresso on four legs. One shot of him propels me pretty efficiently through the first fifteen
minutes of my day.

Blindbeader:
(On a totally different note) Guide dog school has good suggestions, maybe even great ones, but much of what you learn is done after formal training is over.
This is OK, and, in fact, necessary.  You will laugh when your dog shows you – in that cute way he has – that your safety is in his paws, and by the way
you should trust him because he has two fully functioning eyeballs *you do not) and is walking you calmly around that open car door… you will cry with
frustration on a day when it all just goes to hell and there’s no rhyme or reason why.  You will sing for joy on the first day you just “click.”  And you
have good days and bad days, sometimes feeling like you have the most intelligent creature on the planet and other times wondering why this little demon
from hell is taking up space in your apartment.

I don’t mean to sound like having a guide dog is this painful drudgery; trust me, it isn’t!  But I have seen so many guide dog handlers get discouraged
that things aren’t going well and it isn’t working like it shows on TV or did in class.  I LOVE having a guide dog.  I love putting in the work to shape
her behavior that will make her a better guide and us a better team.  When a concept we’ve been working on for months clicks in her head, I almost don’t
have to praise her because her head is up and her tail is wagging happily; I praise her to the skies anyway.  The day during training when she pulled me
out of the path of a bus, I had no idea how many other close calls we would dodge over the next 18 months.  If I get to stay safe, trusting my life to
her two working eyeballs and four stinky paws, I’d gladly take the occasional cracker away from her…

Getting sappy: A very special day!

03 Friday Oct 2014

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365 days ago, almost to the minute, I found myself walking into a Smitty’s restaurant in Westmount mall in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada with my guide dog, Jenny.  My heart was pounding and I remember steadying my breathing as not to give away my nervousness.  We got to the Smitty’s, and I sat down at a table with my husband and two other people…

 

This sounds innocuous, this walking into a restaurant with your guide dog to meet family and friends for breakfast… but it was graduation day!  On October 3, 2013, a BC/Alberta Guide Dogs trainer did one last supervised walk several hundred yards behind me, and, after terrific coffee and a yummy breakfast, Jenny’s harness was officially put in my hand for unsupervised guiding!

 

This all came on the heels of the most exhausting four weeks of my life.  I had quit my job the previous December, and it took me five long months to find employment at a call centre for a chain of pizza restaurants.  Most days after training with Jenny, we went straight to work, where Jenny conked out on a bed under my desk, and I used my cane while she heeled at my left side, wearing her stylish blue “In Training” jacket.  I learned how Jenny moves when she is happy, focused, distracted, had to use the bathroom, and wanted to get my attention; she learned how I wanted her to pace herself, give me clearance around objects beside or above me, and what behaviors were permissible and which were not.  We had good days – like the day of our first busy street-crossing when she pulled me out of the path of an oncoming bus – and bad days – like the first time she took the LRT and whined and shook the whole trip and tried to bolt off the train at every stop – and everything in between.  Even when she was off-duty and I was using my cane, she would still find me doors to the 7-Eleven or bus stop poles, sit quietly on the bus, and behaved herself impeccably while I was at work.  The last day of training ended at 2:30PM, and I remember being so drained that I sprawled out on the couch at 4:00 PM, and blearily got up long enough to go to the bathroom and climb the stairs to my bedroom where I slept until 5:00 the next morning.

 

It was an amazing rush, that morning of October 3, 2013.  It had signified that I had done it – I had survived the rigeur of training with a new young dog, and I had many of the tools I would need over the next 8 years.  It was also nerve-wracking; I couldn’t sit down with our trainer every morning and tell her the good, the bad and the ugly of the previous day.  I couldn’t always ask why Jenny did XYZ; I was, more or less, completely on my own..  I remember picking up that harness on October 3, 2013, and having no idea what to expect, not really.  I was full of knowledge from training, confidence in my dog, and thrilled for the journey to come.

 

The previous 365 days have not all come up roses.  I have made big mistakes; Jenny has made big mistakes.  Thankfully we have more good days than bad lately; I have been both encouraged by and encouraging to others who are in the complicated and wonderful trenches of guide dog travel.  Even on a bad day (like, er, yesterday) I would not trade the past year for anything.  I have been stretched, stressed, and blown away by the complicated canine that is Jenny.  She has nailed complicated tasks and completely flubbed basic ones; kept calm in an endless parking lot when we were unintentionally lost, but once got us lost in our own neighborhood; laid calmly for hours on her bed while I’m working and yet been unable to stay still while I am working out at the gym for an hour.

 

Unbeknownst to me, October 3, 2013 was just the beginning of a journey; it’s been well worth the work, the tears, and the moments of wonder.  As of this moment, Jenny is no longer a rookie guide dog!

 

Here’s to you, Jenny Pen, and to many more October 3s!

Welcome to Blogville

17 Sunday Aug 2014

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Since my friend Meagan told me to write a blog -apparently my life is interesting, quirky, funny, or informative enough to hold someone’s attention for longer than two seconds – I have decided to bow to the peer pressure and write!

 

For those who know me, you can skip this part; for those who don’t, strangers are friends I haven’t met yet.  I am 30 years old this year, married, and live in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, with my husband, three cats and a guide dog named Jenny.  I work in customer relations, and have many varied interests – from baking to making music, from playing sports to reading.  My husband tells me I drink too much coffee and eat too much chocolate, and I know that on many subjects I can be like a dog with a bone – determined and persistent.  My opinions can be strong, but I love intelligent discussions that make me think.

 

I hope this blog will give you a chance to get to know me and what it can be like to be visually impaired in the 2000s – at least in my little corner of the world.  Perhaps I will talk a lot – or too much – about Jenny and the ups and downs of working a guide dog, but there are many other topics that will be covered on this blog, primarily traveling both locally and abroad.

 

Thanks for reading!