Canadian Guide Dogs For The Blind Walk 2011

PLEASE SUPPORT ME ON THE  MAY 29th WALK FOR GUIDE DOGS:

Canadian Guide Dogs For The Blind Walk 2011.

Peace and Motherhood

My mother died in 2002, so I did not join the armies of shoppers all over North America this week, ringing up sales of cards, restaurant meals, chocolates or flowers. However, I did think about Mother’s Day (the modern one, not the British Mothering Day from which it originated, or the celebrations of the ancient Egyptians and Romans which honoured the goddesses and are the root of this celebration of women/mothers.)

The first North American Mother’s Day was conceptualized with Julia Ward Howe’s Mother’s Day Proclamation in 1870. Despite having penned The Battle Hymn of the Republic 12 years earlier, Howe had become so distraught by the death and carnage of the Civil War that she called on Mother’s to come together and protest what she saw as the futility of their Sons killing the Sons of other Mothers. She called for an international Mother’s Day celebrating peace and motherhood; she even proposed converting July 4th into Mother’s Day, in order to dedicate the nation’s anniversary to peace. Eventually June 2nd was designated for the celebration. In 1873 women’s groups in 18 North American cities observed this new Mother’s holiday. After Anna Reeves Jarvis died, her daughter Anna M. Jarvis campaigned for the creation of an official Mother’s Day in remembrance of her mother and in honor of peace. In 1908, Anna petitioned the superintendent of the church where her Mother had spent over 20 years teaching Sunday School. Her request was honored, and on May 10, 1908, the first official Mother’s Day celebration took place at Andrew’s Methodist Church in Grafton, West Virginia and a church in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. In 1908 a U.S. Senator from Nebraska, Elmer Burkett, proposed making Mother’s Day a national holiday at the request of the Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA). The proposal was defeated, but by 1909 forty-six states were holding Mother’s Day services as well as parts of Canada and Mexico.

Anna Jarvis quit working and devoted herself full time to the creation of Mother’s Day, endlessly petitioning state governments, business leaders, women groups, churches and other institutions and organizations. She finally convinced the World’s Sunday School Association to back her, a key influence over state legislators and congress. In 1912 West Virginia became the first state to officially recognize Mother’s Day, and in 1914 Woodrow Wilson signed it into national observance, declaring the second Sunday in May as Mother’s Day. The holiday flourished in the United States and flowers became very popular. One business journal wrote, “This was a holiday that could be exploited.” But the budding commercialization of Mother’s Day greatly disturbed Jarvis, so she vociferously opposed what she perceived as a misuse of the holiday. In 1923 she sued to stop a Mother’s Day event, and in the 1930′s she was arrested for disturbing the peace at the American War Mothers group. She was protesting their sale of flowers. Despite her efforts, flower sales on Mother’s Day continued to grow. (Anna Jarvis died in 1948, blind, poor and childless.)

The National Retail Foundation predicts Mother’s Day is a $14 Billion industry; Google spikes in search traffic for “Mother’s Day” in the US and UK. Florists see their highest sales in May. Restaurants claim that it is the busiest day of the year. Long distance telephone calls also peak on this day. According to Hallmark, 96% of American consumers take part in shopping on Mother’s Day, while retailers report it as the second highest gift giving day of the year behind Christmas
Many countries, regardless of the Western trend, continue attach much more symbolic and/or religious importance to their Mother’s Day celebrations.

I am releived that I no longer contribute to the North American industry known as Mother’s Day. Tomorrow, as some mothers are subjegated to bad breakfasts made by their children, to sitting in noisy restaurants, to opening expensive cards and over-packaged and equally expensive boxes of chocolates, to dutifully placing flowers into little-used vases dug out of the back of the kitchen cupboard, to receiving the only phonecalls of this year from their distant children or grandkids, I truly hope that those moms will smile knowingly, as my late mother would have smiled, and know in their heart of hearts that they are usually loved, sometimes respected, occasionally misunderstood, rarely appreciated enough, and almost ALWAYS doing the hardest and most important job in the world.

I echo the sentiments of Julia Ward Howe and suggest that we celebrate PEACE and MOTHERHOOD…furthermore, I think that we must work to resolve the conflicts in our world and stop the futility of Sons (and Daughters) killing the Sons (and Daughters) of other Mothers,

The Times They Are A- Changin’

Bob Dylan crowed the lyrics of his rally call: ‘The Times They Are A-Changin’ (1963) to a generation of angst-filled youth, disillusioned dreamers, and nouveau radicals, all thirsty for wise words, guidance, and affirmation that their deep, unexpressed feelings WERE true and that their world (ie, parents, government…’the establishment’) must change…and that they were the ones to change it….”if your time to you is worth savin’, then you’d better start swimmin’ or you’ll sink like a stone, for the times they are a-changin’…”.
It’s remarkable how songs and their lyrics stick in your head. I don’t think a Bob Dylan ear-worm is necessarily a bad thing, (unless the harmonica solos refuse to end, then you may have a problem). This Dylan classic came back to me recently and has been stuck on repeat ever since. I tend to make associations with song lyrics at least 100 times a day. Here’s how THIS one got in my head:
Someone very near and dear to me, applied to enter a program called ‘Women Unlimited’ offered through the Nova Scotia Community College. It is geared for women who want to explore non-traditional occupations and trades. My friend, having been laid-off her job as a junior metrologist (equipment calibrator) last fall, was hopeful that the Women Unlimited program would provide exposure to ideas, contacts and resources and eventually lead to gainful employment. As my friend was leaving the interview at NSCC, the interviewer remarked cautiously, “I notice that you are person from a minority group”. My friend, puzzled, turned around and asked, “Because I’m short?” (she’s all of 4′ 10″). The woman struggled to find words…”No, the rainbow on your back pack indicates to me that you might be a…homosexual…(rushing to continue)…I have gay friends…normally, I would use the word Queer when talking to them…” My friend interrupted, “But you have to be Politically Correct”. Relieved, the interviewer replied, “Yes, EXTREMELY, but I thought you should know that by self-identifying as a member of a ‘minority group’ for this program, your chances are significantly increased”. My friend grinned and remarked, “The Times They Are A-Changin’…” or something to that effect…or maybe I just put Dylan’s words into her mouth ’cause they felt so good to me (REALLY GOOD) and I love any excuse to make a pop culture reference.

Hey! Wise Advice for My Butthead Neighbour

I am so irritated I could spit. I wish I was the kinda gal who could chill when people are behaving like total a-holes. It’s one thing if smokers want to kill themselves, go around smelling like ashtrays, become a burden on the health care system which our tax dollars are paying for, make their children sick, loose productivity at work because they are outside caging a smoke…wait, that’s more than one thing…the point is, I only believe minimally in smokers rights, because when their addiction impacts ME and invades my personal space, I have to draw the line! The butthead who recently moved in next door (anorexic-looking twit with a 8-4 job, a stupid boyfriend who makes her squeak when they’re having sex, and a cat that I feel VERY sorry for), might be very quiet tenant (except maybe for all the knocking on her door by people using a ‘secret code’ on the door seven thousand times a night, golly gee, is she selling drugs too?!), but it turns out the common wall we share, transmits her cigarette smoke. Great. I pay an obscene amount of rent money for my haven, my oasis, my mecca of personal space…and I am forced to suck up the result of HER addiction. Hey Butthead! Capital District Health Authority is giving FREE smoking cessation aids if you join their program. Com’n babe. You can do it! Quit killing yourself and that stupid cat of yours, and most of all, stop irritating ME...and then maybe I won’t be so inclined to use all of the 200 watts of speaker power (‘Van Morrison Live’ tonight) to blast out my frustration. The fact that my window must be open during a wacky March blizzard, just so that I don’t croak, seems a little silly. Sigh. Maybe I wouldn’t have felt so touchy about the smoking thing tonight, but this morning, I walked by a Metro Transit bus shelter (ironically, it was outside the hospital), and a bunch of QEII hospital employees were using it as a smoking hut. Very nice. Where are you HRM by law enforcement officers?! You guys just blew a $350.00 fine TIMES at least three or four buttheads! If you added up all the potential butthead infractions and collected the fines, maybe we could afford to run this city efficiently. OK, Now I need to put on some music again…let’s see…I really like that John Mayer CD…

Spring Bouquet for Transit Driver

Yeah, yeah, yeah…it’s Saturday night and I’m going to take advantage of the fact that most people are out on the town, doing important stuff like smooching with their sweeties and I AM NOT! Sigh. Maybe it’s something in the spring air or the effects of drinking the HRM tap water, but I feel a burning desire to give one (I SAID ONE) Metro Transit bus driver a pat on the back, tip of my jaunty beret, nod of approval, and spring bouquet all rolled into one. Given the intense satisfaction I normally derive when I have the opportunity (and there are plenty of them) to blast Transit drivers (see earlier blogs), I feel oddly conflicted and confused about this new-found bus driver appreciation…but here goes; On Friday, I was riding the #14 bus, bound for the UU church on Inglis to rehearse a ‘green opera’ which I am writing and co-directing (don’t ask. I’ll tell you about it sometime). The driver was a little behind schedule, not unusual for a Metro Transit bus. It was past peak hours minutes (This IS Halifaxl) so the bus was not the packed sardine it can it can some times. I lulled into my typical bus stupour but remained minimally alert, which allowed my brain to count the turns that the bus was making (to figure out where to get off…driver had not asked me, and I thought he had sounded a tad frazzled and would probably forget to tell me anyway). It turns out that I need not have bothered. I also did not need a compass or GPS to realize that the collective, “Hey!” from passengers (Oh those eloquent St. Mary’s students!) meant that we had blown by Robie street without making the #14 route’s right hand turn off of South Street. The driver realized what had happened quickly enough (maybe it was the three panicky students who swarmed the guy within 2.749 seconds of realizing that the bus was off route). I listened to the following exchange between the driver and students ( they had quickly lurched forward to stand next to the driver, I-pods temporarily disconnected from their heads to allow their ears access to their cell phones;
Driver: “Sorry, I’m used to working the #41 route…it’s Friday….I’m so sorry.” (#41 goes right up South)
Student A: “Is this the #14 or not?”
Driver: “Sorry, I apologize…it’s Friday”.
Student B: “Are we going anywhere near St. Mary’s? I’m supposed to meet someone in…3 minutes” .
Driver: (sounding very tired) “I don’t know where to turn around”
Student C: “Are we going to go back to Robie Street or not?”
Old geek sitting across from me: “What the hell is going on?!!”
Driver: (to the driver of a passing bus he had waved over) “I have no idea what to do. Where can I turn around? What would you do? I’m ten minutes behind schedule as it is.”
Other Driver: “Just get back anywhere on the route. Happens to me all the time”.
Driver: “I don’t want to leave anyone behind on Robie or Inglis which is what’s going to happen if I blow off the route”.
Other Driver: “Do whatever you feel like” (he then left, helpful soul that he was)
Student A: “Is this the #14?”
Student B: “I’m getting off right now!” (at which point he leaped off the bus as though his pants were on fire)
Student C: “Is we still in Halifax? I’m not from here…”
Student A: “Is this the #14?”
Driver: “Everybody sit down please. I apologize…it’s Friday” (he then drove off as though his HIS pants were on fire).
We embarked on the most unusual of bus trips. We headed east, then maybe south and west…north even? I had no clue where I was, but I did not seem to mind (how unusual for me…hence my feeling of confusion). People cursed and grumbled and sighed and tisked all up and down the bus.
Me: “Can someone please tell me where we are?” (The driver was still busy driving like a man possessed).
Student C: “I don’t know where I am either”.
Old geek across from me: ” The son of a. b..ch is going back to Robie Street to pick up his route where he left off!”
Upon hearing this news, I felt an unexpected appreciation for this driver (who was still apologizing profusely as anyone got off his bus). When we finally reached my stop, (some 20 minutes off schedule by now and way too late for rehearsal),
I said to him: “Don’t worry, stuff like this happens all the time to me too….it’s Friday!”

Halifax Bus Drivers Going, Going… Gone Goofy

At one time, people accused me of picking on Halifax’s Metro Transit and their bus drivers too much….they don’t announce bus stops despite the undeniable swath of pan-Canadian litigation and Human Rights rulings which has forced other cities to do so…they have inaccessible route and schedule information, AND they have yanked the “free pass” which allows the blind to travel free, a minor concession for inadequate Accommodation.
It seems that I don’t have to complain about Metro Transit drivers anymore. Why? They are behaving like a big bunch of goofs with EVERYONE these days; Recently, one driver rammed a courier’s vehicle on Barrington street and held up a busload of passengers for 20 minutes while he ranted. Then, last week, a driver refused to allow a veiled Muslim woman on his bus…a definite no-no (a bystander complained, not the woman), this on top of recent accusations of racial profiling and finally, this weekend, one particularly goofy driver got out of his bus in front of the spring Garden Road Library to whack a mock bloody seal with a stick; the toy seal was being used by anti-seal hunt demonstrators. I guess he was just trying to express his opinion? The driver was picked up by the cops and eventually returned to his bus. It seems he’s been invited to join Metro Transit big cheeses in a discussion today (Oh, to be a fly on the wall!). I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; give these drivers a refresher course…no, not ‘sensitivity training’…they need a course on how to locate their brains…the one’s stashed away in their back pockets…the pockets attached to the lard asses they sit on as they drive their buses (a job for which they are over paid, if you ask me), confident with the knowledge that the money they shell out in monthly union dues will cover the cost of lawsuits and other damage control expenditures for these ‘special’ (and increasingly often) times when they behave like the big bunch of goofs they really are.

Suspicious Minds

You know that the world’s going to Hades in a hand basket when a sad story, such as the one broadcast all over mainstream media today, leaves people feeling so mixed up. Or is it just me? A woman in Nova Scotia drowned a couple of kittens last summer and got fined $5.00 for it in court today. Yeah, yeah…this initial ‘teaser’ lead bit on the radio leaves you thinking…”You crazy, sadistic b..tch! They should drown YOU”. Then, you hear the sad flip-side of the story; she fed a stray cat, fed it some more (The Cat Came Back is the song that comes to mind- Harry S. Miller 1893), and bing, bang…she’s got one cat+2 kittens… She’s poor, can’t get help from her town’s officials, and decides to euthanize the kitties in a bucket. Groan. Of course, Suspicious Minds (written by Memphis songwriter, Mark James and the last #1 hit for Elvis Presley in 1969- his last) like mine ask, ‘What cat has only two kittens’!? Maybe she lied about THAT too…and actually drowned a litter of 14. Not that it matters much, they’re all dead, regardless. But NOW, the SPCA is crying foul. They want “BIG FINES AND JAIL TIME”! said their head mouthpiece with emotion. My question? Where were you guys when this nutty, albeit well intentioned stray-cat-feeding woman was busy phoning around, trying to find someone to off the felines? Sure, “dangerous precedents are being set”, yada, yada, but NOW you’re worried that everyone is going to think it’s OK to euthanize Fluffo ’cause it’ll only cost five bucks instead of the usual $179.00 at the vet? Sigh. Then, the legal beagle for this woman (gotta be legal aid lawyer) said a bunch of really stupid things (he compared his client’s action against that of the person “who hanged that dog in Point Pleasant Park” …I can do without hearing that sort of thing). It did not endear me to the situation or to this woman…still…she’s poor…she loves the animals…a regular Doctor Doolittle ….who simply done too much. “We’re caught in a trap….”

Wise Advice for RCMP

That’s right. I just had to step out of my incognito state. I’ve been away, not dead! Give me a break RCMP! Mr. Robert Dziekanski is dead, however, thanks to a bunch (one in particular) of Tazer-trigger happy goofs (oops, I mean officers) who zapped the life out of this poor Polish guy who simply had the bad luck to choose the Vancouver airport to land in on his first visit to Canadian soil. I guess he never got to the ‘soil’ part of Canada. He was too busy wandering aimlessly for a zillion hours, lost, tired, jet-lagged, jonsing for a smoke, in a bloody nightmare welcome to the land-’O-moose- on-a- postcard, imitation- maple- syrup- products-come-Duty Free shops and baggage carousels, trying to get ANYBODY to speak to him in his own language in an INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT! His big mistake was picking up that most dangerous of weapons, the dreaded ‘stapler’. Yeah right, coppers, take down this exhausted guy who’s been on a plane for 15 hours and in an airport twilight zone for 18 hours with FIVE TAZER BLASTS! Then, goof around some more (make sure he’s REALLY dead, eh?) while you all try to decide what to say to the boss (that would be the RCMP big cheeses?… then a public Inquiry)…oh, I guess the whole damn country wants to know now, huh? Who would have thought that it would get all blown out of proportion like this?! I bet that’s gonna put a crimp in your Easter holidays. Ah, shucks fellows. You forgot to watch out for the babe walking by with her dreaded cell phone/video camera! May you (especially you, Millington) all get nailed to some big internal cross of conscience come this Easter time as you celebrate the christian tradition. Frankly, I’m not into that ‘jesus rises’ stuff, being a broad-minded, liberal thinking UU and all…but I still like the chocolate. Sigh. I guess I’m back from Hiatus

Hiatus

I have written this blog (and 236 others, two of which were deleted…why did  I do that?!) for just under one year. Some 20,500 people have dropped in to date. I am currently involved in a writing project (very interesting stuff which I’m sure you will all want to pay big bucks for…or not). That’s the good news. The bad news, for some, is that I am taking a temporary break from blogging. Others may see this as cause for celebration (the crass, reactionary types). Regardless, I am outta here for a time, but like MacArthur (or was it some other dude?)  said, “I shall return”. Thanks to all the regular readers, the web drifters, and especially to those who have taken the time to send comments (except perhaps, the demento types who really seem to have a loose grasp of reality and lack social decorum).

Opal, my long-suffering (that’s just an expression!) guide dog bids you adieu for now too. She says to tell you that she will update you personally on the progress I make with my writing  project (literary pimp, that she is). It just wouldn’t seem right to go on blog holiday without one more pop-culture reference all wrapped up into a piece of wise advice:  “Stay calm, be brave, and wait for the signs”- (from the Dead Dog Cafe gang on CBC Radio),

Dear Louis

Dear Louis, happy birthday buddy. At your age (200), you probably take birthdays in stride. I am writing to pass along greetings and best wishes from a few kids here in Halifax. I gotta tell you, I was a little disappointed in the overall lack of interest at the Braille 200 Day booth at the mall today. I was feeling a tad depressed about the whole thing for a while there, having schlepped so much stuff over to the community booth, including my Perkins Brailler, a Braille alphabet chart the size of Manitoba, some items for the raffle, a ton of pamphlets and information sheets telling people all about you and the system you developed for blind people. I had made (lovingly and painstakingly), commemorative bookmarks. Preparation for your celebration have taken their toll on my wallet (Braille card stock, printer ink etc) and my time. I had day-glow yellow posters  made up to  advertise my offer to Braille anyone’s name for FREE!!! I had a neat display of Braille children’s books, metal tags (you know the kind I sew into  my clothes to identify their colour- PK=pink, GN=Green, RD= red etc), phone and bank statements, playing cards etc. I got so bored sitting alone at my booth, that I started to write nonsense on my Braille machine, just to pass the time…”If one more person comes to ask me for directions to Athlete’s World or the washroom, I will ask Opal to attack…”  I couldn’t believe that thousands of people could be so hell-bent on shopping and totally uninterested in you and your special day. Finally, some kids came to ask me for their name in Braille. I cheered up instantly. I sent them off with sticky labels and cue cards with the appropriate names on each. I told them about your birthday and they asked me to wish you all the best. Only ten people picked up my bookmarks and I have plenty left…looks like I may need to do another mall shift in the next week or so (groan). Maybe they’ll have shut down the Christmas music by then…Hey! Maybe I’ll bring some to church tomorrow and see if any UU’s want to feel you up! Take care, my friend. I hope you make it to 300 and beyond.

What if?……..

Technorati Tags: Happy New Year

What if,  when we awake tomorrow, to a new day and a New Year (and a boatload of snow in Nova Scotia), we also awake to…the complete absence of news items relaying the tragic traffic accidents and deaths which occurred after too many people got ‘happy’ with liquor in celebration tonight.  What if we never hear another announcement of soldiers dying in Afghanistan and elsewhere? What if the federal and provincial governments suddenly decided to support their poor, elderly, ill and disabled citizens with programs, services and benefits that would allow these people to lead dignified lives? What if a collective consciousness suddenly finds world leaders talking about “the Interconnected Web of All Existence” (knowingly and lovingly) and galvanizes them into immediate action to resolve issues that threaten our planet, like global warming? What if individuals across the globe are hit by uncontrollable urges to be honest, kind, generous, patient, and loving to one another? Imagine that! …but, John Lennon already did, “and I’m not the only one”, he claimed.  So, what if we just give peace a chance?…oh wait, John Lennon already sang to us about that too. (By the way, the ‘B’ side song on the single,  “Imagine” was “It’s so Hard” in the USA and “Working Class Hero” in the UK). Happy New Year everyone.

Dr. Opal

Technorati Tags: flu,dogs as dignostician,opal,lucy

I awoke yesterday with a massive chest cold. (my mom would have said, “Tu as coucher les fesses a l’aire” -translation: “you slept bare-bummed”. Maybe so, but Christmas Eve with my sweetie was worth it. All through the wee hours last night, I coughed, railed and hacked gobs of… well, never mind. At six AM this morning  when Opal woke up, she jumped on my bed and proceeded to give me an intense  45 to 60 – second breathalyzer test. She stuck her shnozz next to my lips and carefully sniffed the odours  (not too pleasant, I imagine) emerging from my mouth. Then, she promptly lay down beside me, head hung over my legs,  until I could get up an hour later. Clearly Doctor Opal diagnosed something not very healthy and decided to cut me some slack. She continued to request samples of my halitosis throughout the day. She must have thought I was insane when I saddled her up and said, “Come on, puppet, we’re going to Sobey’s to buy some honey”. We got there and back with barely any commands being uttered and moving quite slow. I spent most of the remainder of the day wrapped in my authentic Hudson’s Bay wool ‘point blanket’ with Opal and Lucy both settling over me like poultices. Thanks girls. You really know how to take care of your mum. What better nursemaids can a gal have?

Hey Butthead!

Thanks a lot buddy. Yeah you, the nameless smoker who flicked your LIT cigarette butt into the air by the Walmart entrance today. Yeah, I realize it was cold out and you were caging that smoke as long as possible before entering the insanity that is Wally World two days before Christmas.  Plus you couldn’t be bothered disposing of the disgusting dregs of your addiction properly, like in a receptacle, oh no, you had to toss that flaming fag, without glancing where it might land, like ONTO MY GUIDE DOG, Opal! That explains why she became startled… I had no clue.  I thought it was the foot traffic making her nervous, until someone told me what happened, expressing their outrage about it to me, long after you had blown into the store while exhaling the smoke from your last drag (into somebody’s face, no doubt).  I bet you’ve started a forest fire or two in your day, huh? You’re the kinda dope that tosses butts (and beer cans) out the car window as you speed down the road. Sheesh! Here’s my Wise Advice for you. Give them up for New Year’s, you creep. Get the patch! Arm yourself with mints and toothpicks. Sign up for support groups, acupuncture, psychoanalysis…but give me a break and leave my dog out of your pathetic path of destruction. And hey! quit smoking and you’ll start to feel better, smell better and sound better. The extra bonus for the rest of us is that you will decrease your share of the smokers

Technorati Tags: rant,smokers,guide dogs,opal,walmart,christmas,smoking cessation

burden on the health care system.

From Rant to Rescue…to Remembering

I was about to blog a rant, entitled, “Canadian Tire is Uninspired”… (a rhyming title and a rant to boot). Actually, it was going to be a rant ABOUT boots, or the lack of the allegedly “on sale” boots that appeared in the  Canadian Tire flyer this week. With aching feet,  bad boots in my closet,  and a Canadian Tire gift certificate to put towards anything my heart desires, I thought my problem was near resolution. Yes, I would head into the Christmas shopping fray at CT and buy those puppies for my sore dogs. My sweetie, ever the pragmatist (and maybe not so willing to go into the fray with me), suggested that I check their web site or call ahead to check on availability of my size. ‘Good idea’, I concurred. I entered the item code number into the Canadian Tire web site and yielded nothing except messages to ‘contact store for more information’.  Then I dialed and dialed my phone some more, waiting on hold forever and finally talking to frantic staff people immersed in bedlam over in the Canadian Tire stores throughout Halifax. I thought one guy at the Spryfield Canadian Tire was having a breakdown. Lucky for me I have ‘Crisis phone line’ training and could talk him down from his  counter top. Two hours later, I was back on the phone with the sweetie to announce  “Canadian Tire is lying to me. There is not one store location in town with ANY of those boots in any size. They never had them to begin with. Those shysters just want us to get us into the store to impulse shop…’cause they know we would. What happened to the Canadian institution of my childhood? The one with the catalogues (just the right size)  I would strap to my knees in lieu of real hockey pads ’cause we couldn’t afford the ones they sold in their store? (catalogue about to axed from publication) The ones who gave you Canadian Tire ‘money’ with every cash purchase? (about to be relegated to memorabilia collections too).” Sigh. The boot search continues.

I never got to that sole rant of a blog. Why? This morning I got the Warm ‘n Fuzzy Christmas feeling, not from any success in my search for affordable boots, but from two news items I heard on CBC radio. Very simple. First, a  rescue dog called Ace, found a Hamilton woman, lost for THREE days,  buried in in a pile of snow, ALIVE.  She should have been dead. CBC found the story and put the ‘miracle’ tag on, just in the Saint Nick of time. Good job, Ace! 

This was followed by a moving tribute (given by Jane Kansas) about  a local homeless man, ‘Terry’ who died over the weekend at age 65. He was a colourful Halifax fixture, know as an eccentric, often irritatingly in-your-face kinda guy who could cry crocodile tears on cue if you were ‘nice’ to him, or dismiss you if you had no money or smokes to offer.   The man was an alcoholic and suffered from schizophrenia. He wore dapper suits and sports jackets to panhandle, albeit dirty ones. His death is not the happy note here. The fact that his tribute made it to mainstream media IS. This guy’s passing  could easily have gone unnoticed. If we can’t take care of our unfortunate citizens, we can at least mark their passing.

Yesterday, a memorial service was held at St. Georges Round Church to honour the lives of people who have lived and died homeless and in poverty.  Perhaps more people could make it a point to attend this yearly service in future.

The Longest Night

“Occurs at the instant when the Sun’s position in the sky is at its greatest angular distance on the other side of the equatorial plane from the observer’s hemisphere”…this is part of Wiki’s  definition of  Winter Solstice. In the Northern Hemisphere, it occurs between December 20th and 23rd. The seasonal significance of winter solstice is in the reversal of the gradual lengthening nights and shortening days. Worldwide, cultures interpret the Solstice event in varied ways, but most cultures have a recognition of rebirth, involving holidays, festivals, rituals and celebrations (‘Amaraterasu’- Requiem of the Dead in Japan, ‘Mankara Sankranti’ -India and Nepal, ‘Lucia’-Feast of St. Lucy in ancient Sweden, ‘Deygan’- Zorastrian, ‘Christmas’- Natalis Domini in 4th century Rome and 11th century Christian etc.)

The start of Winter Solstice in 1955, had a whole other meaning for my mother. It was a bitter cold night (I am told), when she laboured to bring me forward onto this good Earth. At age 37, this small Quebecois woman found herself giving birth to me, her fourth of five children, in a private maternity clinic near Montreal. My father was present to witness this…the only time he would be around for the birth of any of his five children.  My father, a Master mariner, happened to be home on leave. My mother appealed to him to come to be by her side. She further convinced him to put on his naval dress uniform for the occasion.  (He would don that full uniform only twice more in his 35 year career). My dad was a ballcap-wearing kinda guy, even while at the helm of the dozens of ships he would command in his lifetime. Dad obliged. The result of this compliance in putting on his hot, itchy blue serge uniform, was being granted permission to enter the labour room with my mom. This was unheard of in a Catholic birthing clinic of the 1950′s. I guess even Catholic nursing nuns are patsies for a guy in uniform.  My dad held me in his arms, (or so the story goes) and mom asked him what my name should be.  He grinned and announced, “Helen”. Mom thought this was pretty a pretty good handle for the bald 8 pound, 4 ounce healthy girl she had just unleashed on an unsuspecting world. It would translate nicely she thought (Helene) for the predominately French relatives in her life. She asked my dad about the significance of ‘Helen’. My dad, painfully honest man that he was most of the time, told mom that in his youth he once had a ‘nice girlfriend’ with the same name.

As we move into the Winter Solstice and the longest night, I pause and think about my departed parents whom I miss. This morning, I went into my sea chest of personal memorabilia and I found the very same Master’s cap which my dad wore in the birthing room on that night, 53 years ago. I reflect on the good life my folks gave me, the values they instilled in me, the love of life I acquired from them. Mostly, I think about the lesson they taught by example; how to care for all of Earth’s creatures I encounter on my journey through this life. We were not the perfect family. We had our ‘issues’. They cut me a lot of slack in my troubled times, and I reciprocated in their less inspired moments. While most people entertain the idea of creating New Year’s Resolutions at this time of year, I do not. I do, however, make a point on my birthday, (today) of evaluating my life and its course and come up with ‘Birthday Resolutions’. They mean more to me, and I ‘stick to them’ better.

Take it all the way to the Bank

Sometimes, it pays to persevere. For years, I and other individuals have requested, pleaded with, and even demanded that the Halifax Shopping Center branch of  RBC (formerly known as Royal Bank of Canada) install an audible  banking machine. This branch has gone through several managers over the years, and all were less than responsive to the suggestion that accessibility  in banking would be “a good thing” (to borrow a line from Martha Stewart). The branch  went through a major retrofit last year, (INCLUDING INSTALLATION OF A NEW BANKING MACHINE), and despite reminders to the deadheads in charge of the dough (AKA the last manager) to order and include an audible machine, the branch ended up putting in a new, regular INACCESSIBLE machine. People who can’t see the keypad and display, cannot use it for quick, everyday banking, like other bank patrons. Instead, our options included going to the stand-up tellers while trying to juggle papers, guide dogs and privacy, or the grim death march-like wait with the ‘seniors’ at the sit-down service. The latter is the default choice of most blind people who bank alone.  Many a time, I have sat…and sat, and waited for my turn to come. It  irritated me beyond belief to wait endlessly for the privilege of depositing money into the coffers of an already obscenely profitable bank. Tic-toc! My time is valuable too! And to boot, any blind person in need of cash or depositing funds to cover bills etc after banking hours? was screwed! So one day, as I sat vacantly at  the ‘sit down’ service,  eavesdropping on some old geek’s long winded  financial and personal history (in excruciating minutia) , the new branch manager came over to introduce herself. A big sigh went off  in my head, but a cordial greeting coming out my mouth…and within  two minutes, I redirected the conversation. I asked her if  we might open  the dialogue about accessibility problems with this RBC branch one more time.   Result?  Darlene, the new manager, just telephoned  to announce  (a mere three weeks or so after  I sent her a detailed e-mail  about  accessibility, Accommodation, rights and obligations blah, blah, blah), that the RBC Halifax Shopping Center branch will, by April, install AT LEAST THREE AUDIBLE BANKING MACHINES AT THE BRANCH ITSELF AND WITHIN THE MALL!

Now, I can  look forward to cruising  over to the mall at any time,  and being able to go the bank machine (the audible ones) , slip on my headphones, plug in, and listen to ‘bank guy’s’ voice croon his instructions to me, thereby allowing me to conduct transactions quickly….such as depositing my money…. into the coffers of an obscenely profitable bank. Nice going, though,  RBC. 

Back to Basic Blogging

Enough with the touchy-feely Christmas stuff! I just found out that my blogroll links disappeared when I activated the winter scene theme recently. So you sighted people can suck it up! Back to my preferred basic blogging theme. I’ll leave the falling snow flakes, but that’s as far as I’m going with this winter wonderland crap. They’ll mercifully disappear automatically in January (assuming I’m not rendered comatose from mock turkey tryptophan by then, or launched into a candy cane sugar high, making me incapable of hitting the keyboard in a sensible fashion).

Bah, Humbug! Says CNIB to Winnipeg Folk

 

It seems that Christmas came early for a select group of people in Winnipeg.  The group? The three staff members and 85 volunteers of the CNIB Winnipeg’s recording studio. The gift? The sudden closure (effective December 31st) of the CNIB audio book recording studio, and the loss of their employment and volunteer work positions, without so much as a thank you…or much of a valid or logical explanation as to why they got this lump of CNIB coal. 

Just as I was preparing to retire this blog permanently in order to pursue greener writing pastures (writing for green backs, actually),  an e-mail arrived in my inbox which enticed me into writing one more CNIB exposé. Who could resist? Certainly not I.  My secret Santa/ mole (and one of the former dedicated volunteers of the CNIB Winnipeg’s recording studio) illuminated my  gloomy day with his take on what REALLY went down there in the Peg. ‘Bubba’ waxed poetically and provided a supportive link to a recent article in the Winnipeg Free Press. (www.winnipegfreepress.com/local/35590734.html

 

‘Bubba’ had read  some of my earlier blogs describing  the many antics of the CNIB and why I have come to disrespect this organization which purports to be the   ‘be all and end all’, do-good group for the blind…something akin to the second coming of the blind Christ. He dangled this carrot for me to chase. I must admit that initially, I had a flash of minor paranoia that this carrot might be  bait from a CNIB henchman.  ( for I have never seen a more closed, backroom, boys club, unaccountable, un-transparent group like CNIB, since my days with the SIU (Seafarer’s International Union). At least the SIU was more obvious  about controlling their membership, protecting their own interests, imposing their will, and generally, being a scum-sucking type of outfit. The major difference really, is that CNIB is a REGISTERED CHARITABLE ORGANIZATION!)

‘Bubba’ tells me that he has “come to firmly believe the CNIB has leadership issues”. Hmm. He goes on to acknowledge that times are tough in the charity sector and that cost cutting is to be expected…yada, yada. Then, he explained that “when the CNIB announced the closure of the recording studio to volunteers, (operating for over 20 years in talking book and magazine production) , one would think it was the result of proper reasoning and due diligence. If not for the outcry of one volunteer, it appears the CNIB would have in fact hoped that this would pass quietly and without notice“  The reason given to the volunteers and the media, for the closure, was “purely financial”

In a December 4th CBC radio interview, the head of the CNIB library was asked about the ‘economic’ reasons for closure, and specifically, “what is the savings of closing the Winnipeg facility?”. The reply given, was ” I don’t know” and a mumbled, “We don’t do accounting that way”.  So, now we all wonder how the CNIB can  terminate three paid staff and throw away the value of 85 qualified volunteers who donate 12,000 hours of their time each year, on the basis of “I don’t know”?  CBC reported the annual budget of CNIB as 82 million dollars (that’s $82,000,000.00).  So, we wonder how the director of a division ( CNIB library) with a 9 million dollar spending tab in 2007, makes a major financial decision on the basis of ‘I don’t know’ and some “new fangled accounting practice that is apparently….unaccountable.” to quote ‘Bubba’. Then, to further the insanity and irrationality, the CNIB stated to the media (this despite their public reason for the closure of the Winnipeg studio — ‘tough economic times’), that “no capacity would be lost”.  Ah. Clear as mud. They hammered their own coffin nail by claiming  that the  CNIB library in Toronto will pick up the audio book recording slack. Hmm. Actually. That’s another CNIB lie (oops, I mean, ‘untruth’). The staff at the Toronto library has already told Winnipeg studio staff  (internally) that there is no contingency  for extra recording shifts in Toronto or to put in extra recording booths there, or anywhere else in the country. The soundproof recording booths in Winnipeg are being GIVEN AWAY, not moved or sold to recoup money “in these tough economic times”. Here’s the kicker. A group of the dedicated , qualified, albeit axed Winnipeg volunteers, asked  the CNIB leadership if the studio could be saved if they raised the estimated $110,000 to run it. The response from CNIB was NO. When pushed to explain their reasoning, the group was told by the  CNIB did  they not want to do accounting that way or to responsible for an endowment to the Winnipeg studio.

This is how you run a registered charity?

Is it any wonder that we, the people who come to discover  how truly unprofessional and boorish the CNIB executive and leadership is, choose to distance ourselves from it? (some of us voluntarily, and others by default as turfed out volunteers with this nutty outfit)? Big collective sigh. Thanks ‘Bubba’, you made my day.

Let Your Fingers Do the Walking

It doesn’t take much to excite me. My compadre , Troy (a blind guy) made the mother of all discoveries this week, after much finagling and phoning to the Yellow Pages folks in search of a free, searchable,  information phone service for the Yellow Pages. He found a wonderful, little known tool and shared it with me. Now, we are sharing it with EVERYONE.  This is free!!! What makes it particularly exciting, is that, now I can ‘browse’ the Yellow Pages, just like the sighted folk. It’s accessed through a toll free number here in Nova Scotia. You call the number, (you can opt for a short tutorial), and say, for example, “Halifax, Nova Scotia”. Then say, “pizza”, if you are hankering for a pie. The ‘automated attendant’ or voice menu will ask you if you want, “Pizza Restaurant, delivery, or any pizzeria”. I chose “delivery”. Then, the clever interactive voice offered me 10 choices.  I didn’t really want a pizza, but hey, if I had… Then, I tried “photographers”, “shoes”,  “plumbers”, “banks” and more.  When searching  for shoe store options, I was asked if I wanted to “search by neighbourhood, near a landmark, near an intersection or city wide “….and so on.  I listened to  a list, and could choose to “connect, get the address, or get the number”. 

This is a minor miracle for me and other blind people who spend many an hour fritzzing around with the regular 411 service in search of numbers for stores or businesses. The only business or store umbers we can get from 411, are ones WHICH WE KNOW THE NAME AND LOCATION OF!!! So, for Nova Scotians, the toll free number is: 1-877-310-9356. Blind people! Program it onto your speed dial!! Let your fingers do the walking.  For  most of the rest of Canada, the number is even simpler: 310-0411. This works for land lines or mobile phones. The web site, is there too, of course for the computer geeks (www.yellowpages.ca). My only caution is, to speak clearly, ’cause sometimes the ‘automated attendant’ says, “I don’t  understand you”…story of my life.

Do Guide Dogs Misbehave?

Short answer to this question? Yes, of course! They’re dogs, just dogs with special training. All dogs will misbehave, given the opportunity (and all you people with allegedly ‘perfect pooches’ need to rethink that plan to nominate your canine for sainthood!)

I must say that I get a lot of comments from people (bus and taxi drivers, store keepers, hospital staff etc.) who remark that Opal is a very well behaved dog. I would agree, given what I’ve heard about other guide dogs, much to my surprise and horror.  Sure, Opal has been known to lick women’s bare feet in public when I’m not paying attention.  Her passion for soft and fuzzy things has overwhelmed her more than once too; she stole a ladies gloves off a seat at the ferry terminal once, and she has tried to boost a stuffed animal or two from Walmart’s and other stores. Ok, so maybe she has also shredded a basket  (‘off the job’) and torn several pairs of my panties into confetti. At least I caught up with her when she tried to destroy my bra, in time to rescue it. See a pattern here? Oral fixation…jaws and tongue in action? Like many labs, she loves to carry stuff. The first thing she does when  her ‘saddle’ (harness) comes off at home, is to pick up the nearest object that will fit in her mouth and run like a dog possessed.

I have said this more than once: Dogs are a lot like kids. They are opportunistic.  They need good structure, routine  and enforced rules in order to behave like good dogs. I think that most of the stories I hear from cab and bus drivers about guide dogs jumping around, barking, annoying the driver or passengers (!!!!) in their vehicles, is not about a ‘guide dog being bad’.  Nope. It’s about a handler that does not ‘sort their dog out’. These are the handlers that give the rest of us a bad name by allowing the public to develop a negative impression of guide dogs. I have been at functions with other people who had guide dogs, in one instance, 35 blind people and handlers. All  were relatively very well behaved (even the people). I have also been at meetings, and parties where only one other guide dog and handler were present, where  I became irritated beyond belief (the handler irritated ME, the dog irritated Opal), ’cause the handler was asleep at the switch and not paying attention to, or doing anything about his wandering and misbehaving dog.

The off-duty guide dog will eat that chocolate birthday cake, those half dozen blueberry muffins (low fat), the marinating steaks etc. IF THEY HAVE OPPORTUNITY. They will bother your guests, demand attention, ‘act out’, just like small children, unless you enforce the rules which YOU  create, consistently. It makes them feel more secure to know who is leader of the pack (or parent). It is  really about ensuring that they do not have opportunity, and preempting the food theft, destruction of property, annoyance of guests etc, BEFORE IT CAN OCCUR. Put your stuff away! (like my panties which should not be lying on the floor next to the hamper). Put your foot down  firmly (but do not carry a big stick!–be kind and fair to your dog).

Halifax Explosion’s Blinded Victims Remembered

Yesterday, I received a blog comment from a fellow named, George. It came for moderation and was directed off the ‘about Helen McFadyen’ page. George asked why I had not mentioned the significance of the day, particularly in light of the many victims who were killed, disabled, blinded…and my oft-spun blogs on the subject of blindness , “but being a PFA (Person From Away) it might not be familiar” to me….To tell you the truth, I did not ‘twig’ right away. I thought he was referring to the tragic news item from Afghanistan,  (100th Canadian soldier killed in Afghanistan) and that he was in some sort of reminiscing mode about Veterans. I’ve been woefully overworked, and writing ‘real’ articles and documents like a woman possessed (actually I’m a woman possessed by deadlines). so much so, that I had a restless night (that and my killer joint pain from this lovely, damp weather). But then, it struck me. I was mentally calculating dates (Christmas and all the billions of pot lucks and other events that require attendance) when I  decided to get up and check my Braille calendar. Thank you for the wake-up call, George. Of course, I am very familiar with this significant piece of Canadian/Nova Scotian/Haligonian history. I obviously missed the radio news reporting on local ceremonies.

Yesterday’s date was December 6th.  91 years ago (1917) on this date,  at approximately 9 am, the city of Halifax experienced the biggest man made explosion the world had ever seen. It came to be known as the Halifax Explosion. Before the sun went down that day, more than 1000 people would die, 1000 more would die later, and 9000 would be severely injured or maimed. Any person (including PFA’s) who lives in Halifax for a little while, will learn about this event. It is marked by solemn ceremony every year, and the local media always attempts to cover it in a big way. What happened? Canada was preparing for war (the Big One). The Halifax Harbour was busy. A Belgian relief ship (Imo) was preparing to clear the Bedford Basin, bound for Europe and the war. As it was going through the Narrows, the French munitions ship, Mont Blanc and the tug boat, Stella Maris which was towing two barges, all converged. A flurry of whistles followed, as the ships tried to figure which was passing to which side. The result, was a collision between the Mont Blanc and the Imo. The Mont Blanc was loaded with TNT,  benzol fuel and picric acid. The immediate result of the collision was smoke and fire. The Mont Blanc drifted towards the shoreline as it burned and smoked.  This scene drew curious people to their home and workplace windows to watch.  The CBC sums up best what followed; …”The steel hull burst sky high, falling in a blizzard of red-hot twisted projectiles on Dartmouth and Halifax.” The aftermath also included a tsunami-like wash of water (as high as 18 meters) over the survivors.

Result of Halifax Explosion:

• In the Richmond area,  the destruction was so total that people could not recognize where their homes had been.
• In the North end, entire streets were in flames as wood stoves, lamps and furnaces tipped over.
• Firefighters came within hours from Moncton, Springhill, Amherst and Kentville, but their equipment (hoses) would not fit with differently-sized Halifax hydrants.
• By noon hour the  officials  had gathered at city Hall, and The Halifax Relief Committee was put together in 45 minutes to begin to deal with issues of shelter, transportation, finance, food. Later that day,  more committees formed; medical relief, mortuary, fuel and Dartmouth Relief committees.
• Medical aid began to arrive to support local hospitals. Aid stations sprang up. Massachusetts was a significant contributor of assistance (Halifax continues to send a huge Christmas tree to Boston every year as a symbolic thank you). Emergency triage treatment included amputations,  lacerations, eye removal, and life-saving surgeries.
• Eye injuries and blindness were experienced by many Halifax Explosion survivors. One reason for this, is the tons of glass shards that exploded out of windows where people watched as the Mont Blanc drifted. Doctor G. H. Cox, an ophthalmologist arrived from New Glasgow to perform 12 hours of non stop eye surgeries.  The explosion caused 600 people to suffer eye injuries and 38 were totally and permanently blinded.
• Many of the 1500 who died that day, died as buildings collapsed and burned around them.
• 12,000 buildings were severely damaged. 1630 were completely destroyed. 6000 people were homeless.

 

Thank you for reminding me, George.

Opal on Canadian Politics

Mum is going on and on about a guy  named, Steven (she usually calls him ‘the idiot’) who just got himself  a perogie and is planning to play with it for a whole month. I love perogies! Mum cooks them sometimes. Once, one got away while she was draining them and hit the floor. I scarfed it up in a nanosecond! So, if I was this guy, Steven, and I had one little perogie, I’d be eating it, not playing with it. She says that this Steven guy doesn’t have a lot of friends ’cause…..well, HE’S A MANUPILUATIVE, SHWARMY POLITICIAN OF UNSAVORY MORAL CHARACTER, WHO IS SCREWING AROUND WITH THE GOOD PEOPLE OF CANADA, NONE OF WHOM  TRUST OR WANT HIM AROUND ANY MORE! HE IS PLAYING COSTLY PARLIAMENTARY GAMES WITH THE TAX PAYERS MONEY AT A TIME WHEN THIS COUNTRY NEEDS A WORKING GOVERNMENT! You know, if I were you Steven? I’d rethink this being such a bully thing. It’s not OK to push people around (like when I knock Lucy, the cat over), just because you’re bigger. AND STOP PLAYING WITH YOUR PEROGIE!

Quit Crapping Up the Internet!!!

I’ve had it with going through and deleting an endless bunch of smutty, bizarre, horrific and obscene ‘comments’ from my spam queue on this blog and the pile of crap spam e-mails in my various e-mail in boxes. Holy moly! What kind of nut jobs are out there anyway?! Sheesh! Why can’t we patrol the Internet better? I am seriously saddened by some of this. Sure, I KNOW there is child porn, beastiality videos, sales of dangerous miracle cures, whacko ‘employment opportunities’ and other pathetic stuff going on, but REALLY, can you leave me out of it please!? If I get one more unsolicited e-mail from ‘Mr. Gupta’ asking me for money for his charity, or somebody telling me to send  my password and ID to a hotmail account (how lame is THAT!?) I think I will throw a virtual hissy fit.  It’s only moderately soothing to forward the fake banking spam to the web security at the real banks, Paypal or whatever, or to hit reply with a big “F You!” to the password seekers, but this soaks up my time.  Yeah, I love the Internet and the wonderful pile of information at my fingertips…yada, yada… but the phising, spyware and adware, is getting me down.  Frankly,  I can also live without the ‘funny stories’, ‘cute videos’, ‘must try recipes’, ‘chain hugs’, ‘heartwarming poems’, and all the other stuff in the pile of junk that I get from my so-called ‘friends’ e-mail me, day in and day out.  Some people must have time on their hands like warts.

Remembering Rosa Parks Today

53 years ago today, just 19 days before my mother gave birth to me, she would have sat quietly with  bulging belly, and listened to a New York City station on the radio. (Mom loved to tune in New York City because of the great dance tunes). She would have heard the following item on the evening news report that night;

“A colored woman in Montgomery, Alabama was arrested by police today, after refusing to give up her seat to a white person. Mrs. Rosa Parks faces a fine for breaking the segregation law. It is not the first time that Mrs. Parks , a seamstress who works at the Montgomery Fair department store, has defied the law on segregation. In 1943 she was thrown off the bus for refusing to leave by the back door reserved for black passengers. She became known to drivers who then would refuse to let her on. Ironically, Mrs. Parks recognized James Burke today, as the same driver who threw her off the bus some 12 years ago. Mrs. Parks is a youth leader in a local branch of the NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People). Her husband, Raymond takes part in voter registration drives. The NAACP and Mrs. Parks have been  involved in raising money to help defend 15 year old, Claudette Colvin, removed from a bus earlier this year for a similar segregation law-related refusal.”

Five days later, (just two weeks before I entered the world) mom would have heard another related news story on her radio, about the thousands of black citizens of Alabama participating in an organized boycott. A young man, named Martin Luther King spoke to the crowds that night and urged them to continue with the boycott. Almost all of Montgomery’s 40 thousand black residents did so for 381 days, crippling the city’s transportation system and signaling the start of the modern civil rights movement in the United States. On December 20th of 1956 (my 1st birthday), the Supreme court upheld a lower court decision to end segregation on Alabama busses. Mrs. Parks was fired from her job and  then moved to Detroit in 1957 because of harassment. She worked for Democratic congressman, John Conyers until her retirement in 1985. Rosa Parks died in October of 2005.

Opal, a UU-Spirited Dog

Two of my favourite things to talk about (and I do so incessantly), are Opal and my church, the Universalist Unitarian Church of Halifax. When I have a reason and opportunity to combine both in one conversation or text, my life seems very sweet indeed.

I’ve been under the blogospheric weather for a few days, but only because I have been busy….mostly singing. Last night, the UU church of Halifax held its rescheduled ‘gospel sing-along’ evening. What does this mean? Yes, of course, a bunch of  white folk singing gospel songs could potentially translate into a pretty lame event, however, when UU’s sing gospel, we REALLY try hard. Last night, we also provided cultural and racial acknowledgements, and historical information about the music that we were about to perform. As a member  of both performing choirs, I had been rehearsing full tilt and memorizing a plethora of song and hymn lyrics for weeks (SONGS GUARANTEED TO NEVER LEAVE MY BRAIN AGAIN!). An early snowstorm  had forced us to reschedule the event.  Finally, last night, we sang…and shone, perhaps not like blinding light, but certainly with spirited illumination.  Opal was well behaved (as usual )and slept, wrapped around the microphone stand at my rhythm- tapping feet. We finally got home after 10 PM and eventually got to bed, but not before her ritual settling period had passed. (Opal needs to relax when she finally gets out of harness, and usually does so by picking up a soft object and running around like a nut. Lately, my panties have been the object of choice. She turns them into lingerie confetti.  That’ll teach me to leave my dirty clothing lying about!). Early this morning, Opal  accepted my unreasonable demand to ‘saddle-up’, (good sport that she is), and off we went to church again. This time we were helping out in the UU orientation for the newcomers. We participated in the day-long UU boot camp until early afternoon and then left the group  to tend to our last UU mission of the day; A hospital visit to a church member who has been beset by surgeries and the aftermath of infection.

One of the perks of the harness which Opal wears, is its status and how it can act as a pass to enter into places where pet dogs can not go. A hospital is such a place. My friend, M. who is the unfortunate soul in ill health, has two dogs of her own…at home. What a smile I heard in her voice when Opal gave her a huge greeting!  She had no roommates in her hospital room and the place was oddly quiet, so I took Opal’s harness off for a minute to allow for some big time kissing and goofiness. THIS is true medicine, UU canine style.

Louis Turns 200

January 4th 2009 will mark the 200th anniversary of Louis Braille’s birth. Louis is the guy who poked himself in the eye with an awl at age three, then lost sight in the other eye, just to make things symmetrical (actually it was caused by sympathetic ophalmia). He went to the Royal Institution for the Blind Youth in Paris which turned out to be a major hell-hole kinda place with the usual bad food, tyranny and general beatings and abuse that gives residential schools a bad name. The kid had smarts, no doubt about it. He  fiddled with the cello and played organ all over gay Paris. In school, he got bummed out about the raised letters they taught him to use for reading, so he improvised a bit with Barbier’s (French soldier dude) 12 dot and dash code used for passing tippy-top military secrets in the field.  Louis came up with a  6- raised dot  cell system to represent letters of the alphabet. Voila! Braille was born and would later become  the revolutionary method of communication for the blind. Louis  later dreamed up Braille music notation (being a music buff and all) and years later, a guy named,  Nemeth would create a code for mathematics . The really sad thing about this great achievement, is that Louis died of Tuberculosis at age 43 BEFORE BRAILLE CAUGHT ON!

Look for Braille 200 events in your community. Regardless of whether you have vision or you are blind, if you use Braille or not, support Braille 200 Day activities! Buy that lame demo bookmark! Pretend you understand the explanations given by the volunteer at the mall display of Uncontracted (grade 1) and Contracted (grade 2) Braille and how they differ. Ooo and ahh when you are asked to ‘read’ sample Braille sentences and say, “This is so hard to do” in genuine amazement. Make like it matters! ‘Cause it does. It is critical to promote and maintain the teaching of Braille to blind children and adults all over the world. Why? It’s a neat method of communication.  Example; You can write obscene Braille messages all over your boss’s memo’s and he’ll never know what you said…PLUS you can read in bed without waking your sweetie (no audio, and no lights)…AND  maybe someday, it’ll come in handy when there’s  a global power shortage and all the talking book machines and computers will grind to a halt…like now!

Bionic Lady Rescues Wise Advice Chief and Staff!

This just in from Halifax:

Wise Advice chief, HRM (AKA Lablady) and her staff canine, Opal, were rescued on Mumford Road  by Bionic Lady late yesterday afternoon. Ms. ‘S’, better know as Bionic Lady because of her nifty titanium prosthetic leg, noticed  Wise Advice and her trusty pooch trying to navigate home from the Mumford bus terminal. Realizing that there was no way that the self-proclaimed queen of advice-giving would be able to navigate the narrow, windy, and perilously slippery snow tract which pedestrians had created to  replace the sidewalk, Bionic Lady cleverly guided the guide dog and Wise Advice (who tucked in behind the dog) through the rough terrain to safety. Their victorious survival story was recorded by CBC TV crews who happened by on their way to film other snowstorm cleanup and disaster stories all over Halifax.  It seems that Saturday’s storm hit HRM by surprise. The official line from the city is that they had not contracted the snow-clearance teams to work before November 30th and “were caught by surprise” (this despite  the statistics which show that Halifax has recorded snow in November almost every year in its history). Bionic Lady said  to CBC reporter, Mindy Ming, “It’s a bitch out there, ya know? They haven’t even cleared out the bus stops at major intersections yet. The curbs downtown are like, gone”. Wise Advice said she had serendipitously been traveling on the same bus as her neighbour, Bionic Lady. “Yeah, I was standing next to the driver all the way to Mumford terminal with Opal ’cause there was no way those young kids were going to give up their seats for me or anyone else. It gave me a chance to have  a nice chat with the driver, though.  The driver told me (when he wasn’t stopping to dig snow from his bus’s doors at bus stops, so they could close properly), that 48 hours after the snow  storm,  not one street in HRM is plowed properly and even bus stops at busy, main intersections are inaccessible,  and  that there is no way the ALF buses  could  deploy their ramps for the wheelchair users anywhere”.

“Guess they’re  (wheelchair users) screwed for getting to work this winter” the driver announced grimly as he drove his  bus around a string of  cars stuck in a mid-road snowbank. “I feel like Superman and MacGyver all rolled into one” he announced with pride. “Yeah, I had to pull two people out from UNDER my bus who had slipped off the snowbanks as they tried to get on board at a couple of un-cleared stops.  AND I made a nifty shovel out of my lunch pail so that I can dig the doors out when they get stuck!” he added excitedly. Wise Advice told Mindy Ming that she should take the film crew over to city hall and film the undoubtedly well-cleared parking lot there, and interview the mayor and council as they emerge from ‘work’. “Maybe shove a camera in their face and ask them if any of them have time to do double duty as chauffeurs to the thousands of elderly and persons with disabilities in Halifax who are at risk of not accessing medical appointments, employment and necessary  travel because of the dumb asses’ decision that  it’s OK to gamble and allow un-contracted snow crews to get  caught with their ski-doo pants down.  Environment Canada is forecasting rain in the  HRM area for the next couple of days. Prediction? Ice slicks where sidewalk snow paths exist, and ice mounds at curbs. This equals lawsuits and liability. It would have been cheaper just to clean up the snow in the first place, rather than pay for all those broken bones and physiotherapy.” She left for home with Bionic Lady to have a cup of tea.

‘Opal Winfrey’, ‘Bubba’,’ Ope’…

You’re not REALLY suppose to call dogs by names other than their real, given  name, but sometimes stuff just seems to roll off the tongue…’in the moment’. For example, I often call Opal, ‘Puppet’. This is my special  term of endearment for her. Admittedly, I have occasionally also saddled her with; ‘Little Girl’, “Ope’, ‘Little One’, ‘Opal Winfrey’, ‘Magoo’, ‘Bubba’, ‘Goofy Girl,  ‘Pooping Machine’,  ‘Destructo’, and ‘You Big Galloot’. I’m sure you can figure out how some of these handles developed. She is a petite, compact dog, albeit a bruiser. She can just about knock you off your pins with her powerful tail or swaggering butt. She plays hard, no doubt about it.  A  ‘waif-like’ woman (which I am NOT) would keel over handling this dog.  Good thing CGDB gave her to ME. ‘Opal Winfrey’ was her nickname at Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind where we trained (Maybe it had something to do with her being a black, powerful bitch…oops. Did I say that?!). As for ‘Bubba’, that came in a dream… weeks before Opal entered my life.

Several weeks before I left for Manotick , Ontario to train with the dog that would eventually be my guide dog, Opal, I had this dream. Realize that one does not learn any details about the dog which the guide dog training school is planning to match you up with,  until after you arrive on scene.  I  had no idea what breed or sex of canine I was getting, nor did I  know the  name of this dog…until the day we met (that’s for another blog or book chapter). I had been reading the CGDB pre-training material . I listened to  a CD and learned about the expense of training a dog/handler team ($35,000.00+). I worried about the difficulties the school might have in finding a dog for me.  When I lapsed into dreamland that night,  I saw myself at the CGDB training Centre. There I was… sitting in a room,  about to learn the details of my dog’s pedigree. The chief instructor came in and sat on my cot ( apparently they could no longer afford beds for their clients). She  said, “Your dog is an  8 and 1/2 year old miniature collie mix”. I asked her, in horror, why my  dog was so old and so small. She replied, “Money, there’s little of it. We can’t afford pure bred dogs any more. We collect strays and train them”.  She added, “Don’t worry, he’ll take up so little space in your  home”.  Then, I asked  about the dog’s name. “Bubba”, she replied.  Mercifully, I awoke at that point in my dream.   I later mentioned this nutty dream to the real chief instructor when I spoke to her on the telephone, a day or so before leaving for Ontario.

I recall sitting in the lounge at CGDB several weeks later, having just arrived there the day before.  This was the big moment when we (me and  people I was training with) were  being told the details about our dogs. My turn finally came.  I held my breath. The instructor had an impish smile in her voice when she said, “Helen, you’re NOT getting a dog named Bubba…you’re dog is a black lab bitch, named Opal IV.” The rest…is history.

One Seat, One Fare…Many Victorious

The Supreme Court of Canada has rejected an application by Air Canada, Air Canada Jazz, and Westjet for permission to appeal the new policy imposed by the Canadian Transportation Agency in January of this year.  The CTA  had issued an order to the airlines to adopt a policy of ‘one person, one fare’. In the past, passengers with disabilities and those that are deemed disabled because of obesity, could sometimes be charged two  fares if they required extra space to accommodate their wheelchair, stretcher, or if they required two seats because of their size or if someone required an attendant.  The airlines argued that the CTA order would cause “undue hardship” (implementing this directive would be too costly…the CTA did not buy it and suggested that costs would be recouped by charging an additional 79 cents per ticket).  The airlines will no longer be allowed to charge a second fare to accommodate anyone who requires two seats because of a disability or obesity. This only applies to flights within Canada.

Alliance for Equality of Blind Canadians president, Robin East, won a  victory complimentary to the “one seat, one fare” decision in a CTA ruling against Air Canada and Air Canada Jazz in June of 2008.  I know this man. He stands over 6 feet 2 inches tall. He travels a great deal…with his guide dog. He explained to me that sometimes, the airlines (Specifically Air Canada and Air Canada Jazz) would not provide him with adequate space for his guide dog when he traveled. (Airlines would  provide an extra seat (or bulkhead seating on Westjet) as a courtesy, only when the flight was not sold out. (I have flown at least once on all three airlines with Opal. Twice I got the extra seat, once I did not. The time I did not? Not too comfy for us…and I’m 5’2″)  Often, Robin would end up scrunched into a center section seat with his dog wedged between his legs, sometimes for hours. This is a horrendous hardship on the dog, the handler and the adjacent passengers don’t care for it much either).  As a result of the ruling, these airlines must now provide sufficient  floor space for registered service dogs who fly with their handlers (within Canada) on all aircraft that have over 30 seats.

Where Have You Been, Mum!?

I don’t know where my mum has been, but I don’t like it! She was gone for only a minute… said something about helping A. with his computer, and then she came back a while later smelling like….the German boy! Yes, I know she was playing around with my boyfriend, you know.. the guide dog who lives upstairs but who is also a shephard (two jobs! wow!),  mum says.  Oh, he’s not REALLY my boyfriend, but a girl can dream, can’t she? Mum came in and a wave of that boy’s smell hit me like a sack of bricks. Hmmm. He’s so dreamy. I long to play with him…I long to play with ANY dog at this point. Maybe someday I’ll be running around that service dog park that mum’s trying to jig up with HRM. In the meantime, she has started allowing me to play off-leash in our special place. She told me not to tell, and that she’s not sure how appropriate it is to run around this place…you know, being the Worship room at church, and all. I can’t see why anyone would mind. Dogs worship and celebrate life in their own way, I tried to tell her. She got this idea while  we were waiting and waiting for choir practice time to come around. We spend a lot of time alone in the church house just waiting, ’cause we have no where else to go. We  are usually waiting  for a meeting or choir practice. I get bored. Yesterday, one of those ‘ah ha’ light bulbs went off in her head. She said, “There’s nothing but a big, empty room  here with no obstacles…  If we close the doors,  there’s no chance you’ll  escape… You won’t damage anything, Opal and I  know that you NEVER relieve anywhere indoors…so, let’s play!!!” We didn’t have a toy, but mum threw her glove across the room and we played ‘chase-the-dog-until-mum-collapses-giggling-and-I lick-her-face’ game. Then we had a nap together. Mum eventually confessed to the choir director about our playing in the Worship room. The choir director seemed to think it was a great idea. “Thank goodness we’re Universalist Unitarians!”, mum said. I’m glad we are  too.

It Snowed…and Then, Opal Went Foolish

You gotta love the first snowfall. Deep in your childlike heart of hearts, the excitement of the virgin flakes falling on your face, creates a buzz in you that defies rational thought. You consider hurling yourself into the smallest accumulation to make snow angels…but you don’t. You think, “gee, maybe I’ll take up a winter sport this year”, but you won’t. Your mind takes you  spinning through  potential Christmas shopping trips; You envision pleasant seasonal music playing everywhere, happy, friendly, patient people exchanging polite conversation, beautifully decorated stores filled with helpful staff that have  ‘just the right gift’ for everyone on your list, and then motoring home effortlessly through the picturesque streets to your warm casa. Reality? The music is largely hokey and annoying, the people are ruthlessly shopping for bargains that don’t exist which makes them even crankier. The heat in the stores is oppressive, as people wander hopelessly around in  winter gear causing them to sweat. No one can find a staff person for love or money. The aisles are choked with the usual displays of useless Christmas crap (like Chia Pets), intended for the desperate impulse buyer. These displays impede the progress of anyone in a wheelchair. The long wait at the cash is resonant with the sound of cranky kids, the swish of credit cards being processed, and couples discussing how they are going to get that monstrously large entertainment unit into the car. The car needs to be de-fogged and cleared of snow (once you can open the doors after de-icing the locks with frozen fingers). You wonder why you didn’t take that defensive driver’s course. It would have come in  handy here at  the mall parking lot filled with weary shoppers in cars skidding on summer tires. They seem a little too eager to beat you to the exit and half of them didn’t bother to clean the 2-inch layer of snow off their windshields.  You may or may not get whacked by an SUV full driven by a harried shopper. Traffic in town is crazy and you get stuck behind an accident scene involving a Metro Transit bus and a snow plow. The casa’s driveway requires 45 minutes of shoveling before you can get into it.

Me? I Christmas shop in September or on the Internet, IF  I have any money at the time and an inclination to purchase gifts. I will not subject Opal or myself to the insanity and unpleasantness of a mall in December. I would not have a hope in hell of getting through aisles with her anyway (displays create spaces too narrow for us), and there is rarely staff available in the stores at his time of year to help me  “shop” (ie. find something, read labels…). Instead, when the first snow hits (as it did yesterday), I take Opal outside on her retractable leash and share her profound joy in discovering  the first snow of the season…she seems to forget from year to year about this stuff called, ‘snow’.  But here it is….and the thought bubble over her head reads, “Mum…I think I’m going to go foolish…yes, I believe I must go insane and jump into this  white stuff, run around like a dervish and maybe throw myself upside-down for good measure…NOW!”

Talk To The Animals

I had an interesting chat with someone recently about the conversations she has with her cat. “Fluffy understands every word I say”, claimed my buddy. I politely commended her smart feline, but explained that while we all like to THINK that our animals understand human language as easily as fellow humans (and I’m not convinced humans understand it all that well either), this is really not the case. I don’t know much about cats and their ability to understand words. My cat, Lucy, seems to understand the emphasis I put into my words..”LUCY!! STOP EATING THAT ELECTRICAL CORD!!”, more than the actual words themselves, especially when the words are accompanied by the flinging of an object in her direction (like a sock, NOT a brick). Dogs seem have a larger capacity for words, sometimes hundreds. You can compare it to a very young child’s vocabulary. Much of a dog’s understanding is based on tone and inflection, as well as the facial and body language you display at the time you speak, and not so much syntax.  While talking to our animals endlessly about our angst and other stuff makes US feel connected, most of it is probably sounding like, “Blah, blah, blah” to them. Guide dogs learn words (verbal commands) to do their jobs. Every handler adds to their repertoire, based on need. I have added to Opal’s vocabulary. She can, for example, “find the garbage” (I draw out the word, ‘garbage’ and it comes out sounding  more like, “gahhbaage”. This is a necessary command for us, given our busy schedule, varied routes and the number of times she has a poop on the go.  I simply cannot be hauling poop bags into offices or other buildings all over HRM. The downside is, that garbage cans come in all types of shapes and sizes. Some have wrought iron cages around them, others are on poles (really hard to find). Even more challenging, is the similarity of appearance to recycle containers, composters, and even some newspaper boxes and public donation bins.  You can appreciate  the potential for a ‘mistaken deposit’. Dogs will  respond more to association with the word, than the word itself.  For example, if I say to Opal , ” We’re going to Sobeys”, EVERY time that we  enter  the same local Sobey’s store. then she will make the association. If I say the same thing at another of the Sobey’s store location, it will make no sense to her. Associations are quickly made in a dog’s mind. I feed Opal in the washroom at city hall every time I go to my regularly scheduled meeting there because of the time of day when the meeting takes place.  If I am unfortunate enough to be in City Hall for a different reason in the early morning, Opal has the expectation that we will  go to the washroom and she will  be fed, regardless of the time of day.

The Unbearable Heaviness of Being…Poor

Czech writer, Milan Kundera, wrote the 1982 novel, “The Unbearable  Lightness of Being”…hence the origin of this blog title.  I honestly don’t remember much about this book, except that I bought it because I liked the title. I give  Wiki credit for this synopsis: {His  novel is set in 1968′s Prague and centers on the idea that existence is full of unbearable lightness, because each of us has only one life to live. “whatever happened once may not have happened at all”; Therefore each life is, ultimately,  insignificant, every decision, ultimately, does not matter. Since decisions do not matter, they are light, they don’t make us suffer. They do not bind, yet simultaneously, the insignificance of our decisions-our lives, our being, is unbelievably  light }

I try to focus on such heady Kundera-like  thoughts when I start to fall into that occasional, uncomfortably dark and stressful worrying pattern,  typical of a Canadian living in poverty.  I qualify my ‘poor person’ status as Canadian because I have no illusions whatsoever that my ‘poverty’  is anywhere close to  ‘real’, like the poverty experienced by so many citizens in this world. I have safe, clean housing with running water. I do not live in a war zone. I am not afflicted with any major diseases. I have access to communication systems. I have a great dog and a nutty cat whom I both love.  Like many Canadians, particularly PWD’s,  I am not employed. That is not to say that I do not WORK. I probably commit more hours of work in the service of the ‘community’ in one year, than most people with ‘real jobs’ would, in a lifetime.  I spend long hours working on all types of unremunerated jobs, some that carry a significant amount of responsibility. My work is valid and many thank me for it. I know this in my heart and in my rational mind… I  just can’t help but feel, that the burger- flipper at Mickey D’s who gets an authentic payslip at the end of the week, is perceived as the ‘real worker’ by Joe Canuck, regardless of how many hours I put in gratis. Such is our societal standard.  I understand this. The complication sets in, during times, (like this week), when I must  seek donations of food to ‘get through the month’.  How unbearably heavy it is to be poor, or so it feels to me these days. The word ‘humbling’ is one I don’t have great affinity for.  Being poor is perceived as an adventure when you are you are a struggling student, or a newly wed, or a young traveler. It is not in any way so exciting or interesting to live in poverty as a middle-aged woman who is already eligible for some  types of ‘senior’ discounts. It gets to be a major drag.. until I hear the echoes of my late mother’s voice saying, “There are others worse off, we are so lucky”. Still , it’s a bitter pill to swallow… And I missed the anti-poverty event in Halifax on Saturday. Shame on me.

Unwedded Unbliss

California voters were swept up by the strong, religious conservative lobby to ban same sex marriages in the recent  American election campaign.  The result? In California, Proposition 8 repealed the right which gay couples won last June, and passed  by a 52% margin on Election Tuesday.  ‘Project Marriage’  was managed by Frank Schubert and was the force which led the Proposition 8 attack. It was backed by huge amounts of  money (Schubert raised 5 million in 5 days) from a united religious alliance of Catholics, Mormons and other predominately white, Evangelical groups.  Same-sex marriage supporters were hurt by the heavy turnout of Black  and Hispanic Obama drawn to Obama’s candidacy. President-elect Obama opposes gay marriage.  I guess you can’t have your cake and eat it too, though it seems to me, that the whole point of having cake, IS to eat it. California will now join the thirty other states banning same-sex marriage. Gay marriages  are only legal in Massachusetts and Connecticut. New York and Rhode Island will continue to recognize ceremonies performed elsewhere (“Not in my backyard” philosophy?)

I’m not sure why so many people have put so much effort and money into denying gay couples the  right to marry.  Many of them (like Hilary Clinton, Obama, and others) are quick to claim support for same-sex UNIONS, but cave to the Religious American Conservative Right when it comes to supporting the right for gay couples to marry.  There is something deeper going on here which I’m not sure I really want to think about too much.  Frankly, all I can say to those sisters and brothers in the United States who are in this sad  state of Unwedded Unbliss, is: Keep the faith (not the one dressed up as the Religious Right) and carry on with the fight…or come to Canada.

Halifax City Council Jumps…to the tune of 1.2 Million

I am fascinated with how things get done here in Halifax through Council. I am equally interested in what does NOT get done. Our transit system for example, just scored 1.2 million dollars from HRM City council. How so and what for, you ask? The money is for a ‘security camera system’ on transit buses and ferries. It arose after a number of drivers were ‘attacked’ while on the job and the subsequent outcry from their union, as well as the press around it. I think the media attention on this whole thing is what really propelled HRM Council to move the money through to Metro Transit like greased lightning. After all, the city does not want  to appear negligent or uncaring about the safety of bus drivers. The teary radio interviews (I bet TV stuff was even more melodramatic) with the female compadres of the driver who was attacked,  really cinched it. I don’t  have any objection to driver- safety initiatives or union representation. The problem is, the idea of  cameras on buses for protection, is silly. My informal survey of female drivers has found that they don’t think security cameras  on buses will be effective in keeping them safe from the truly crazy, drunk and doped-up nuts who are the most likely to go spontaneously  berserk and attack them.  These types of live-wire attackers will not pause and reflect on the presence of a camera over their heads before they punch out a driver for not accepting their transfer or refusing to ‘make out’ with them.  It could be that grainy images of an attack, after the fact, will be moderately helpful in getting a conviction in court or  compensation  from the maimed driver’s employer (HRM).

My complaint is that our transit system gets funded, under funded, or not funded at all, in a way that is a  knee-jerk reaction to situations, trends  or public pressure. Spending seems to be totally unprioritized. We STILL, after one year of testing,  do not have a functioning ‘real time go-time’ service.  I can’t recall the price tag on that, project,  but whatever it was, it was huge. It should be given priority to get it WORKING at all costs, over some of  other recent add-on expenditures, like security cameras.  For example the city also purchased  some hybrid diesel  Transit buses last year  because of the push from the HRM’s official environmental geeks (I am a non-official geek supporter). They moved so quickly to tender the purchase of the buses,  that they scored vehicles  which apparently have proven to be defective.  I hear they are going back to the seller. We have no critically-needed voice enunciator system in Halifax,  and apparently no plan to find money for it any time soon. The list goes on.

Plenty of Jobs For Dogs

The earliest dogs who had ‘ jobs’  were pretty much limited  to doing things which involved  herding, sled-pulling, hunting or guarding. Eventually, more types of dog-jobs emerged; guiding, avalanche and disaster rescuing, arson detection, hearing assistance, explosive detection, seizure alerting, wheelchair-user assistance, and many other types of special skills or therapy dogs.  Dogs now help autistic kids, people with panic disorder, kids who have trouble reading (‘Reading with Rover’ and similar programs) and now, some dogs even provide assistance (practical and emotional) to recovering veterans.

How fitting that in yesterday’s New York Times (Veteran’s Day), there appeared an article describing successful connections made pairing dogs with veterans. The physical medicine and rehabilitation departments at Walter Reed Medical Center  are referring qualified veterans to organizations like Canine Companions for Independence Veterans Program (www.cci.org) , America’s Vet Dogs (www.guidedog.org/vetdogs ) and Neads Canines for Combat Veterans (www.neads.org). The link for the New York times is: www.newyorktimes.com. You’ll have to take it from there. My computer is coughing up another cyber-hairball and complaining about a monster lurking nearby…why is that anti-virus stuff so expensive?

I’m ‘Irked’

Actually, I’m a little busy, hence the inactivity on this blog.  Some things take priority over blogging…like REAL writing (a book-like thing in development) and elderobics classes (don’t ask) and baking apple custard tarts. However, some readers obviously continue to cruise through current and past entries. They have differing ideas on what types of blogs they enjoy most. ‘Joefun’is a devoted fan of the rant. He would have me bitchin’ every day of the week. Others? Not so much. One guy who has been attentive recently is the editor of Irked Magazine, an Internet publication that merits a look-see.  He wrote to ask if I would allow Irked to republish a couple of  my past blogs. You’d  think, given the name, ‘Irked’, that it would have been a request for a ‘big blow’, the likes I am occasionally known to produce. Not so. The ones Irked is interested in,  have to do with guide dogs and the handler’s experience. Irked, can be found at www.irkedmagazine.com . Check it out if you are interested in the “culture of disability”, as wikipedia puts it.  Link from blogroll (which is getting a bit long, eh?)

Hey! Wise Advice For Buddy On Quinpool Road

I know you probably won’t be reading this yourself, not having a computer or even a place to call home or anything, but I need to ‘share’.  That’s right, homeless guy, I’m counting on someone to enlighten you on this. Here’s the thing, buddy. You may have time on your hands like warts and find that sitting outside a busy Quinpool road supermarket on a Saturday is a good way to kill a few hours and panhandle some bucks, but you really need to do something about your dogs. I’m talking specifically about the pit bull that ‘got away’ from you as we (me, Opal and my sweetie, LA) were walking down the sidewalk… the one that was gunning down the pavement, hackles raised and focused  on attacking my guide dog, Opal. Yeah, the one my sweetie blocked  (impulsively and foolishly) with two kneecaps and a big sac of groceries. I’m talking about the one you lost track of ’cause you were busy scoring change and fussing with your OTHER mangy  canine  at the time. I’m sure life’s a b..tch for you,  being homeless and all, eh? Too f..ng bad! Your dog  ‘pack’ may be all you have in life, but frankly I don’t give a rat’s ass about them. or the tale of woe that is your life…not when it comes to those out- of- control-canines which you insist on having with you on busy sidewalks filled with children, old people and  other dogs,  including MINE! If you really insist on owning dogs (that’s DOGS- plural), for which you can’t afford food or vet care, then  pack up and do your panhandling elsewhere, like maybe, Miami. The weather is better in the south, there are more shelters, and hey, you will  probably find some dog fighting rings in Florida that would employ the pit bull!

The fact that you were still squatting on the same damn spot on Quinpool road, 3 hours after I first went by,  (dogs still barking viciously at other dogs going by) leads me to believe that you really don’t give a flying f..k about anyone but your miserable self. Watch it, buddy, ’cause if I’m not the one that calls Animal Control, then rest assured,  someone else is bound to call.  Don’t be waiting ’till someone gets their dog’s or kid’s face ripped off before you  decide to move it along.  But then…. it’s not like you’re too worried about liability is it?

and ‘Joefun’? get off my case!

Choirpractor Award

At a minor gala yesterday evening, Opal was presented with  the 2008 annual UU Choirpractor award. This award is unique (ie. a spur-of-the-moment invention of her mum’s) in that it recognizes Guide dogs who attend endless hours of choir practice at the  Universalist Unitarian Church of Halifax. Guide dogs (especially Opal) are forced into all manner of situations because of their mums and dads varied activities and interests. Judo classes, chess club, work, swimming lessons, excruciatingly boring meetings, shopping, air travel, picnics, physiotherapy appointments and on and on. But choir? Listening to Peter, Paul and Mary wannabes and others who insist on experimenting with annoying-sounding instruments like Kazoos and slide whistles as they  prepare for an upcoming Gospel sing-along evening? and then, to follow up with yet another choir practice, one of a  more traditional type, but still equally loud and boring? “This is Service Dog hell week”, read the thought bubble above her head yesterday. Opal’s saving grace (NOT Amazing), was the power nap between the two gigs on the floor in the worship room and the pot luck snack-a-thon to end off the evening. So, in the true spirit of UU recognition (UU’s are VERY big on patting each other on the back…we are after all, very kind, fair folk), I presented  Opal  with the 2008 Choirpractor award when we got home (and a cookie). It is for service above and beyond the call of duty, but I truly believe, that deep in her heart and doggie soul, she LOVES CHOIR PRACTICE!

Lucy Responds to Opal

Like millions around the globe, Opal and I listened to live radio and Internet TV coverage of last night’s election. It was pretty late by the time Obama gave his speech, but I wasn’t about to miss it.  My family believed in exposing us to important events, even if it meant staying up late.  As a child, I had listened to JFK’s acceptance speech on TV with my family, then  watched raptly when his brother Robert spoke years later. The sight and sounds of  Martin Luther King Jr. still echo in my head. There’s nothing more electric (except, perhaps,  being there) than listening to live speeches from significant  figures at pivotal times in history, AND to the response of the crowds displaying their emotions.   I want to hear all of this at the moment it happened, not the day after, when the speaker’s  words  (in this case, historic) have been re-hashed, analyzed and commented on by the everyone and his uncle. The surreal, global fascination with this man and his promise of change caught my attention too. What truly inspired me yesterday was the record number of Americans who went out to vote and the the energy applied to ‘getting the vote out’.  This gives me a little hope that the American people have not given up trying. Is it wishful thinking for me to make comparisons to the energy and optimism of 60′s?

Lucy came up on the bed to listen with us. She seemed fascinated…not with the speeches, but with her ‘sister’, Opal’s smell. Actually, she probably was noticing the LACK of smell. Opal had her bath yesterday. She is a fuzzy, clean dog. Lucy was so mesmerized by Opal’s new scent that she curled up around Opal, and actually straddled her for a while. I told  both of them that they should be listening. Instead, they licked one another and then went to sleep. Eventually, after Obama’s speech,  I would go to bed too, aware of how tired I would be in the morning, but grateful that I had been up and around to witness another important moment in time.

Funky Dog Will Go To Metro Dog Wash

When it comes to hygiene and grooming, the relationship between a dog and its human caregiver is not unlike that of child and mother. Mums (and dads) take great interest in the body odour of their kids. Kids are popped into tubs as funkiness sets in. Parents absently spit onto tissues and clean off gooey messes on the fly. They pick at, clean off, wipe down,  wash and rinse the various creepy, smelly  substances that append themselves to their loving tots. They change diapers or examine their kid’s poop in the toilet bowl, not with revulsion, but with the inquiring mind of a scientist. Ditto the dog owner with their pooch.

Recently,  someone at church casually mentioned that Opal “has a little bit of a smell”.  I dismissed it with. “She smells like a dog”.  I went home and ruminated on this comment. I love Opal’s smell, but I’m her mum. That pretty much makes me incapable of objectivity.  It wasn’t always like that. The very first time I ‘picked up’ after Opal at CGDB,  I nearly hurled. The first time I experienced her distinct ‘wet dog’ odor after we had been out in the rain at the training centre,   I really began to wonder how I would survive life with a dog when we got home to Nova Scotia where it rains A LOT.  I once worried about my clothes having dog hair or goober (saliva) on them. Now, I seem oblivious to any of it. On the contrary, like any mum, I  inhale her smell and it makes me smile.  However, I am not impervious to rational public  opinion.  I  called up my sweetie immediately after the church lady’s comment and demanded the truth. “Does Opal smell funky?”, I asked.    LA.  spoke  to me as cautiously as a hostage negotiator would.   “Umm, well darling, she does have a little stronger smell than usual these days”.   I  was shocked…and worried.  It’s November. I hadn’t anticipated a bath ’till spring.

The happy news is that the forecast  high for tomorrow is 14 C. With a lot of planning, I have arranged for a ride home from Metro Dog Wash, so that Opal (who is terrified of dryers), can get home without getting a chill after her bath. Metro Dog Wash is the best little business in town. You take your pooch to their storefront location on Cunard street, and  for a modest fee, use one of their numerous waist-level sinks (dog walks up a couple of steps) to wash your own dog.  If you have an old, arthritic dog, you can use the walk-in tub at floor level. There is a device to tether the dog so that there is no Great Escape from the sink. You use their shampoos and conditioners.  There is an endless supply of  temperature-controlled water coming from the hand-held hoses and sprayers. They provide rubber aprons for the washers, and Zoom Grooms to use on the washees. Then, when your fido is all clean and rinsed, you can use as many towels as you want to dry him off. There are dryers for dogs who are braver than Opal.  You leave with a clean dog, minus the mess you would have at home. Metro Dog Wash offers grooming services and sells lots of dog gear too. Best of all, they offer a 50% discount off of their bathing fee for service dogs. I highly recommend it.  (Visit via link on blogroll) If all goes according to plan, Opal will smell lovely to me AND my church friends next Sunday.

And Then, Some Days…

As a follow up on my last blog entry…

Some days, it is NOT all about the dog, but the dog AND handler instead. Such was the case yesterday in Montreal, as Guide Dog Users of Canada held their Annual General Meeting and conference. As a member of this organization, I would have loved to have attended the conference,  but financial circumstance dictated otherwise. Instead, I joined the group from the comfort of my home, via my computer and the ‘live stream’ on the Internet. Remarkably, I listened to the familiar voices of some of my friends as business was conducted and presentations were made (dog first aid and dealing with dog attacks).  I guess I can let the dog out of the bag and announce that I was elected to the Guide dog Users of Canada board as a member at large…all from the comfort of my home! I missed out on the supper at ‘Guido’s and Angelina’s', an Italian restaurant on Atwater, but it sure was nice to get a feel for the event from this great distance. Great job you guys!

It’s All About The Dog

Yesterday, I was trying to get into my cab at the local Sobey’s grocery store when a man called out, “Excuse me..” I thought I was blocking his path (it’s a narrow squeeze on the sidewalk by the store entrance). I hustled my heavy bag of groceries into the back seat Opal and myself into the front. Again, I hear, “Uhm, excuse me”. Now I am wondering if I dropped something. Or, maybe I’m supposed to recognize this guy’s voice and the body attached to it? No, none of these. He continued speaking to me through the open taxi window. “Is your dog from Ontario or the USA?” It suddenly became clear to me. This was a ‘Dog Stop’.

At the training centre of Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind in Manotick, Ontario, one of the topics we covered in the ‘theory’ part of the training, was our responsibility as Guide dog handlers to maintain a positive attitude with the public who observe and question us as a guide dog team. I understood the rationale of educating people on guide dog etiquette and of being an exemplary representative of CGDB’s program. I did not have any idea how significant a part of my life this would become. People with pet dogs often comment that their dogs are a vehicle for social interaction, even a means of getting a date. But guide dog handlers? We are a curiosity that gives rise to an open invitation for interrogation, conversation and  commentary. Mostly, it’s all about the dog. The top questions? “How old is your dog?”, “What’s your dog’s name?”,”How long have you had your dog?”, ” Is it a female or male”, “Is that a Seeing Eye (NO!)/ Guide dog?”, “Is that a black lab?”  Top comments? “What a beautiful dog!”, “What a smart dog”, “I bet she’s your best friend”, “that’s a well-behaved dog” and so on. I am often approached by people who want to tell me about their dog, sometimes one that is ill or that just died. It seems people think I would ‘understand’ about the loss of their special friend, even though we have never met and are in a public place when they bare their souls.  I have had strangers (on buses, in malls etc) ask me if they can take our photo, though I suspect that I am often cropped out of these images. People who meet us, and do not see us for a year or more will often not remember my name. that’s understandable.  They might not remember MY name, but Opal’s? you bet!

The man standing outside my taxi went on, ” My wife raised puppies for Canine Vision….” I listen politely as the driver waits (meter running) for me to give him a destination.

There’s the (Blind) Rub

My favourite wake up ritual (other than Opal’s hello kiss), is reading my BBC daily e-mail. This morning it did not disappoint. File this under; ‘Interesting stories about the blind’.

The South Korean Constitutional Court has ruled to uphold  a law which states; All licensed masseurs in the country must be registered blind persons.  The 7,100 members of  the Korean Association of Masseurs led noisy protests leading to this victory, even jumping off bridges into the Han River which runs through Seoul. There are 200,000 unregistered masseurs who claimed that the law discriminates against them. The law to restrict masseurs to people who are blind, goes back to 1912 when Korea was under Japanese colonial rule. The US military government abolished the practice in 1946, but it was reinstated in 1963. Non-registered (blind) masseurs can face heavy fines or imprisonment.

The most interesting part of the article was the  statement released by the Korean Constitutional Court:  “Massage is in effect the only occupation available for the visually handicapped and there is little alternative to guarantee earnings for those persons”.  Welfare experts in the country say the law helps blind people make a living in Korea, but it makes employers in other fields less likely to hire the visually impaired, thus adding to workplace discrimination.

In the wake of the 100 jobs lost in Atlantic Canada which resulted from the CNIB axing its Caterplan (allegedly only 14 blind people are no longer being ‘Catered’ to), I thought this might inspire someone to organize a new industry or make work program for the blind. It  sounds like reasonable employment for people who are  blind to me…beats washing dishes at a cafeteria, assembling cardboard meals, or checking coats for drunks at the local Casino, eh?

A Play To Remember

Last night I attended a performance of Eastern Front Theatre’s production of ‘Vimy’. Vimy was penned by critically-acclaimed playwright, Vern Thiessen. (FYI The Battle of Vimy Ridge -first wave: April 9, 1917- is considered the turning point of the Great war leading to the victory of the allied forces.  Four Divisions of Canadians fought at Vimy.  97,000 Canadians were assembled to prepare for the Battle of Vimy Ridge. 3598 Canadians died, and a total of 10,602 casualties.  Four Victoria Crosses were awarded to Canadian soldiers who fought at Vimy. One in three Canadian men fought in World war I. 3,100 Canadian women served as nurses in the Canadian Army Nurses Corp during WW I. 46 of them died.)

The special treat of the evening was the audience ‘chat’ after the performance with Mr. Thiessen and the cast. Also present was the niece of the woman who is dramatically portrayed as a character in the play ( Nova Scotian nurse at a WWW 1 field station in France). She brought along a hand-written diary belonging to her Great Aunt, and presented a page of it to Mr. Thiessen, but not before actor, Kate Lavender (played the role of Clare) emotionally read a poem which had been entered into the diary some 90 years before. Her great aunt had allegedly included this poem in her diary,  shortly after it had been  written and discarded by John McRea.

Canadians of my generation have a long history of reciting  in school and elsewhere, “In Flanders Fields”, the poem written in the field by Lt. Col. John McRea  during WW I.  The day before he wrote his famous poem, McRea’s friend had been killed in fighting and had been buried in a makeshift grave marked with a simple wooden cross. Wild poppies were already blooming.  He gave all the dead a voice in his poem. The poem eventually appeared in Punch Magazine in England in 1915.  It quickly came to symbolize the sacrifice of all those fighting in the First World War.  (the poppy became the flower of remembrance for Britain, Canada, The United States, France, and the Commonwealth countries)  This poem found its way into the Canadian identity as the singular most important reflection of Canadian military sacrifice. Here it is, because Remembrance Day is coming up, and no matter what we think about the morality of war, we can never remember enough…

‘In Flanders Fields, the poppies blow

between the crosses, row on row.

That mark our place; and in the sky,

the larks still bravely singing fly,

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead.

Short days ago, we lived, felt dawn,

saw sunset glow,

loved, and were loved,

and now we lie in Flanders Field.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw the torch,

be yours to hold it high,

If ye break faith with us who die,

we shall not sleep ,

though poppies grow in Flanders Fields.”

John McRea  (1872-1918 )You can visit McRea House in Guelph, Ontario.

John McRea is buried in Wimereaux France, just north of Boulogne near Flanders Fields. At his funeral, McRea’s horse, Bonfire, led the burial procession with McRea’s riding boots reversed in the stirrups.

Puzzling AIDS News Item

I don’t normally delve into the fray of world news on my blog. Today, in my BBC Daily e-mail, there was a link to a detailed feature which just made me wonder.

It seems that in South Africa, they are now using text messaging to send out info-alerts to urge people to get tested for HIV/AIDS.  The statistics associated with it are most interesting and raise questions of a philosophical nature.

There are over 43 million cell and other mobile devices in a  country of 49 million people. Almost 95% are prepaid, offering almost total communication coverage. The UN estimates that over 6 million people live with HIV in South Africa. 350,000 people in SA die from AIDS related disease each year. Zinny Thabethe, a HIV activist and organizer with Project Masiluleke, says, “South Africa is the epicentre for the global HIV epidemic.  HIV testing is widely available, but only 5% manage to get tested...most people only get a test when they are about to die.” Project originator, Gustav Praekelt, says, “this is the largest ever use of mobile phones for health information.”

(30 million messages were sent out daily in the pilot project. The pilot project revealed that National Aids Hot line calls rose from 1000 to 4000 when the system was used. The system will go live in December, sending out 1,000,000 calls a day.)

It’s not the initiative which I find disturbing. What I find hard to understand, is how and when the development and distribution of technology superseded any moral priority we may have held to  insure the survival and health of our world’s citizens.  At what point in time did society make it an easier, more obvious and appealing choice for an impoverished population in the grips of an HIV epidemic, to buy a cell phone rather than a condom? I find it paradoxical that technology has now become the default vehicle to initiate what would have been at one time,  a grass roots blood testing and education campaign.  Is it arrogant of me to wonder why an entire  population acquired cell phones before they had access to a  successful public health strategy for a preventable disease? It’s great that this project is working, but I am left wondering how the faceless giant known generically as “Technology” morphed into our social and moral consciousness as the priority in our lives. I find it unsettling and thought-provoking.

The project, by the way was developed by a group of technology firms, including Nokia Siemens Networks and HIV charities, design firms and educational organizations such as National Geographic.

Help Me! I’m Being Gassed!

People sometimes say that dogs smell bad. They even say I smell funky once in a while,  but no one has ever experienced a smell (BIG STINK) like I have. Lucy the cat  gasses me and mum whenever she poops in the litter box. It’s absolutely toxic! That feline is polluted. Mum sings “Smelly Cat” (from Phoebe Buffet’s rendition on Friends….the most current pop TV reference she can muster ’cause mum gave the TV away) and sounds like she MEANS it…like she shares my pain. Do you think Lucy ate a really old, dead gopher?  Are her insides rotting out?  Is she just doing it for attention? Or because she doesn’t get to go outside like me? Is she working on a secret weapon for a third world country that can’t afford a real bomb? If anyone knows why Lucy’s trips to the litter box smell so bad, please write to mum. She doesn’t want to get up in the middle of the night to scoop the box anymore.

Thank God I’m a PFA

I’ve been cross-blogged. Cross blogging is not unlike cross checking in hockey. A local blogger caught the doo dad I did on TV re. the service dog park story. She somehow ended up checking me out and has concluded that I am not adjusting well to blindness and feel beset upon by everyone,  and that I use my blog to rant about how the world is unfair to me yada, yada, yada. Hmm. Actually, dear (this IS Nova Scotia where we all get called ‘dear’ a lot) I think I’m OK with my ‘adjustment’ to blindness. I just can’t adjust to being a PFA. For those of you who are in the dark, a PFA is the short version of ‘Person From Away’…a term coined to refer to anyone who is not born and pedigreed Nova Scotian.  It is a term that even appears as a reference in internal government material. Hmm. As a PFA, the first thing I noticed 16 years ago when I got here, (once I got past the charming painted houses, regional accents and general ‘quaint, quietness’ of the East coast) was the perplexing, passive acceptance by the local population of inferior service; at the hands of bad waiters, shoddy contractors, shop keepers and so on. People here tend to also accept cheap or defective products, bad decisions by government bureaucrats etc. Once in a while, you see a spark of complaint or revolt (“Ooo we’re so upset that you want to take away Johny’s school lunch program”)  Being a PFA from Montreal, we tend not to suck it up, but to complain and ACT. Then we go home and sleep well, instead of whining to our spouses or neighbours  behind close doors about it. I choose to blog. My ‘rant’ is a literary device, not an indication of my state of competence and ‘adjustment’.  “GO BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM!”, I hear. Hmm. I like the sea air and sleepiness of this town, even though no one here (except transplanted PFA’s) speaks Yiddish or understands the true meaning of “vibrant” when referring to a city. You can’t buy a  decent bagel,  French books or interesting art or furniture here either. It is laughable when news of a local swarming generates comparisons to ‘urban life’. PFA s make the world interesting and keep people accountable with their complaints.

Regards the service dog park? Just to clarify, I have no problem with pet dogs.  It’s the  HRM legal department that does. I proposed an enclosed dog park for all dogs. They are the ones who won’t go for it because of “liability issues”.  It’s not that service dogs can’t ‘mingle’ with pet dogs. And yes, I do know that some are running around  off leash with their ‘well adjusted’ handlers in Point Pleasant park. It should be a matter of choice as to whether or not someone wants to let their dog off leash. But then, this IS Nova Scotia and choices are few and I AM a PFA….

Opal Wants to Join AA

That’s right.  I would like to join AA today. Nah, not the club for humans who drink too much and get silly, sick and sad….No, I would like to join AA, the GIRL, for a birthday celebration. She is the not-so-little girl who raised me as a puppy for Guiding Eyes For the Blind’s puppy raisers program in North Carolina. They traded me to Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind in Ontario (like a pro baseball player) and I ended up with my mum in Halifax.

We had such a great time together when I was a puppy. You slept on the floor next to my crate, played the violin for me with your brother, took me to church (I was a Mormon then, but mum says we are UU’s now…I don’t care ’cause church is fun). There is confusion about whether I am the puppy who barked while you sang in church, or if it was Lacy, the dog you also raised, the one who grew up to become a famous arson detective dog in Ohio. I don’t remember, but somehow, I think it was probably Lacy…I was the one who ate the cushions on the couch and pooped at the mall once (I don’t EVER do that anymore), remember AA?  They say that I was the one that made you come out of your shell. I don’t remember you having a shell…some sweatshirts and other normal clothes yeah, but no shell. I just remember that we were very happy together, and that after I showed up at your house, you weren’t shy at all anymore about talking to people, especially about dogs.  Dogs, dogs, dogs! That’s all you still talk about. I approve! Happy Birthday, my friend.

UU’s Lovin’ The Music

Ya gotta love a UU (Universalist Unitarian) choir practice. I love to sing. I do so incessantly and not particularly well. I go to choir practice at church. Heck, I go to practices for TWO UU choirs (Only a UU church with a congregation of 102 people in total–many old or living out of town–would dream of accommodating more than one choir). The Chalice Singers (not to be confused with the UU Family Singers) meet Thursday nights. Under Deborah’s patient and devoted tutelage, a handful of aspiring voices gathering to practice hymns and songs for upcoming events at our church. Some of these voices are, umm, shall we say,  less than ‘on pitch’ (and I’m not talking about ME).  It doesn’t matter here. We start out with stretching and follow up with a few voice warm ups. The first time Opal attended choir practice, she was a little puzzled as she watched us do calisthenics and listened to the funny sounds coming out of us..the rising sigh, (“aahhhhhhhh” and  the lowering sigh (uhhhhaaaah) , the “shee, shees” , “la, la, las” etc. Now she just goes to sleep on her beach towel and ignores us until break time when sometimes, food comes out.  Everyone is welcome at choir practice,  no matter how badly they sing. And we’re not THAT bad, probably because we try so hard. It’s the earnest commitment to the song that makes us sound good.  There is something totally rejuvenating about singing, especially the hymns and gospel tunes we perform, not to mention the show tunes with adapted lyrics.  No matter what kind of funk I arrive to choir practice in, I always leave feeling satisfied, happy, and energized. I also (with a little trepidation) started attending Tuesday’s ‘After Choir’ practice. The ‘After Choir’ is the ‘hip’ choir that sings contemporary songs with instruments (plento-o-guitars here). I love the ‘band’ feeling to it. Who doesn’t want to pretend they are on stage performing with Peter, Paul and Mary? ( and if you don’t know who THEY are, then you need a course in folk music 101). The camaraderie and intimate setting, combined with the sheer joy of singing,  makes joining a church choir (at least, a UU choir) a choice worth making.

Hey Bus Driver…Are You Serious?!!!

Com’ on! Give me a break! When I get on your bus next time, and say ” I want  Spring Garden and Summer street please” in a loud and clear voice, do not think for a minute that you can blow my stop again (like you did today) and YELL AT ME, “You didn’t ask!”, as I get off the bus. Sheesh! Even the guy in the back row heard me tell you where I wanted to get off. Next time, you will ANNOUNCE MY STOP, ’cause if you don’t… I (that is, WE, an entire organization of blind, and partially sighted advocates) will REALLY be inclined to use the incident as the basis for a Human Rights Complaint. I have had it. Metro Transit is spending another million + bucks on security cameras on their buses, because the dirivers’ union told them to?  My bus is held up twice this week for 25 and 45 minutes because the RCMP were asked to board the buses by a nervous driver, to remove some cursing kids from Halifax West Junior High?  Are you serious?  The new microphones pick up sound  on buses (how much did THAT cost?). Give the drivers Tazers and get on with it! You will save a bundle, and I bet the kids will behave a lot better. Not only that, but the buses may be remotely close to being on time!

“Bone and Blood is the Price of Coal”

I doubt that Bono and U2 really have any kind of understanding about what they sing about…except maybe that they make an opportunistic buck from it. “Springhill Mining Disaster” is a song U2 have performed, but was written by a woman, named Peggy Seeger.

A miner’s life is a dark, dangerous one, carried out in the depths of the earth, far underground- and in the case of Nova Scotia miners, frequently in dank tunnels stretching miles beneath  the Atlantic Ocean. Sweat from the miner’s brow has often been mingled with blood.

Here in Nova Scotia, we remember (emotionally) today, the miners who perished 50 Years ago on this day.  The coal miners of Springhill, Nova Scotia were “in the pit”  on October 23rd, 1958 when the “bump” or underground seismic event occurred. the “Springhill Bump” as it is known,  was actually the most serious mining disaster in North America mining history.  Three shock waves, each resembling small earth quakes occurred.  Draegermen (rescue miners) and barefaced (no breathing apparatus) miners descended to attempt to rescue the trapped miners and encountered deadly gas.  Of the 174 miners working in the #4 Colliery on that day, 100 were trapped and later rescued, and 74 were killed. This mining disaster was the first major international news story to be covered by live television broadcasts, capturing the horror, despair and pain as families and miners waited on the surface for days and weeks in hopes of seeing the trapped miners rescued.   The controversy about the indifference and irresponsibility of the mining company persists to this day.

It was not the first mining disaster in springhill.  In 1891, an horrific explosion in the #1 and 2 Collieries killed 125 miners and injured many others.  A second Springhill mining explosion occured in 1956, killing 39 men. We should remember them all as  we flick a light switch or use any electrical appliance…it is, afterall,  the coal that such miners sweat and toil to obtain (at great risk to their health and lives) which fuels the hydorelectric plants and generates our power.

Give Me a Break!

Hey ‘M’! Yeah, you, the clerk at the grocery store (that would be the Barrington Street Superstore, a subsidiary of Loblaw Canada). Thanks a whole heck of a lot, buddy. Maybe I’m being too harsh on you and should really be bitchin about the flaky and shoddy management of the store. Who knows?! Who cares?! YOU’RE in my line of fire. Do ya think I’ve got nothing better to do than wander aimlessly through your store for 40 minutes after I asked the manager (in expectation of a reasonable and truthful response),  “can someone  WHO KNOWS THE STORE help me find five or six items; produce and bread?” The manager’s mistake was 1- to hook me up with a cashier (you) who does not have a clue where 2- the produce is located (why is that?), 3- can’t find a  produce clerk who would know where their own department’s stuff is located, 4- doesn’t ‘get’ that leaving a blind person standing endlessly ( 5-10 minutes THREE times) in the middle of a store while you disappear who knows where, is not a a good thing, 5- does not ‘get’ (despite repetition) that guide dogs should not be petted, 6- does not ‘get’ (despite repetition) that there is no need for ALL THREE of us to walk endlessly, back and forth through the produce department, after I asked you to find bananas, peppers, apples, and tomatoes, you  could (or should) have managed that all by yourself quickly and easily while Opal and I stayed put and out of foot traffic,  7- you really need to learn what a loaf of multigrain bread is and where to find it (or the bakery department clerk)…’com on! bread?! How hard is that?! 8- should not have been shocked when I abandoned this little shopping nightmare (which should have taken 5-10 minutes tops) after 40 minutes ’cause I had a meeting to get to! What an incredible waste of your time. More importantly, it was a gigantic waste of MY TIME! and totally preventable. Someone (that would be the manager) should have simply told me from the ‘get-go’ that no one was available capable of actually locate anything in an efficient and timely manner. I’d rather be refused help, than go through a frustrating and pointless adventure that tired me, my dog and wasted my time AND left me without the food I wanted to BUY. Did I mention that I don’t like to waste my time? Did I mention (you bet I did!) to the manager that they really should have followed up on the suggestion and offer I made last month to provide free training sessions (touchy-feely, warm and cozy,  non-threatening, unlike my tone today) ) with the bean head  Superstore staff who tend to be totally clueless when assisting blind patrons who want to  SPEND MONEY IN YOUR STORE! This is not about being ‘nice’ or ‘charitable’, it’s about business practice and common sense!

Run Opal, Run…and I REALLY Mean It This Time!!!!

Ladies and Gentlemen, service dog handlers, dog lovers, friends and readers; I am pleased and proud to announce that HRM (Halifax Regional Municipality) has approved funding (via a recommendation from the HRM Advisory Committee for Persons with Disabilities) in the amount of $20,000. towards the creation of an off leash dog park which service dogs and their handlers will have priority use of.   What does this mean? Guide dogs, hearing dogs, special skills dogs, other service dogs and their mums and dads will have a safe, fenced place to go and exercise OFF LEASH. An existing site, already partially fenced has been secured.  The funding will allow for total fencing,  clearing of the area, addition of some seating and refuse bins and posting signs. The location is more than suitable, with bus and ferry service routes nearby. Service dog handlers who require parking will be accommodated as well. Use is not exclusive to service dogs, however signs will indicated that pet dog owners must vacate when a service dog handler wants to use it. A public awareness and education campaign will  hopefully ensure that this is a workable stipulation. The parks department will take care of maintenance.

I have worked on this proposal through its various incarnations over the last two years that I have been on the ACPD, and more so in recent months as the committee’s chairperson. When this dog park is finally established, it will be a first in Canada.  We are the city to watch. We will be the model for all other initiatives seeking  to establish similar facilities in Canadian cities.

When I finally pronounced the outcome of the motion today, Opal rose and stretched. Sure, I know that she was bored, but I like to think that she was showing a little interest. I KNOW she will when I take her to the dog park next year (hopefully fully functional by then) and let her free run. She will go foolish!

Stuff They Don’t Teach At Guide Dog School

Guide dogs receive extensive training that includes many aspects and exposure to many situations. Ideally, these dogs are raised with people who consistently expose them to ‘stuff’ as pups: all types of walking surfaces such as gravel, pavement, grates, escalators, wood, grass…, all kinds of noises; example: traffic, bangs, shouting, music, clapping, machines…, all kinds of people (kids playing, people in wheel chairs, runners, people performing….), many different types of venues like restaurants, malls, churches, office buildings…., numerous modes of transportation such as cars, trains, subways, buses, airplanes, boats…, and other animals, including cats, dogs, cattle, birds…. and so on. Then they leave the puppy walker and go off to a guide dog training center to practice the skills they will need to help the  blind person with whom they will eventually be matched. Trainers and apprentices harness them up and spend months teaching  them to walk around obstacles, to stop at the top and bottom of staircases, to ignore other people and animals, to respond to verbal commands, arm signals, and foot positions. They learn to disobey or over ride a  command in any situation that would put the handler in danger (Intelligent Disobedience). They practice and practice and are exposed increasingly to more types of routes (busy downtown streets, country roads, suburban areas…) and situations to which they must respond appropriately (stopping when cars back out of driveways, walking through construction zones, ignoring food on the ground, ducking around shopping carts, remaining calm when fire alarms are sounded, ignoring off leash dogs that come up to them….). Trainers try everything they can think of to season these dogs. Umbrellas are popped open, stacks of books are dropped, fans blown and more, all to prepare them for the numerous situations they will face as guide dogs.  They train in hot and cold weather, in the pouring rain and driving snow. All training centers have a resident cat or two because it is likely that some of the dogs will go home with handlers who own a pussycat, or at the very least, will occasionally visit someone who has one.  Once the guide dog school has selected or “matched” their blind client with a dog, they train the dogs some more with the client’s specific size, gait, walking speed, home environment, activity level and lifestyle in mind. The residential (and usually final) part of formal training involves multiple daily training ‘walks’ with the handler, the school trainer and the dog. This month-long period of mind and body-numbing activity concludes (hopefully, but not always) with ‘qualification’ and the blind handler returning home with their guide dog.

But there is ALWAYS stuff that Guide dog schools don’t teach you or your dog. It’s impossible to cover everything. For example, Opal and I once encountered a woman walking a pet rabbit on a long leash. A sighted observer explained to me why Opal was so eager to pause; she was watching a bunny going for a stroll. Then there were the beaded curtains in the hallway of  a local restaurant (I thought  those went out in  the 70′s). It WAS an obstacle, albeit one that she could see through…we figured it out. There was a Halloween costume contest last year at the local supermarket that really grabbed her attention. In fact, she went nutty the first time I put on my balaclava (the woolly thing worn for heists, not the Greek pastry). Then, there was the time a kid vomited on the bus,  and the OTHER kid who dumped a chocolate milkshake over her when we were on the ferry to Dartmouth, a horse on the sidewalk (don’t ask), and the time we wandered into the annual pride parade by mistake and were pelted with silly string. We nearly got pepper sprayed as we innocently tried to get to the library…where a political demonstration was in progress nearby. Opal knew something was wrong when a fist fight broke out between two kids as we walked by them (I yelled at them to stop, or I would command my dog to attack—grin). I discovered that Opal also has a tap dancing  fascination (we saw ‘White Christmas’ on stage and I put on my own tap shoes now and then). One day, a couple of cars crashed as we walked by and left us showered in broken glass. I tore my quad muscle last year and had to walk at a snail’s pace WITH A SUPPORT CANE FOR THREE DAYS (and Opal), because I had no one to care for her. Fortunately, I managed to keep moving at least enough to get her outside to relieve. I’ve heard about one handler who was IN HOSPITAL WITH his guide dog for several days. Totally unfair to staff, the patients, and the dog. Other things?  You discover how to cope with them as they come up. Guide dog schools don’t tell you how to work out the strategy required for intimate times at home with that  new ‘significant other’ without one or the other (dog or partner) getting their nose put out of joint (physically, but more often, emotionally).  Opal put herself to bed at 6 PM the first time my sweetie and I… There might be any number of unusual or unique situations that a handler will face and need to figure out during their guide dog’s working life. Life with a guide dog is ever-changing and a relationship with a working dog is an endless ‘work in progress’.hen t

I Am a ‘Person’

Eighty years ago today, women in Canada became “persons under the law”. Canadians Nellie McClung, Emily Murphy, Laura Crummy McKinney, Henrietta Muir Edwards, and Irene Parlby (know first as the Alberta Five, then the Famous Five), fought for the recognition of women as persons under the British North America Act. The ground breaking ‘Persons Case’ was brought before the supreme Court of Canada in 1927, and decided by the Judicial Council of Britain’s Privy Council in 1929, Canada’s highest court at the time. The Persons Case remains their most significant achievement, though the Famous Five dedicated their lives to improving their communities in immeasurable ways. They have come to represent an entire generation’s political activism, including an earlier national campaign for women’s suffrage. More recently, the Person’s Case has generated controversy. Some see the Famous Five as a symbol of women’s political rebellion and progress, and human rights in general. Others have criticized some members of the group as racist and elitist, somewhat tarnished by their connection to the  eugenics movement. Reaction to  the Famous Five have varied widely, but undoubtedly, they are recognized as significant figures in  the Canadian Women’s movement.  A bronze statue of the Five, entitled “Women are Persons!” was created by Edmonton artist, Barbara Paterson in 1999 and unveiled and dedicated on Parliament Hill in Ottawa in 2000.

Hey Senior’s Advocate!…

Thanks a whole heck of a lot there buddy…(I mean the dude at a local publication for “seniors” aka anyone over THE AGE OF 50 like me, called The Senior’s Advocate). I write an article on guide dogs AT YOUR REQUEST, obtain photographs AT YOUR REQUEST, send 2 signed release forms AT YOUR REQUEST, and YOU CAN’T EVEN ADVISE ME THAT THIS RAG IS OUT? YOU CAN’T MAIL A FEW COPIES (LIKE ANY REPUTABLE PUBLICATION WOULD) TO All THE CONTRIBUTORS who provide you with stories (without any monetary compensation) that keep you in business? You did not return any of my phone calls or e-mails…VERY NICE! You also did some fancy editing there pal…like changing ‘ opportunities to relieve’ to ‘bathroom breaks’ (referring to Opal’s daily cracks at going outside for a pee or a dump)…do ya think the old geeks who read this thing are so anal retentive and ‘sensitive’ that they need to read some childish euphemism like, “bathroom break”? Sheesh! give ME a break! Good gravy, old people talk about their bowels, bunions and bad backs in great detail all the time! It comes with the  territory.  And frankly, if I was the photographer (Cyndi Burns of Pet Country Magazine), I’d be calling you up to complain BIG TIME that you printed my photographs without CREDITING THEM!

Hey Potty Mouth!

Hey you!….Joe F..k (swear to god, that’s his handle), I DON’T appreciate potty mouth comments on this blog…that’s why they are moderated, pea brain! If you have something interesting, clever, or even stupid to say, I will post it, but potty mouth and shameless self promotion from commercial sites are off limits here!

and now Joe F..k is bugging me about why there there should be a coin with guide dogs and handlers, because only 3 % of blind people have them… well joe, I still won’t put your potty mouth handle up on this blog but I will acknowledge your comment here pea brain…answer: pretty much the same reason there is a quarter with Helen Keller in america, or a Canadian coin with a beaver or moose, creatures which are  about as common place and seen in day to day life by our citizens as a guide dog team…Coins and stamps are  issued in countries all over the the world to pay tribute to interesting and notable people, creatures, events etc.

“In Dog We Trust”

I hear that Americans have the words, “In God We Trust” etched onto their coins.  We Canadians have no such thing on ours though I see great potential for something similar on a coin here. Perhaps when the Canadian Mint decides we need more change and creates a five dollar coin to add to the  ‘Toonies’ and ‘Loonies’ that we already schlep around, we could  have a contest to come up with a clever design.  I’ll be the first to enter.  Of course, as a Unitarian I would not choose a motto for the coin that made  reference to any one god.  I don’t think those words would fly with Canadians in general. However, we ARE big dog lovers here in the Great White North. Here’s what I picture:First, an octagonal coin, smaller and lighter than a ‘toonie’ or ‘loonie’ ( If we don’t go with something lighter, people are going to start tipping over from excessive weight in their handbags or pants pockets with all that change. At the very least, the need for  pocket protectors will create an entire cottage industry). Monarchists will demand that the Queen ‘s image be on one side. I’m not entirely OK with that, so here’s my compromise;  The Queen yes, but in a casual pose with a dog , maybe seen frolicking across the grounds at Windsor castle or somewhere, (but not with one of those damn Corgies of hers!  No! Let’s give her ….a Siberian Husky! …or a Great Dane!…or a Labrador Retriever….or a mutt–a  ‘Heinz 57′, as my dad once called my treasured  childhood dog,  ‘Sandy’ .  And then, etched around the happy queen and canine, the words; “In Dog We Trust”.  Or we could scrap the idea of using the queen altogether and  go with an engraved Guide dog and handler in action….with those same words. I couldn’t think of anything more appropriate. Hey, they made a Guide dog stamp this year, so maybe there’s hope for my idea yet. Has anyone noticed that god spelled backwards, spells….

Voting Day Blues

I have been very hyped about this election. Why?  I have chomped at the bit in anticipation of dramatically and meaningfully casting my inaccessible ballot at the polling station. Let me remind you about the core elements of a democratic vote; secret, independent and verifiable. I have gone on and on, to EVERYONE who will listen and to some who won’t, about the importance of these elements, the sanctity of the electoral process, and how I am denied this right by virtue of inaction on the part of Elections Canada. I am blind, as are hundreds of thousands of other voters. We do not have electronic voting in Canada. We do not have telephone voting. We do not have voting machines at the polls. We do not have Braille ballots. I thought that today I would be pumped and ready to let loose my schpeel at the Presbyterian church where I would be voting. I ran through my dialogue, my diatribe, my kvetching complaint, like a Shakespearean actor preparing for Stratford.

Here’s what really happened. I made it to the church, and found myself outside with a woman in a wheelchair attempting to open a monstrously large door (no automatic opener). I opened it for her, but it was not wide enough. A worker from the poll came and helped to open another door. I commented wryly about Elections Canada and their accessible voting sites. She commiserated. By this point, I had, for some reason, already lost my oomph.  Maybe it’s the time of year, or ‘my time of the month’.  Some one came over as Opal and I walked into the large church basement. The usual useless pointing and “over there” was followed by an arm-grab which I yanked away.  Someone else gave sensible directions to the table I needed.  My ID was requested and checked.  I did NOT give a long-winded lecture on the difficulty blind people have in meeting ID requirements, given that we don’t have driver’s license and many of us have no passport. Some of us choose not to have or use a charitable ID (CNIB) for reasons which are too numerous and complicated for this blog.  I provided my stunning photo ID cards which have a photo of Opal and me posing together (CGDB and the Attorney General of Ontario), but my Guide dog ID cards do not have my address on them, so I added a phone bill. I had considered bringing a Braille bill, but I did not want to be turned away. At this point, the DRO asked if I wanted a Braille template. My interest peaked, as I thought I had discussed this ad nauseum with Silvestre from elections Canada and had confirmed there would be no Braille on the ballot, and to expect the usual flaky template. Now I had no idea what they were offering me.  I asked (just to confuse them) if it was contracted or uncontracted Braille. The had no clue, so I let them off the hook and told them that I knew both, so it did’nt matter.  The DRO put the ballot into the ‘Braille template’ and then came the offer to “come into the voting area with you”. I said I would pass, given that I had this allegedly accessible Braille template in my hand.  Opal and I parked ourselves behind the privacy screen at a little table. I started to read the template. Numbers. Just numbers! I called out, “um, there’s no names here, just numbers”.  The old lady who had grabbed me when I came in, offered to read the names to me. I said that would not do. The DRO guy came over and offered to read them “as they appear in sequence. then you pick the braille number”, he said with full expectation that somehow this would be acceptable to me. I had PLANNED to make a big ‘to-do’, maybe proclaim myself the Rosa Parks of the voting blind, given that I am repeatedly told that blind people ‘have found this acceptable for years’. Instead, I told him “no thanks”, and ” if I can’t read it for myself”…( in a country where government material must be provided in alternate formats by law),  “I’ll have to  spoil my ballot”. He apologised (as everyone always does). I scrawled multiple X’s in allthe holes in my template and ballot and handed it to the old lady. She wisely did not attempt to go into the  insufferably patronizing routine of allowing me to put it in the box, but quickly disposed of it, stuffing it into the ballot box herself.   I walked out, declining someone’s eager offer for me to use the elevator, saying, “my legs are fine, we’ll use the stairs”. I left deflated.   I did not call the media, or my party delegate, or the PM (who doesn’t give a flying f…k anyway), or the queen, or Silvestre at Elections Canada (who I’m guessing was pretty busy today). Instead, I went for my routine blood work and called it a day. I wish I was one of those clever musicians, ’cause I’d be writing a tune tonight…’Voting Day Blues’.

STOP PRESS!!! Megan Leslie, newbie NDP canditate and personal acquaiantance declared winner of Halifax riding! Go get em in Ottawa, kid…and remember your roots…and your blind friends…

A UU Family Feast

Canadians from sea to sea to sea are finally putting the dregs of their Thanksgiving Day dinners away in their fridges. Most will go to bed tonight still drugged from the turkey tryptophan sedation. Our politicians who are still scrambling like beavers today, in hopes one of them becomes the Big Canadian Cheese tomorrow (Election Day) probably missed the opportunity to a sit down family affair. And perhaps some of our less fortunate citizens who cannot find their way to the free dinners at shelters and centres missed out on a special dinner too.

I was one of the more fortunate people today. How so? I shared my Thanksgiving day dinner with my Unitarian Universalist Church of Halifax family….and my sweetie, L.A……and my guide dog, Opal….and L.A’s mum… and the friends and family members of all the UU congregants…and Reverend Julie (her first Canadian Thanksgiving). Reverend Julie asked us to speak out the name of one person who we would want most with us, but could not be there to share with us;  those who live away, those who are ill, those who have passed on.  Voices sprang up around the room, “Ivy” , Billy”, “Lorena” … I  whispered, “mum”.

The food was pot luck, but oh, how extraordinary.  It was one of those unusually well-organized pot lucks that went off with out a hitch. No tables were set ablaze from the candles,  no one choked on the turkey (regular, free range and ‘Tofurkey’ my vegan contribution for Norm), None of the kids hurt themselves or others (except Aidan managed to hurt pocketbooks by selling  a bunch of catalogue items for his school after the meal– I called him the UU version of Duddy Kravitz . He didn’t know what I was talking about, so I explained about Mordecai Richler’s infamous character). We ate the best food, all carefully prepared by everyone, in a civilized, joyous mood. Yes there was wine, but unlike some nightmarish family dinners of my childhood, no one got drunk. The volunteers did what was  requested of them; setting up tables, dressing tables, decorating, shlepping stuff from home, working collaboratively to eat as a large group.  The dishes got washed instead of broken. The leftovers were distributed to those with not much at home. Photographs were snapped, yet no one minded. I hugged my sweetie  and held her hand and no one cared.  Opal lay quietly as we feasted ( I fed her after). Music played at an appropriate level instead of deafening people. The rain stopped long enough for the kids to go out and play. People talked and talked like long lost friends, even though many of us had just been at service yesterday.  It was the perfect family dinner. It was so UU.

Big Al To The Rescue!!!!

Big Al  (AKA ‘Aluion’) is reportedly heading for Canada today. Upon learning about the plight of Blend (Blind) Canadians as they face an inaccessible voting non-machine on Tuesday, Big Al, a resident of Alabama,  boarded a Greyhound bus bound for Nova Scotia at 4 am this morning.  There was some confusion at the bus depot in Mobile, as Big Al dumped a 63- pound  sackful of Canadian coins onto the ticket agent’s counter to pay for his fare. Further disruption  occurred when bus terminal Security spotted him donning an outfit that included hockey equipment and pieces of a 17th century suit of armour.  He claimed that he needed to feel safe and to protect himself while riding the Greyhound, saying, “I can’t be losing my head on this trip”.

Wise Advice summoned Big Al to the Great White North, upon learning that his expertise might bolster the cause of the blind (blend) {See recent comments from Aluion} and lend support to her plan to ‘make a point’ when casting her ballot tomorrow. Big Al has been known to write clever comments and insults on doors in public spaces…in Braille. “He kinda scares me”, said Wise Advice of the southern guru, “Definitely a smart guy, but he must be crazy from listening to several synthesised speech voices on various computers simultaneously”. When asked about her plan to bring public  attention to the inaccessibility of the Canadian Election, WIse Advice said, “Look, I can’t do this alone. If Big Al can fake a Canadian accent, we’ll get him one of those spare ballots floating around to do whatever he chooses with”.

Wise Advice Chief and Staff Robbed!!!!!

This just in! Details are sketchy, but reports from our Canadian affiliate indicate that Wise Advice Chief, HRM (aka Lablady) and her staff have been robbed. Local diva, Poprah Minfrey claims to have witnessed the whole thing. “I was strolling up Olivet street, on my way to buy some organic broccoli and Twinkies at Sobeys. They’re on sale ya know, the Twinkies, I mean. Anyway, I was coming around the corner, and there was a guy with a pick up truck near the corner. Him and his buddy got out and stand around…ya know, like they’re up to no good. They commence to picking up the garbage can and hauling it to the truck! I yell, “Hey, that’s Wise Advice’s can. Her sweetie ‘re-located’ it for her!!! Get your own can, you bunch of f…goofs!”  But they didn’t miss a beat. They just threw it in the back of the truck and took off like they were on fire!”Ms. Minfrey had no other comment, except that she did not want to miss the sale at Sobey’s.

Wise Advice and her staff (Opal IV) discovered the theft for themselves last evening, after much groping near the bus shelter for the missing receptacle. Staff member, Opal had just contributed her usual after supper ‘environmental offering’ which was collected in a small non-bio degradable bag and necessitated deposit. “Shock and Awe, that’s what it I’m feeling at the moment”, says a distraught Wise Advice. “Who would steal a 35 pound trash basket? It doesn’t even have a lid. And my sweetie sweated bullets hauling that puppy over from the other side of the street one morning last July. Sheesh! Some people have nerve! I have a good mind to take out a PSA asking for its return. Maybe I’ll offer a reward…yeah, how about this?; ‘Just return our can, no questions asked. If you do, I won’t start bringing poop bags onto the bus (’cause there’s nowhere to dump them now) which would cause the driver to gag, keel over and drive off the road into a crowd of old ladies coming out of St. Agnes’s Church after bingo! Ya don’t want THAT to happen, do ya? You’re reward is that you get to save a bunch of old ladies from getting hit by a bus. You’ll be heroes.” Staff member, Opal had no comment, though clearly she is equally distressed.

The RCMP continue to investigate at Wise Advice’s request. Constable Courrier des Bois commented, “We’re calling out the dog squad on this one”.

Ballot Box Protest on Voting Day

Canadians go to the polls on Tuesday. The Canadian election has been overshadowed by the huge political wrangling going on in the United States. I think Americans are about as aware of OUR immanent election, as they are of our Thanksgiving Day (not anytime near the American Thanksgiving Day, but on Monday, October 13th, one day before our election) However, we in the True North, are heavily and painfully kept in the loop of US political buzz. Canucks were split last week when faced with the dilemma of watching  Palin and McCain square off, or tuning in to the televised Canadian leaders debate. American politics definitely has more drama, glitz and pzazz.  The US process also goes on and on,  like a grim death march, unlike the mercifully quick shenanigans in the North. Frankly, I don’t know how Americans survive two years or more of primaries etc. (or sanction the obscene amount of money spent to hold them).  I’ve listened to the  Canadian political ads for less than two MONTHS and I am fed up. Not that it matters in the least, because on voting day, I will not have the opportunity to exercise my democratic right to vote in the same way that other Canadians will cast their ballots at the polls in that,  A BALLOT  IS INTENDED TO BE CAST:  SECRETLY, INDEPENDANTLY AND TO BE VERIFIABLE. There will be no option for electronic voting in Canada.  There is no telephone voting either. Voting machines? No such thing here. Not even a Braille ballot for the handful of blind people who can read Braille.  No, the best accessibility option that Elections Canada will offer me on Tuesday is their  infamous “Template”. They  proudly whip out this ridiculous piece of plastic with holes in it, at every election, whenever a blind person enters a polling station. For some reason, it has been accepted by blind people for years.   Here’s how it works. The ballot is inserted into the plastic template. There are holes that line up with each candidate’s name on the ballot.  A friend, or DRO (Deputy Returning Officer) reads off the order of candidates as they appear on the ballot. The blind person is then left behind the screen (Ooo, this must be our right to secrecy being observed) to mark an X in one of the holes (Ooo, this must be our Independence being respected), and hope that they have remembered which name is supposed to be in which  hole, or that the ‘reader’ got the sequence right in the first place! You can forget any delusions you may have  that you can verify your own ballot if you are blind.  At this point, the friend or polling clerk returns to help fold the ballot (no one can figure out how to accomplish that without reading the how-to instructions on the ballot) and takes the blind person to the ballot box, where a minor fanfare is made of allowing the blind person to deposit the ballot  into the ballot box all by him or herself. Elections officials will go to bed on Tuesday night, feeling all warm and fuzzy that all Canadians have participated equitably in the democratic process. Hmm. I heard a story on the news today which made me smile. It seems that a man in Pictou county was arrested on voting day at the past two federal elections. The first time, he stole a ballot box, took it outside and drove his truck over it. The second time, he stole another box and hurled it into a lagoon. He calls himself the “ballot box bandit” and is allegedly protesting  inequitable compensation payments for industrial waste cleanups…I’m not going to be stealing any ballot boxes, but I will make my point on election day.  How? I’m not sure yet, but at the very least, I will vote secretly, independently and it won’t matter if I can verify my ballot or not, because I am going to SPOIL it by whatever means I choose. I will not do this with a light heart, because I DO care who is elected (and certainly, that Stephen Harper does NOT win a majority government)  but  no one is reading my ballot to me! The eroneous expectation that Elections Canada holds, that they will have fulfilled their obligation of providing  me and other blind Canadians with a democratic and accessible vote by offering a useless template, is NOT going to cut it with me this time.

“Over There”!

Just one more time…if I hear the words, “Over There” when I ask someone for directions to a street, a building, a washroom or  an item in a store…I promise to do something totaly irrational. Perhaps I will break out into a lively song and dance routine with Opal. The song? “Over There” of course! Yes, the toe-tapping, Johny-go-get-them WW I song written in 1917 by George Cohan. Mr. Cohan wrote the song  shortly after the USA  declared war on Germany. Many versions were recorded, including those by Billy Murray, Nora Bayes and Enrico Caruso….”And We Won’t come Back ’till it’s over, Over There!”. Perhaps it should become the international theme song for the blind.

Thanksgiving

I become very nostalgic around this time of year.  Thanksgiving Day is approaching  for Canadians (Monday, October 13th). When I grew up, our family Thanksgiving Day traditions were not very original; a family gathering around a turkey dinner.  One year,  someone introduced the idea of going around the table so that each person could state one thing that they felt particularly grateful for that year. Sometimes, the responses would be silly, probably because of the overwhelming  discomfort some family members felt in ‘sharing’. There was the odd  morose remark expressed after too much wine had been imbibed. Once in a while, someone would quietly bare their soul and express their profound (and sober) appreciation for something they were truly grateful for in their life.  My family complexion has changed. My parents are both deceased now. In fact, my mother passed away 6 years ago tomorrow. I miss her terribly. Fortunately, I have a tremendous church family here in Halifax at the Universalist Unitarian Church. I will be with THAT family on Monday. Together, we will  eat, drink, laugh, share, sing, rejoice, and appreciate each others company. Reverend Julie will bless our feast. Perhaps I will introduce my family tradition of going around the table so that everyone who chooses to, can say what they are grateful for this year. What will I say? Perhaps I could say that I am immensely  grateful to have a church family. I might say something about the girls (Opal and Lucy), my  four-legged critter kids who give me joy and a reason to get up in the morning. I could add the usual about health and home in a peaceful country. I could say something about the special person in my life who continues to love me despite my menopausal moodiness. I may come up with something truly original… or not say anything at all, secure in the knowledge that I am truly and deeply grateful for all of these.

Opal Goes to CBC Radio Studio

When mum woke me up at 4:30 (!) this morning, I thought that we might be going to the airport again. That wasn’t it. Instead we got up and ate breakfast, got ready then got into a cab and drove around. We ended up downtown. Mum tried to get  us into the public gardens so that I could pee, but it was way too early and the gates were closed. We walked a bit and then went into to a building nearby. A guy in a uniform (Jeff, the commissionaire/security) put an ID  sticker on mum.  He unlocked the inside door (great security building) and took us to the lift.  Jeff is afraid of lifts, so he ran up the stairs instead and met us on the 3rd floor. (Poor guy got stuck in a lift once). We went through more locked doors (they must have some very expensive radios in here, ’cause mum said this is a radio station).  A nice lady came over and told mum that she could have coffee while we waited…and she asked if she could pat me.  Mum said no, but thanks for asking.   We sat and listened to the radio. I don’t get it. Why couldn’t we just listen at home? Why did  we have to go to a special place to listen to the radio? They play the same program on CBC radio 1 at home… you know, Information Morning with Don Connolly and Elizabeth Logan?  Don is the guy with a dog named, Oreo.  The lady came back and mum asked me to follow her. We went through more doors. Finally, we found a big room with a table. A lady and a man were sitting and talking to a microphone, like mum has at home for her computer, except these ones were bigger.   I noticed that the man smelled very nice….like a dog.  I’m positive he is Oreo’s dad…so that means he IS Don Connolly. Mum and Don talked and talked into the microphones..blah, blah, blah. I fell  asleep. Sheesh, can you blame me? Up so early, no nap and boring talk. Then mum was whispering very loud for me to wake up. Don and Elizabeth were talking to their microphones again, but not to mum. We snuck out with the lady who had helped us in earlier. When we got back down to the desk at the front, Jeff (who listened to the same radio…they’re everywhere in this place!) told mum that she had done a good job. I thought I was the one with a job! We left, walked a lot, got on a bus and then rode over to the grocery store.  Mum tried to explain that SHE was talking on the radio today. If her friends missed it ’cause it was on so early or they live outside of Nova Scotia, they will be able to hear the interview on the Net. Mum will put a link up when she figures it out. We are both going to rest now.

Like a ‘Price Is Right’ Cadillac Without an Engine

You know you’re not having a good day when you  go down to the laundry room to retrieve your clothes from the dryer and  you discover that someone (that old gaga fart from the 3rd floor) has opened your dryer at least a  half hour before time was due to elapse, and  she ‘forgets’ to shut it, thereby allowing the drying time to tick down to zip. She does this a lot.  I can never quite pin it on her, but I KNOW it’s her …What are you doing opening my dryer in the first place, you old ditz ?!!  It’s not like you can’t tell it’s in use. Laundry basket on top, warm rumbling coming from the machine… and seven other machines empty and idle. Old age is no excuse for downright rude, insane and disruptive behaviour! Not to mention the health risk you created by forcing me to  wear damp clothing  outside in October… because  gee, I hadn’t anticipated laundry sabotage today!  I want security cameras! And guards…with Tazers!… and some big mean dogs on patrol!  Then, just to add some nuts to my banana spit, I  discovered that the damp pile of clothes that I had just hauled up to my apartment, had an unusual smell coming from them. This continues to baffle me. They smell worse now than they did  before I washed them…much worse. Did the old biddie hurl a stinking potion onto them too?   It gets worse.   I had a few minutes to kill before leaving for the movie (‘Blindness’ day), so I thought I’d try out the HRM voting site on the Net.  Yes, it’s the first day of electronic voting in HRM.  I’ve been feeling all happy and victorious about accessible voting for weeks now,  ever since I heard that HRM was testing electronic voting for  the Halifax Municipal election.  Woa! Not too quick with the democratic process happy dance!  My joy fizzled out when I got onto the HRM voting web site start page and discovered that the security ‘descramble’ of letters and numbers DID NOT HAVE AN AUDIO OPTION!!! Good going guys. What are people with screen reading software supposed to do?  It’s like winning a big honking Cadillac on The Price Is Right and discovering that the car has no engine. Sheesh!  Being ever resourceful, I asked my neighbour to come look at my computer monitor and read the scramble for me.   She was ‘visiting’ anyway, at least, just long enough to complain about the ‘thunking’ noise against our adjoining wall.  “Oh that”, I said. “It’s just Opal getting settled in her recliner.”  I apologized and promised to move my dog’s favourite chair from against the wall,. I  gave my neighbour a cookie as she left, shaking her head and muttering all the way back to her lair.    Sigh. Yes, my dog has her own recliner. But it’s VERY old and I WAS going to toss it out back in July…except Opal wouldn’t let me.

In Preparation For ‘Blindness’

No, I’m not referring to preparation for loss of sight. I’m not referring to the skills-learning that someone “going blind”  might undertake…the hours of O&M (orientation & mobility) training with a qualified instructor where someone learns techniques in  the use of a white cane (example: streamline caning, tapping method, sweeping method) and use of sound reflection to determine position and location as well as learning to judge traffic flow etc., thereby allowing a blind person to travel independently. No, I don’t mean the time spent learning about, and purchasing adaptive devices which allow a blind person to read, cook, write, do math, tell time etc such as talking clocks, tape recorders, tactile measuring cups, talking book players, water level indicator, talking calculators etc… I’m not thinking of the exchange of information and tips with others who are blind which provide one with helpful ideas to make a home  safe (removing scatter rugs, and repositioning furniture …) and allows one to  perform the same tasks as they did before they couldn’t see, only differently (cleaning floors by using a grid system,  marking appliances with bump dots to facilitate cooking and cleaning, using elastic bands and large print labels to distinguish containers….) I don’t mean the hours some people (15%) spend learning Braille, first uncontracted or Grade 1 Braille, then contracted or Grade 2 Braille, so that books, documents bank statements, telephone bills become accessible when available, as well as providing a means of ‘writing’ on the go with a slate and stylus,  or reading storybooks to their children..No, I’m not referring to the assistive technology (Jaws, Guide, Window Eyes and other  screenreading software, Kurswell scanning software and other scan- to-speech programs)  that are available which enable blind people (who can afford or otherwise obtain them)  access to the Internet,  e-mail, document writing and reading etc as well as potentially  obtaining education and employment in a more equatable manner so that they earn a living, raise families…essentially the usual happy story, except maybe there’s no station wagon in their driveway.  Nor am I talking about joining blind sports and recreational organization for the usual reasons one joins them, like  getting  exercise and playing  cribbage. I’m not referring to any of the stuff that a blind person learns over time that provides the skills so that they can lead independent, full, happy normal lives.

What am I’m talking about? I’m talking about preparation to attend a screening of the Canadian co-production of the movie, ‘Blindness’, based on the book of the same name by Jose Saramago. This involves researching the plot summary (very disturbing, depicting a world gripped by a blindness epidemic….trouble is, all the blind people are portrayed as helpless, altered and desperate…), linking to articles on the Net, listening to the BBC production available ’till October 8th on Sendspace, following the protest in the USA by the NFB, sending out a media release to local media and responding to those who have requested interviews following the screening tomorrow, and preparing a statement in anticipation that this movie’s buzz (as one which portrays blind people in a vile and unacceptable manner) is accurate.  The  statement would likely ask the people of Halifax and beyond to give it a MISS altogether, NOT support the  filmmaker and theatre by paying for admission to see it, to look beyond Mr. Saramago’s comment that this is a  “allegorical” film and his dismissal of the blind community (who are widely protesting it) as “ridiculous”, and send a message that this film is NOT OK with the blind community…I’m just preparing for ‘Blindness’, ’cause this movie is sending the wrong message about real blindness, and frankly I don’t care if  Mr. Saramago’s literary soul is crushed in the process. Metaphor shmetaphor!

Message to Opal and Lucy (our cat)

Now hear this Opal and  Lucy! When mum goes into the bathroom and shuts the door, it means I want PRIVACY!  I can not escape out a secret passageway. Trust me, I am not  doing anything particularly interesting.  Poking the door with your noses to see what’s going on, is NOT necessary. Lucy, I promise not to eat your food while I’m in there. I know you will not die of starvation while I am taking a bath. I’ll be in there 15 minutes tops.  There is no party going on and there is no one else with me. I do not require assistance from either of you. I am not in danger of drowning or flushing myself down the toilet. Thank you for your co operation.

A Blog is a Blog is a Blog…

This is the 173 rd blog I have written. The bean (stats) counter on this page reveals that 13,479 + hits have occurred…and still counting  like Micky D’s keeps track ….”139,000,000,000,001 (bad burgers) served”. Traffic has been low for some blogs and through the roof for others. I am grateful for the interesting assortment of loyal readers and occasional visitors.  I know that some readers occasionally find my opinions harsh, my tone insolent, my satiric wit inappropriate….but I would say this in all seriousness…actually, I think it was Voltaire who said, ” I may not believe in what you say, but I will fight to my death for your right to say it”….

What I do NOT appreciate are misguided comments regarding the content of this blog.  Allow me to explain. It seems an individual is on the receiving end of reading (er, listening to someone read  TO them) SELECT blogs and  select ‘comments’ which I have written in response to  reader comments. That person is ‘disturbed’ by my words. My first thoughts are, (now get this straight ‘reader’/paraphrasing guy!!) you are not reading this yourself. Neither of us knows if you are getting an accurate rendition (verbatim and complete) of what I have written.  Reading is very subjective and interpretive.  Tone, inflection, reading speed, response to punctuation etc are all factors in the process that impact our perception of the text.  You, sadly have no control over that because someone else is reading to you and we don’t know how well they are doing that.  You have apparently not listened to someone read those numerous  blogs I wrote which I know you would find astoundingly interesting, informative, and sympathetic to the human condition.  Assuming that you are getting  an accurate reading of the controversial ones,   my second thought is, GET A GRIP!   Yes, I do have strong opinions about many things…the CNIB for example. That is my right. I have not slandered them. They do a fine job of screwing themselves up.  As for the mayor and my comment about “short guy with a whiny voice”? I talked to him last night. We kibutzed and laughed. He’s OK with me and my blog. He also is grateful that I work so hard for his city without payment…and he IS short and does have a whiny voice. it seems you are the one with a problem. The problem? You are in that horrible, dependant situation of passively receiving bits of my blog via a  third party  because you can not access it independently. Frankly, I think THAT  is more of an issue than the contents of this blog. That aside, I would say that the essence of any communication and voicing of opinion,  lends itself to a contrary or different opinion on the topic by anyone and everyone who hears or reads it.  The minute we open our mouths in the morning and begin saying stuff … ” I don’t like big cities, or Republicans, or Liberals, or the taste of chicken, or the movie last night”, someone else is going to have another opinion. That’s life. You would have enjoyed the blogs I wrote that support your like-minded position….on gay rights, homophobia (see ‘God loves Everyone’)  tips on independent living, fairness to animals and more. Trouble is, nobody’s reading those to you. Hmm. Maybe you should get over to that charitable organization you feel I trash too much and see if they will find you some computer gear so that you can check my blog yourself. If you do not wish to do so, (or they won’t/can’t give you what you need–a more likely scenario), then realize that I usually voice my opinion and temper it by adding something to the effect that others may not share it.  While I may talk ABOUT  the organizations or groups that I am involved with, I do not speak FOR them.  It seems that your ‘reader’ is doing you a selective disservice. I can not write something that will interest or please every reader all of the time, or even half of them. What I do know is, that many people including: guide dog handlers and  puppy-raisers, animal lovers, a jeweler in Australia, an urban planner in the UK, guide dog trainers, a blind guy who applauded my blog on who is suited to having a guide dog,  several authors,  Unitarians, environmentalists, a micro publisher in California, a gay guy somewhere in the world,  a woman in Italy who has a blind friend, a budding film maker, a vacuum cleaner rep, many people who want their bus stops announced, friends, a centre for the blind in the Eastern USA, a small initiative to publish audio books in Africa….all of these people and many more have found something useful in my writing. Others? Some are not happy, but they tend not to comment directly on the blog or to me very much….they just bitch behind my back. The wonderful thing about freedom of speech and the information age, is how the inter-connectedness of the world becomes so evident. This is the end of this discussion my friend…unless your selective ‘reader’ does not pass THIS blog on too.

Opal Goes to a Luncheon at City Hall

Mum says we’re going to a boring luncheon at city hall today. I don’t get it. I LOVE luncheons, especially at city hall where there is always lots of food, even though mum says the food is overpriced plastic crap payed for at the taxpayers expense.  She says we have to go so we can bug the mayor and some city councillors while the going is good…something about a municipal election coming up and they’re falling all over themselves trying to get some votes.  They don’t usually hold this event until springtime, but the mayor (you know, the little guy with a whiny voice?) wants to score political points NOW.  She says we must shmooze with them…work the room before they know what’s hit them.  I don’t get it. Why would HRM council not want to do the right thing in the first place?   She says they could  build me a service dog run (yeah!!!) and improve transit (maybe pay for a voice enunciator on buses to announce stops), and hire some bylaw enforcement officers, and FIRE some dead-weight HRM staff whose salaries suck up the city’s budget which could be better applied elsewhere, and get some funding to provide recreational programs for kids with disabilities, and spend more money on removing physical barriers instead of making ridiculous expenditures like the Chebucto road widening project which destroyed property and trees to allow a few more gas-guzzling SUV’s to squeeze into town, and make the public library services more equitable for the blind who don’t care to use the ‘charitable’ library, and find some balls ( not the kind I like) so they stop caving to the interests of developers who are destroying the city with condo and commercial development in all the wrong places, and….why don’t they just listen to mum in the first place? I think SHE should run for council in the next election. I’d love to run around my new service dog run.

Sing a Blind Song

Sometimes I get a little bored, so I ‘Google’ stuff. Today, I checked out songs about blindness sung by blind people. It seems there aren’t that many…Phew!!! Thank god we’re not ALL maudlin. I found a few though, mostly from old black Southern men (Sonny Terry, Sleepy John Estes, Blind Gary Davis and Blind Roger Hayes). Frankly, I’d be mortified if I had  to live with a handle like Blind Helen. It’s bad enough that people refer to me as “Helen With the Dog”. Turns out that blind musicians have better stuff to sing about than their angst about being blind…. love,  bad relationships, the world (Mr. Ray Charles does a great job of ‘What a Wonderful World’)  and the city (Little Stevie Wonder’s ‘Living for the City’). As for all the SONGS with LYRICS which include the word ‘blind’ or blindness’….sheesh! That’s a whole different kettle of fish. Just as our everyday expressions use the words blind to mean that one is unaware, purposefully oblivious, uncaring etc. (“blind as a bat”, “turn a blind eye”, “love is blind”, “blind rage”, “blind leading the blind”…) song lyrics use them similarly and just as regularly.  I’m not claiming that it’s not PC and we should immediately run around tweaking and rewriting  all these songs. It might be an idea to think about language and how we use words. As a word nerd, I love to learn about the origin and history of words. I wonder how it came to be that a physical condition morphed into use as a negative adjective and verb.

A Sobering Reminder

Yesterday, my sweetie’s apartment building went up in flames. Luckily, no one was injured. However, 70 residents (mostly elderly) are without a home until further notice.  My Significant Other heard the fire alarm go off and went outdoors to investigate. This building is prone to false alarms.  In the minutes that L stepped out of the building people started to stream out. The fire department arrived simultaneously, The story is that  the apartment nearest the fire triggered the smoke detector. It was unoccupied at the time. However, a tenant heard the endless buzzing and summoned the super.  He entered the apartment and faced a blaze, and yelled for the tenant to pull the fire alarm and call the fire department. My sweetie called (from a stranger’s cell phone) to give me the news. Standing in shock, without a jacket, ID, keys, or Meerah the cat, L was not allowed to return into the building.  Most residents were housed by the Red Cross at a local arena.  Meerah? L was told that all cats would be collected by the SPCA’s staff, once the fire fighters declared it safe, with the most vulnerable (nearest the danger)  being rescued first.  Dazed and without a worldly possession,  L learned this morning  that little Meerah had been rescued last night,  then taken to the SPCA  Emergency shelter until morning, then transferred to a vet across town for examination. The cat was treated for dehydration and returned to the SPCA shelter where she remains with the other rescued cats until further notice.  A friend of ours who lives in the same building and who was also forced to leave her cat behind, learned, to her horror this morning that somehow her cat was not in the apartment when the SPCA rescue team went in to find her.

Last week, L checked my smoke detector when I complained that it should have gone off after I dropped food on the stove’s burner and did not.  L urged me to report it. I did so quickly (I am the ultra-prepared person when it comes to potential disaster). My big mistake, was not insisting that it be checked immediately by an electrician. So, today, after my seven thousand phone calls on L’s behalf (to the Insurance, the Red Cross, the SPCA, the EMO…) I picked up the receiver to make one more call; “come fix this thing today or I will call the fire Marshall”, I advised my landlord very forcefully. My defective smoke detector was taken away and a new one installed by an electrician within 1 hour.

There are some things too precious to conceive loosing,  including my animals’ lives and my own.  I urge you all to check your smoke alarms immediately. If you do not have a kit ready to take out your door when a fire alarm goes off, get one together. Include ID, medication, important numbers and papers…anything you would need to evacuate.  Have a plan to evacuate WITH your animals and be ready to do so any time the alarm goes. Know where the carrier is for your cat. Be ready to get it out quickly, loading it with the cat, gathering the bag and dog and getting  OUT.  Practice doing so until you can do it in your sleep.

Opal Goes to High School (again)

Yesterday, Opal and I went back to Citadel High school in Halifax. Our purpose this time was to introduce the 2008  Writing contest which AEBC Halifax (Alliance for Equality of Blind Canadians) is hosting with 100 grade 10 students. The last time we visited Citadel, it was final exam time in June. There wasn’t much of anything going on then, except that a handful of kids,  bleary-eyed from all-night studying were getting bummed out about their exams.   A few others were in a tizzy because Security had  hacked off their locks and cleaned out their lockers.  Yesterday was a totally different scenario. In a word, CHAOS!  We handily found our way to the familiar ‘office’. The staff were helpful and made photocopies of some handouts for me. We sat next to a funked-out kid in trouble waiting to see one of the vice-principals.  Opal and I listened to the bedlam in the halls.  Announcements (both for students and teachers) are constantly being cranked out.  Each one is preceded by an alarming ‘alert’ tone, which is reminisant of something you would hear on a submarine …or in a prison. Maybe it was the added destinations in the announcements…”…meeting in ‘D’  block”  that made me think of this.  I ate my tuna sandwich and took in the conversations students were having with the staff…”I DID bring a note signed by a parent, so why am I marked missing?”  “My class is supposed to be in room 208 in ‘D’ block, but they’re not there!”   Today, we were back to meet Marjorie, an English teacher who asked me to introduce the Writing Contest and speak to her class about blindness. She seemed her usual harried self when she arrived.  As we gathered my photocopies, I noticed someone had stopped to pat and talk to Opal. “Don’t touch my dog please, she’s working”, I said automatically. They continued,  oblivious to my words.  I said, “Hey, don’t touch my dog”.  This is when Marjorie introduced me to the offender, Kam the principal of Citadel High. I grinned but  offered no appology. Instead I gave her one of the handouts on Guide dogs. Marjorie and I found our way to the staff lunch room on the 2nd floor where I was to wait for “the kids to settle down from lunch”.  A teacher walked in and screamed, apparently terrified at the sight of Opal. This happens occasionally.  Five  minutes later, we bumped into the same teacher as we entered  a doorway into a lunchroom alcove. He screamed again. This time, I grinned. Opal shrugged off his scream, disregarded him and guided me, as she is supposed to. Our visit with the kids was great. The contest will have them writing about what they think their world would be like without sight.  We talked about blindness too. Questions?  Sure. “How do audible traffic signals work?” When I mentioned blind sports, the restless, surly  kid in the front (I’m guessing Marjorie parks him there to keep an eye on him) blurted out his question, “Is there blind basketball?”.   I told him I didn’t know, but that Goal ball is a huge blind sport,  even a Para Olympic sport. We talked about accessible technology and devices.  I asked them to take out their cell phones. Most of these 36 kids have one and were eager to break the ‘no cell phone in class’ rule.  I urged them to resist actually dialing, but to imagine trying to use it to text message or call, if they could not see. “I can’t feel the keypad or see the display”, some girl complained. “That’s my point”,  I said. Most of the hundreds of models of cell phones,  MP3 players etc are totally impossible to use if you are blind.  As always, the majority of questions were about guide dogs.  Time flew by and soon Marjorie was giving me the hook. We got a round of applause and then Opal and I were escorted out before the buzzer and the ensuing stampede of kids by a pair of girls (teenage girls always travel in pairs, even in 2008). Opal and I managed to get home without causing anyone else to scream.

Hey! Taxi Drivers

Listen up cabbies! I’m going to say this once. Here is the not-so-definitive list of things you need to know when you pick up a customer who is blind or partially-sighted.

• If you drive a radio cab, or if you get your calls through a computerized dispatch system, chances are that the customer will have specified that they are blind (they should ’cause they can’t expect you to guess). So, when you get to the pick-up location, do not sit in your car and expect the blind person to know that you have arrived.  We are not physic.  It is impossible to know if the nearby idling vehicle I hear is ‘my cab’ or just some other vehicle at this busy location (like a pimpmobile or a  Fed Ex courier or a cab from the wrong company). You must get out of the car and identify yourself as the driver from XYZ cab company. If there is something wrong with your legs, attempt to crank open the window and announce yourself from the comfort of your car.
• Notice the guide dog with the person? They will have specified this too upon telephoning. Unless you have a medical certificate which exempts you from having a dog in your car (you would croak from the allergic reaction), then  YOU MUST, BY LAW, ACCEPT THE DOG IN YOUR VEHICLE!!! THERE ARE REPERCUSSIONS FOR PEOPLE WHO REFUSE ACCESS TO GUIDE DOGS…AND FINES.
• Do not charge an ‘extra passenger’ or ‘baggage’ fee for transporting a guide dog (I have experience d this before). If you do so in Halifax, you could lose your taxi permit.
• If the person with the guide dog wants to sit in the front with their dog, do not freak out. It is my practice to do so, as recommended by the school where I received my dog. I know that other schools have differing philosophies, but this is what I choose. Notice (as you always do) when we get in, that there is actually much more room for the dog in the front between my legs…yes, even (especially) in those monster luxury cars… than in the back behind the seat.  The big hump in the middle of the floor in the back is very constricting. Back seat? No way. If we crash, she will not go flying off a back seat, or be hurled to one side of the cab. It is more comfortable and safer for us both to sit in the front. this works for all cars, even the smallest. She is always well-behaved and will not touch you. (she may sneeze, though, ’cause your car is dusty)
• Do not think that because your passenger is blind, that you can travel the most indirect route to get to the destination (boosting the fare), ’cause most of us will notice that you have taken a side trip to Ecum Secum on the way to the corner of Barrington and Duke.
• I miss the old days. Taxi meters ticked back in the day. Now, there is no possible way to determine if the requested fare is what actually appears on the meter…however, do not get the idea that charging $17.50  for a one mile ride is something you can get away with.
• If your client has a charge slip, or you have a charge slip for them, and you want a signature, then think about how tricky that might be to sign. Me? I won’t sign one. “You sign it”, I say… (you  could be asking me to sign up for donating a kidney for all I know)
• When you  get to wherever the passenger wants to go, ask if they need assistance to get to the entrance of the building, or at the very least, give precise directions…”the is 5 meters straight ahead”. As I suggest to everyone, saying “over there”  while pointing is useless (and a bit brainless and thoughtless)
• Alert your passenger if you are dropping them off in a puddle or ice patch. (I once stepped out of a cab, slipped on an icy patch, did a pirouette, landing on my knees, resulting in a bruise and torn jeans)

CNIB AGM and ‘Community Meetings’…be there and be heard

The CNIB is having their Annual General Meeting in Toronto on September 27 th, at least that’s what I was told. I could not confirm this on their website…guess they don’t want anyone to know.  The local Nova Scotia/PEI Division is having its ACM (“Annual Community Meeting”) on Wednesday, September 24th. A community meeting is the spin that the local deadheads have put on an AGM which does not present an annual financial report. I can’t seem to get any accurate accounting for what this organization does with its money…er, that would be the money they suck out of innocent people who donate to their financial campaigns…like the horribly tasteless and demeaning e-mail campaign which caused such an uproar recently. No matter.  I have resigned myself to the fact that accountability, consultation  and transparency are not words in the CNIB vocabulary or philosophy. Imagine my delight when the local whiz kid who just won the NDP nomination in Halifax (Megan Leslie) invited me to attend this community meeting with her. I guess she needs an entourage in the guise of a friendly blind friend who can create a potentially good reason to leave (“Opal has a play date in Chicago! Let’s go, Megan!”).  It will be fun, I’m sure to go to this thing and have a sensible ally. The Alliance for Equality of Blind Canadians was calling for a cross-Canada series of protests at the CNIB offices on the day that CNIB has their AGM (September 27th, I think). Why? Let me count the ways CNIB merits a slap on the wrists;

1- They must be publicly accountable for the tasteless and demeaning e-mail campaign which was the icing on the nutty CNIB cupcake for many blind people this year.

2- The CNIB plans to change their constitution to allow for a sighted CEO/president. I guess little Jim Sanders is going to be going quietly into that good night. I think there must be a stipulation about employing a percentage of staff within CNIB who are blind.

3- The CNIB services across the country have taken a gigantic nosedive.

4- The current philosophy  of this merry band is a little skewed for many of us (not client centered, not service centered, not democratic), and

5- The monopolistic status of this organization that purports to speak on behalf of the blind.

So, if you are remotely interested in the rights of the blind, the nasty decline of services that the CNIB has taken, or the REALLY BAD IDEA of having a non-client as president of the CNIB (or at least a quota that ensures blind staff, and if you are tired about the dismal road that CNIB is travelling,  then get to a CNIB near you and voice your thoughts on it. Call the media! Call you friends and family and ask for their support in protesting on September 27th in Toronto, or at the numerous protests across Canada at CNIB offices planned that day…or you might go to a fake AGM, like the one here in Halifax which they are calling an Annual Community Meeting.

Mothers of Invention Invent Magic Carpet Ride

It’s the weekend, so cut me some slack on the double pop-culture reference, eh?

In early May, I tediously cleaned my 8′ X 10′ area rug, rolled it up and stowed that puppy away in the closet. It was getting warm and the thought of vacuuming the beast during the hazy days of summer was overwhelming. I sweat buckets when I hoover, so adding summer temps to the task was not an option.  Besides, my vacuum cleaner had been gasping and sputtering along for weeks. I feared its spontaneous expiration in a blaze of dog hair and a puff of smoke if I overworked it any more than necessary.

The weather has shifted in Nova Scotia…towards fall. That means crisp, cool air, the sweet smell of decaying leaves and the promise of winter to come.  I decided to haul the rug back to its place in the lounge, but not before cleaning our digs tippy-top to bottom.  The girls were curious when I lugged the large tube of rolled up carpet to the room where we eat, play and entertain. I’m convinced that they had completely forgotten that we ever had it in our home, so when I lay it out, it was all new to Lucy and Opal.  They sniffed (mostly Opal sniffed) and walked end to end and corner to corner over the checkerboard pattern. Suddenly, their brains set off simultaneous light bulbs. WARNING!  This is the double pop-culture reference! Necessity is indeed the mother of invention (Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention produced ‘Freak Out’ in 1966, one of the first ‘concept rock’ albums ever.  Oddly, I recall the pillow on the floor that I was sitting on while I ate Twinkies with my cup of Jasmine tea…the dim lighting, incense, shag rug…the 12 members of the urban commune I was visiting…hmm, I can’t seem to recall any lyrics to the Zappa and Mothers music that was playing in the room.)

Opal threw herself on her back on the rug and got some intense back and muzzle scratching going for a full ten minutes. Lucy realized that she had discovered the world’s biggest scratching pad. She dug her many, many claws into it (she’s a double-toed calico).   It was for them, a magic carpet ride (Magic Carpet Ride was released by Steppenwolf in 1968…sadly, I don’t recall those lyrics either. Like many of the free-spirited types or that era,  I retained only bits about the 60′s experience…we ingested, puffed and imbibed way too many substances. Thank god, some of us grew up and retained brain cells).

My perk with the rug? My music sounds better with the sound damping effect created by the rug.  I can listen to my tunes (not Zappa or Steppenwolf these days) and enjoy  the richer sound that comes out of my stereo.  Now, all I need to do is buy that monster shop vac at Canadian Tire to help me keep the girl’s magic carpet relatively clean.

What’s In a (Guide Dog’s) Name?

One of the pleasures in acquiring a new puppy or kitten is spending hours with your family deciding on a name for the critter. The kids want to go with ‘Bandit’ or ‘Princess’, but you’re leaning towards a loftier, more meaningful handle, like… ‘Mandela’ or ‘Climate Change’. If you live alone, you find yourself scouring the ‘Names For Baby’ book at the library.  When people ask me what my Guide dog’s name is (and they do so incessantly)  I sometimes give my standard fake answer, ‘Lucy’, particularly if we are captive on a bus when the likelihood of loud, repetitive calling out of ‘Opal’ is great.  On occasion, I fess up and say, ‘Opal’,  and some people comment on her “lovely name”.  When I have a moment, I explain that I had no say in choosing it.

Guide dog training centres all have breeding programs. The larger schools, like ‘The Seeing Eye’ in Morristown have hundreds of their own dog ‘stock’ at any given time. Opal originally came from Guiding Eyes for the Blind’s program. She was raised in North Carolina before being sent to Canadian Guide Dogs For the Blind in Manotick, Ontario  (a little like being traded to another ball team in the major leagues).  Her pedigree information (like player stats) proceeded her, revealing that her mum (Dam) is named, ‘Regina’, and her dad (Sire) is ‘Buzz’.  (Buzz has fathered hundreds, if not thousands of dogs and his sperm is shipped around the world, or so I am told) . Opal  is in fact, Opal IV.  The litter into which she was born at GEB, as in all cases, was assigned a letter of the alphabet.  It was time for an ‘O’ litter.  All the dogs in Opal’s litter were given names that started with the letter ‘O’ (She has a brother named, ‘Othello’). The naming process for guide dogs is not whimsical. Care is given to check records of active and retired dogs’ names before naming them. Sometimes a name is re-issued.  I imagine it’s a bit of a challenge to name the ‘X’ litters… ‘Xena’, ‘Xaviar’ … then what?  The sponsors and financial contributors of the schools and training centres sometimes influence the choices too. After all, if a generous company or individual donates a large amount of money to provide guide dogs to the blind, then why not?  Not that I would want a dog, named…um, ‘Acme’.

I recall a conversation at the CGDB training centre in Manotick. A fellow trainee (whose own dog was a step-sister and kennel mate of Opal’s), said something about black opals (referring to the gem stone). I had never heard of such a thing but it stuck in my mind.  In my Internet research, I discovered that New Zealand and Australia are lousy with them. In fact, I received a comment on this blog from an Australian jeweler bound for Canada who happened to Google a bunch of search terms that included, ‘opal, Halifax’ and ended up on my blog reading about Opal.  I’m not rushing out to order a black opal-studded collar for Opal, but someday I may just buy myself a nice ring with a black opal set into it.

‘Blindness’ the Movie…Bunch of Blind People Will “Watch”

The movie, ‘Blindness’ opened at the Atlantic film Festival last week.  It opens in wide-release on October 3rd in Halifax. Ya gotta know that a bunch ‘o blind folk are going to have something to say about it.  At least, that’s my hope, idea, delusion, nightmare-to-be… When I heard about this movie, based on the book by Jose Saramago, I thought that it would be a great opportunity to get the Halifax chapter of Alliance for Equality of Blind Canadians together for a little outing to view this thing. My plan? Send out a media release to local feature hounds and hope that they might be interested in interviewing the blind ‘Blindness’ viewers for on-the-spot reaction to this movie’s spin on blindness.  I listened to the trailers on the Internet that are pimping promoting this movie. It’s difficult to get a handle on what’s going on in this city where everyone suddenly goes blind. You know it can’t be good…a little chaos, panic, tortured emotional claptrap and the mandatory heroes who shine when their ‘lights’ go out.   I wanted to consult the book in preparation. It’s only fair to compare before you go to the flic, right? Well, bad news. It’s not available in audio within the Halifax public libraries. I doubt it exists in commercial audio format. The ‘charitable’ library (CNIB) might have found some bored Scarbourough housewife volunteer to read/record it on THEIR discs ( the ones they destroy when you return them..but that’s another story and a past blog—-go look), however, I quit my ‘membership’ with that service in protest. No matter. Who needs a book? Full steam ahead, I say! I rang up my AEBC buds to invite them to the ‘event’. Now,  I’m wondering…”What was I thinking!!!???”  It’s bound to be, umm…interesting. I predict the following; A. (with poor O & M –orientation and mobility)  will get lost on his way to the washroom, or worse, fall down the escalator. B will be shocked (devout Catholic) when she hears (despite her hearing loss because the sound will be maxed out for this monster movie on a Saturday) the sex scenes, foul language and violence which ‘Blindness’ promos and  ratings promise (I forgot to mention this to her).  A. (who has a brain injury) will show up at the wrong theatre on the wrong day, or not show up at all.  C.  (a smoker) will get wedged in the washroom stall with her walker as she tries to sneak a smoke that will set off a fire alarm. There will be lots of chatter amongst our group during the film…”What’s going on? What does that mean?..” which will cause other patrons to hiss. Opal will need a pee in the middle of the show, so I will step out (requires 15 minutes meandering through a mall) during which time, A.  will have had a loud fight with J.  (they don’t get along). The reporter (only one will show up from an obscure media outlet) will be awaiting our profound comments and reactions…after all, we are the pros, right? His recording device will fail. That may turn out to be the only blessing, as my motley crew will have no profound observations to make, other than that the sound was too loud and nobody ‘got it’. Oh, yeah…D’s guide dog, the ‘German boy’, that Opal loves so much, will bark incessantly  as we depart the cineplex.

ADDENDUM: It has become evident that the movie, ‘Blindness’ seriously impacts the blind community. It is a graphic and some times horrifying film that portrays blindness as a terrible condition that robs its victims of their humanity. It will compound and perpetuate the existing irrational prejudices of blind people which are based on stereotype. It falsely depicts blind people as incapable of almost everything and even suggests that blindness alters the human personality. The complex decision for blind people everywhere is if they will spend money to see  it (thereby supporting  the film maker) or boycott…or protest…or go, sit and watch until they are disgusted (somewhere long before it ends), disrupt the show as they leave, and demand their money back and then discourage the general public from viewing it…choices to be made.

Dog Like This?

I hear it all the time. Strangers on buses, people in shops, taxi drivers, folks on the street say to me … “I’ve got a dog just like that”. My thoughts? Not likely. You may have a black Labrador retriever, but you do not have a dog like mine. You may have a clever dog who can do silly tricks, but you do not have a dog like mine. You may have a dog with a pair of sad brown eyes, but you do not have a dog like mine. You may have a black dog who is friendly and peppy, but you do not have a dog like mine. You may have a dog that is attentive to you, but you do not have a dog like mine. You may have a black dog of some kind, but you do not have a dog who will stand at a curb with traffic whizzing by her head. You do not have a dog who will ignore other yappy canines, people and smelly bushes as you walk down the road. You do not have a dog who can “find a seat”, “the lift”, “the escalator”, “the counter”, “the bus”, “the post office”, “the washroom”…”the way”.  You do not have a dog with whom you entrust your life. You do not have a dog who saves you from disaster on a regular basis. You do not have a dog who is with you 24/7. You do not have a dog like my registered Guide dog,  Opal IV…so just say to me instead, “I have a dog, but it’s nothing like your wonderful, smart and beautiful canine companion”.

Wise Advice Chief Arrested!

Wise Advice Chief, HRM (also known as Lablady) was arrested Thursday evening. The self-proclaimed queen of Halifax was charged with the following offences: 1 count of Vincibilty (opposite of invincibility), 1 count of Aggressive Hoisting of a Microwave causing bodily pain, 5 counts of Excessive Use of Potty Mouth, 2 counts of Animal Emotional Neglect,  and 327 counts of General Crankiness.  Police spokesperson, Constable Opal commented: ” It was one of those sad cases of a woman trying to do too much with a body that would not cooperate. You can’t ignore chronic pain too long…something’s got to give”.  Wise Advice was kept under house arrest for the weekend. Her phone and e-mail were shut down. She was allowed to go out into the community (escorted by Constable Opal) to purchase cat food and to attend church. Forced to take hot mineral baths, meditate, listen to countless audio books and play with her animals for three days,  it appears that Wise Advice is now on the mend. Judge Judy commented on the case: ” Her moral compass may be intact, but the lady must get her other monitoring systems calibrated”. Hey…. doesn’t Wise Advice’s sweetie calibrate equipment by trade?

Hey! Wise Advice For My Goofy ‘Neighbours’

Now I’ve had it with you boorish bunch of anal retentive rejects.  What’s wrong with you people?!!!  The next time one of you ‘neighbours’ in this multi-unit building cannot be decent enough to emit a sound when you are ‘in my space’ as I greet you, I will not be held responsible for what may come out of my mouth. Sheesh! How rude can  you be?  Please tell me if you have some good reason (besides being assholes) for standing by the elevator, or at the laundry machines, or in the hallway, or at the mailboxes and totally ignoring my greeting?  I didn’t think so. You’re as stunned as a sac of hammers! You seem to find your voice when other residents are around and they greet you. You there, big guy with work boot footsteps and smelly clothes…yeah you…do you know how creepy and scary it was to feel the presence of a huge man nearby, and not know that you were NOT an ax murderer or something because you couldn’t even seem to muster a grunt or fart to acknowledge my cautious  “hi” when we met in the hall at 5am as I was going to relieve my dog?  You know I’m blind, you ditz!   And the fat lady with chunky heels who smells like a floral arrangement at a funeral home?  What’s up with you?   I was coming up the stairs to the lobby to get my mail when you were parked/docked/berthed by the elevator door and blocking my path. Do ya think you could move your sweet smelling butt over a bit or say something when you see a lady with a white cane (Opal was on a break) coming straight at you? Nah. You didn’t even say “hey, don’t whack me with that cane” when I ran into you. You stood there like a lummox after I muttered, “excuse me and hello”.  I had just stepped  out of the shower, so I know it wasn’t  my body odour. Then there are the old biddies (yeah, the ones who “don’t like the disgusting sight of that dog on the lawn”) who seem to think that I have no ability to HEAR anything. Hey! It’s really not polite to dish someone WHEN THEY’RE STANDING  FIVE FEET AWAY! …”She’s got a lot of laundry again. Bet there’s dog hair in it” .  Sheesh! You geeks really need to get yourselves a crash course in social interaction 101, or read a Helen Keller bio or something! Anything would help your ability to interact  with blind people at this point.

Opal Goes to the Audio Book Club

When I say to Opal, “come on, let’s read a book”. She knows that it means that sound will start coming out of our Daisy player…some guy or gal will talk and talk… it’s all blah, blah, blah to Opal, but she loves it. Why?  It’s our quiet time together. She gnaws her bone contentedly as we lay on the bed and snuggle (oops! dog on bed again…check!).  She takes my running commentary on the book in stride, looking at me (quizzically, I think) when I say things like; “that doesn’t make any sense!”, or “what kind of a moron wrote this thing? they can’t even string a sentence together!” or “Ooo, Opal. this is a really good book, eh?”  To further cement Opal’s audio appreciation, the Audio Book Club which I started with the Halifax Public Library, has its meeting at the Alderney branch.  Opal knows that when I say, or rather sing with a commercial jingle lilt, “Audio Book Club today!”,  we are bound for Dartmouth on the ferry. That in itself is exciting. We sit on the upper deck and suck up the sea breeze as Opal watches the gulls fly overhead and the boats sail by. The BEST part, is AFTER we go to the audio book club…after the meeting filled with conversation and laughter, after I load up with more of the library’s audio books and sign them out, after the tea and more conversation with my friends at ‘Biscuit Lips’ (a nearby cafe)… after all of that, my girl KNOWS we will FINALLY go to the park by the shore. She also knows that mum has brought the ‘flexi’ (retractable leash) and her necklace (collar) and her rubber boomerang….and that she will get a chance to sniff and run and ‘blow the stink off’. We will soak up the rays and more sea breezes, and stagger back onto the ferry quite shattered, but definitely content.

Our audio book club meeting was yesterday. My task is to research the author and other details about the current book selection and bring in some information to share with the group. Our most recent title was “Kabul Beauty School” by Deborah Rodriguez and Kristen Ohlsen. I was as eager to share my ‘find’ with the book club as Opal was to get to the park. I managed to interview Ohlsen by e-mail. She was very forthcoming and answered my probing questions. I listened to an old NPR interview with the Afghan women who are the subject and spine of the book. (they’re quite cranky and claim that Rodriguez left Afghanistan and did not receive money from the book profits). I asked Ohlsen (who is often overshadowed in reviews and interviews despite her role as primary author) to comment on this, and more. She came through, and in doing so, gave the Halifax Public Library’s first ever Audio book club something juicy to talk about.  Our next pick is “Treasure Island”. Somehow, I doubt that I will raise much in the way of interviews with Robert Louis Stevenson.

Little Jim Sanders Apologises (again)

CNIB President and CEO, Jim Sanders cranked out another e-mail message to me today. Damage Control Central seems to have found  the following words to put into his mouth: ” Dear Helen….the message was not appropriate (What would you sell to save your sight?) …fund-raising campaign discontinued… as signatory of the letter, I take full responsibility and extend my personal apology for any discomfort or offense that this message may have caused you”… signed Jim Sanders

This e-mail had no lovely GUIDE DOGS in the images ( CNIB does NOT train or financially support Guide dog training in any way) ….it had instead, the boring and newish CNIB logo and bush (maybe it’s the tree of Vision Hope? ) …a ‘brand’ they spent an obscene amount of money developing. It seems the braniacs at CNIB  didn’t like the sound of “Canadian National Institute for the Blind” any more. Nah, that’s too, um…’blind’ sounding. So they changed it to CNIB (like RBC or BMO banks) and now they never use the word blind in their name.  Some marketing geeks decided to go with “Vision Hope, Vision Health” as the buzzwords du jour. That was some big  pile of letterhead, pamphlets and building signs to change, guys!  What’d that cost you?…or rather how much of the money that you solicited  from unsuspecting donors (the ones who still  think that you actually “help the blind” in every way and at every turn) did you waste? That dough could have actually gone to client services…gee, why didn’t you just just ask your clients what they thought about the new brand….oops, I forgot.   the CNIB is not into consultation, transparency or accountability.

Opal Votes

Mum says we are going to the NDP nomination meeting to vote (for Megan Leslie). She didn’t seem too happy about it…says someone else is going to read the ballot, point where to sign, watch her do it and check it for her…so why bother?   She seemed to brighten up a moment later  when she got one of her ‘ideas’.  Now she says I AM GOING TO VOTE FOR HER!!! cause I’m so smart, and she trusts me and we’re going to make a statement about accessible voting for the blind. I don’t usually say much but now I get to make a statement….wow!

Yikes! It’s Hurricane Season

Opal and I live in Nova Scotia.  If there’s one thing Easterners really get into, it’s talking about , preparing for , and experiencing hurricane season. It must be that inbred Canadian love of imminent danger and disaster arising from weather conditions.  We are now in the midst of Hurricane season. Most hurricanes do not reach us, but we have had some over the years that did make landfall (Hurricane Juan, for example) and many tropical and sub tropical storms which can pack a mean punch. For people with disabilities, there are significant challenges involved in preparing for bad weather.  Just like the boy scouts, my motto is, ‘Be Prepared’. The Nova Scotia Disabled Persons Commission wrote a guide for PWD called “Are You Ready?”.  Voiceprint released a CD version of the guide.  It is full of helpful hints for PWD and seniors.   Other organizations in all jurisdictions have similar resources available. Consult the web sites or call the Red Cross, the Independent Living Resource Centre, Canadian Food Inspection Agency, National Organization on Disability,  Emergency Management Nova Scotia, VON (Vial of Life Program) or any EMO in your area.

Opal is a hurricane veteran. She was raised in North Carolina and was evacuated more than once, including during Katrina. Service animals, by the way ARE allowed into shelters (pets are not). I had no Guide dog at the time Hurricane Juan blew through Halifax some years ago.  I do recall my cat being terrified, especially when one of our windows blew in.  The power was out for five days. The streets were dangerous and impassible because of fallen trees and power lines. I can’t imagine what it would have been like to experience Juan with a guide dog.  In the last 12 months, Opal and I have dealt with bad weather, including tropical storms packing 120km hour winds and 150 ml of rain.   It’s important to listen to weather forecasts. It is helpful when planning your dog’s opportunities to relieve, because you can’t expect your 60 pound animal to be willing and able to squat in a gale (there’s always the bathtub…grin).

Plan your strategy for an upcoming storm. Obviously, you must have enough food and water on hand, for yourself and your animals. You should have a pre-determined   disaster plan for home, work or school. Create a communications and evacuation plan. and develop a support network of people. Your service animal’s kit must include food, dish, labeled medication, identification, papers, toy, bone, play collar, small blanket.  Fill your bathtub with water. Make sure you have the following on hand: non perishable food, water, batteries, portable or crank radio, medication supply, important papers including a list or audio tape of phone numbers and insurance information, first aid kit, warm clothing, sleeping bags, and items specific to your disability. Remember that phones and  power may go out (have mechanical can opener). There is often a lot of noise and confusion during building evacuation which makes it difficult for people who are blind who can no longer rely on familiar audio cues. Be familiar with your plan and practice regularly.

It’s not a good idea to use a land line when there is lightening ( My friend was knocked over while talking on the phone during a thunder storm as lightening hit the wires).  Unplug stuff, particularly computers.  Modems, monitors and so on, which can also become toast during a bad storm. On that cheery note, I am shutting down, unplugging and hunkering down as the weather begins to rage and we await the remnants of Hurricane Hannah.

Shoot The Dog!

Opal visited Dr. C. today at the Veterinary clinic.  It was time for her checkup, one of two exams which I am contractually obligated to provide for her every year. Verdict? She’s a healthy girl and a real charmer (kissed the vet into a giggling heap as she tried to listen to Opal’s heart).  Opal did not flinch when the doc gave her the mandatory shots, and squirmed around playfully on her back while Doc. C. felt her ‘girl bits’. The trip through the clinic to the weigh scale is always fun for her. She loves to sniff the mountain of cat and dog food bags as she passes by.  It’s a challenge to keep her still on the walk-on scale bed long enough to get an accurate weight reading. She tends to lean against the wall which skews the number.  Sometimes there’s a dog being bathed in the same room, so that sort of activity peaks her interest . I suspect  she’s thinking, “better you than me!”  The doc kindly filled out our Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind health book and faxed them the new entry. We payed our bill (less 40% Guide dog discount).  The discount for vet services to guide or service dog is offered by many practices. It’s worth calling around to the local vets to enquire. The most important thing is to find a vet that you have good confidence in. It’s a given that they love animals. I look for someone who is down to earth and not an excessive pill or procedure pusher. Our doc was an emergency veterinary hospital vet for many years.  I also had no qualms about ‘googling’ her to check out her credentials and history.  There seems to be a generally better-than average accommodation for clients who have service dogs among vets.  My experience has included getting appointments quickly, a longer than usual amount of time spent examining or treating an injury, patience in answering all of my questions,  willingness to fill out and fax forms as required, granting of credit when I could not afford to pay immediately, easy availability for phone conversation/questions and providing alternative or ‘jigged-up’ methods by which I can accurately dispense medication like ear drops.  A vet is more than someone who shoots your dog.

Dog People

There are people who self-identify as ‘Dog People’.  “I’m a cat person” others say. Then of course, there are enthusiasts of animals in general as well as sects people whose entire world revolves around one creature in particular;  monkeys, spiders, reptiles, fish….

But how can you spot a ‘Dog Person’ ? (assuming Fluffo is not by their side). Chances are, the clothing they wear is a dead give away.  If Bubba sheds like a bandit, obviously the Dog Person is covered with dog hair but even the most meticulous of Dog People can’t hide it. You’ll see them absently picking at the dog hair on their clothing from time to time.  They probably have a Miracle Brush in their desk drawer at work. Dog People often have a wardrobe that is… um, unusually casual. They own a large number of  ratty pants, old windbreakers and sturdy shoes.  Many keep that special non-dog outfit in the back of the closet, sanitized and ready to haul into service for a funeral or wedding.  Me? I don’t own clothing without pockets. Where would I put my poop bags and kibble if  my clothes had  no pockets?     When you climb into  Dog Person’s car, you will see further evidence of Trixie.  Maybe there’s a cage-like grill to contain her to the back of the car and restrain her from jumping on Dog  Person’s head while they are motoring down the highway.  Some Dog People even have a canine seat belt for Fido.  There is likely a lot of dog hair in the car too, along with things like old towels, blankets, dirt, plastic water dish and toys. Examine the car windows. Note the nose prints all over the glass. You’ll see the same nose prints in the windows of Dog Person’s home too.  When you visit Dog Person’s home,  you’ll notice other stuff there too… a minefield of bones, toys, and miscellaneous objects that Buddy has strewn about.  The furniture? It’s probably as casual as Dog Person’s clothing (Note: this does not apply to Park Avenue princess lap dog owners who manage to keep their home and clothing pristine) .  When Dog Person apologetically invites you to sit on their  sofa (and you KNOW they will give you the standard dog hair disclaimer), you might notice a faint (or not so faint) odour which you realize is the legacy of Sandy.  Dog Person seems oblivious to this odour. In fact, to them? it’s mildly pleasant. As you gaze around  Dog Person’s home, you also note a bizarre array of dog-related paraphernalia. There are blankets, a dog bed, bowls, leash, collar, grooming brushes, toys, a big bin of filled with Rex’s food, more toys, dog medication on the shelf in the kitchen, bones, dog treats,  a dog house outside, special fencing, and even more toys… You also note the state of disrepair of Dog Person’s home. When you ask them about the hole in the living room wall, they stare into space and mumble something about Pixie’s ‘separation anxiety’ issues.  Above the hole in the wall, is one of the seven ‘dog callendars’ you have spotted so far in the house today. Chances are, it’s specific to the breed of Dog Person’s best friend. It matches the dog image on the coffee mug in your hand which you are drinking out of, as well as the pillow behind you on the smelly couch.  During your visit to Dog Person’s home, you will remember these dog theme objects and make a mental note to buy your Dog Person friend something similar for the office gift exchange next Christmas.  Now you know why Dog Person always seems to be talking about their dog. Clearly, they are obsessed.  If the weather is cool and your Dog Person host has provided you with slippers to wear ( or is that just a Canadian thing?), you wonder why the slippers are partially shredded.  It becomes crystal clear to  you when Rover enters the room with a half-mauled object in his jaws.  Rover brings it to you, eager to play. He drops the slobber-filled thing in your lap as Dog Person apologises once more. You start to say to Dog Person that you don’t really mind, when suddenly, you realize that the disgusting thing on your designer pants is actually your favourite, authentic Tilly hat.  Dog Person apologises some more and offers to replace it,  but you decline graciously.   You decide to take your leave from Dog Person’s home. You  carefully step around the dog toys and other stuff on your way to the door. Dog Person explains that they have a number of  baby gates in the house because of the dog, and that they don’t actaullly have a baby.  You cut through the yard, detouring  around the dog house which Mindy has never used, carefully avoiding any rogue dog poop piles and holes dug in the lawn.  As you pull away in your car, you hear Dog Person whistle and cheerfully say, “come on Albert, let’s go for a pee”.

God Loves Everyone

Ron Sexmith popularised this tune written by Mark Erelli. Today, DW and JM performed it during our (Universalist Unitarian Church of Halifax) service. Maybe it’s not ‘traditional’ church music, but if you’re a UU? …well, it works for us.  When I  learned that today’s service was to be “Pride Sunday”, I groaned inwardly. Didn’t we just get done with Pride Week in Halifax? I asked myself. Isn’t it enough that at the beginning of each UU service, the service leader reads the following: “We are a community which nurtures personal growth, practices inclusiveness, celebrates diversity and affirms individual and collective commitment to community service and social justice” ?  I arrived at my church physically tired and mentally weary after a long night of ‘discussion’ with my significant other about the state of our relationship.  Sigh.  By the time the service began, I was programmed to being cranky and resistant to the presentation.  My determination to be bored  didn’t ‘take’ .  Was it the lyrics to ‘God loves Everyone’? ….“There are no gates in heaven, Everyone gets in, Queer or straight, Souls of every faith. Hell is in our minds, Hell is in this life, But when its gone, God takes everyone….” Can you imagine the wincing and squirming fundamentalist-types would do if they heard these lyrics in THEIR church? The narrow-minded lot who preach homosexuality as ‘sin’ would trip over themselves trying to escape such a scene. But UU’s? Some smiled, some wept (like me) in the clutches of memories of a world that can  be ungracious to the its citizens and unaccepting of human NATURE.  There has always been and will be,  an estimated 10 to 15%  of the world’s population who are gay, lesbian,  bisexual, transgendered, or ‘other’.  It boggles the mind why so many ‘people of faith’ have expended so much determined energy  to ‘change’ this reality.  What is accomplished by  persecuting/criminalizing/alienating/discriminating against  non-heterosexuals? Surely it’s not the procreation argument for the ‘unbabies’ that DON’T get cranked out and added to a planet already groaning from overpopulation? That’s a stale, homophobic argument that’s just as irrational as wanting to rid  the world of potential child molesters (child molesters and rapists are predominately straight men) . That some countries continue to execute ‘homosexuals’ is, at the very least, sad and more accurately, an atrocious act.  How grateful I am that my country (Canada) has entrenched the rights of its citizens  protecting them (in theory) from discrimination based on sexual preference. How happy I am that my church performs a myriad of weddings for ALL  couples, and that their union is recognized as LEGAL in my country. Former Prime Minister, Pierre Elliot Trudeau, is the guy who said  “the state has no business in the bedrooms of the nation”... he got that right.

“Good Girl!” X 835,907,624,512 times

I don’t have hard statistic-gathering methodology to back up this claim, but I am quite certain that my recent self-monitoring of the number of times a day that I say, “Good Girl!”  to Opal, would reveal that I utter these words…umm, A LOT!!! More times than I say “hello”, “thankyou”, “Don’t pet my dog, she’s working”, “excuse me”, “Where is the…”, and any other combination of words on most days. In total since I’ve been with her? thousands millions billions times more than Micky D’s has sold cardboard burgers to the unsuspecting carnivore citizens of the world. It pops out of my mouth without forethought; a verbal reflex that I do not use sparingly. Opal gets a “good girl!” (with or without the exclamation in my voice) when she relieves, when she responds to any command and when she does something of her own initiative.  I croon it to her when we cuddle, when I groom her and when I kiss her goodnight (YES I KISS MY DOG GOODNIGHT!).  I say it to  comfort her when the vet is poking her or the technician is trimming her nails.  I say it to her in the night when I sleepily extend my  hand down to her bed to check that she is OK.  I will continue to say, “Good Girl!” until one of us takes our last breath.

CNIB Eats Crow

An interesting e-mail arrived in my box today: Alliance for Equality of Blind Canadians President, Robin East wrote a searing letter to Jim Sanders (big CNIB cheese) regarding the same distasteful fund raising e-mail that CNIB sent to Canadians, some of them CNIB clients.  It was a paltry plea resplendent with Guide dogs (GUIDE DOG TRAINING IS NOT PART OF THE CNIB “SERVICES”), and an offensive query ,asking people like me and Robin East, what we would sell to save our sight. (see earlier blog I wrote entitled: Why CNIB Leaves Me Flat).  In Robin East’s letter to Jim Sanders, he asked for an apology and that CNIB withdraw this campaign immediately.  Robin forwarded the whole thing to me, therefore, I am delighted to post it here.  Here is Jim Sander’s response to Robin East:

“Dear Robin, I wish to acknowledge receipt of your letter and confirm that the e-mail campaign has been discontinued. I can assure you that the content do not reflect the philosophy and service practice of CNIB. I have released the following statement and would welcome any additional comments which you or your members may have.

I do sincerely apologize for the content and also for any negative impact that this letter has had on individuals. Your letter will be brought to the attention of the Board.

Here is the statement:    On behalf of CNIB, I wish to let you know that the fundraising campaign to which you refer has been discontinued. The message it portrayed was inappropriate.

We are reviewing CNIB’s marketing operations and associated creative materials to ensure that future marketing and fundraising efforts better reflect the CNIB philosophy, service, model and the views and experiences of people who are blind and living with vision loss.

Since I am the signatory to the letter, I do take full responsibility and extend my personal apology.

sincerely,

Jim Sanders”

Hmm. Sounds to me that Jim’s eating crow. Did someone say Damage Control? Do I see Jim’s litttle blind butt roasting at the CNIB Board Bar B Q? Do ya think they’ll drop some people (like Robin and me) from the mailing list in the future?

THIS JUST IN!!! Jim Sanders appologizes to angry chief executives of Canadian Guide Dog schools…

Opal joins a 12-step program

Dear GDAA (Guide Dog Addicts Anonymous),  my name is Opal and I’m an addicted Guide dog. It all began when my mum bought me a lovely red ‘skibble’ ball.  She thought it was one of those ‘smart’ dog toys that would occupy my mind with problem solving (trying to get the kibble to fall out of the ball by moving the ball around).  At first, it WAS a fun pastime.  Mum would pop a few kibble in the ball and toss it on the floor. I would spend a leisurely few minutes rolling it on the floor until I was done. I was a ‘social’ skibble ball indulger. I thought I could handle it. Then,  I found myself slowly increasing  my skibble ball use. I would drop it off the couch or the bed, bring it to mum to throw, play skibble soccer with it, bring it with me to bed at night, drop it in my water dish, drop it on Lucy the cat, drop it on mum’s head in the morning to wake her up, and once, I even tried to bring outside when I needed to pee. I can’t “Leave It!” as mum sometimes tells me to do. It’s no use. I took your test….you know the one…“10 questions to help you determine if you are an addicted Guide dog, hooked on any one of 25,000 substances or behaviours and in desparate need of a 12-step program”. I have enclosed my test results  (not so good) and the processing payment of $49.95 (mum will sign off on the VISA thing) plus a sample of my fur for ‘special analysis’. Please send the list of Guide Dog Addicts Anonymous meeting locations in my area and my ‘genuine laminated GDAA membership card’ as soon as possible. And by the way, there’s a Guide Dog who lives upstairs (a drop-dead gorgeous German boy who works as a shepherd too), who I think is a Guide Dog Barking Addict. Can you send me the toll free number for THAT 12-step program?

Let the ‘Other’ Games Begin!

The hoopla is over in Beijing. Or is it? Sure,  thousands of athletes and visitors have streamed onto airplanes and returned to their home countries.  They tote medals and for some, sponsorship deals. The media assault on the world has abated. Disinterested people around the globe give a collective sigh of relief as their TV and radio programming returns to normal. However, on September 6th, the Para Olympics get underway. These are, in my opinion, the REAL games. You won’t find flaky sub “sports” such as BMX bike racing, syncro-swimming (plenty of gel and nose plugs here!) or trampoline in the Para Olympic lineup.  No, instead, count on things like equestrian, swimming and goalball.

The Para Olympics began in 1948, when British war veterans  with spinal cord injuries decided to participate in a sporting ‘olympics’. Since then, the Para Olympic Games has grown into a huge ‘after’ event with thousands of ‘disabled’ athletes (the lucky ones who are have the resources and facilities at home to participate in para sport). These Games come on the heels of the ‘real’ Olympics.  Frankly, I would love to see the day, when there is no separation of the games. It would be a logistical nightmare to facilitate all this ‘inclusion’  and access to venues etc, but how wonderful it would be for Olympic fans (able bodied and not) to be able to wander from ‘Olympic Girls Gymnastics’ in one part of a stadium, to the ‘Para Olympic Fencing’ competition in another part of the same stadium.

‘They’ (and I mean the government funders and planners and other  do-gooders who spout ‘inclusion’ and ‘accessibility’ in all things) often do not really walk the para-walk, so to speak.   It’s one thing to provide an automatic door opener and modified washroom in a sports arena or community centre and announce with great fanfare that the complex is “ACCESSIBLE”, but it’s another thing to provide accessible PROGRAMS for the kids with disabilities who want to use them.  These facilities are erected at great cost and are intended for EVERYONE’S use. However, they often have physical barriers to PWD (persons with disabilities)  or, there simply is no provission for PWD (kids and adults) to access programs. What is the point if someone in a wheelchair can get INTO the building, onto the pool deck and maybe, even into the pool,  but there are no programs for them?  The big bucks and support go to mainstream (able-bodied) sports.  I think there is really little genuine interest on the part of government and society in true ‘accessibility’, ‘inclusion’, ‘full participation’, ‘diversity’…yada, yada, yada.  For many ‘Planners’ (the able-bodied guys and gals in suits) who tweak design and convince the tax payers that they have done an admirable job with their ‘accessible’ design, it’s ‘all about the money’ and creating a building that minimizes  spending on the project and provides what is mandatory by law in the way of accessibility features. There is much time and effort (ergo money) spent (ie. wasted) on legal consultation by city planners to avoid the risk of not meeting the minimum accessibility requirements and, god forbid, a Human Rights or other legal (ie costly and embarrassing) challenge by some ‘minority’ group (persons with disabilities or cultural, ethnic or other). Sigh. Do you need to live the experience of seeing YOUR kid in a wheel chair before you start thinking, “Hey! there are hardly any programs for my little Johny!” ?  Sadly, that’s the way it seems to work. A physiotherapist and advocate for kids with disabilities recently told me that she has spent 3 years trying to hammer home the need for programs, not just physical accessibility to a proposed Halifax sports venue  to some of our city ‘suits’. She described ‘vacant stares’ by some of these dudes and dudettes. Her frustration was evident but her conviction?…unwavering.

Finders Keepers…most if the time

My Guide dog, Opal has found an amazing array of ‘stuff’ in the time we’ve been together. Some of it was lying on the sidewalks we travel (like a five dollar bill!), and other stuff she discovered in the places she relieves along the way and in our apartment building’s hallways. Here is a partial list of her (our) ‘finds’: Articles of clothing include; 3 winter scarves, 2 pairs of gloves, 3 mismatched mittens, 2 wool hats,  3 pairs of men’s briefs (one of them in a bush) 1 pair of trousers,  1 pair of women’s panties, 1 children’s sweater, and 2 sunhats.  Ya gotta wonder about the clothes, eh?   She has found 2 tennis balls, dinky cars, a colouring book, a doll and 2  stuffed toys (these do not include the ones she tries to steal when I’m shopping). There have been coins on the street and in restaurants, a pair of brand new ear rings, nail clippers, pens, magazines, a booklet of postage stamps,  a back pack, and several pieces of ID.

There are many less memorable items which I would rather she NOT find; pop, beer and liquor bottles (some broken), cigarette butts and packaging, bubble and chewing gum,  medication bottles,  condoms (used), TONS (literally) of  fast food containers and wrappers (some with dregs of ‘food’ in them), and an astounding assortment of garbage which has found its way into OUR neighbourhoods. Sheesh, there are  a lot of pigs in the world!

NOW HEAR THIS!!! Keep your crap in your cars and in your backpacks and pockets and dispose of it appropriately instead of hurling it into OUR SPACE. If you insist on indulging in disgusting habits like smoking and  public drinking and sex, be resposnsible and haul the evidence of your little party away. Smokers are particularly irritating to us. Opal finally gave up a habit of eating butts. (Her nickname, given to her by some Brits,  was ‘Fag Ash Lil’ ). Frankly, I think YOU  smokers should eat your own butts.  Maybe you gum chewers should stick your gum wads into YOUR own hair. See how much fun it is to pick out, just as  I pick it out of my dog’s paws, and fur.  As for the nuts who smash bottles on sidewalks?  YOU try walking barefoot over your expression of youthful nuttiness and/or drunkiness.

Eve Of Destruction

I love those sixties tunes mum plays. Protest songs are big in our house (go figure!). Sometimes, mum plays a song by Barry McGuire called, “Eve of Destruction”.  I wasn’t around in the sixties, so I don’t really understand what the words mean, but I’ve been trying to figure them out.   …”The eastern world it is exploding…”  That’s probably about the nutty cannon they set off at noon every day on Citadel Hill here in Halifax. It’s soooo loud and  scares me every time!  Then, there’s the part  “If the button is pushed, there’s no running away…” I’m pretty sure that means that when I find the button and mum presses it to call the lift (elevator), we must wait for the door to open, right?  and, “You tell me over and over and over again my friend, ah, you don’t believe we’re on the eve of destruction?…” Now THAT’S gotta be about the way my mum KNOWS that in the morning, I am going to try to get her attention by grabbing the Braille phone bill and  ripping it  to shreds. Then she’s going to shake her head and say, “Hey, Destructo! I don’t believe you just trashed my Aliant bill”.

Why CNIB Leaves Me Flat

Yesterday, I received an e-mail from Jim Sanders, national CNIB president. I doubt that Jim actually hit ‘send’ himself. This e-mail was soliciting money. It was probably spun out by the CNIB fund raising elite PR machine to everyone within the CNIB data bases, including clients. I don’t fault any organization for being creative with fund raising initiatives. This thing? It offended me to the point where I wrote Jim an e-mail letter this morning. Let me explain the nature of ‘Jim’s’ request.

The e-plea was colourful and filled with lovely photos of guide dogs and blind people with guide dogs. the header stated, “Harnessing Independence begins with your generous support”. It went from bad to worse by asking the question, “How much is your Independence worth to you? Dear Helen, close your eyes for a moment and imagine that you’ve lost your sight”  Hmm, Jim. You’re too late, done deal, been there, done that, got the t-shirt. I AM blind! Then, to really annoy me, it went on to claim that “37 % of Canadians would sell everything they owned to keep their sight.”  I don’t know or care if this is statistically valid. What I DO know, is that these kinds of claims propagate the erroneous assumption that blind people are miserable with their lot. Hey Jim, I’m OK being blind, my life is not horrible, so don’t yammer this defeatist nonsense which only entrenches public misconception about Persons With Disabilities. As for the clever references to guide dogs… “and when we’re ready, some of us may even get a guide dog” …blah, blah, blah, resplendent with pics of the dogs with CNIB clients who are in the CNIB  photo op pocket,  I could vomit. You and I both know (though apparently you’re still milking the sensibilities of a confused public who do NOT KNOW)  that CNIB does NOT train guide dogs nor do they financially support guide dog training. Why go down that murky road, Jim? Why not spend some of your PR money  on CNIB client services (ya gotta know that expensive glossy hard copy of this pitch for donations will be sent out to thousands of Canucks).  I walked into my local CNIB office a couple of weeks ago looking to BORROW a tape recorder. My two recorders are broken, and my Hadley School for Blind Spanish assignment is due. Did I get some of that CNIB ‘support’? No, Jim. I left with bubkis and went home to e-mail Senora Good-Krochuk that I am tostada with my Spanish until further notice. When someone stopped me on the street later that day and asked, “Is that a CNIB dog?”, I promptly took 15 minutes of my time to explain to the deluded individual that ” THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS A CNIB DOG!!! CNIB HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH GUIDE DOG TRAINING!!! THEY DON’T PROVIDE A SCINTILLA OF THE STUFF TO THE BLIND THAT THE PUBLIC ERRONEOUSLY THINK THEY DO!!!!” Sigh. Jim, I am so dissapointed with this sordid pathetic e-mail. You can bet that I am going to encourage people to respond to it’s lack of respect for people like me…happy, hard-working, tax-paying citizens who happen to be blind. And how, you ask Jim? I’m going to suggest to them that they make their charitable contributions elsewhere...like any guide dog training school, and my pick would be, Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind in Manotick Ontario (613-692-7777 link on blogroll).  maybe they should e-mail you about their displeasure too…. jim.sanders@cnib.ca oops, I think I just did. Have a nice day.

Puppy Walker’s Tea

Guide dogs begin to train when they are approximately 14 months old. So, where have they been knocking around all through puppyhood? Answer: With their ‘puppy walker’ or ‘puppy raiser’ (depending on which Guide dog school they are bred for). These are the families or individuals who take a little 8 week-old ball of canine energy for a year or more, love it, feed it, groom it, play with it, expose it to all types of things, people and places…and then say goodbye to it.  That must be a sad and and very difficult time for the puppy walkers.  But look what these dogs become! They are part of that awesome, elite corp of ‘dog guides’ for people who are blind. When Opal and I ‘qualified’ in our final days of training at Canadian Guide dogs for the Blind in Manotick, Ontario, there was a minor fanfare that included a ‘graduation’ party, and a ‘Puppy Walker’s Tea’.  The Puppy Walker’s Tea is a get-together  where the newly-qualified CGDB Guide  dog and handler has an opportunity to meet the person or family that raised the dog. Other guide dog schools have a different policy whereby the handler and puppy raiser do not ever meet or access each others contact information.   I was ‘on course’ with three other individuals. None of our puppy walkers (the people who had raised our dogs) could attend because of the distance involved in traveling to Manotick (some from BC, Opal’s from North Carolina).  We did, however have an opportunity to speak on the telephone with the puppy walkers at a pre-scheduled time.

I wonder what it would have been like for all involved if all the puppy walkers COULD have attended. I think a Puppy Walkers Tea  could be a valuable and enjoyable opportunity for some people, but potentially awkward for others. I have yet to meet A.A. ( a then-15 year old) who raised Opal, though I have spoken to her many times, exchanged letters and gifts, and e-mailed her mum (a writer) hundreds of times.  I now have an arsenal of Opal stories that could curl your hair…well, that’s for another blog… Sure, WE would have gotten along swimmingly at a Puppy Walkers Tea, but I have heard stories (maybe that’s all they are) about such encounters that did not turn out quite so well. It is a tense time…gotta be. The new handler is stressed after a rigorous month of training and wants to get home and settled, the dog is transitioning from trainer to the new handler so it is probably  a little stressed too, and the puppy walker walks into the midst of it all?  I think that it would all go well, provided that everyone understands their roles; the puppy walker is no longer ‘top dog’ in the relationship. That dog is now in a special relationship with its blind handler. The handler must remain cool and know that their dog will recognize the puppy walker and want to express its emotion.  The trainers and staff have an obligation to keep everyone clear on the ground rules for the meeting. For example, it is no longer the puppy walker’s role to give any type of command to the dog…not even ‘sit’.

I am so pleased and grateful to hear from all the puppy walkers and puppy raisers who have written to me through this blog. Please realise that those pups are treasured after you ‘let them go’.  Do not think for a moment that your role is not as important as that of the professional trainers who actually train the dog to do all the fancy stuff, like stop at curbs and go around obstacles.  These formative months in a dog’s life (before it trains), are critical. If you take that dog everywhere and expose it to social situations, surfaces, noises and so on, then you will have done the grunt work from which will emerge a potentially fearless Guide dog.

New Bling For Opal

Oooooo. I have stunning new bling! Mum’s friend gave me a beautiful purple necklace. Some dog’s call their necklaces “collars”, but mum tells me that mine is special (like me), so we call it a necklace or bling.  Mum put my tag (the one with my CGDB registration number on it) and my bell (so mum can hear me moving around) on the new necklace. I always wear my necklace around the house ’cause mum says that a  pretty girl needs her bling at all times. Also, if anything were to happen (like a fire..ooo, I hope not),  it would be easier to drag me out of the house ’cause I might get scared and be resistant. My tag has the CGDB phone number on it, so if I ever get lost and wander way over to Pictou county or somewhere, the person who finds me can call CGDB and they would know by reading my registration number, who I was and  where I belong.  And hey! I have a computer inside me too. OK, maybe it’s really called an AVID  microchip, but if I get lost without my necklace, a vet or animal shelter can scan me (like a box of Milk Bones at the grocery store checkout) for my ID information. AVID (American Veterinary Identification Device) is a really big computer data base that tells the scanner who I am when it reads my secret AVID 8 digit number.  And then there’s my tattoo that’s located on my…..

Buy That Guide Dog A Nose…or a toe…or a tail…

This is for all Canadians out there who amble into the local Walmart store or other retail location where perhaps, you once noticed a large, plastic Golden Retriever Guide Dog sitting by the entrance or near the checkout counter.  The boy (or girl) dog has a  money slot on the top of his/her  head. On the base of this acrylic canine is a little sign that says, “Canadian Guide Dogs For The Blind”. This is the school where Opal comes from and where we trained together.  This is the Guide Dog Training Centre that ‘gives’ Guide dogs to  blind people at a cost of $1.00.  It actually cost $35,000.00 to put one dog into the hands of a blind handler.

So, I do my bit to show my appreciation to CGDB.  I  convinced the local Walmart manager to allow CGDB to place two plastic Guider collector dogs in his store. It’s no skin off the manager’s nose. These puppies take up only one square foot of floor space each.  They attract kids and people generally love them. I go each month to empty  the coins out of Buzz and Regina (named after Opal’s mum and dad).  I clean them because kids often ‘pat’ them with grubby hands.  They will go to the car wash next summer for pressure hosing. Today, the haul seemed lighter than usual.  Maybe $150 or $160. I said to Opal, “looks like CGDB  can buy a Guide dog’s toe today”. You do the math.  One entire guide dog=$35,000.00 so $150. would likely buy a  toe. Next time you see the collector dogs? Put some money in them. If you’re one of our regular contributors?  How about digging a little deeper into your pockets or billfold?

Blind Art Day: a minor success!

Several months ago, I dreamed up a plan to hold a ‘Blind Art Day’. My idea was to bring some blind and partially sighted individuals together to create tactile art as part of the Canadian Mental Health Association Halifax/Dartmouth’s annual ‘Mosaic For Mental Helath’ fund raising project. I begged, borrowed and solicited materials to use, including wallpaper samples, glue, fabric and an avalanche of craft supplies (thanks to Marg, Betty, Lee Anne, Gerrard, Acadia and Quigley’s Decorating Centre for donations and to  Michael’s Crafts who gave us a discount).  A suitable location was found without cost (thanks to Keith, the CMHA ‘social club’ coordinator who allowed us to use the space and Sylvia who made coffee). A knowledgeable volunteer was recruited (thanks to Gerrard  M. of ‘ Visual Connections’). Of course, the whole thing would have been a bust without some people creating art. The participants included Alfredo, Amy, Alice and Helen (two Helens CAN be in one room together, despite my misgivings).  Bloomfield Centre staff were efficient at guiding and disposing of dog poop bags. The Guide dogs (Jager and Opal) were well behaved and making goo-goo eyes at one another all morning.  As for the art?  Alfredo had some ‘glue issues’,  Alice had ‘centering’ problems with stuff on her tile and the other Helen was her usual chatty self, but no serious disasters occurred  warranting  a trip to the Emergency room (mercifully). My evaluation? a minor success! and next time…we’re having Blind Potters Day!

Jane’s Addiction

I struggle long and hard to come up with pop culture references for this blog.  Admittedly, sometimes it’s a stretch.

Today,  Jane, a trainer from Canadian Guide Dogs For the Blind in Manotick, Ontario came for our yearly aftercare visit. These visits ensure that guide dog and handler are still working efficiently and that nothing is amiss with the dog’s care or health. I am one of several clients from CGDB that Jane visited this week. My concern, as expressed in a past blog, is that I might be getting a little sloppy with the ‘rules’ regarding guide dog handling. I CHOOSE to allow Opal on the bed and sofa. I give her a ‘cookie’ when she gets home….  however, when it comes to the meat and potatoes of my relationship and handling of Opal? Tickety-boo!  The girl saves my life every other day. She also adds a dimension to my life that I never thought possible. To put it simply, my life is more enjoyable because Opal is in it.  I still value Jane’s expertise, so I was a little concerned about the impending visit.  Jane knows dogs. She loves, lives, and breathes guide dog training. I refer to it as,  ‘Jane’s Addiction’ , like the band of the same name. (see how I finally got to the pop-culture reference?!  Jane’s Addiction, by the way, is an alternative American rock band that plays hard rock, punk etc.  They’ve had a spotty past, but are reuniting this year for the third time in their ‘musical’ history)

Opal adores Jane. She did a BIG happy dance when Jane arrived. My concerns began to ease when Jane commented on how well Opal looks; healthy and cared for.  We chatted for a while about my experiences with Opal over the last year. Then, we went for a walk over to the post office in the mall.   Opal constantly spun her head back to look at  Jane (trailing and observing us). Other than that,  we were fine.   There is apparently nothing wrong with this Guide dog team! My girl even went off-curb to take me round an obstacle I could not see. We returned home victorious (and sweaty).  Jane showed me a better way to clean Opal’s ears. She checked Opal’s equipment and put a new reflective sleeve over part of Opal’s harness ( goes over the chest strap). We shared t-Touch tips (see Tellington Touch link on blogroll) and then, sadly it was time to say our goodbyes. Opal? She stared at the door for a minute after she left and seemed OK when I said, “Jane had to go home and train some more guide dogs”.

NUMBERS, NUMBERS, AND MORE NUMBERS

I checked some of the search words that people are using to get to my blogs.  My conclusion is that many people are interested in numbers…’number of blind people in Canada’ for example.  Here is some statistical information. I do not guarantee that it is the most current information, but it will provide a sense of proportion about the population.

• According to Statistics Canada, the last PALS study (Participation Activity Limitation Survey) a total of 4.4 million Canadians (1 in 7) reported having a disability in 2006.
• In 2001, 12.4% reported having a disability, and in 2006, it had risen to 14.3% of the population.
• The Eastern provinces reported higher rates of disabled residents. Nova Scotia checked in at 20% compared to Ontario with 15.5%
• Problems relating to pain, mobility and agility affects almost 3 million adults.
• 5% of the population reports a hearing disability (1,265,000)
• 3.2% report a seeing disability (815,000)
• 1.9% report a speech disability (480,000)
• In Canada, the average number of days lost per worker due to a disability or illness is 7.6
• According to the AFB (American Federation for the Blind), 1.3 million Americans are legally blind.
• AFB reports 5.5 million elderly Americans have vision loss.
• 109,000 Americans use a white long cane to get around. There are over 7000 people who have dog guides.
• There are 93,600 visually impaired students in special education programs.  in the United States (AFB) with 10,800 being deaf-blind.
• There are 55, 200 legally blind children in the USA.
• Only 32 % of working age blind Americans are employed.
• 1.5 million Americans with vision loss use computers.

• CNIB reported 104,184 registered clients in 2002. The important thing to note is that CNIB registration is VOLUNTARY, and reflects only 50% of the actual number of people who live with vision loss.
• In 2001 it was estimated that the number of people in the world affected by  AMD (all age related macular degeneration)  between the ages of 65 and 75 was 2.2 million.
• It is projected that the number of people in the world affected by AMD will increase to 4 million by 2021.
  

“Hurts So Good”

Remember John Cougar Mellancamp’s song from 1982  , “Hurts so Good”?  Maybe it’s not that memorable, but there are times when I sing my own heartfelt version.

Last week I entered Dr. Judy’s office with another injury. I showed Judy my hand which had  a strip seared across the back of it that snaked through the space between my pinkie and ring fingers. “It’s a friction burn. I think it’s infected”, I announced. “Hmm, how did this happen?”, Judy asked.  Before I could answer, she spun in her chair as though a light bulb had gone off in her head, and directed her accusing remark to Opal who was passed out on the floor. “You again”.  Opal raised her head and licked Judy’s foot in confirmation. “What happened this time?”,  Dr. Judy asked in a tone of voice that challenged me to come up with something good. “Umm, it was just one of those things”, I began lamely. Then I jumped into assertive/rationalizing  mode and tried to sell her on the idea that Opal and I have bad play Karma.  I explained: ” She was on her Flexi retractable leash and took off.  The rope crossed over my hand and…”   Dr. Judy sighed, picked up her prescription pad and started  to scrawl out an RX for an anti-biotic, musing out loud as she wrote. “Let’s see, first there was the egg-sized bump on the forehead from a canine-human cranial collision. Then there was the torn quad muscle. Wasn’t that another Flexi accident?”  Judy asked.  “Totally my fault”, I protested. “I only used the support cane for four days and I stopped limping after six weeks”.  I shut up, thinking I should quit while I was ahead. At least Dr. Judy only gets to see the serious stuff. I don’t bother her with bruises and scratches that seem to happen on a regular basis when I play with Opal. It REALLY is my fault. I love roughhousing with her, and pay the consequences. But hey, It hurts so good.

“You’ve Got Personality”

Dogs are individual, unique creatures. Like people, they come in all shapes and sizes. They come with hair of varying length and colour (some with none).  They have different ‘voices’… deep resounding barks and small yips. Like humans, they can experience illnesses and conditions like diabetes, cancer, stroke, heart failure, allergies, infections, arthritis.  Dogs have basic needs like humans, including food, water, sleep, socialization, shelter, sex and relieving (in no particular order).  But do dogs have personality? Answer: ABSOLUTELY!

Lloyd Price wrote and sang ” (You’ve got) Personality” in 1959. I think he was singing about his sweetie.  Good enough, but I sing it to my guide dog, Opal. What makes Opal….Opal? Hmm. Plenty!

Opal licks her paws when she needs to relieve (some dogs would go to the door, some would bark, others would pee on the floor).  She ALWAYS pauses to scratch her left shoulder just before I put her collar and leash on to take her out first thing at 5 am.  It ‘s some sort of habit she developed, like a good luck ritual reserved to start her day. Opal has an EXTREME fondness for soft things. She once nimbly picked up a woman’s glove from a seat at the ferry terminal as we passed by. Ditto plush toys at shops on numerous occasions. She enjoys licking toes, particularly the ones attached to women’s feet within her range, like on a bus. Needless to say, I am on guard in sandal weather.  Opal insists on physical contact with me when she is gnawing her ritual after-dinner bone. We usually lie on the floor together so she can curl up alongside. Like other dogs, she does not enjoy getting her feet wet as she walks through puddles or relieves on grass,  though, paradoxically she loves to swim. Opal loves to dance, but hey, so does her mum. We went to see “White Christmas” at the Neptune Theatre last winter. Patrons were more interested in watching Opal watch the musical (she sat up in the front row of the balcony and was riveted to the stage full of tap dancing singers). Opal has in ‘interesting’ custom of having a go at the ‘dominance pillow’ every evening. The vet says it’s not about sexual urge, but has more to do with frustration or dominance.  Opal has a stressful job and does not have much say in what she does with her day, so she expresses this primaly. The most totally ‘Opalish’ trait? The girl crosses her legs. She delicately puts left over right paw when she lies down.  Not just once in a while, but most of the time and everywhere. I hear people remarking about this on buses, at restaurants and everywhere else we go. It’s endearing and cute as all get out.   Opal will sneeze a few minutes after she gets into a car. She does so with the same gusto my late father mustered when he sneezed.  It is a rather perilous habit (probably dust in the air?) that causes taxi drivers to swerve wildly in surprise.  Now,  when I get in the car, I caution the driver…sort of an Opal  PSA.  My girl is a busybody extraordinaire. I am convinced that she is the reincarnation of my grandmother. She is ALWAYS curious beyond belief,  looking out the window, rooting through any open handbag within range, gazing at anything different in our travels… she notices the decals that someone puts up on the glass door of our apartment building for occasions like Halloween, Christmas and Easter. She once stopped cold on the sidewalk when she spotted a few little boys across the street having a fight and bullying one boy.  I called out and they stopped beating up on the kid.  She finds interesting stuff too.  Opal has found a five dollar bill (we shared), three pairs of gloves, earrings, scarves,  a pair of tweezers,  socks,  toys,  mail and more. Despite the distraction,  I think this makes her a good guide dog. She is totally aware of her (our) surroundings. Yeah, she’s got personality. She’s a happy, quirky, curious social butterfly with delicate feelings and a complex mind. She’s my girl.

Hey Operator!

That’s right, I mean you, the  Bell Aliant operator on duty yesterday afternoon. Watch out lady, ’cause you’re in store for some deep doo dah. Did ya think I’d just ‘let it go’? Not a chance, babe. Sure, it took 30 minutes to go through the complaint process with the customer service department, but at least I have the reassurance that you will be ‘spoken to’. Maybe you will think twice before you say something stupid when a PAYING ALIANT CUSTOMER dials and asks you how to go about making a conference call. Maybe you won’t say, “the number for the conference operator is in the phone book” in reply to a PAYING ALIANT CUSTOMER who has told you that the Aliant web site is INACCESSIBLE and won’t cough up the information she needs. Maybe when that PAYING ALIANT CUSTOMER says, “I can’t read the phone book” , your smart ass sarcastic reply will not be, “You can’t read?”  Maybe you won’t mutter to the PAYING ALIANT CUSTOMER, who tells you in frustration (even though it is none of your bloody business) that she is blind, “ok, wait a sec”  and follow that up by shouting, “What did you say?” when the PAYING ALIANT CUSTOMER says “thanks for that”.  Maybe you won’t proceed to grumble and send the PAYING ALIANT CUSTOMER into her own voicemail system instead of linking her to the conference call operator.  Yep, maybe you will just do your job in the first place and provide the PAYING ALIANT CUSTOMER with information instead of going down that murky road by asking, “can’t you read?”. Maybe the reprimand will include reading a fact sheet with statistical information about the 6,000,000  or more Canadians who can not read print because of a visual, perceptual or intellectual disability. Maybe your boss will tell you that it doesn’t matter why the PAYING ALIANT CUSTOMER can’t READ a phone book, or why they don’t HAVE a phone book, or why they don’t WANT to use their phone book…you just do what the PAYING ALIANT CUSTOMER requests.

STOP PRESS!!! This just in: Aliant Customer Service Management tippy-toeing very carefully all over an apology to Wise advice. It seems that the Aliant operator in question is going to have that informative talk with her supervisor this afternoon….

Opal Goes On a Photo Shoot

Opal and I took over a local hospital today. We had an entourage that included; two AEBC (Alliance for Equality of Blind Canadians) Halifax chapter members, three Halifax Infirmary staff people, and my friend, Anita a photographer who was armed with camera equipment. We were on a photo shoot for a pamphlet which AEBC Halifax has created in collaboration with the Diversity team at CDHA (Capital District Health Authority).  This pamphlet is being developed for some of the front-line staff of CDHA.  CDHA is made up of several hospitals and clinics in Halifax (10,000 employees in total).  The information in the pamphlet is designed to inform them on how to assist patients or clients who are blind or partially sighted. It includes information on the types of things to say to a blind person in the hospital/clinic setting (identify yourself…offer assistance…explain a procedure…) what NOT to say (“Over there”, “you don’t look blind”…), what to do (elementary guiding,  provide audible cues ie tapping a counter), what NOT to do (grab a blind person, touch a guide dog….), some general information (blind people have different types and levels of vision…some blind people use aids such as long white cane, or white support cane, ID cane, walker,  or guide dog…) information about the AEBC (see link on blogroll) and the Diversity Initiative at CDHA.  This is a phenomenal achievement for AEBC Halifax, a new chapter that no one knows much about yet.  CDHA wanted ‘realistic’ photos for the pamphlet instead of my cheesy Clip Art.   I convinced them to hire my favourite photographer. I also asked Randy (who has a standard long cane) and Joann (who uses a walker, but also brought along her white support cane) to meet us for some ‘action shots’.    The hospital provided three volunteer staff people to ‘ease the pain’ and chaos arising from our little  photo shoot with the ‘hospitalish’ looking staff and employees I needed in the pictures. I wanted Anita to take shots of us in various settings. We posed at the information counter, though we stalled there until confirmation with ‘Security’ about ‘permission’.  We also shot pics in the blood collection services area,  the Infirmary’s hallways, and in the Occupational Therapy department.   Fortunately, I am familiar with the blood lab staff and managed to sweet talk Glenda and Cathy (Cathy stopped long enough to put on her lipstick) to allow us into their department. They took time to pose with us, pretending to draw blood samples. Ya gotta love a phlebotomist! It also doesn’t hurt that I have the ability to steamroll a situation before anyone knows what is happening. A  lovely young woman from New Zealand who works in OT seemed a little camera shy at first, but when she realized that it was her chance at Canadian immortality (she is going back to the land of kiwis soon) she acquiesced and posed too.   We had some technical glitches.  Not the photography equipment…Randy’s cane fell apart and we had to stop and get it taped  up before he could continue. Opal led the parade all over the 4th floor of the Halifax Infirmary, and appeared in a number of shots. You can’t have a pamphlet without a guide dog on the front of it, can you?!

Don’t Sit On the Cat! and Other Advice For Blind People

People ask me all sorts of questions about how I manage to do this,  that and the other thing. Here’s a sample: “How do you cook without burning yourself?”   “How do you know when your period has started?”   “How do you know if the lights are on or off?”  ”Do you ever step/sit on the cat?”  ”How do you know if the food in your ‘fridge is still good?”   “How do you know what bus to get on?” Sigh.  Frankly, I worry about the people that ask these questions. For their benefit, and that of those people with vision loss out there who haven’t quite ‘got it together’ yet, here are a few more tips.  Cooking is fun for me. Sure, it is a bit of a different process. I do not attempt to multi-task when cooking for safety reasons. It is one thing for a sighted person to roam away from a stove-top full of pots to make a phone call or balance their check book, but I like to stick with the task at hand. It is safer to be by the stove and avoid potential a disaster…like setting the kitchen ablaze and ruining dinner in the process. I use larger pots and pans than sighted people might.  This helps avoid overflow when things boil. I use fewer pots, preferring to make many recipes that can be made with one or two pots instead. I prepare ingredients beforehand so that they are ready to add when I need them. My experience as a chef comes in handy some days. I cook effortlessly for the most part. I seem to have an internal guidance system which helps me time things right; set water to boil in huge pot, chop garlic and vegies while waiting, cook pasta (keep lid off and metal spoon to stick in pot  handy to prevent ‘pasta eruptus’ on the stove), drain pasta (into large colander IN sink), put pot back on burner (no need to wash it), add olive oil and garlic (inhale deeply), add vegies in order of ‘cookability’.  OK, I just invented a word, so sue me. I refer to the vegies that take longer to cook, like carrots, celery, turnip… then  stir the cast iron pot (prevents any sticking and cooks evenly), add other vegies (like green beans, zucchini and tomatoes), add spices and minimal vegetable stock.  I  let it simmer for a while. When that’s cooked, I put the multigrain pasta into the mix and stir it up. Voila! I have a big honking pot of tasty, healthy pasta and vegies without need for fuss and 5 hours at the stove. I listen to my talking book or radio while I cook and clean up as I go. If I drop food on the floor,  two things happen; I immediately say “Leave It!” for Opal’s benefit, and then pick it up and toss. Some people find that long oven mitts helpful to avoid burns. I don’t bother, but then I have years of experience. You can buy them through assistive aids sites (like Maxi Aids.com). If I am chopping and need to set down my knife, I slip the blade under the cutting board, so when I come to look for it, there will be no gashed fingers to deal with. I also NEVER put knives or glass items in the sink. These are set aside or washed and put away immediately (Hey! I take blood thinners  and don’t want to spend my day at the ER).  About the funky food in the fridge (FFF). I keep a close ‘eye’ on the contents of my fridge, checking and using items regularly. Like with all my ‘stuff’, I keep items in assigned places in the fridge. I label containers of leftovers with a date, though normally, they are eaten within a couple of days or frozen for future use. When in doubt, I enlist someone with sight to scope out the quality of food (usually around the same time they look at my clothing for stains). 

Our cat, little Lucy is a chatty cat most of the time. That’s very helpful for us both. She learned very quickly when she came to live with me, that I can’t see her, and she needs to STAY OUT OF MY WAY!!  Once in a while, she goes incognito and silent (sheesh). You can put a bell on your pet’s collar. I always check the seat which my big butt is about to occupy. This is a good habit for blind people to get into. That way, you avoid sitting on your cat, dog, hairbrush, basket, aunt Mim etc. 

Independent living for a blind person is good and admirable. However, my wise advice? Don’t be an idiot! If you NEED help, ASK for it. Don’t waste your time and elevate your frustration level by worrying about stuff. If you are lost, listen for footsteps and ask the person attached to the legs where you are, or if they can get you  to a point you are familiar with. If you don’ know which bus has pulled up or when to get off it,  ask. If you need to find a washroom anywhere or want a clerk to find something in a store for you…ASK.   Ask with a strong voice, not like a timid mouse. Ask politely but with conviction. It’s OK. 

Lights on or off? check the switches routinely. Or, if you’re feeling wealthy, you can buy a talking light detector. And knowing if your period has arrived? Mercifully, I’m menopausal, but I do remember a time when I used my nose efficiently to detect the distinct odour of blood.

Brand New Day

The best part of going to bed at night, is the assurance that I will wake up to a new day and a fresh start.  No matter how horrible a day has been,  I can start a new one with the feeling that the day before has been erased.  A clean slate, Tabula Rosa and all that.   I woke this morning singing ‘Brand New Day’. Van Morrison does a better job, I am certain, however I felt the urge, given the day I had yesterday.

Yesterday, I woke at 4 am to the unmistakable sound of Lucy (our cat) vomiting.  Sigh. I got up and took care of my little calico. This involved cleaning up, cooking brown rice to settle her stomach and giving her fresh water (in Opal’s dish,  of course).  The radio news really put a spin on my mood too. It seems that a man was stabbed and decapitated  in an unprovoked attack by a fellow passenger on a Greyhound bus in Alberta.  It’s been a violent week in this world.  Unitarian Universalists in Tennessee were killed in their church by a shooter who did not approve of our UU ‘liberal views’.  I mourn with my fellow congregants.  In local news,  a  bus driver was attacked on her bus by a man who tried to sexually assault her.

I thought that work might reset my mood. It did not. My computer coughed up a cyber hairball and refused to operate. The arthritis in my hands, neck and spine seemed intolerable.  Step out, I thought. I saddled Opal and off we went.  I am in desperate need of orthotics and new shoes. I know this because of the shooting pain in my feet as I walk. No wonder I’ve been so cranky lately! Opal and I went to purchase a small birthday gift for my sister at the mall. In Basket Emporium, we stood near the counter and waited for assistance. A shopper came into the store and exclaimed, “You’re beautiful!”.  Her comment was meant for Opal, of course.  I replied, “thanks, but I have a sweetie”.  She  did not seem to appreciate my humour.  It’s all about the dog some days. I just happen to be the woman attached to the end of Opal’s harness.  I hobbled home and prayed for the day to end. Mercifully, it did.

So, when I woke this morning, the promise of a better day was intoxicating and induced me to sing. I tried “A New Day has Begun”  (from Cats), but I could not recall the lyrics and it brought Celine Dion to mind, which is deffinitly not the way to start anyone’s day. I chose Van’s tune…”Brand New Day”.

Are We Moving, Mum?

I’m a little worried this morning. It’s true. Dogs worry too. Mum got up soooo early today. Gee, I thought I was the one who was supposed to kiss her good morning. I thought maybe we were going on an adventure somewhere, but that’s not what happened. Mum got up and started taking her bed apart! Then she moved it out of our room along with my recliner! I tried to ask her, “are we moving, mum?” by wandering around and being clingy. People think that dogs don’t get upset when our home environment changes, but that’s not true. I like my stuff to stay in the same place in my house.  She keeps saying that it’s OK…something about a new bed. I guess I’ll trust my mum….here she is…”Moon river, wider than a mile…” ….thanks mum, I needed that!

Wise Advice Chief Lost in Time Warp!

This just in: Reports out of Halifax confirm that Wise Advice chief, Helen McFadyen (aka Lablady) is lost in a bizarre time warp. Sources say that the self-proclaimed queen of advice-giving entered a vortex of childhood nostalgia last night and has not been seen since. According to Poprah Minfrey, WA’s nosy neighbour, it all began with an e-mail. ” It was just one of those things, so typical of THAT woman. She’s always putting her nose in it”, says Poprah. Upon receiving a message announcing the death of a childhood classmate, the Wise Advice chief noticed a lengthy list of names and e-mail addresses who had also received the sad news. Details are sketchy at this time, but it appears that Lablady took it upon herself to ‘reach out’ to the dozens of former elementary school classmates whose e-addresses were (unfortunately for them) all laid  out before her. Ms. Minfry claims that she could hear loud hoots of laughter coming from the Wise Advice chief’s home  when she booted up her computer this morning and discovered several replies from the e-mails she had sent… to people she has not seen in 40 years.  “Frankly, I haven’t heard such a racket since that guy down the road, Ollie MacDonald took up the bagpipes” exclaimed Poprah.

Wise Advice apparently left a note before entering the Bermuda Triangle of her childhood. It reads: ” wow! who’dathunkit? These kids grew up to be people with spouses and kids and pets and jobs and lives! I must find out more….”

QUICK!!!! HIDE THE MILK BONES!!!!!

Good Gravy!!!! Hide the MilkBones!!! Jane is coming!!!! Who is Jane, you ask? Why am broaching hysteria? Jane M. is a trainer with Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind. She spent months using her expertise and years of experience as a trainer of dogs, to train my girl, Opal IV into a great Guide dog. Then, she trained ME (and what a sorry excuse for a trainee I was) WITH Opal and turned us into a TEAM. That was over two years ago, and now it’s time for our annual ‘after-care visit’. Here’s the thing… I’ve sort of tweaked some of the rules and introduced my own spin on my handling of Opal… and now, I have two and half weeks to get us sorted out!!! Hide the Milk Bones!!! (no treats, says Jane…hmm… I started giving the girl a cookie when we get home). Let’s see, what other ‘illegal activity’ am I guilty of? Dog on sofa? Check! Dog on bed? Check! (but not overnight). Commands to Opal all bunged up? Check! (I’ve invented some of my own). Forgotten to perform regular ‘near traffic’ exercises? Check! Sigh. Oh well, at least I have a happy, healthy dog who likes her job, does it well and saves my sorry ass on a regular basis, is kind to Lucy the cat, loves all mankind, is groomed everyday, is loved and cared for, and will always be…the girl of my dreams. Get over it Jane!

Opal Goes On a Date

Ooooo he’s so big and strong! No wonder his name is ‘Iron’. I call him him ‘the Ironman’, ’cause he can really go the distance. We had our first real date today. So romantic! We went to see a movie called Mama Mia. Sure, maybe the movie was a little flaky, but I just loved cozying up to that fella. It was full of music… some group called, Abba. Iron’s mum and mine were tapping their toes and didn’t seem to notice that we were… you know…having a little romance going on. The dancing on the screen distracted Iron’s mum, and my mum kept asking Iron’s mum if somebody called Meryl Streep was REALLY singing those Abba songs. Gee, I thought my mum invented the abba song… you know… “abba dabba dabba, Opal!”…that’s what she sings to me sometimes. Neither of our mums would let us eat popcorn. Sheesh! You think they’d have shared a little, especially since the Ironman and I were on our first big date. Iron showed me the way through Park Lane Mall and out the entrance on Dresden Row. We rode the lift together (he calls it an elevator) and then two escalators. We parted ways on the sidewalk (sigh). He went down to Spring Garden Road while my mum tried to make up for it by taking me to the Public Gardens. She would not let me swim with the ducks and geese in the pond, so that was a bit of a bummer. On our way home, three people said, “look, there’s a blind dog”. I don’t get it. I can see really well. Gee whiz, if I couldn’t see… and mum can’t see…? we’d be in BIG TROUBLE!

“Please Release Me…”

If you’re as old as I am, you will remember the song written by Eddie Miller in 1946 that was popularized by Englebert Humperdinck in the 60′s… “Release Me”. However, if you are older, you may be more familiar with songs bearing the same title performed by Wilson Phillips or the Swedish group, Oh Laura. No matter. For my purposes, the tortured lyrics of all of those tunes do not have much bearing on this blog. Here’s what happened this morning that had Opal singing her OWN version.

It was 5 am when Opal gave me my daily wake-up kiss. I stumbled out of bed as I do 365 days a year and proceeded to don my clothes like a robot. We then went outside to give her the opportunity to relieve. The routine drill when we return to our apartment is for me to plug in the coffeemaker and to begin the much-anticipated activity of feeding the girls. Perhaps my zombie-like stupor was more pronounced than usual this morning. I managed to pick up Opal’s dish, go to the cupboard where the rubber tote filled with dog food is located, scoop a mug full of her kibble into the dish, add the warm water, set the dish down on her place mat, and…. walk away in a daze to deal with Lucy’s dietary needs. I gave Lucy her kibble ration in one bowl, a spoon-full of soft cat food in her tiny saucer and fresh water in her dish (all lined up neatly on her Christmas-theme place mat that is identical to Opal’s). Then I thought to myself, ‘ something is wrong here’. Opal was thinking that too. In fact the thought bubble over her head was singing ” Please release me…” Yes, I had forgotten to ‘release’ Opal to her food. There she sat, undoubtedly salivating and praying for me to come to my senses! It might seem harsh to train dogs to wait for permission before approaching their food, however this type of discipline does have its positive results. Dogs, particularly Guide dogs must understand the hierarchy in their ‘pack’. I am the leader of my pack. Opal knows that above all, she can depend on me as her leader, to be in charge, to care for her and to take care of business. (oops, I just squeezed two more references to stale songs; ‘Leader of the Pack’ by The Shangri-Las and “Taking Care of Business” by BTO) The moment I came to my senses and realized that Opal was waiting for me to release her to her food ration, I spoke the words that are always music to her ears…”Good girl, eat your breakfast”. I occasionally use a feeding ‘whistle’ to do the job, but that’s a bit much for my neighbours so early in the morning. You can bet that it doesn’t matter to Opal what means I use to ‘release’ her, as long as I do so eventually.

The Gift of Giving

I am as poor as a church mouse. At least, that’s what my bank account would have you believe. Do I have hidden riches? You bet. No, it’s not Opal, my ‘precious jewel’… though that would be a good answer. My latest ‘riches’ arrived through the Advisory Committee For Persons with Disabilities which I chair. Recently, the city Mayor and Council felt generous (and maybe wanted to make points for the upcoming municipal election?). They approved $200,000 for fixing or adapting or creating stuff in HRM buildings to make them more accessible for persons with disabilities. Nice. The committee’s job is to decide how this money gets spent. We have a wish list that is growing by the minute. My suggestion was to maximize the spending of this money. 200K is squat when you consider that this is the price tag for major accessibility surgery like putting in one new elevator in a community center. I wanted to do the most with this, and effect change in many buildings. Yesterday, after much discussion following the ‘pitch’ from a representative from the Sledge Hockey Task Force, we passed a motion to funnel 35 thousand towards retrofitting the Bowles arena in Dartmouth (auto door opener and washroom) so that the new sledge hockey team can get off the ground here in HRM. Sledge Hockey, by the way, is a form of hockey that uses ‘sledges’ to move disabled players around the ice. This is CANADA! Hockey is our game and part of our identity. All kids should have the opportunity to participate in the game. What a wonderful gift for me to be able to say the words, “motion passed”. I had bumped into Mayor Kelly before my meeting started (He was coming into city hall as I was stepping out to relieve Opal). He knew who I was though I don’t know why. We’ve only met at big, crowded functions. My paranoia led me to believe that he has been following this blog…remember the ‘can relocator’ and my confession by proxy? I think I mentioned that I should be dumping Opal’s poop bags on his desk because my requested garbage can had not arrived after two months… my photo is on one page of this blog…you can see how my mind got to this conclusion. But no, he was setting up for the Pride flag raising ceremony (could it be that Mayor Kelly is courting the gay vote?) and the reception in Halifax Hall which followed. I told him that I was going to my meeting and that I was not pleased that he had booted us out of our regular meeting room (about to be used for the Pride Week shindig). He suggested that I drop by after my meeting. I did. It was a little crowded and noisy. You know what people are like when food is available on the city’s dime. I stayed long enough to say hello to Mayor Kelly again. He told me that he is feeling better after his recent hospitalization. He insisted that I take one of the sweets from the tray he was wielding around like a social butterfly. Perhaps I’ll send him a note to announce the spending of some money for the sledge hockey team and their arena. Could it be that we can double the 200K amount that is set aside for disability-related retrofitting next year?

Don’t Bug My Mum Today

I love my mum. She loves me, feeds me, plays with me and we go to neat places together. Sometimes, I feel that I must step in and take care of her. It’s Sunday today and that means we are going to church. She’s not feeling very well, I think… something about minnows pausing. I don’t get it. I think she’s just tired from being up half the night changing the sheets on her bed. I really need a little sign to wear on my harness. No, not the “don’t pet me, I’m working” sign… I need something that reads, “Don’t Bug My Mum Today”. She needs rest and maybe an ice pack to cool her off, but definitely NOT a stupid bus driver forgetting to tell us when we have arrived at our stop or a guy in an SUV trying to mow us down in a crosswalk. Sheesh! I don’t know what she’ll do if somebody bugs us this afternoon at the ball game. Frankly, I think it’s too hot to sit around in the sun, even if it is the annual Dykes and Divas game. She promised me that we are outta there if it starts to thunder. Suits me fine. Mum told me she’s not into the ‘Pride’ thing anyway. I don’t know what this means either. I’m a smart Guide dog, but that doesn’t mean I understand humans or what they are talking about half the time. I know words like, “left”, “right”, “find the lift” and the ones that REALLY matter in life, like “suppertime” and “I love you Opal”.

Fun is a Cardboard Box

My guide dog, Opal love her toys. She is particularly fond of her ‘skibble ball’. Don’t go looking for anything by that name at the doggie toy store because you won’t find it. There are many variations of this ball. It’s one of the ‘smart’ toys that challenges your dog. It is a hollow, rubbery ball with a small hole in which you can deposit a few pieces of kibble. The hole has a short tubular entrance leading into the ball’s core which ensures that when your dog propels it around on the floor by using their shcnoz in an attempt to shake the kibble out, the skibble will not fall out too easily. Guide dogs enjoy toys that offer a challenge. These dogs are problem solvers in their jobs, so playtime needs to be stimulating too. Opal has tried several methods to get to the skibble out ( we adopted that word because my computer ‘spellcheck’ insists that is how to properly spell ‘kibble’). She has tried picking it up in her mouth (it’s less than 5″ in diameter) and heaving it across the room. Once she dropped it from her perch on the sofa (oops, did I just confess that she’s allowed up on the furniture?). My smart cookie figured out that when there are many pieces of kibble in the ball, there is a greater probability that they will drop out faster. So, when it gets ‘low’ on skibble, she brings it to me, expecting a top-up and a fast track to the skibble. Playing skibble ball would become a never-ending activity, if Opal had her way. I don’t want a 200 pound dog, so we vary the toys. Good, safe dog toys can be expensive. ‘Good’ is the operative word. You can pay a lot of money for something that is totally boring to your dog (dog toys are marketed for the owners). Opal’s favourite? A cardboard box. Give the girl an empty cardboard box and she is one happy dog! I discovered this accidentally when I was in the 4-month packing phase before moving. She just picked one up and took off. The chase was on. Serious ripping and shredding ensued combined with some tug-of-war. Sure, there is plenty of cardboard shrapnel to collect after, but the sheer joy she we have playing with it for five minutes is well worth it to both of us. Fun is a cardboard box. I save one or two boxes in my closet which I bring out when we need that special play time. I make sure to clean it all up. Opal won’t eat any of it, but some dogs might. Use your judgement with the toys (improvised or otherwise) you give your dog.

Opal ‘Gets the Beat’

Opal’s life is dictated by my activities. Where I go, she goes. Lucky for her, I tend to go to varied and interesting places. Yesterday, for example, we attended the annual ILRC (Independent Living Resource Centre–now renamed ILC Independent Living Canada) picnic. It was held on the grounds behind the Natural History Museum; a perfectly lovely and fully accessible setting. She dodged wheel chairs and scooters like a pro. Once again, she shone when the guy with the nutty guide dog allowed his dog to wander (in harness) and attempt to pin Opal into, uuhmm… a compromising position. Actually it’s all about the handler, not the dog. It’s the handler’s responsibility to keep track of what their dog is up to. I yelled out, “John, sort your dog out!” while ensuring that his ‘boy’ did not get too carried away and that Opal maintained her cool. We were waiting in the food line at the time. My friend remarked that John had not noticed that his dog’s paws were stationary on the hot paved path. I had Opal on the grass beside it. It boggles my mind that handlers don’t think more about the comfort and safety of their guides. We eventually got our plates and settled at a table in the shade to enjoy our meal. The food was excellent; a Mediterranean feast of tabbouleh, humus, vegie cabbage rolls, pita, tomatoes and olives. Later, an excellent baklava was served. Numerous prizes were drawn, and my friend won a t-shirt. The after-food activities included visits from a face painter ( Opal and I passed), an offer to create a chef d’oeuvre from a balloon artist ( I passed on that too, given my irrational fear of balloons popping). However, when we were invited to join the drum circle, my interest peaked. A drum circle facilitator (Heather Pentz of Tidal Beat) passed out dozens of drums and shakers. SHE had a Djembe drum which I fell in love with. Djembe drums have a wonderful, rich sound that, in the right hands, can soothe, rouse, calm, or move (emotionally) whomever is in the circle. It brought back memories of Saturday mornings in Montreal where, on the slope of Mount Royal, upwards of 25 Djembe drummers would gather to play together. It was an intoxicating experience that I recall sharing with hundreds of other Montrealais who would gather to listen. I imagine they still do. The little drum circle at the picnic was not quite of that caliber, but I enjoyed it all the same, as well as the trip down memory lane. Opal appreciated it too. At the very least, she liked the smell of the goat skin drum cover stretched over a hand carved base of West African wood. I KNOW Opal ‘gets the beat’, like her mum. Hmm. I sense the purchase of a Djembe drum in our future! I think it’s my answer to my search for a ‘stress-buster’.

Thanks to ILRC and it’s director, Lois Miller who always puts together a great event. Her dedicated work and unparalled commitment to the community is appreciated by so many. Her husband (sound guy) and staff are remarkable people who always help out and make it a fun event for some folks who don’t always have an opportunity to ‘step out’.

D.A.W.G. nominee

Dear Wise Advice, we understand that you know the lady with the good looking black Lab Guide dog, Opal. We at the DAWG Committee would like to nominate Opal IV for her recent achievements. The DAWG’s (Dandy Award for Wonderful Guides) are handed out each September to deserving guide dogs who have been nominated by a group of their peers. It seems that a string of deeds performed by Opal of Halifax, has moved the community. First, Jaguar (the German Shepherd Guide and neighbour) claims that Opal has inspired him to behave like a gentlemen. Second, the yappy wiener dog (prefers to remain anonymous) is moved with gratitude that Opal (and her mum) have not yet reported him to ‘animal control’. Third, the bus driver on the #6 is very impressed that Opal saves her mum from getting hit in the crosswalk every day. Fourth, the drivers of the cars that pass the bus in the crosswalk and nearly kill Opal and her mum, are pleased that they are regularly spared the ‘hassle’ of a vehicular manslaughter charge. Finally, the Guide dog in the bus shelter at the terminal yesterday? The one who threw himself at the plexi-glass wall in the bus shelter and started barking so loudly when he spotted Opal working the sidewalk outside the shelter that his handler didn’t know what to do? He is VERY impressed. Opal was playing hard to get, he claims. More importantly, she totally ignored him… because she was doing her job so extraordinarily well. Please contact Opal and announce the good news; she is DANDY material. The award ceremonies will be held at the Halifax Service dog park/run (if and when it is ever approved by HRM for construction). The alternate venue is somewhere in Chicago, given that the Chicago Off Leash Dog Recreation Play Group is so fond of entertaining and particularly keen on Canadian attendance to all its events.

Confession by Proxy

Opal and I had a weekend guest. A lovely time was had by all… yada, yada. However, by the time that my best bud returned home, she was hit by an overwhelming sense of guilt. Her crime? At some point, I mentioned that I had a little problem. Kind-hearted soul that she is, she enquired as to the nature of my distress. That was all the encouragement I needed to bear my soul.

TWO MONTHS AGO, I called the HRM call center (Halifax Regional Municipality) to request the installation of a litter basket at the bus stop near my home. I thought I had lucked out when I actually got a call centre operator whom I  know personally.   What are the chances?! … the same woman to whom I had GIVEN a desk via an Internet ad. My garbage can was as good as delivered to my corner, I thought. I told ‘T’ (operator) all about my situation; I have no where to dump my guide dog, Opal’s poop bags if she relieves herself on the way to the bus stop. In the past, I would ‘park’ them by the bus shelter and collect them on the way home… IF I returned via the same route, and IF I remembered. “All I want is a litter basket somewhere by the shelter, or attached to the pole”. “No problem”, claims ‘T’. Several weeks later I began to doubt ‘T’ ‘s influence on the public works department when my garbage container failed to materialize. I called again, referring to the 10 digit number assigned to my report. I was told to be patient. On my last and 6th call to the HRM call centre, I asked the one-name wonder at the end of the line (NOT ‘T’) if she thought I should start leaving my poop filled bags IN the bus shelter, or perhaps bring them ONTO THE BUS? (I imagined bringing them to the mayor’s office) She did not seem to think those options were viable. Mindy, Suzette, or whatever her name was, went on to say that there was a backlog of work in Halifax from this past WINTER. I suggested that perhaps the city was too busy chopping down trees on Chebucto Road ( 12 protesters were arrested that day trying to save trees from senseless demise for unpopular road expansion) to take care of its obligations. She told me in her deadpan voice that it was an “unrelated issue”.

So, as my friend listened to my tale of woe about my battle with the city, she became most interested in the part about the garbage can at the bus stop ACROSS the street from my stop. I told her that if it weren’t for the traffic and the ‘crosswalk of death’ to get to that container, I might consider using it.

Maybe it was the blueberry pancakes I had made for breakfast or Opal’s winning smile that made her do it… More to the point, my friend took a stroll up to the corner ( Sunday morning 6 am and quite deadsville at the time) and uhm… moved re-located the garbage container to my side of the street. I was really impressed! Those cans weigh upwards of 35 pounds! We rationalized that this had been a Robin Hood type of situation.

I made a poop bag ‘deposit’ on the way to the bus stop four hours later. I’m in heaven! My friend, on the other hand is experiencing an attack of guilt. She considered turning herself in (to the call centre), but thought better of it when I told her that our city was crazy enough to bust her for it. Look what they do to tree huggers in Halifax, I pointed out. So, in lieu of my pal calling the HRM call center, I hereby confess by proxy on her behalf. Take that public works! … and maybe revise the original request. Send a new can to the opposite side of the street instead.

Psst, Taxi Driver….

Psst, taxi driver…yeah you, the guy working for Yellow Cab who picked me up the other day. Here’s a tip. Actually, it’s a caution. Don’t ever try to sneak on the additional charge to my fare because you’re counting my REGISTERED GUIDE DOG as an ‘extra passenger’ again. And by the way...my guide dog is NOT A CNIB DOG!!!! There’s no such thing! Nor is Opal a Seeing Eye dog…so stop referring to guide dogs by those very inaccurate names.

Tips For Maria And Her Blind Friend

I received a comment from a lady, named Maria Begona. I’m guessing Maria is Italian. She read an older blog which I wrote about Blindness. She asked for more ‘tips’. Her specific difficulty is one of communication. Her friend who is blind speaks another language. So, after promising to sleep on it, here a few thoughts and tips for Maria.

• Audible clues are very important for someone who is blind. For example, tapping the edge of the seat, and perhaps placing your friend’s hand on the seat’s surface does not require speaking the same language to him/her. They will know what you are trying to communicate.
• Similarly, you can help them locate things like counters in shops, doorways, etc.
• In public areas, it is very helpful to maintain the audible communication because of ambient noise. If you want someone who is blind to come towards you, keep up a dialogue (“I’m over here to your left…yes a little further…keep coming towards my voice…” ) It doesn’t really matter what language you are speaking because it’s the SOUND that is important, not the words. Avoid an overly-loud display, as this is potentially embarrassing for someone.
• In crowded rooms (like a party or concert hall), it can be confusing and stressful for a blind person to be standing in the midst of this. (Next time you’re at a cocktail-type party, close your eyes and you will soon realize how chaotic the whole thing sounds.) So, find a wall or something which the blind person can use to stand by. It will be reassuring and more comfortable.
• Often, in noisy places, the blind person will not know when someone is speaking to them because of the cacophony of voices. A gentle touch to the forearm before you speak will alert them. Remember to advise them you are leaving them. You have no idea how many times I have ended up talking to myself in a crowded room!
• Buffets seem to be popular now in North America. I don’t know about Italy (if that’s where you live), but if you are with a blind person at a buffet, offer to fill their plate. They might want to walk through the buffet line with you so you can describe the food (if you can translate). If it’s too crowded, find them a seat or standing area, and go through the buffet line collecting the food while they wait.
• When setting plates of food or cups of beverages down on the table for a blind person, the important thing to remember is to caution them if the plate, food or drink is hot. You can say so or if you don’t know the words in their language, you can guide their hand to the area NEAR the plate or cup. Linger over it. they will feel the heat and be prudent.
• Food like chicken, lobster and steak can be difficult for a blind person to eat if the food has a bone. You can offer to remove the meat from the bone. In restaurants, your blind friend probably knows that they can ask the waiter to have the chef do the same. Discretion is important to me, so I guess it might be to other blind people.
• Sticking with dining tips (I love my food), I like plenty of serviettes available at my hand when I eat in a restaurant or cafe.

I once attended a dinner with a Portuguese family in Greece. No one spoke English or French. I did not speak their languages. We had a marvelous time and I enjoyed a good visit. The lady of the house showed me some of her treasures, including pottery, embroidered dresses and more. I enjoy experiencing textures and appreciating art. It’s all relative! while someone SEES art, I sense it differently. Remember that your friend may really enjoy a ‘touch tour’ of your home or a local site (like a museum or park). CAUTION! Not all textures are pleasant to touch. Nor do all blind people enjoy the same stuff. (I hate insects, so walking in the woods is not my cup of tea. I love to walk by the ocean). It’s a matter of personal taste. Also, I enjoy listening to music or comedy routines on CD with my sighted friend. It is something we can share equally.

I hope this was helpful, Maria. I will continue to think about this, and will offer more ideas or tips as they come to me.

Wise Advice for Hot Dogs

Now that I’ve got all the sausage dog (oops, I mean ‘long dog’ ) owners scrutinizing my blog again ( “blind blogger hurls insults at Dachshund owner…” remember that?), I will remind ALL dog owners and handlers how to minimize the effect of hot weather on their pooch.  It’s one of those hot and humid days here in Halifax, so Opal is a little listless. Me?  I’m sitting around in my birthday suit and sweating.  Dogs don’t have the luxury of removing their fur coats. Nor do they sweat like humans. Their paw pads ‘sweat’ only minimally.  Perspiration is the human body’s method of regulating its core temperature. You will notice your dog panting when she is hot (or nervous). That’s their means of cooling. However, dogs can’t really cool off efficiently in hot weather. You must be cautious with your pet or working dog in the summer’s heat.  Here are a few points to remember.

• Avoid mid day exercise or walks. Early morning and evening are preferable times.
• Some towns allow use of pesticides on lawns or for plants and gardens. Watch that your dog does not eat vegitation or lick paws laced with the stuff.
• Water. Lots of it available in a tip-proof dish at home. Bring some with you when you go out.
• NEVER leave your dog in a parked car. Thousands of dogs die from heat exhaustion in cars every summer. If you see a distressed dog in a parked car, call the police or animal control. 
• NEVER allow a dog to ride in the back of an open vehicle (pickup truck)
• Provide access to shade and shelter if your dog is outside. 
• Watch for antifreeze puddles in parking lots. Dogs will lap up the sweet stuff and get sick or die.
• Do not shave your dog. They need their coat for insulation and to avoid sunburn.
• Do not put human sunscreen or insect repellent on dogs.
• Pavement and asphalt gets very hot in the sun and your dog will absorb heat through its pads. The pads may burn.  Walk on the shady side if possible, and do not stand idle on hot pavement. 
• Service dog handlers should plan visits to air conditioned buildings when they can (We hang at the mall or cinema). It will provide respite. Allow more time to get where your going so you can work your dog more slowly.
• Watch that your rover doesn’t get hurt when you’re having a Bar B Q (matches, propane tanks, coals)
• beach outings should not be in blazing sun. Wash salt water off your dog if it swims in the ocean.
• Pools, lakes are tempting to dogs. Supervise swimming as you would your children. Not all dogs are good swimmers. 
• SIGNS OF HEAT EXHAUSTION/HYPERTHERMIA/HEAT STROKE: —Rapid, frantic panting—Bright red or purple tongue and gums—thick saliva—vomiting—staggering gait—rapid pulse—temperature increase to 105F—diarrhea—collapse—coma—If you think your dog is dangerously overheated: You must lower its core temperature by removing it to a cooler environment, immersing or dousing with cool (not cold) water. Start giving small amounts of water to drink. Contact the vet. 

Hey! Warning for the 3 drivers who….

To the 3 (three) drivers who almost ran me down yesterday…. IN A CROSSWALK!

Dear Tom, Dick and Harry,

Yeah, I know it was hot yesterday and maybe you guys were in a hurry to get home to the beer and burgers, but you really need to be more cautious around crosswalks. Maybe you didn’t notice the gigantic Metro Transit BUS that was stopped which you PASSED illegally… at a MARKED CROSSWALK? Perhaps you were too busy playing with your radios,  cell phones, or your ‘privates’ to see the FLASHING YELLOW CROSSWALK LIGHTS?  Was the music in your car blasting so loud that you could not hear the BEEPING CROSSWALK SIGNAL?  Didn’t the string of cars STOPPED in the opposing direction give you a clue? Let me guess. The air conditioning in your big gas guzzling SUV was on the fritz and you needed to keep moving at all costs to maintain the cooling breeze?  I know. You were thinking, “So far, I’ve got away with running crosswalks without getting caught by the cops, so what the hell? I’ll blow through just one more and to hell with the lady and dog in the middle of it?”  Hmm. Well boys, the party’s over. Today, I am declaring war on you. It’s for your own good. I don’t want you to kill some poor schoolchild in a crosswalk someday, and then have to live with the ensuing police investigation, maybe a suspended license so you can’t drive to the store to  buy your beer, the TON of media attention (all bad press that will make you feel like a worm) and who knows? even a little guilt?  No, I’m shutting you down before it comes to that. Watch yourselves fellows ’cause I have already spoken with the Divisional commander of the HRM police about increasing police presence here. You can expect a police cruiser to be parked behind a bush near the crosswalk in question for a while. Chances are they’ll enjoy pulling you over when they see you race through the crosswalk. They really like to  play with the flashing lights on the cop car and hey, maybe even the siren if you are stupid enough not to notice the lights. I KNOW they will love handing you a ticket with a big honking fine.

Where is it?! I Can’t Find My…..

I do my very best to keep my ‘stuff’ where I will find it when I need it. What does this mean? It means a few years ago, I had a ‘moment’, an epiphany if you will. A light bulb went off in my brain. I realised that if I did not become an organized and tidy person, I would lose my mind. At the very least, I would continue to be an  extremely frustrated and unhappy woman. I was tired of wasting half my life looking for a set of keys or my red sweater.  I had lost a great deal of vision, and could no longer find things easily.  I had cultivated a life-long bad habit of not caring where anything was placed.   In my attempt to maintain an artsy-fartsy image as a free spirit, disorganization ruled my life.   I think that I went out of my way to NOT care about having my things in any semblance of order.  I liked the persona of the harried hack with a desk piled high with papers and a kitchen counter filled with dishes (mostly dirty).  I wore forgetfulness like a badge of honour.  Somehow it seem to fit then.  Not so much any more. If you can’t see,  this type of lifestyle will wear you down.  The key ring or t-shirt that I set down willy nilly one minute suddenly began to  ’disappear’ the next.  When I needed that key ring or t-shirt again,  I  often found myself spending hours searching, tossing things around in anger and frustration.  When the big ‘ah ha’ moment happened,  I set about to introduce order and neatness into my life.  What ensued was a month-long marathon of methodical inspecting, evaluating, and sorting out of every item in my possession.  I tossed out my useless trash, gave away and donated unwanted items and found a specific place to put every thing I owned.  Baskets, hooks, bins and boxes became my friends.  I insisted that all visitors to my apartment respect my need for order by NOT MOVING MY STUFF!  For my part, I vowed never again to set an item down that was not in its assigned place. Occasionally my ‘system’ failed and I could be heard  shouting in exasperation, “Where is it?! I can’t find my…” (insert missing object du jour).  Still today I sometimes misplace something. All it takes is a momentary distraction for me to set something down and… it’s gone. Opal knows to stay out of my way when I’m upset and ‘looking’ for my stuff. I don’t expect her to find it even if she knows what I’m looking for. It’s not ‘in her job description’.  She has enough to do by ensuring that I don’t fall off a curb or get hit by a car.  My wise advice for anyone with vision loss is to get organized. Your friends may start accusing you of being obsessive or having compulsive tendencies.  Ignore them. Do what you need to do to save yourself the frustration that arises out of chaos.  For a blind person, it’s really about survival.

Near Miss For My Miss Opal

Sometimes Opal and I get into rambunctious play mode… in the apartment. I try to limit her indoor toy collection to the softer variety; plush puppies, rubber rings, that sort of thing.  Despite my best efforts to keep things ‘cool’, once in a while she just go nuts. OK, maybe I don’t always ask her to “settle Gretel”  or “take a break” when I should. Call me a bad mum or an “enabler” as any TV pop-psych guru worth their salt (and obscene paychecks) would. Yesterday, for example, Opal and I got into a lively soccer match. We use a lightweight  ’fuzzy’ plush pumpkin as a ball.  This toy came to us after a friend cleaned out her closet of unwanted  Halloween stuff.  The trouble started when I was attempting to get a goal past her.  Perhaps I  used too much spin on my kick.  The ball  warped out  of control into the corner of the living room.  This is where my exercise rowing machine  leans upright against a wall.  Opal is an avid player and a good goalie, not too mention a dandy seeker’ (we love the Harry Potter audio series). She took off after that plush pumpkin like a Greyhound goes after a rabbit.  I heard a loud thunk which could only be dog hitting metal (rower).  Then came the scraping sound of the rower skidding down the wall, followed by a sickening crash of my rower hitting the…. floor?  My heart reached my mouth as the adrenaline in my system kicked in. My mind raced in all directions (mostly towards the vet on North Street) but my feet ran to find my girl.  She was fine. The rower? A chip off the frame but who cares!? I checked Opal over carefully.  She seemed to have been given a total miss by the forty-five pound pile of metal that adorns my lounge but rarely sees action. No more! That rower is going to a new home in the hall closet. My girl could have been seriously hurt. I can’t imagine trying to explain such a  freak accident to the vet. Maybe I could. Last year she fell off the bed. She had been looking out the window (major busybody). Somehow she managed to pirouette off my bed and hit her butt on the top edge of the CCTV (big magnifying machine). She landed on the floor. A small scratch to her buttocks refused to heal, became infected, and necessitated a trip to the vet. A topical treatment was applied…. after he shaved her butt.  She was not in pain, at least not physical pain. However, her gigantic and obsessive preoccupation with her ‘look’, was shattered. She was mortified at the thought of being  seen in public with a big naked patch on her back end.  I thought I would have to shave MY head in solidarity or at least knit Opal a butt ‘toupee’.  We survived THAT episode as we survived yesterday’s near miss. I learned (again) that you can’t  be too cautious in making sure that your home is a safe environment for your animals…and that some force bigger than me is looking out for my girl.

Still Not Announcing Bus Stops in Halifax

Hmm. Yesterday was hot and humid. According to those who saw the interview on TV, Opal looked bored. I can tell you now, she was hot and bothered. So was I.  A CBC ‘Nova Scotia News at 6′ reporter phoned to ask me for a follow-up interview about Metro Transit’s policy/lack of policy/inability to comply with a policy to ANNOUNCE BUS STOPS.  You would think that this is a no-brainer. Apparently not. Metro Transit’s acting general manager was asked to comment on the elusive plan to install a ‘voice enunciator system’ (automaticaly announces stops as buses cruise along the route).  Money. Yes, it’s all about the underfunding, the high cost of such a system…. but one day…

Sorry, that’s not good enough.  Halifax must come to its senses and get in line with major cities across this country (including Vancouver, Toronto, Winnipeg, and Ottawa) and the dozens of small town transit companies who have adopted a policy to announce stops on buses and on other forms of transit.  Some have seen the light all on their own,  while other cities (like Toronto and Ottawa) have been mandated  to do so through Human Rights Tribunals and other legislating bodies.

This is the city that is trying to sell its HRM (Halifax) By Design strategy. If this town wants to become an urban mecca, then it needs to get serious about transit. That’s right. Get the money from the feds, the province or maybe the money can be secured by taxing the gas-guzzling  (usually single-driver) vehicles entering the downtown core (like London).  I don’t really care. Neither does the rest of the blind population AND the other citizens in this city who would like to know where they are on the bus route. We have several universities here with a huge student population arriving “FROM AWAY” each year.  We have a small invasion each summer of cruise ship passengers and other tourists.  We have numerous  people immigrating to Canada  who land on our shore and into our city each year as well as  other newcomers to town.  NONE OF THEM KNOW WHERE THEY ARE GOING!!  Surprise!  You must realize that not all residents know where each street, transfer point, major intersection or significant public building is located on every bus route. So, find the money for the automated system. Pick a date for the project to be finalized by. In the meanwhile, make the drivers announce major stops!!! They can do it the old fashioned way and shout out the stops! Give them a trip sheet to figure out what those major stops are. If they don’t like it, TOO BAD!  Maybe the pressure Metro Transit management gets  from their union (you KNOW they will go cry foul to the union. Winnipeg drivers did) will be motivation to find the money for the automated system lickety split! Sheesh!

Art and Blindness

I sometimes get ideas that have potential. Recently, I planned  ”Blind Art Day”.  My idea is to assemble a group of blind and partially sighted adults to create art works in a fun and relaxing setting.  This all came about when I met with the Mosaic For Mental Health committee at CMHA.  The Canadian Mental Health Association Halifax, has had this unique fundraising event going for 10 years. Each  year, hundreds of 6 inch square masonite tiles are distributed to anyone interested in turning them into artistic creations. The tiles are returned to CMHA along with a submission form. In October, the tiles are displayed over three days at a lovely public venue. All of Halifax is invited to browse the art and purchase one or many more for the incredible cost of $10.00.  They can be framed on the spot for a few more dollars.  All of the proceeds go to support this worthy community organization.  As past-president of the CMHA board of directors, I  occasionally get involved in supporting their activities.  I offered to work on producing some promotional writing on this 10th anniversary of the Mosaic.  Traditionally, the art created for the Mosaic has been painted.  At some point, my mind wandered into new territory. Why not include some tactile art in the collection?  Why not get some blind people off their duffs and organize… Blind Art Day?  So, on August 15th, a group of people will get together for a few hours to create some art, have some fun and support a worthy organization.  That’s how it will work in theory. My obsessive need for preparedness led me to the Internet to search for information on how to create Blind art, teach it, facilitate it, what materials to use, what not to  use and so on.  I wandered into a site with articles on teaching art for blind children. Lo and behold, I found a wonderful article written by Martha Pamperin. My Martha Pamperin!  Martha is currently a teacher for the Hadley School for the Blind. She was my Braille teacher. We have never met.  (Hadley offers free distance education to blind people around the world Link on my blogroll). I continue to keep in contact with Martha whenever anything interesting comes up that I think she might want ot know about.  I felt certain that she would have wise advice  to offer me about the upcoming Blind Art Day. Indeed she did!  I have combined my own ideas with some of Martha’s here. If you have a blind child whose creative genius you want to foster  or want to get a Blind Art project of your own going with adults, here are a few suggestions:

Much depends on how skillful and experienced the blind artist is.  Some blind people have not experienced art projects that are not for sighted people. Martha explained that in her experience, some teachers try to get blind kids to create things that look OK, but ignore the whole realm of tactile and kinesthetic features of art. It’s a good idea to get a sense of what the prospective artist’s experience has been. What do they find to be personally moving, evoking a feeling, satisfying to the touch, or just nice  to have and be near?  What makes something attractive?  What materials are pleasant to handle and are not?  One of the most important things to consider is the amount of usable vision that the artist has.  This will make a difference in how they go about creating the art work.  Some materials that I am trying to amass in the arsenal for Blind Art Day, include: florists wire to shape and make lines with. Pipe cleaners are also good to make thicker lines. Heavy string might be used, but it is harder to keep in place. It can be knotted or looped to create interesting designs. Two dimensional shapes can be made from colourful poster board. I plan to bring 8″ square sheets that can be cut into shapes by the artists. Fabric scraps are also excellent. A mix of burlap, corduroy, satin, flannel, wool, velvet, taffeta, and blends will provide a tactile selection to choose from. It is best to have helpers on hand to cut fabric. Paper can be crumpled to create interesting three dimensional effects.  All kinds of interesting objects can be used; buttons, washers, bump dots, feathers (a bit awkward to glue), paper clips, old keys, leaves, foam shapes, old jewelery, beads, notebook rings, cut-up pieces of carpet or textured wall paper… pretty much anything that you can think of. It’s a good idea to ask the artist to bring a small personally meaningful item to incorperate.  One of the first steps on Blind Art Day will be to allow the artists to plan their work. it’s important for everyone to examine the available materials. This can be done by placing some of each material on a tray or two to allow each person to know what is available. Baskets can be used to group the chosen items at each persons work area and to keep materials from drifting into another person’s work space.  Smaller tables are probably best to work at, or desks.  If larger tables are used, use plastic place mats or something else to define the individual work space. The artist should spend time arranging the chosen materials.  A type of clay that starts out soft and sets after a few hours can be used to keep things in place. Martha suggests that there is a type of glue which works well to place things. It is the type used to make post-it notes. I think glue sticks are made of  this type of glue.  Once the material is in satisfactory position with post-it glue, a helper can assist to bond things with more permanant glue. (NO CRAZY GLUE!).  I had thought of glitter. Martha cautioned me against it for use with adults. The result would look like something created by a clumsy child. It’s not pleasant to feel. A somewhat similar effect can be achieved with pieces of unused  sand paper. The advantage is that the shape can be easily defined by touch. Sighted helpers should allow creative juices to flow and not provide excessive direction. Judgemental comments like, “that’s beautiful” or “I like that” should be avoided. The artists need to please themselves.  Instead, they could say, ” are you happy with your art piece?” or “tell me about your creation” or “I notice you have a lot of spiral shapes there”. The helpers should FEEL the artwork before commenting.  All people can be involved in both creating art and appreciating it. The process might be different for blind people, but just as satisfying and enriching. If you are planning a project like mine, you might consider soliciting donations of materials. I have had success with some local paint stores (paint colour sample strips), carpeting stores (swatches of carpet samples), design stores (wallpaper samples), as well as my motley crew of artsy-crafty friends who can stand to part with some supplies.

One More Smart Ass Answer…

Yesterday, at the Public Gardens where Opal and I attended a Canada Day concert, someone asked me the following:  ”Is that a blind dog?”  I knew of course what the woman meant… Is that a dog for the blind?  However, this came on the heels of ANOTHER question that was raised on the bus ride over to the concert. The fat guy sitting next to me had asked; “Is that a seeing dog?”.  He meant, I assume, Is that a Seeing Eye dog?  It was hot and crowded on the bus, so instead of launching into the ‘Guide dog/Seeing Eye dog- What is the difference?’ explanation, I concentrated on getting off at the right stop and without injury to Opal.  Maybe it was the cramped, airless bus and Caribbean soccer team reeking of aftershave that boarded at the university and threatened to flatten me and step on Opal’s toes that put me over the top. By the time we finally settled at the Gardens and the woman came along and asked about the’ blind dog’, I had lost my charm, my cool and my ability to think of a REALLY good comeback. My smart ass answer was, “No, she’s not a blind dog. If she were, we’d really have trouble getting around”. She didn’t think it was very funny, though I did hear some chuckles and tittering from people sitting nearby. 

Opal Joins The Mounties!

It is Canada Day!  Opal and I took in a concert at the Public Gardens here in Halifax. We expected (according to the blurb on the HRM web site), two hours of live music (40′s, 50′s and 60′s) at the band shell. The music was pretty much a bust, however, we loved the free water, maple cookies, Canadian flags and pins (Opal has a tiny Canadian maple leaf flag pin attached to her harness now). Best of all, Opal joined the RCMP!  Well, she actually joined the two Mounties that were standing around, for a photo ‘op’.  We both did. There we were, both grinning between the pair of ‘posers’ in red serge, big boots and peaked hats. They tussled her head. (No comment about Guide dog patting from me!) These guys were busy as Canadian beavers with the lineup of people wanting their snapshot taken with the men in red.  My question to them?  ”Where are your horses”? Now THAT would have been a photo! Maybe we need to visit Regina (home of the RCMP Musical Ride).

From Another Century

I’m from another century. I was born in 1955 (yeah, that’s right. I’m a 52 year old hot and cranky menopausal woman). To put it into context, I was born BEFORE the moon landing, the creation of the Internet, the assassination of JFK, desegregation in the USA, 911, the invention of things like cell phones, hybrid cars, i-pods, CD’s, GPS, and personal computers. When I was a kid, we did not have terms in our vocabulary like ‘global warming’, ‘weapons of mass destruction”, climate change’, ‘political correctness’, ‘carbon credits’, ‘environmental footprint’, ‘Me generation’, ‘baby boomers’, ‘cultural mosaic’,  or ‘google it’.  So, today, as I used Windows Messenger to ‘Live chat’ with a woman who is an urban planner in the United Kingdom (she discovered me through reading my blog), I suddenly realized how much my life has been changed by the technological transformation that has occurred in the world in the relatively short time since my birth. It was a startling and heady experience. I felt both awed and humbled. I don’t understand how technology works for the most part.  I doubt if many people understand it either, or can even explain how (technically)  e-mail or ‘Live messages’ get onto their computer screens. We punch keys and click away, totally oblivious to the power beneath our fingers and how the information finds its way onto our screen or comes out of our speakers.  I try not to dwell on this stuff… ’cause it can make you crazy! However, I am pleased that I had the opportunity to chat with Annie in England about transit and other things.  It struck me as significant enough to merit a blog… thank goodness some things still strike me as a ‘big deal’ some times. 

Opal Goes To The UU Picnic

I am told that for the past nine years, the annual Universalist Unitarian Church of Halifax picnic has had beautiful weather on almost each occasion. Not so this year! It rained steadily in Nova Scotia for most of the day. When Opal and I arrived with our friend and food in tow, it was no surprise to learn that the UU’s would be eating indoors today. In true UU fashion, our congregation took lemons and made lemonade.  Sure, it would have been lovely to be outside, hanging off the deck and playing ring-toss on the church’s grassy lawn, but Plan ‘B’ was plenty of fun. The pot luck food was excellent and plentiful.  The ‘After Choir’ sounded great with their guitars and kazoos accompanying tunes like “Don’t Fence Me In”, “In the Good Old Summertime” and other familiar sing-along songs. The congregational photo was taken, as it is every year. This year, for the first time, there will be a beautiful black lab posing elegantly in the front row, front paws crossed, shining like a star and proudly wearing her Guide dog harness.  There’s no question that Opal would have had more fun outside had the weather co-operated.  I had arrived hopeful and prepared with her retractable leash and toys, but they remained unused in my knapsack. Maybe next year. We had fun all the same (right Opal?).

Teach Your Parents Well

Yeah, I know. It’s a rip off of the CSNY (Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young) song, “Teach Your Children Well”. Opal and I were emerging from a public washroom at the mall yesterday. We stopped by the water fountain for a drink of cold water on such a  warm day. As I was attending to Opal’s drink, the little boy who had been loitering nearby ASKED if he could pat Opal.  I told him politely, “Sorry, she’s working, but thanks for asking. Maybe next time you see us I will have more time and can take her harness off so you can give her pat, OK?”  The kid was fine with that. As I dumped the remainder of the water down the fountain’s drain, the boy’s mom came out of the ladies room. Before I could react, mom started fussing with Opal, talking to her, giving her way too much ‘luvin’ and oblivious to the meaning of the harness Opal was wearing.  I gave Opal a tug and a firm “Leave it”. Actually, the “Leave it” was more for mom’s benefit.  Then I told the boy, “Maybe you can teach your mom that she needs to ASK to pat ANY dog, and that Guide dogs don’t get patted when they are wearing their harness.”  We left to shop.  

The girls and I are going incognito this weekend. See ya later!

Guns

Good going there in the USA (said with the largest sarcastic tone one can muster). One comment from me: gun control… one of the reasons I live in Canada. 

Opal’s Confession

I need to get this off my chest. My very hairy chest. Mum doesn’t know it yet, but while she was doing the laundry somewhere out there in our apartment building, I ate Lucy’s cat food ’cause the bathroom door was wide open and there it was… Oh, and I hid mum’s slippers… and I got on the Internet and ordered a bunch of stuff from E-bay with her credit card (I REALLY need some smart toys) … and I ‘phoned up Jager (the German boy upstairs who works as a Guide AND a shepherd!) to ask him out for lunch… and I sent sent an e-mail to the Chicago off leash dog recreation group to confirm our play date for the weekend. I love to fly, so I don’t understand why we’re not going to these neat outings…. and I opened the ‘fridge and looked around for something interesting. Sheesh! it’s rough living with a vegetarian mum! There wasn’t even an apple in there, so I guess that means we’re doing the shopping thing today… Oh no! she’s coming back… gotta go!

More on Web Accessibility

I have not heard back from our city’s web master since I suggested they test the HRM (Halifax) site using a screen-reading software download. I suggested last week to our web master that he/she download a free version of Jaws and attempt to use the speech output program (with the computer monitor turned OFF). I have an image in my mind of this person sitting at their desk, with hands covering their ears, and shouting… “Shut up you stupid Jaws voice!!!! I can’t find anything on this site!!!!”

If only it were true. Did our web master extraordinaire actually have the hutzpah to follow through with my wise advice? I doubt it…. But hey! if you did, ‘K’, how about trying out the audio ‘captcha’ options for security letter de-scrambles?  You know what I’m talking about…. often you are asked to enter the swirly letters, words or numbers on the screen in order to move on to your next step. These are used on many web sites as a security measure before you can access the  ’contact’,  ’access our site’, ‘ make payment’,  ’apply for ‘  or ‘order’ applications. The audio option  often turns out to be a total mess of garbled nonsense which no one can understand, no matter how many times they try to listen to it. How’s that working for ya, eh?

Dog Day Afternoon

My dog day afternoon is nothing like Al Pacino’s character’s  (Sonny) day in the Hollywood classic, Dog Day Afternoon.   No, Sidney Lumet’s film had darker imagery on THAT dog day afternoon. Sonny and Sal were having an entirely different PM than Opal and I are having today. (Though I did like the bit in the movie when Sonny starts shouting, “Attica” to the crowd outside the bank he is attempting to rob)  It is similarly warm in Halifax today as it was in  the New York setting in the film.  Naturally, local meteorologists are starting to cite temperatures with “Humidex” values again. It seems that we just can’t say, “It’s hot and sticky” any more. I left my work on the desk to relieve Opal.  Upon returning towards our building’s entrance, she halted and dropped on the grass nearby where she lay and refused to get up.  ”Time to work on my tan, mum” reads the thought bubble over her head. I indulged her for a few minutes, until I  felt the UV rays penetrating my unshielded scalp…. (UV Index… another stat in our current jargon).  I’m not sure why a black dog wants to fry herself in the sun, but clearly it is a rite of summer for Opal. Bring on my sunblock and sunhat! It is summertime. I once made the mistake of announcing that it was, “SUMMERTIME!”  to Opal one morning as we walked up the road. She stopped in her tracks and spun around to look at me in anticipation of…“SUPPERTIME!”. The fact that it was 11 am did not enter into my hopeful lab’s mind. 

 

Accessible Voting–I’ll Vote For That!

The electoral process is still held in high regard by most of society. The right to participate in the democratic process has been hard fought by many groups. It continues to be fought in countries such as Zimbabwe.  Some Canadians take for granted the opportunity to participate FULLY in the democratic voting process.  This includes seeking nomination as a candidate, participating in candidate meetings, informing oneself about the party platforms, voting in secret, and being able to independently verify how one voted.   My parents instilled in me a healthy sense of responsibility about my ‘duty’ to vote. I have done so, at all levels of government, since I reached the age of majority. I have voted by proxy when I was out of the country. I have struggled to the polls on crutches.  There are three components that are essential to voting: 

1. Secrecy: privacy
2. Independent: without assistance from another person to choose and mark your choice.
3. Verification: being able to check how you voted after you have marked it.

Voting has become more accessible for people who are disabled, however, it remains unacceptably inaccessible for most people who are blind, deaf-blind, or partially sighted.  Most often, a template is offered, but this offers no means of verification. Blind people usually must depend on voting with another person to set up the template etc.. Braille ballots are sometimes available, but Braille is not used by over 80% of adult people who are blind.  Some jurisdictions are attempting alternative means of voting for the blind. These include using on-site computers with audio, tactile, sip and puff interfaces which make it possible for people who are blind or quadriplegic to vote independently. Electronic (Internet) voting is also being tried (Halifax’s next municipal election will allow people to vote over the Net or with a cell phone and a pin number which they will receive in the mail). Intelivote Systems of Dartmouth NS is working to convince cities in Canada that electronic voting will increase voting stats, particularly with younger voters.  It also has environmental appeal. Me? I prefer the on-site buzz at the polls. BUT, I want to see the next provincial election here, to be fully accessible to me and others who have vision loss. I want the candidates to provide me and others who are partially sighted with their platform and  ’pitch’ in alternate formats. I want to go to the polls and be given an accessible list of candidates names on the ballot (in Braille, audio electronic or large print) and I want to vote ALONE, and to CHECK MY CHOICE on my ballot MYSELF before I put it in the box. Tomorrow, I meet with my MLA, Graham Steele and a representative from the Elections Nova Scotia. Hmm. 

UU Flower Communion Sunday

I am still relatively new to the UU (Universalist Unitarian) Church of Halifax. It appears that despite our broad, inclusive approach to faith and spirituality, UU’s still enjoy a tradition or two. Today is Flower communion Sunday. Let me explain; the summer solstice (June 21) is big with UU’s. All things planetary are. So, given that today is the Sunday closest to the solstice, our  celebration takes place today. I was sent an e-mail containing the order of service and a note about today. It read:  ”The Flower communion Service is a uniquely Unitarian tradition; this year we are combining it with a celebration of summer solstice. Please bring a single blossom to share with the congregation; at the end of the service you will take a different blossom home.”  Hmm. I live in an apartment building. No private flower garden here. That does not rule out the common grounds (where Opal relieves). I had an idea that there is a ‘bush’ with flowers on it, as well as the newly planted spring flower beds nearby. This was confirmed yesterday by a sighted friend. We nonchalantly inspected the flowers. “This is a nice rose bud. Just remember where to find it in the morning before church and snip it”, suggested Lee Anne. Hmm. Sure, why not? I’m game to try and hack a flower off of a bush when who knows how many old biddies are staring out their windows, watching every move I make (They are the ones who “DON’T WANT TO WATCH THE DISGUSTING SIGHT OF THAT DOG..” -Opal relieving herself- Remember?), hoping to have a little something extra to complain about… But who cares?! It’s Flower Communion Sunday at my church, darn it! I’m going to throw caution to the wind and snip three or four blossoms off! Come on, Opal. We have a petty theft to commit. 

Last Word On Sausage Dogs!!!!

It seems that I have offended/irritated/annoyed/ticked off/angered a big bunch of ‘Dachsund’ dog owners. Sheesh! Lighten up you guys. Who knew that sausage dog enthusiasts have their own web site and forum?Apparently they are watching for any malicious commentary written about  the little bangers they travel with. I was front and centre yesterday: “Blind blogger hurls insults at Dachshund owner” read the web page. I entered my defense: I was actually PO’d at the irresponsible owner.  In fact, you wiener dog (oops, I mean ‘Long-dog’) owners should know that I once had such a pepperoni pooch myself. No, it was definitely not a Guide Dachshund. That would be one LONG handle on the harness. And how would a sausage-guide climb the steps to get on a bus? I’m not saying it couldn’t be worked out… just that the wieners are a little too stressed-out most of the time to do the job a Guide dog does. But hey, who would have thought there would be miniature ponies (I kid you not) being used as Guides for the blind.  Hmm. Now there’s an access law waiting to be written!  Yes, I had a low-riding canine. She was a good pal, but a bit of a nut. Those anal glands always seem to be in need of emptying. Again, it’s not the dog, just the owner I have a beef banger with. Sort your nutty dogs out! 

Help Me! I’m Drowning!!!

Dear Wise Advice, Help me! I’m drowning in dog hair! The vacuum cleaner died today. I gave it a little rest, as I often do when it quits, but today, it just wouldn’t start up again. I am frantic! What if I choke to death on Bubba’s hair?  He’s shedding like no body’s business. There’s dog hair everywhere! It’s on my furniture (yeah, I know that’s why they call it FURniture), in my bed and my fridge. My clothes are covered with the stuff. I groom Bubba all the time,  yet everyday, I gather a bagful. I say to him, “Look Bubba, we can make little sweaters for all the children in Alaska”. I’m dead serious.  Can you send one of those crisis teams to help me? Do you have one for hoovers? Yours truly, Mrs. N. Frittata-Chicago. 

Dear Mrs. Frittata, Gather yourself there Nellie! Help is in the way. As it happens, my new sweetie  once had a job as … yes! a vacuum cleaner repair-person!  The entire team will consist of my sweetie, two Mounties (you never know), a retired accountant and a few musicians from Symphony Nova Scotia (they’re a little bored).  Be on the lookout for a VERY tiny vehicle. Our gas budget is shot, dear… so we’ll need to pile them into an Echo or some other affordable car. Maybe you could take Bubba to the Chicago off leash Dog Play Group while you’re waiting for the team to arrive.  I hear they’re going on a cruise and to a bar this weekend. I would save that hair if I were you. That’s a cottage industry in the making if I ever heard one! ‘Frittata Wear’. Has a nice ring to it, eh?

Hey Chicago!

“Won’t you please come to Chicago?…”  Remember that Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young tune? Oh never mind. It’s a lyric from a CSNY song from the 70′s.  It seems that the Chicago Off Leash Dog Play Group that Opal and I belong to, REALLY want us to visit. Today, we were invited to a patio party at a Chicago Bar coming up on Thursday.  That’s not our cup of tea (or pint of beer). We also (and this would be up our alley) must decide if we can get to the Anti-Cruelty Canine Cruise happening on the weekend. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure that the doggie play group finds ‘nice’ places to cavort with the pups, but my memories of Chicago? Not so good. Maybe I was in the wrong part of town, but I found it rather crowded, with dirty streets and a very smelly waterfront. Wasn’t it Chicago Harbour that used to catch fire spontaneously every summer? Maybe I’m thinking of Detroit.  Perhaps they had a harbour clean up like Halifax. Our Mayor, Peter Kelly recently announced that Halifax Harbour is now safe to swim in.  Hmm… Somehow, I don’t think that Opal and I will be donning our water wings any time soon. As for our buds in the Chicago Dog Play group? I think THEY should consider a road trip… to Nova Scotia! Much cleaner, quieter, friendlier and hey, we have seafood, and plenty of (WAY TOO MUCH IF YOU ASK ME) Celtic stuff like fiddle music (groan). Once the doggie caravan arrives and gets it’s fill of Nova Scotia, they’ll find that it’s just a hop-skip-and-a-jump to Prince Edward Island. PEI is a tiny province, famous for its red soil, potatoes, Anne Of Green Gables stuff (WAY TOO MUCH ANNE STUFF), lobster and the birthplace of Canadian confederation. Enough with the travelogue! I have a Chicago play date to RSVP to.

HEY!!! Wise Advice For the IDIOT with the Crazy Sausage Dog!

Hey! Yeah, I’m talking to you, babe… the idiot with the yappy wiener dog that jumped Opal today. I’ve had it with you. If you can’t control that nutty knackwurst, you had better stop walking the same sidewalks that  I’M  walking on with Opal. Maybe you think that you have some kind of god-given right to allow your fat, whiny bratwurst to do whatever the hell it pleases, but I’ve got news for you lady: Next time?, I’m tracking you and that jumbo sausage- on- legs down, and I PROMISE that I will report you to animal control. You are very lucky that I was too concerned about MY dog today, or else I would have whacked you upside-the-head on the spot! What were you thinking, allowing that horrible hot dog to attack Opal?????!!!!! You had to see us coming.  You’re the same pinhead who was at the Tim’s coffee shop last week, aren’t you? You left that little lump of liverwurst in the entry way, between the doors! … where it barked, frightened old ladies and would not allow ME AND MY REGISTERED GUIDE DOG to enter!! My wise advice? Keep that annoying and hazardous poor excuse for a pet dog out of our way!

Opal Goes To High School!

Opal rarely complains about going to boring places.  Sure, some of the meetings I force her to sit through are a bit of a snooze, but overall, I  think she enjoys the variety of places we go to. Today, we went somewhere totally new… Citadel High School. I had not been in ANY high school since I graduated from MCMHS in 1972.  Honestly?  I was feeling a little apprehensive about entering into the fray of 1700 students in this spanking new building on Trollope street in Halifax. It’s exam week, so I don’t think they were all present. However, there was a lot of activity and confusion in the administration office where I was to meet the English teacher with whom I had a meeting.  The secretary was fielding frantic pleas from students…  ”Mr. T. told me I had to get a ____ form before I can write the exam!”…”somebody took my stuff out of my locker!” ….  The admin person tried to calm the students by encouraging them to breathe and “look through that cart for lost locker items”).  We had arrived early, so we sat and eavesdropped on the conversations of the kids poking through a gigantic cart of confiscated stuff.  Apparently, they didn’t all hear about the deadline to empty their lockers.  If they did, they did not for a second, believe that the locks would be chopped off and the lockers cleaned out, as they had been warned.  There seemed to be a good vibe  with students, staff and teachers. Maybe they were heady with dreams of summer vacation, graduation and ‘moving on’ which resulted in them being nicer to one another. The meeting with the English teacher?  After being introduced to the vice principal, we went to the cafeteria. It was pretty quiet for a high school cafeteria. (My high school caf days sometimes come back to me in nightmares).  I hear they serve better food now.  The meeting’s purpose was to iron out some details for the 2008 Writing Contest which the Halifax chapter of the AEBC (Alliance for Equality of Blind Canadians) has launched.  In the fall, the new crop of grade ten students will (little do they know as they now sit their grade 9 exams)  write a 400 word essay based on the question, ” What if I woke up one day, and could not see?”   They will submit these essays to their English teachers. Then, edited versions will be sent to AEBC chapter members in other Canadian cities to be judged according to AEBC criteria.  They will be sent electronically so that the judges (who are blind) can ‘read’ them independently with adaptive computer software. These volunteer judges will decide which essays are most introspective and meet the yet-to-be-determined criteria. The finalists will receive prizes (yet to be solicited, but it will likely be cash and electronics) AND the winning essay writer will (hopefully) receive wide media attention through publication and reading of his/her essay on radio etc. This is a great opportunity for kids to start thinking about blindness and disability. In grade 10 (average age is 15 years), kids tend to be a little…umm… ‘stunned’ (not all of them, of course).  That is not typically an age when it is cool to be ‘nice’ .  Thoughtfulness and awareness of ones surroundings are not commonly part of their make-up. Maybe it’s genetic. I was probably just as ‘stunned’ as many of them are, when I was 15 years old. To be fair, many have had zero personal experience with someone with a disability. They just need a chance to think about it for a while. Hopefully, the writing contest will help them do that.  Bye the way, Opal loved the buzz in the school. She was hopeful about being given the stuffed animal that one of the students was waving around (it was in the cart of confiscated locker items), but alas, it was returned to the cart. She also anticipated a chance to scarf up the bits of food on the cafeteria floor, but no such luck! Mum is quick on the draw.  I am sure that she will enjoy returning to Citadel to meet with the kids in October when I  get to tell them about the writing contest. It will be exciting to navigate a Citadel High school during peak class hours!

Congratulations from Canada

Congratulations to the happy couples in California who married yesterday.  Special wishes of good luck to Del Martin (age 87 ) and Phyllis Lyon (age 83 ), her partner of FIFTY YEARS who finally were allowed to make it all legal. Sheesh! Good going California. It’s about time. 

A Good Distraction

I go on and on about  things that distract Guide dogs; smells, people patting and calling out, noises etc. Opal and  I visit schools and other venues instructing people on Guide dog etiquette. Distraction is a big issue for Guide dogs, sometimes interfering with the work and safety of both dog and handler. However, today I am here to tell you that there are moments when Guide dogs NEED distraction. In fact, I am giving food for thought that any dog owner can feast on.  This morning, Opal was fussing with her ear (again). Labs have drop ears (long and floppy) that cover the ear canal and other bits (which I don’t know the anatomically-correct names of).  This creates the perfect medium in which organisms and bacteria can grow… into infection, particularly in warm weather. It’s no big deal, IF you take care of your lab’s ears with regular cleaning and respond quickly when an infection takes hold. Smelling your dog’s ears will usually tell you what kind of shape they are in.  Of course, my girl tells me herself, in her own way.  I know the sound of a paw doing some furious scratching in an ear. I say firmly,  ”get your foot out of your head”.  If this does not stop the ear scratching, then I move on to plan ‘B’.   I bring out the ‘magic drops’ (Burrow’s solution), prescribed by our vet.  I  use  them on  a semi-regular basis in the summer. I keep them on hand, so I am not running to the vet (Kaching $$$$) every time she gets a funky ear.  The vet also gave me some dandy little plastic syringes with which to suck up the correct amount of liquid. I discovered long ago that it is impossible to tell how many drops you have squirted (or not) into the ear if you are squeezing drops directly from a bottle. What does this have to do with distraction? Opal, like most dogs, does not appreciate having drops shot into her ears. Who would?! They are cold and feel funny (initially). I know that fifteen minutes after she has them on board, she will feel the itch and discomfort go away. It’s getting through that fifteen minutes that is key. This is when I need to distract her. I want the drops to stay in, and not to get licked out (Opal will stick her foot in her ear and then lick whatever comes out… she has no fingers).  Fortunately, my dog is a busybody. If I start doing something interesting, she will forget about the ear and become engrossed in watching me. Kids operate pretty much the same way. Harping about NOT doing something (example: “stop picking your nose!”) will get you nowhere. In fact, there is a good chance your kid (or dog) will get even more obsessive about whatever it is you are trying to get them to stop doing,  (just to spite you–grin). Hmm.  So, this morning,  the first thing I thought of to distract Opal, was to whip out the exercise machine. I hadn’t used the sculling rower for weeks, so Opal was very keen on observing her fat, old mum gliding back and forth on a beam, arms flailing, sweat pouring off, making huffing and puffing noise, and commenting that she thought (or felt) she had rowed to the mid-Atlantic. In fact, Opal was so keen,  that she forgot all about the ear she had been so determined to fuss with. Mum? She got some disparately needed conditioning.  Don’t get into a futile and circuitous ‘don’t do that’ exchange with your dog (or kid) when all you need to do, is DISTRACT them. A little distraction can be a useful tool in many situations.

Opal Goes To Chicago Beach Dog Party (almost)

There are times when I think I am stuck in a kind of Internet group hell. I joined  the Chicago Off-Leash Dog Play Group on the Internet last week. Why, you ask? I am still trying to get information on off-leash dog parks to back my proposal for a service dog run/park here in Halifax. I have cruised through every service dog blog and every cyber dog park-related link on the web. Somehow, I was hopeful when I joined the Chicago dog play group. My reasoning was to access a bunch of people who know their dog parks and ask them how these things get set up. It was looking good. I created my mandatory profile (Opal is a 4 year old black lab etc) and sent out my queries for information to support my proposal in Halifax. No replies on that yet. However, I WAS in invited to the beach party for the dog play group with Opal this weekend… in Chicago. Dutifully, we RSVP’d our regrets…. twice. On Friday, I was reminded to look for the dog group flag at our meet- up point at the beach or to use my cell phone to find them if I did not see the flag.  Wear your Chicago Dog Play Group ID they advised.  Sigh.  I’m sure they were crushed when we did not arrive. I can imagine the frenzied play and doggie cavorting that went on without us.  God knows, we tried to get there.  I sent an e-mail to Prime Minister Harper requesting he push through an emergency visa for me (I don’t think we have a foreign affairs minister these days. Maxine Bernier was booted out after he left classified documents at his girlfriend’s house…the one with alleged criminal links).  We  waited for Steven’s  private Canadian government plane to fly us down to Chicago, but it never arrived.  It must have been called into action on a vital political junket.  Now, I am about to write to all of Opal’s dog pals and apologize profusely about our no-show. It hardly seems fair.   All I want to do is get a dog run/park here for service dogs like Opal (who can’t get to the off-leash play group events in Chicago).

Wise Advice For Web Masters….on ACCESSIBILITY

Call me wishful. I had an inspired moment yesterday. The web master for our city’s web site contacted me after I had sent in a complaint about not being able to ‘read’ a lot of stuff on the HRM site with my screen reading software. Screen reading software (like Jaws or Guide) enables someone who cannot see their monitor (like blind folk), to listen to a mechanical or synthesized  voice reading whatever is on the screen;  e-mail, web page etc.  At least, that’s what is suppose to happen in  theory. In practice, many web sites are ridiculously difficult or impossible to navigate with Jaws. There is a movement afoot towards web accessibility standards. Retail giant, Target in the USA is in a legal battle with the NFB (National Federation of the Blind) over their inaccessible web site. Hmm.  Here’s my wise advice today for web masters (so that they can  ’test’ their own sites for accessibility): go to the Freedom scientific site…

http://freedomscientific.com/fs_downloads/jaws.asp

 and download a FREE trial version of Jaws software. Learn to use it. Then turn your computer monitors OFF and navigate your own site using Jaws. Try the links, the documents, opening pages etc.  Have fun!

Opal in Love

Mum’s busy, so I thought I would sneak onto her computer and let the world know…I’m in LOVE!  Yes, I met him last night. He’s drop-dead gorgeous. A lovely German boy who is new in town.  He must have two jobs because mum talks about him being a shepherd too. I’m so impressed! As if Guiding isn’t job enough.  He is only 2 years old. That  means I am the older woman! His name is Jagar, except you don’t pronounce the J. One of those ‘J’ litter dogs from The Seeing Eye. I guess he has duo-citizenship, maybe even triple… he’s German, trained in the USA and now lives in Canada.  He’s very hot. At least, he will be this summer with that big fur coat.  Mum heard that if he goes to Mexico (lucky dog!) with his handler for a visit, the pavement will be so hot, that he’ll have to wear his boots!  I also think he likes me. He looks out the window when I’m out ‘getting busy’.  Yes! He lives upstairs! Maybe I’ll see him again  soon. I’m  getting to like these meetings mum goes to sometimes.  Especially when I get to ride the bus all the way with my new boyfriend. Sigh. oh those young German boys are sooo handsome! I only hope he doesn’t get too overworked with the shepherding job.

Did You Know….?

Here’s a little known fact. A dog’s nose has a unique pattern to it, much like a human fingerprint. If you were to blot your dog’s nose and imprint it on a card, it would have a distinct pattern, sort of like a topographical map of Costa Rica…BUT DON’T STICK YOUR DOG’S NOSE ONTO AN INK PAD!  IF YOU INSIST ON TRYING TO GET A “DOG NOSE  PRINT”, USE AN INNOCUOUS SUBSTANCE THAT WON’T HARM YOUR DOG OR LEAVE IT WITH A FUNNY-COLOURED SHNOZ!  If you ever wondered why your dog is so easily distracted by a smell (the fascination with all dog butts, for example), it’s because dog’s have a sense of smell that is 1000 to 10,000 times more powerful than a human’s. The pet dog’s need to stop and sniff every pole and tree on it’s way to the corner, is an example of the ‘doggie telegraph’ in action.  When they are engrossed in sniffing that twig, they are getting plenty of information about the last dog(s) who peed there; age, breed, sex, health condition and more. I have read that the instinct male dogs have to pee as high as they can on a post or tree, stems from a time when dogs wanted to make any wild animals who might be around, think that they were bigger than they might actually are, thereby defending themselves against potential attack. In my opinion, scent is the biggest distraction for a Guide dog. At least, it is for Opal. She can even be distracted by the scent of someone who owns a dog but is not with their dog (scent on clothing).

True Bus Conversations

I thought I had heard everything. Apparantly not. Here are a few gems I have heard on Halifax Metro Transit buses recently.

Driver to passenger: “Yeah, that driver clipped a tree with her bus and took out a bunch of windows. It was an articulated (acordian-tyle) bus and she was still on probation.”

Driver to passenger: “I’m doing a 12 hour shift today from 5 to 5… then I’m driving my cab this evening ’till midnight”.  This makes me wonder how safe the passengers are with a bleary-eyed driver.  I think both the cab and bus passengers have something to worry about.

Passenger to driver: “yeah, I was on a  #4  bus last week. The driver whacked someone on the head with the Bus’s side-mounted mirror as he pulled into the terminal. The guy got on the bus all dazed and passed on the offer to talk to a supervisor”.

Driver to passenger: ” I like this route. I haven’t driven this for a while… I forgot to do Mountain Road on the first trip… don’t know if anybody got left behind”.

Me to the Driver: ” um, I think you took a wrong turn there at the roundabout. This is a # 6 you’re driving, not a #14. We’re going towards Herring Cove”.

Driver to all passengers: “OK, that’s it. Everybody off. My bus keeps stalling. You’ll have to get some other bus”.

Driver to me: ” you can have a seat on the left….I mean my other left”.

 

 

Guide Dog Confession

OK, I know I’m not suppose to play with mum’s computer, but maybe just this once… We were at King’s College yesterday. Mum was invited to set up a display table at the Diversity Fair of Interchange 2008. I don’t know what it was really about, except that there were lots of people walking around, talking and exchanging papers. Mum gave me some ice cubes under the table at the luncheon. The lasagna smelled good, but no one at the table dropped any near me… rotten luck!   Back at the display, the table was full of AEBC stuff (you know, that group that does advocacy for blind folks). Lots of people came by to visit.  Most of them were women. Most of them wore sandals. Their toes were just within my reach. I confess! I love to lick women’s feet!  I can’t help myself. Maybe it’s the soap they use. Or the salt in their sweat. Who cares?!!! I LOVE to lick toes. It’s a good thing that most of them did not mind yesterday… sheesh, I remember this one lady whose toes I licked when we were on a bus.. she screamed so loudly… she was almost as upset as that cab driver,  the one who also screamed when I sneezed in his cab?… he nearly drove off the road!   Mum’s coming! Gotta go! (Opal)

Bogus News Flash!!! Guide dog takes out old lady!

Now hear this! The following is a bogus blog. This COULD have happened… but DID NOT… well,  maybe not ALL of it is a hoax.

Guide dogs get to play just like pet dogs do. I take Opal out on her ‘Flexi’ (retractable leash) so that she can have an opportunity to run a bit and sniff a lot.  We use the grassy area just outside of our apartment building. It’s a large area, 200 X 30 feet situated between the building line and a little walkway leading to the main door. I put her play collar on (it has a tag, a bell and a ring to secure the flexi clasp onto) and stow her regular leash in my pocket. Out comes the squeaky rubber boomerang toy! It’s a dollar store purchase, remarkably resilient. Trouble is, it’s pink. Dog’s don’t see the pink/red/yellow colour spectrum much. These dog toys come in red and pink so that they appeal to humans. If you want your dog to really see his toy or ball,  pick a blue or green one. It’s usually fine locating it, just as long as the thing is moving. I fling it within Flexi range (30 feet). Opal takes off and grabs it, running the perimeter of the grassy area until she has “blown the stink off” , as we say in Nova Scotia. After that, it becomes more of an idle retieving game, interspersed with breaks to sniff and eat the grass. That’s the point at which she loses track of her toy. I’m pretty good at finding the thing myself, though sometimes we enlist sighted help to locate it. That was the case the other day. It was hot by Nova Scotia standards, so Opal quickly tired of running, and chose to sniff and graze instead.  The boomerang was out of sight and mind (both of our sights, and HER mind). I  heard footsteps on the pavement nearby.  ”Oooh, hello Helen”, says one of my neighbours in her old, shaky voice. Margaret is a very tiny old lady, at least 900 years old by the sound of her voice. She’s probably only 85 or so, and still quite spry for someone with such a shaky voice. “Margaret, do you see our toy?”, I ask. “Opal has lost it on the grass again”.  Margaret wandered onto the grass with us (this was her first mistake). “Oooh, there it is. I’ll get it for you, Helen”. (this was her second mistake).By now,   I am running the potential for disaster through my mind.  Opal is all excited with anticipation of a new play partner. Margaret picks up the boomerang and hands it to me. I’ve had Opal on a short length all the while (beauty of the flexi). I thought that Margaret was wandering back to the pavement (my first mistake).  She had not (her third mistake). I threw the pink toy in the opposite direction and Opal took off.  Opal picked up steam after she nabbed it (Opal’s first mistake) and moved like a runaway freight train towards Margaret (everyone’s mistake). I realized too late that Margaret was still on the lawn (my second or third mistake?). THIS IS THE BOGUS PART!!!– Opal knocked Margaret off her pins. After the paramedics left, I had a long talk with Opal… at the dog pound.. through the bars of the cage. THIS IS WHAT REALLY HAPPENED!!! I applied the flexi’s brake a nano-second before Opal made contact. Margaret, as usual had no idea how close she came to an emergency room visit. We all went inside. Margaret was fine. I was shaking. Opal had no clue… but I decided to start a social program with some friends. Opal needs more people (bedsides me) in her social and play life. Why does everyone want to fuss with her when she’s working?  She could really use some off-the-clock time with people. 

Like Cats and Dogs

I have had dogs and cats in my life since I was a child… but never both species at the same time.  That would all change when I decided to get a Guide dog in 2005. My cat, Little Lucy, did not seem to know or care what I was going on about when I broke the news to her. I had seven months or so to ‘plan’ before I left for Ontario (to attend the Guide dog training) before the big convergence of dog and cat.  More accurately, I had seven months to fret and worry about the imminent demise of my cat. Sometimes, I varied my paranoid ideology with visions of a big dog being clawed into bloody submission by Lucy. I had no hard and fast research to back up my notion that there would be trouble; just the usual stereotypical references to ‘fighting like cats and dogs’ that I had been exposed to. My friends, family members, neighbours, and the trainers at Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind were patient with me as I asked probing questions and tenaciously sought advice like a dog with a meaty bone. They pointed out the obvious; Lucy would be ‘upset’ for a while.  Then there were things that launched me into a frenzy of home-preparedness activity; chiefly, the installation of a device (rope, hook and eye) on the bathroom door. This would, in theory, leave enough of an opening to allow Lucy to enter the bathroom and access her food, but very cleverly, keep out the dog I was to come home with. I had dismissed one brainiac’s idea of cutting a cat hole in my door… I was responsible for damages to the flat if we moved. I jigged the device without difficulty. It was the LENGTH of the rope that nearly launched a United Nations summit. I had no idea what size dog I would be coming home with, but I did not think it would be too small a dog. Yet, my nephew insisted I shorten the rope and limit the access space every time he came over to visit and passed comment on my ‘rig’. By the time I was done, I felt certain that a Miniature Schnauzer could not squeeze into my bathroom. There was more. I spent an entire 24 hour period trying to coax Lucy to pee in her new litter box. Again, after much consultation, it seemed advisable to up-grade to the covered type of box. I  recall sitting outside the new,  deluxe model with Lucy in the middle of the night, waving treats and begging her to ‘try it’. She would burst, I thought, feeling helpless as I listened to her cry in frustration.  Once I figured out that the ‘door’ (flap on the litter-box) was scaring her, I removed it and resumed my plea. Her success overwhelmed me. I felt like a mum whose kid has finally been potty-trained. She was showered with praise and love.   It was not easy to leave Lucy with my friend, Alice for a month while I was in Manotick.  Something odd happened when I boarded the flight to Ottawa…I  almost completely put thoughts of Lucy out of my mind. That was a good thing, because Guide dog training is very demanding. It was not until Opal and I were on the return flight to Halifax, that I really gave much thought to Lucy again.  Opal and I had a few days alone before Lucy was due back home. I did not give her much thought during those few days either. Opal and I were shattered. It was all we could do to eat, sleep, groom, and relieve ourselves. It’s a little hazy now, but when Lucy arrived home with Alice in the carrier (and her van full of ‘stuff’ –litter-box, dishes, grooming tools, bed, condo, body pillow, food etc),  she bolted for the bookcase as she first set eyes on Opal’s gigantic black head. There was some minor screeching.  I turned to Alice and said, “That went pretty well, don’t you think?”. In the days to come, Opal and Lucy would eventually learn about each other. That’s what animals do. They sort each other out. Opal (hopeless optimist that she is) longed to play with the ‘new kid’. That would take a while… 18 months actually. Now, two years later, Lucy is quite fond of Opal. Lucy knows that she is smaller and physically vulnerable, yet she also knows that she is in charge (though I’M in charge of both of them). Lucy will only drink out of Opal’s dish. She likes to drag off Opal’s bones and toys to the blanket which she also appropriated from Opal, but will share sometimes. They sniff one another to no end (mostly at each other’s ends aka butts). When one is not feeling well, the other is very concerned. Opal tore her dew claw 18 months ago and had it removed. Her foot was bandaged and she was all drugged up when we finally returned home from the vet. This was Lucy’s shining moment. She came over to Opal, licked her bandaged paw and purred, as though saying, “Wow, what happened to you? Can I help?” Opal licked Lucy’s head in appreciation and we all fell asleep on the floor together, huddled in solidarity. So, if you are worried about bringing a cat or dog into a home where one already resides, my wise advice is; be prepared, be observant, be patient, and when they are merged, let them sort one another out!

ACB Radio For the Blind

I discovered ACB radio yesterday. Where have I been?!  ACB radio provides 5 channels of internet radio, streamed live through free players (You can download Winamp or others). This is radio by the blind, for the blind and for anyone interested in blindness issues. ‘Cafe’ channel provides music by blind musicians. On ‘Classic’, you can listen to classic comedy and drama programs. ‘On Demand’ will allow you to listen to programs such as: ‘Cooking in the Dark’, ‘Disability Nation’, ‘The Sound of Sight’, ‘Blind Handyman’, ‘Eye on Employment’ and more. You can also download a ‘tuner’ so that you have quick access to ACB from your computer desktop. You must check this out. I will link it to my blogroll.  It should be the first on the alphabetical list….The web site is: http://www.acbradio.org

Sorry, Nothing Personal, But keep your hands off my dog!

There are times when one is forced to make decisions which might  not please one’s friends. I’ll be more specific. I have rapidly developed a good, friendly relationship with a number of people at my church. A recent article in the UU (Universalist Unitarian) newsletter generated many enthusiastic responses. It was a profile about me (and Opal).  As a result, people are talking to me, realizing that I am approachable, fetching coffee during fellowship time, AND PATTING MY GUIDE DOG!!!!  Worse, I am was allowing them to get away with it! Sorry, nothing personal, but keep your hands off my dog, please!!! Here’s the thing. Guide dogs are off limits when they are wearing their harness.  When Opal and I are not in motion, it does not mean that it’s OK to pat her. Just because you know me a little better (some of you actually becoming my friends), this does not mean that you have suddenly been granted an exemption from this rule. You may think it is harmless to come over and cosy up to Opal for a minute with or without my permission. It is not. Here’s why. Opal MUST know that when she is in harness, she is working. Socializing is out of the question. Consider that she is very fond of you (Opal is fond of EVERYONE) and you give her a little pat every now and again when we are at church when she is not actively guiding me.  Then, one day,  you meet us as we are crossing an intersection and she wants to greet you (because, hey, it was OK when I greeted you while wearing my harness last Sunday at church, she thinks)… get the picture? It’s not fair to bend the rules. Guide dogs need consistency in their lives. My error was not nipping this in the bud immediately. Mea culpa. Now hear this! Please do not pat my Guide dog when she is working (WEARING HER HARNESS) any more. Do not ask me if you can. I will refuse… and I don’t care if you are offended. If you ‘don’t get it’, too bad. You should. 

Equitable Library Service in Canada—We’re Still Waiting

I recently attended the Annual General Meeting of the Alliance for Equality of Blind Canadians in Toronto. A lively debate ensued when a  Library and Archives Canada representative updated us on the Initiative for Equitable Library Service (IELA). The IELA web site claims that their mandate is to “create the conditions for sustainable and equitable library access for Canadians with print disabilities” .  There are over three million Canadians (10%)  who can not read print because of visual, perceptual or physical disability. We require publications in alternate formats, such as Braille, Large print, audio and electronic text. IELA’s stats indicate that only 5% (five) of all  published Canadian material is available in multiple formats. We provided our opinion on what we would like to see in the Canadian public library system (again).  It seems that we are often consulted, but I have to wonder why we are still waiting for change. The endless rhetoric about ‘stakeholders’ is getting stale. Robin East, Alliance for Equality of Blind Canadians president, echoed my sentiments when he stated that “we are not stakeholders…we are rights holders”. The difference?:  The erroneous  mindset that blind people deserve consultation in the process of achieving equitable library service in Canada instead of the more accurate belief that blind people have the RIGHT to equitable library service. What do I personally feel I have a right to find when I walk into a public library in Canada? Here’s my list.  I suggest that the rights of the blind to equitable library service be honoured very quickly…before we become an ultra-organized force with a common judicial application forcing the change we have RIGHTS to.

• I want books made available to me in any format I choose: audio, Braille, electronic and large print.
• I like audio books. The publishing industry needs to realize that the audio version of ANY BOOK PUBLISHED must be released simultaneously in audio format. If that means forcing the Canadian government to amend copyright and publishing legislation, that is what we must all support. 
• Audio books must be unabridged….I don’t like half a book.
• Release the stranglehold you have on independent  multiple format information producers in Canada. They are the answer to filling the gap by providing multiple format information; Braille transcription, audio books, etc.
• Provide accessible technology within the library; computers with screen-reading software, scanners, braille printers, CCTV’s, etc.
• Someone needs to know how to use, troubleshoot, and teach the use of all of the above equipment. 
• Make your catalogue accessible within the library. IE. I can use your website at home to search for something, but once I’m in your library, I am unfortunately forced to rely on your staff.
• Update your large print collections. People across the country are complaining about small, outdated, and dog-eared LP books collections. Put your large print collection in an area with good lighting.
• Your audio books must have Braille and large print labeling.  I want to  ’browse’ the books like other patrons. As it is now, I must rely on a staff person to be available to read the titles and descriptions for me.
• Libraries are big on displaying community information. the bulletin boards, notices, guides, pamphlets must be made available to everyone. How about an information line linked into your phone system? Tweak a grant or student placement to provide for  conversion of  information pamphlets and guides into audio, Braille and large print.
• Sometimes, your accessible computer is nowhere near the reference materials. Ensure easier physical access to this technology.
• Train your staff and employees to be ‘sensitive’ (I hate that term) to the needs of blind and partially sighted patrons.
• Blind students have a hard time finding accessible  research materials in a timely manner. It is not up to the ‘charitable library’ (AKA CNIB)  to provide everything. (they do a poor job anyway). Publishers, particularly of textbooks must realize that audio/electronically-generated information often ignores describing or interpreting  graphs, scales diagrams, photographs and tables. This information is critical if education is to fair and equitable. 

I’ve just started a list. I hope to hear from others. 

 

It’s Not Always Hunky-Dory

I write a great deal in these blogs extolling the virtues of my Guide dog, Opal. However, it is not always hunky-dory. Case in point? Yesterday went all wrong for us. Allow me to provide some background which might mitigate my sweet (GRRRR!) dog’s behaviour. At 3 am, I could hear a little monsoon going on outside. It was pretty much over by 5 am when Opal and I stepped out for her morning relief. But the GRASS WAS WET…and she has never liked walking on wet grass, especially to the backa-beyond area we have been relegated to since the cranky biddies upstairs complained about the “sight of that dog relieving”. I’ve already vented my feelings on THAT.  I have since encouraged Opal to enter the designated area (right in front of our window…at least Lucy doesn’t mind watching her sister poop). A battle of the minds and wills developed yesterday; Opal wanted no part of walking on wet grass. I was determined that she would walk across the lawn and relieve herself in front of our window. Sure, letting Opal relieve where she wanted to, probably would have gone unnoticed at 5 am.  My guess is that the whiny biddies are fast asleep and not parked in their windows. I was thinking about the ‘next time’. If I let Opal relieve where she wanted, there and then, she would expect (as dogs do) to repeat her performance later in the same place when the biddies WOULD be looking at her. Admittedly, my consternation over my original non-response to their crazy complaint had left me feeling cranky with the world…and Opal was my first contact of the day. We embarked on a power struggle extraordinaire. I took Opal out four times yesterday morning, knowing that she was in desperate need of relieving. Opal can be as strong-willed (IE. bullheaded and stubborn) as I am. “Opal, you’re going to explode if you don’t ‘do it’ soon”, I warned her. I sensed the thought bubble over her head….”you have no idea how long I can keep this up, mum”. And so the morning progressed as I did my four loads of laundry, interspersed with the unproductive trips outdoors. I made a tactical error by leaving a pair of sandals lying around the apartment. As I struggled through the door with my enormous sacs of clean laundry, I was greeted by Opal running around with one of my sandals. She approached me, just close enough to tease me and confirm that she had it ….and then took off. A chase ensued. Several minutes later, I collapsed on the sofa. Bits of rubber and leather littered the floor. Opal stood by and grinned. Petulantly, I tell her that they were not very comfortable sandals anyway. I should never have left them out in the first place! I had washed her soft toys and bedding. Her favourite plush puppy still needed some drying so I placed it in the open window for some sun and air. Opal did not ‘get it’. She slunk over to the window and nimbly rescued Regina…over and over. I tried putting Regina in a different window. Lucy did not approve of this. It was, after all, HER window and why should she tolerate Opal’s ‘stuff’ being in her space? She did not.  Regina ended up on the floor (to Opal’s delight). My frame of mind was not the best yesterday; I was tired, my throat was sore and the news was all bad: CBC radio told me: Two Nova Scotian  lobster fishermen drowned–Nova Scotia Power wants to increase rates by 12%–a Calgary family was wiped out in a murder/suicide–the provincial legislature closed with all parties behaving idiotically, bickering about who supports what bill. A bill to protect battered women fell because of in-fighting.

 I spent my morning calling veterinarians in Halifax. All 36 of of them. It seems the city want a ‘needs assessment’ to move forward on my service dog run proposal. One of the things they want to know is the number of service dogs in HRM. There is no central organization keeping tabs, so my reasoning was that all service dog handlers go to a vet, so they should have an idea of how many they have within their client base. The numbers continue to roll in as veterinarian practices return my calls. 

The day ended (mercifully) without fanfare at 10 pm.  The great thing about having a bad day? It makes a good day seem even better (grin).

Run Opal, Run!!!

I know. I’ve already written a blog with the same title. Today, however, we are a BIG step forward towards getting a safe, enclosed ‘run’ for service dogs in Halifax. I felt a little guilty about making Opal work on her birthday. Going to Advisory meetings at City Hall is not much fun for her. As usual, I brought her food ration for supper in the ladies room before the meeting. To my dismay, I forgot her dish. The Commissionaire saved the day. A lovely ceramic bowl was brought to me courtesy of the kitchen staff.  ”Perhaps Mayor Kelly once ate his Wheaties out this bowl”, I say to Opal.  She could care less!  The meeting got underway at 4:00. As Chair of this monthly shindig, I can make announcements and requests. Yes, of course I added  singing  ’Happy Birthday’ to Opal to the agenda. Councillor Wile has nice pipes. It got even better when Phil Townsend dropped in to announce that Council has approved $200,000.00 for improvement or development in HRM buildings with regards to disability. We (the HRM Advisory Committee for Persons with Disabilities) are the ones who are being consulted on the money’s dispersal. This is BIG for an advisory committee. It is BIG for THIS advisory committee. I asked how the proposal for a Service dog run would fit in. I put this proposal forward many months ago. Now that there is money committed to disability-related infrastructure, it will very likely be approved, says Phil. It could take a while, but I suspect that one day, I will be able to take a bus and access an enclosed service dog run…the first in Canada. Hot dog! Run Opal, Run!.  The meeting ended and I left feeling elated and important…then Opal had a poop in front of City Hall (I picked up). Nothing like a dog to bring you down to earth.

My Baby’s All Grown Up!

Tomorrow is Opal’s fourth birthday.  Not only that, but it is our anniversary. Anniversary? you ask. Yes indeed, we celebrate the time we’ve shared together. Exactly two years ago, we boarded an airplane in Ottawa, Ontario and headed home to our life in Halifax. Both of us were filled with anxiety. Opal had no idea where she was going or what was in store for her. She left behind the Guide dog school where she had been trained (CGDB in Manotick) and the dogs, kennel staff and instructors who were familiar to her. I left behind the security of the training centre and the instructor (Jane) who had whispered reminders into my ear as we walked the streets of Ottawa. On our first day of training,  Jane was ‘connnected’ to us with a small retractable leash….just in case something went horribly wrong. It did not, of course, except perhaps for the moment when I forgot to breathe and nearly passed out. “Jane”, I croaked. “I can’t breath!”  We paused on the pavement and she allowed me to gather myself. I could hear her smiling. Twice daily for four weeks, we plowed along through various settings; downtown, suburbs, rural…we boarded buses, and go-trains, went into restaurants, malls, and office buildings. We practiced obstacle courses, found our way through construction areas, and went for ‘leg stretches’ by the Rideau Canal. All the while, Jane was by our side to correct my handling and provide us with encouragement. “Easy, Peasy, Lemon, Squeasy!” she often  exclaimed.  (I have since adopted using short rhyming couplets with Opal when we walk. Dogs, like kids, love little rhymes…”focus pocus!”,  ”dandy candy”, “awesome possum”). Coming home was a big deal. I had no idea if I would remember all the commands and other information that threatened to cause my brain to explode. Fortunately, it did not (explode). Opal and I have found our groove over time. I am a sentimental fool, no doubt about that. I have called the radio station on our six month and one year anniversaries to request a song for us…’You Are the sunshine of My Life” and ‘My Girl’ (of course!)  I have not prepared much for this, our second anniversay (and her birthday). Perhaps we are becoming as comfortable as a pair of old shoes. Regardless, she remains the girl of my dreams.To quote Robert Munsch; “I’ll love you forever. I’ll like you for always”.  Happy birthday Opal. 

You’re offended/disgusted about Opal doing WHAT?!!!!

Now I’m really steamed! It’s one of those ‘I coulda, woulda, shoulda said…’ moments. I live in a large apartment building. I have been relieving Opal (she’s a guide dog, remember?) on the grassy area by the side of the building. I ‘pick up’ ALL THE TIME. It seems that a couple of old farts with nothing but time on their hands, combined with spitefulness and…insanity? … asked the nice superintendent to “do something about that disgusting sight we see out our window”. That would be the sight of my DOG, Opal relieving herself. My response when Donny meekly came to talk to me? My blood pressure rose and I burst into tears as I fell into his arms (did I mention I am hormonal as all get out?).  So now, hours later, I am doing the ‘why didn’t I say that…’ thing.  Here’s what you two old, cranky biddies need to know:

1. My dog is a registered Guide dog. You don’t ‘walk’ a guide dog. She needs to relieve near the building.
2. I pick up her poop. I pick up other pet dog’s poop. I’m not even REQUIRED BY LAW to pick up her poop (guide dogs are exempt from the bylaw, even though I have asked to have the bylaw stricken).
3. If you don’t like to watch my dog poop, LOOK AWAY, you nutty dingbats! You should be ecstatic that you have VISION with which to watch her take a dump!
4. There is nothing in the tenancy act about controlling what you view from your apartment window. Do you freak out on the street if you see a dog relieve? And where exactly would you have dogs relieve? They have no doggy toilets yet…thank god, for that.
5. Now, if  I  was the one pooping on the lawn, you might have something to complain about…but she’s a DOG for goodness sake!
6. I’m a little miffed when I hear people spit on the walkway by the building. Ditto the blaring radios and noxious odours from the cars in the parking lot that crap up my air. I don’t like smelling your cheap Avon perfume in the elevator or laundry room either. Do you see me harping about that?
7. What’s next?  You don’t like the Asian family’s language?  Maybe the fat guy on the third floor is not pleasant to look at?  The woman in the wheel chair takes up too much space in the elevator? You’ve already bitched about the poor gay superintendent couple who work like dogs to keep this place clean and YOU pacified. And hey! I tip them at Christmas. Do you? 
8. Get a life! Get a grip! She’s a DOG. She’s MY Guide dog…and if you think THAT bitch is giving you trouble…

Guide Dog Riddles

Guide dog Riddle #1

What happens when you pile 5  Guide dogs and seven people into a hotel elevator? ANSWER: Not much. They are quiet and everyone gets to their floors.

Guide dog Riddle #2

What happens when you cram 20 Guide dogs and fourty blind people onto a school bus? ANSWER:  Not much. It’s a tight fit, but the dogs are well behaved amid the clamour of fourty  blind people eagerly anticipating a schooner cruise in Toronto harbour.

 

Guide dog riddle # 3

What happens when you board a schooner in Toronto harbour with 25 Guide dogs (some locals showed up that weren’t on the bus) and fifty blind people? ANSWER: The dogs are interested in the new scenario, but do their jobs.

Guide dog Riddle #4 

What happens when 25 Guide dogs and fifty blind people and ten or so crew and volunteers move below decks into a cramped dining room for a big buffet? ANSWER: The dogs are well behaved as food is flying and fifty blind people eat ravenously and compete to be heard over each others conversations and the loud music.

 

Guide dog Riddle #5

What happens when two Toronto taxis refuse to allow a Guide dog and handler into their cabs when they want to go to the airport  after the lovely mini-conference is over?  ANSWER: They take the third cab, and promise that there will be BIG TROUBLE for the two taxi drivers and their companies who obviously need a legal and financial reminder about the Guide dog access laws.

 

We had a lovely time in Toronto.  Opal and I are exhausted. She took it all in stride; the airports the flights, the long days, the strange hotel room, the strange city (maybe she thought we were just in another part of Halifax…the really big and noisy one), the pile of Guide dogs and all the new experiences.  We are ready for more adventures…but not today.

Where’s the rest of my breakfast?!! asks Opal

Today’s the day. We are off to Toronto. I’ve been saying this to Opal all week, as she has watched me put her ‘stuff’ in my back pack. Her ‘stuff’ by the way, takes up 85% of the pack. I’ll be lucky if I can squeeze in a change of clothes before I zip it shut this morning. Dogs (my dog, at least) do not travel light. I have a sac of pre-portioned food rations (extras in case we are stranded for an extra day), a bone, grooming brush, toy, identification and health papers, ear drops, and a blanket. There will be kibble in my pocket to dole out to Opal as the airplane ascends and lands. I’ve been told that dog’s ears go funny, just as humans’ might. At least I will be too busy stroking her ears to calm her and handing out kibble, that I may not remember that I fear flying and usually get airsick. This morning’s ration was just a scant 1/2 cup. I want her stomach to be not entirely full when we fly.  There’s no need for both of us to feel airsick. I could hear her thinking this morning, ‘Where’s the rest of my breakfast?!’  I promised her something ‘special’ in Toronto. ‘Special’ is my collective word for fun…at least I hope it’s fun for both of us. Given that there are at least a dozen Guide dogs attending the same meetings and staying in the same hotel…my guess is it will be a very ‘special’ time!

Blind ‘Simulation’ Is a Bad Idea—and here’s why

You hear about ‘awareness’ or fund-raising events that involve blind simulation. Things like ‘Blind walks’ where sighted people are blindfolded and given a cane with which they stumble around with for 10 or so minutes or ‘dinners in the dark’ where people eat a meal blindfolded, are examples of blind simulations.  While these exercises have some shock and awe results….”Oh my gosh! How difficult and frightening it is to be blind!”…they are, in my opinion, the greatest disservice to the blind community.  Oddly enough, it is most often groups or organizations of the blind who organize them.  Why is blind simulation a bad idea?  The people with the blindfold have zero experience and training.  They have not been through proper Orientation and Mobility instruction. They do not have years of tempered and consistent expereince to develop skills. Of course it’s scarey! and totally unrealistic! Even people who lose their vision in an instant (accident victims, for example), are provide with coaching and training over time. They learn to use their remaining senses more effectively. Bit by bit, their confidence increases and they can allow themselves to be exposed to more challenging situations, like walking on a busy sidewalk. It is detrimental to have a bunch of sighted people thinking that my life is a frightening and horrible existence! That is what happens as a result of these ‘blind simulated events’. It focuses on the difficulty of life as a blind person,  and negatively impacts the public perception about blindness and people who are blind. I have a life! A good one at that! I don’t want sighted people erroneously believing that my life is miserable just because I happen to be blind. 

Wrong Number Goes Right

Mothers Day came and went without fanfare in my home. I had hoped for the requisite breakfast in bed from my girls, but no such luck. All I got was the usual kiss from Opal at 5 am and a lame excuse about “not being able to operate the toaster with their paws” from both Lucy and Opal.  Halifax mothers had pretty awful weather yesterday.  Some areas had wet SNOW! For the most part it was heavy rain. The kind we describe as ‘sideways’ rain. I donned my rain suit and set out for church with Opal. The UU’s were in good form. Someone did a presentation on Falun Gong. I was a little bored (nothing like a Power Point presentation to put a blind person to sleep).  I would have enjoyed knowing how to do the exercises, but the person giving instruction had a pathetic ability for verbal description. I sat and listened to the Chinese-type music instead. After the service, I happily handed a copy of the new Pet Country Magazine to my friend.  It features a story and pictures about Opal and me.  A non-eventful kinda day until….the phone rang. It was a wrong number. Instead of saying, “sorry, wrong number”  (like Barbara Stanwyck in the move with the same name), I got into a half-hour conversation with Elan from Orrilia, Ontario (we eventually got to know a little about each other). My first comment was on the town of Orrilia, which all good Canadians know from Stephen Leacock fame  (Canadian writer of humourous novels and short stories). She was looking for a dental hygienist with the same last name as mine, and the same first initial.  Our chat took us into odd territory.  I discovered that we might know the same blind fella who plays the bagpipes in Halifax, and that her father is a dentist.  She told me that the weather in Ontario is expected to get better (good news for my upcoming trip), and that her husband has an unpronounceable Polish name. Her children are very young (one made a clay vase in daycare as a mothers day gift). We exchange e-addresses and I wished her well. Wrong number? Not really.

“Have You Got Your Mind Right Yet, Opal?”

One of my favourite movie lines is from the 1967 classic, ‘Cool Hand Luke’.  Boss Paul (played by Luke Askew) grinds away at Luke (Paul Newman) in the rural Southern USA prison, trying to break Luke by forcing him to dig a hole and fill it back up with dirt, over and over. Periodically, he snarls, “Have you got your mind right yet, Luke?”  Yes, I know. My pop culture references are a bit stale. Regardless, this one is useful today. Do not be alarmed. I am not culpable of forcing my dog to dig holes and fill them in, though I think she might enjoy the task.  I DO, however, perform obedience exercises on a semi-regular basis with Opal. We live in an apartment building which has long hallways and staircases galore. On quiet days and at quiet times, I take Opal on leash out in the halls and commence a rapid drill of  ”heel”, “sit”, “stay” and “come”.  She LOVES it. Opal is particularly fond when I ask her to  ”sit and stay”  and then I walk away slowly and summon her to the end of the hallway (75 feet away).   It thrills her to  ”come” when she is finally allowed to bolt to me. The ceramic tile does not offer much traction, so she skids several feet before she comes to a stop.  There are no objects to cause injury, so it’s a safe and exciting blast.  Why do I do this sort of obedience drill?  It ‘gets her mind right’, in a good sort of way. Dogs (especially Guide dogs) love to know who is in charge. They develop a sense of security and self-confidence by performing obedience exercise drills. It is important to keep the drills interesting, rapid, and occasional. If you do them too often, your dog will be bored and the drill ineffective. These dogs love to please their handlers.  I find that Opal becomes very focused with her guiding job  in the days following an obedience drill. We are going to Toronto next week. I want and need her to be sharp as well as relaxed in the knowledge that ‘mum knows what she’s doing, and where we’re going’, even if I don’t have a clue. Air travel, airports and the frenzy that comes with it, might be a breeze for the seasoned  Guide dog team who travel frequently, but we don’t have much experience with this. So, preparation is key, and that includes an obedience drill today….to ‘get her mind right’.  

What, me worry?!

Alfred E. Newman (of Mad Magazine fame) may have said it first, but I’m the one saying it today. I dare anyone who loves their dog to deny that they don’t worry needlessly (at least once in a while) when their dog is sick…ah, that is to say, when they barf (vomit, hurl, upchuck…).  Opal tossed her proverbial cookies yesterday afternoon. Hmm, I thought, as I examined the resulting gift on my living room rug.   Yes, I know you sighted folks may be disgusted to hear that I poke through my dog’s vomitory offering. I live alone and have no alternative than to ‘feel’ the matter out. I need to know some details about what is coming out of every end of my girl. This is critical information for determining the status of her health. Consistency, odor etc. are helpful to diagnose potential health conditions.  Let’s just say, that I suspected Opal ate some grass or other vegetation and possibly scavenged some unknown food or garbage while she played at the park earlier in the day.  Despite my best efforts to be vigilant while she sniffed and toured at the end of our retractable leash (Flexi), she might have gobbled up an unknown item.  Dogs are opportunistic, and the allure of old food or other garbage to a lab, is hard to resist.  The weather has also changed here, going rather warm quite suddenly.  I know this effects me, so I suspect  it is also difficult for Opal to adapt. What do I do when my dog is sick? I try not to obsess about it. Dogs sense (like kids) when you fuss too much about them…”Ooo, you poor girl!”…which sometimes, leads them to manifest symptoms that are not ‘real’. Instead,  I cleaned up, gave her a pat on the head, offered her water and carried on with my work, though I had an ear open for sounds of further upchucking. Later,  I checked her belly during a brief grooming. Then I cooked some brown rice. Yes, that’s what I said. I gave her a cup of cooked brown rice with a few kibbles and a little water in it for her supper, though only after a two-hour wait.  She seemed lethargic, but that may have been the warmish day. Like anyone who loves their animals, I do worry, but not to excess.  I paid close attention to see if, and what she pooped,  so that I could be assured that she did not have an obstruction. Good news to report. Happily, Opal is better today, though I am giving her an easy working day. Of course, I would be running to the vet, if I had any concerns that she was not getting better,  or if I thought that she was in pain. I would caution against weird home remedies, or waiting too long before going to the vet, especially if dehydration is a factor. It is hard to achieve that balance between excessive worry, and appropriate concern. 

The World Has Gone Crazy!

Interesting day? You bet. First, some dweeb from the local CTV news magazine program, “Live at Five”, finally returned my telephone messages. She had apparently been away on holiday. I was told to call her up for a copy of the interview segment which they did on service dogs. Two weeks or so ago, Opal and I obliged them with an hour of our time (Kaching!- I think that’s worth $15.00) on one hour’s notice (Kaching!- I think that’s worth another $15.00) to be questioned, filmed and pretty much exploited for this dim-wit TV program. I was polite, informed, and did not bitch when the camera guy and journalist (I use the word, journalist loosely) FOLLOWED us home to do the teaser for the show (Kaching! – I think that’s worth another $15.00) Opal got zip for her trouble (Kaching!- I think that’s worth $15.00).  I think the dweeb gal at CTV might have been put off when I admitted I did not watch TV, did not own a TV and none of my relatives watched this program either. She told me (in a lovely, syrupy TV anchor-kinda voice) “Yes, we’ll let you have a copy of the 2.5 minute segment….FOR $39.95!!!! (Kaching!). I thought I was in a K-Tel nightmare gone Nova Scotian!  I told her that I had to pass on it.  She then tried to tell me about the high cost of making copies of program segments…sure, it must take all of, ah…5 minutes to cue up a tape and burn it to a DVD (Kaching! 5 cents worth of disc). She then suggested I contact the RCMP officer who was also in the piece with his police dog.  Sure babe, call out the Mounties. 

Then, to confirm the fact that the world has gone crazy, I heard something come out of my neighbour’s mouth that put the icing on my nutty cupcake today. Here’s the story: Opal and I are going to Toronto in 10 days time. I want to leave Lucy in my apartment for 2 nights instead of shipping her off to the cat sitter (and stressing her out). All I need is someone in my building to come in FOUR times to feed her, TWO, in a pinch…a job involving ten minutes of someone’s time for $20.00 (Kaching!). I asked T. if she would be around on that May holiday weekend, knowing full well that she would be.  She has no job, no family, no commitments, no friends, no life essentially except for her TV (maybe she’s watching “Live at Five”) and could really use the money. What does she say? … “Oh no, I don’t want the responsibility of taking care of your cat”. RESPONSIBILITY? of dishing out a scoop of kibble? Sigh. The world has gone crazy indeed. 

This is for you, Angel

There’s a little lady somewhere in the southern U.S. who raised my girl, Opal. That was a few years ago. By some incredible stroke of luck, I have managed to stay in touch with her and her family. Today, she asked for my input on a school paper she is writing  on service dogs. Question: Can I tell her 2 or 3 things about what’s it like to have one? Answer: Do you have a couple of months to listen? You’re asking a tough question, Angel. Here’s why. There are several answers, on several levels. Practically, Opal keeps me from walking into stuff, falling off curbs and tumbling down staircases…she detours around shopping carts,  garbage cans, panhandlers, parked cars, construction sites and all that. She does it WITH MY HELP. I decide when to cross the street, but if I make a bad decision, she can override it (Intelligent Disobedience). I could avoid most of that without her, given a white cane and a lot of time, stress and effort. I’m not saying that travelling with Opal is a snap. I need to be thinking about where we are, and what I need to say to her and what to do with my arms and feet. HOWEVER!!! Life with Opal is fun! I am more independent because I WANT TO BE. I have her with me 24/7 (unlike pet dogs that stay home some times). She is my best friend. I am not as lonely as I once was. She provides me with a reason to get out of bed (though I bet your dog, Snoopy doesn’t get up at 5 am every day!) I am healthier because I walk a lot and get plenty of fresh air. I don’t have too much time to worry about my own little problems because she keeps me busy. One more thing for you…when I am somewhere (like a boring meeting) and I need a break, Opal can suddenly…need to relieve…and I am OUTTA THERE! (grin). Thank you for raising my girl. She has changed my life. 

Wise Advice from…Kent Keith

 In my e-mail box this morning, I found a reply from Mr. Kent M. Keith. I had written to him several Sundays ago after hearing his Paradoxical Commandments read at my UU church. Perhaps I have been living under a rock somewhere, because I had never heard of the Paradoxical Commandments before.  Kent Keith wrote these in 1968 as part of his book, The Silent Revolution: Dynamic Leadership in Student Council, published by Harvard Student Agencies, Cambridge, Massachusetts. I enjoyed hearing them read so much, that when I returned home, I immediately Googled Mr. Keith and asked permission to write them here. He graciously allowed me to do so. He also mentioned that his ancestors (British) landed here in Nova Scotia after fighting in the American Revolutionary War. He has attended a conference here, and “thought the whole region was beautiful!” So here are Kent M. Keith’s Paradoxical Commandments (copyright 1968, renewed 2001). To learn the interesting story of how the PC’s came about, travelled around the globe, and for more interesting reading from Mr. Keith, go to his web site, www.paradoxicalcommandments.com  (link direct from blogroll).

THE PARADOXICAL COMMANDMENTS BY KENT M. KEITHS

 

1. People are illogical. Love them anyway.

2. If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives. Do good anyway.

3. If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies. Succeed anyway.

4. The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.

5. Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable. Be honest and frank anyway.

6. The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds. Think big anyway.

7. People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs. Fight for a few underdogs anyway.

8. What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight. Build anyway.

9. People really need help but may attack you if you help them. Help people anyway.

10. Give the world the best you can and you’ll get kicked in the teeth. Give the world the best you can anyway. 

Wise Advice About T-Touch For Dogs

The first evening of my training period at Canadian Guide Dog’s for the Blind had an interesting and calming end. Training with a new Guide dog is stressful for both the handlers and their new dogs. The handlers finds themselves in a new environment. They are with strangers, and have just met their new guide dogs. Some have travelled from a distance and left behind home and familiarity.  Some have just retired their last guide dog. The new guide dogs have been living at the Centre with the same kennel mates for several months. They have been going out with a familiar trainer every day. Now, everyone is tossed together, trying to figure one another out.  I was the newbie, (having never had a guide dog).  I was filled with anxious anticipation. My brain was spinning with information that I feared might forget; the layout of the Centre, the house rules, the names of my classmates and the Centre’s staff, the details of the Agreement with the school I had just signed, the first instructions on the do’s and don’ts of guide dog handling and more.  The ‘handover’ of dogs had taken place that afternoon. I could not believe that the high-energy black lab on the end of the leash (Opal), was now a part of my life.  It was all very new and daunting. We gathered in the lounge and our instructor told us about T- Touch. I had never heard of Linda Tellington-Jones or her method of ‘massage’ for animals. It was literally, a hands-on session. We sat on the floor and followed Jane’s (a certified T-touch practitioner) instructions.  A half-hour later, four dogs were stress-free and asleep. So were the handlers. I have put the link to TTouch.com on the blogroll. I urge you to investigate. When Opal is stressed, ill, fearful, or in pain, I do some t-touches on her. I do them on myself too for everything from headaches to arthritic pain relief.  T-Touch is useful for behavioural problems too. There are books and videos on the subject, by Linda Tellington-Jones.  They can be found in your public library or bookstore. 

More on the Danger of Quiet Cars (Hybrids)

I recently submitted a report to our Mayor and Council (I am chair of  the Halifax Regional Municipality Advisory Committee for Persons with Disabilities. It was the second such report that I have submitted requesting they to write to the auto industry and auto trade associations. Our committee agreed that the QUIET CHARACTERISTIC  of Hybrid vehicles poses a significant danger to people who can not see them (example: blind and partially sighted people, distracted kids, and people tuned out with their I-Pods etc.).  A pedestrian who can not see or hear a vehicle approaching, faces significant risk.  Soon after I submitted the first report, I was surprised to receive a message that “there’s a problem”. I was mystified about what it could be. Somewhere along the line, the Environmental Sustainability Department got wind that ‘the ACPWD wants to ban hybrids’.  The Halifax Regional Municipality (HRM) owns a small fleet of these cars, AND have ordered some hybrid diesel buses. I cam imagine the panic over this, all because of mis-communication.  A meeting with that department manager cleared the air.  They were relieved to know that we have no desire to ban hybrids. We explained that all we want to ensure, is the adoption of a standard for emission of SOUND from these vehicles. We fully support the work towards a sustainable environment plan.  How ironic that I, of all people should be misconceived as a poopaher of environmental initiatives! I’m the one who harps on about reducing, reusing, and recycling to anyone who will listen (and then some). Once the air was cleared, I tweaked the letter and report to the Mayor and council and re-submitted it. We are waiting to hear from them.  I pointed out that EXISTING vehicles can be modified with devices to ensure that they are audible (without turning them into noise makers). I think this is a timely issue, given the sky-rocketing price of gasoline which is creating a tidal wave of orders for hybrid cars all over North America, including Halifax. Groups such as the NFB (National Federation of the Blind -U.S.A.) and the AEBC (Alliance for Equality of Blind Canadians) are pushing  for legislation to create a standard for sound emission from hybrid vehicles. It would be so much wiser and easier to be proactive by facing it NOW, rather than delay and create a complicated and long struggle (during which time people would face peril and injury). If we think back to the resistance to seat belts and similar changes in the automobile industry that eventually became the legislated norm, I think the industry might listen and bite the bullet sooner rather than later. 

Theory On Why I Have “Such A Beautiful Dog!”

Opal is a good looking dog. I’m her ‘mum’, so naturally I think she’s drop-dead gorgeous. I have an interesting theory on why strangers find her equally beautiful. It’s simple, really. She sticks out because of her harness (and me attached to the end of it). People notice her on buses and in restaurants and other public places because they are a ‘captive audience’.  She is usually the only dog in their line of sight, so they zero in on her. They examine her more closely on a bus than they would if they saw her as the pet dog running around a park. Their brains work on gathering information about her working status.  They sit and stare, and have time to appreciate that she is smart and doing a ‘good job for the blind lady’. I know that some of those people who are saying to me, “What a beautiful dog!”, are not even particularly fond of dogs, and would totally disregard us if I was just a sighted woman with a pet dog on leash going for a walk.  She IS a beautiful dog, no question about it, and she KNOWS IT, delicate, vain flower, that she is! She is well-groomed and well-behaved, so that adds to her appeal. Like any god mum, I will always think of her as the best looking dog in town, no matter what.

I Love…Like…Tolerate a Parade

Actually, traditional parades do not appeal to me. They are loud and crowded and frighten Opal. (We accidentally wandered into the Pride parade last year and she was blasted with silly string and streamers. The whistles and loud music didn’t help either.)  A parade we do enjoy, or at least tolerate, is the monthly shopping expedition at our local grocery store. Shopping for groceries when you unable to read labels or locate items, can be hard. It is even more complicated, when you have a guide dog.  I like to rest Opal after 40 minutes in harness. It’s only fair.  Here’s how food shopping works for us. I call ahead and ask the manager if someone will be available to help us shop. I always chose a quiet weekday morning. We arrive on time and present ourselves to customer service. The manager normally has booked Dewayne, the produce manager to help us through the bulk of the shopping. Dewayne pulls the shopping cart from the front. I hold the cart handle and follow. Opal is in harness, and I have only her leash in hand, with the handle down. She is on my left side as we meander around, looking very much like a little parade.  Opal obediently keeps up, and I am cognizant of any attempts to dive for food items on the floor. Dewayne tries to use the wider spaces in the Quinpool Road Superstore and tells me if we are going left or right. We wait in place in quiet spots while he goes off to collect a few items. I thwart off the customers who want to impede the flow of the parade (looking to pat Opal or run over her).  Fortunately, most of my shopping is done within the perimeter of the store. That’s where the produce, bakery, and dairy are located in all grocery stores. (We bypass the meat department aka. ‘dead animals’ also located in the perimeter.) In the interior aisles, we avoid the crap over- packaged and processed food, and find our tea, and the odd package of pasta or rice. When efficient Dewayne is unavailable to lead the parade,  grocery shopping can become a long and arduous ordeal.  If the clerk does not know where items are located, we are in for a rough ride. I have been known to abandon a clerk and cart, when I feel that the Odyssey has been too much for Opal. “Sorry, but we’re not wandering around like Bedouins anymore. It’s not fair to my dog…we’ll be back when she’s rested, and you find someone who can get us out of here in a timely manner”. Here’s the way to re-enforce good service for customers who are blind or have similar shopping needs: If the clerk does a good job, make a point of speaking to the manager of the store, preferably at the cash, in front of him or her and praise them up. I point out, that if I am dropping $150.00 in their store, I enjoy and appreciate doing it quickly. I also point out shortcomings; poor choice of produce, too much time spent wandering around, etc.  I make use of the customer service 1-800 number that most food chains have and report good and bad service. I make suggestions about accessible on line flyers, and anything else I think they should be aware of.  I  do my bit, by being prepared when I go to shop, knowing what I want to buy, and the sequence it will be picked up…natural food sections, produce, bread, sundries, groceries, dairy, frozen food. Get familiar with a store and the manager and staff. It is the only way you can hope to have consistent and reasonably acceptable service when shopping if you are blind.  If you are fortunate enough to have a friend or family member help you shop instead of requiring assistance by store employees, be sure to respect their time and effort by being prepared. 

Another Half-baked CNIB Idea

It is no secret that I have a tenuous relationship with the CNIB (Canadian National Institute for the Blind).  I’ll grant that they have good O & M instructors (Orientation and Mobility), but my praise stops there. I am grateful that they taught me good caning skills. That’s what they do best, are supposed to do and should continue to do.  My beef with CNIB? They make nutty decisions with little or no consultation with their clients. I’ll get to the latest half-baked scheme they dreamed up in a moment. What really puts a burr under my saddle is their passive acceptance of praise (and money) from people who have no idea what they do (or not do).  More than once, someone has asked me, “What’s your CNIB dog’s name?”  I could spit. Instead I grit my teeth and explain that CNIB HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH PUTTING GUIDE DOGS INTO BLIND PEOPLE’s HANDS! In fact,   The CNIB in Toronto was known to have banned Guide dogs from their building for a while in the early years, relegating them to the yard while their handlers were inside.  The organization has a public image that is vastly based on misconception. They do not give “all that free stuff that helps the blind” as people erroneously believe.  Nor do they find employment for people (except some pathetic contracts with casinos that has blind people doing coat check with drunks or similar and infrequent opportunities). Nor do they provide any social programs which some isolated blind folks could really use. Nor do they actually employ many blind people within their organization (except for a few token staff here and there). Nor do they provide a list of services or resources when one is referred…it’s hit or miss what or when you ever find out what they do and who does it, or what other organizations might offer. Nor do they do advocacy work on any significant scale, though they are quick to accept kudos for other people’s work.   I will explain their latest idiotic idea.  The CNIB library in Toronto has historically mailed Braille and Talking books to the blind all over Canada.  Several years ago, the four-track cassettes were finally retired and new technology emerged with the creation of DAISY books. Digital Audio Information Systems books are Cd’s that hold an entire recorded book on a single disc. The Canadian government gave the CNIB library $6,000,000 to convert to the new system. I have no idea what terms came with the money, or how it was used in paying for new discs, mailing cases for them, and new devices to play them on.  They are played on DAISY players. These machines cost $500.00 Canadian. The CNIB got in bed with a Quebec company called Humanware, and a bunch were given free of cost to many blind people across the country. The rush to do this was fueled by unknown factors. Accountability and transparency are not part of the CNIB philosophy.  Now, several years later, these devices are breaking down and no one, except Humanware can repair them. They do so for an obscene price and great inconvenience (shipping to Quebec) to the owners. Remember, most blind people live are unemployed or underemployed and live in poverty.  That’s just a drop in the bucket, as far as I am concerned. Now, the CNIB library very craftily sent out a notice that the audio books on DAISY disc were going to arrive in a new mailing case. Here’s why, I have learned through patient investigation. The discs, are mailed in a cardboard mailer. The name and address of the client is imprinted on the disc. The client listens to the book on CD and then returns it to the CNIB in Toronto, where it is DESTROYED and “recycled”.  The reason given for returning them is one of copyright (even though you can copy the book while you have it). They claimed that there were ‘mistakes’ in the return of CD’s and this is why they have changed the system.  Every client gets a fresh book every time.  I began thinking about the number of books that would be destroyed and ‘recycled’. I tried to find out about the recovery of material in the recycling of CD’s and the amount of material (significant) that would end up in the landfill.  E-mails and phone calls to the library tested my patience. It was not until I threatened ‘Freedom of information’ action, that I was finally told that last year, the CNIB library loaned “over 1,000,000 DAISY books on CD.” They tried to cushion the significance of this by saying that downloads are becoming more popular.  Their own web site identifies that fewer than 17% of blind Canadians are connected to the Internet. Sigh. I have contacted the Ministry of the Environment in Ontario and in Nova Scotia to get some input. They are stunned and are checking into it. No one seems to know much about  the environmental impact of recycling CD’s…there is a significant part that goes into the landfill.  I will be withdrawing my CNIB library membership and following the consequences of this CNIB half-baked idea, done without consultation, as usual. I think they should stop calling themselves a library, if they are not circulating the majority of their collection. 

LOOKING FOR DONATIONS OF OLD EYEGLASSES

My friend has a son who is in a Scout project. They are collecting old eyeglasses which will be processed and distributed to people in developing countries who would otherwise not be able to afford corrective lenses. If you have a pair or two (look in that sock drawer!) somewhere, consider mailing them to the following address. (My friend is Opal’s puppy-raiser’s mom and always doing something nice for someone)

Donna Anderson

401 Village Loop Drive

Apex, North Carolina

27502 U.S.A.

Sort Your Dog Out!

One of the most valuable pieces of advice that I learned from our instructor while training with Opal at Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind in Manotick, Ontario, was: ‘Always sort your dog out’. Let me explain. Guide dogs are, in the end, just dogs with special training. They are vulnerable to the same desire for mischief as other dogs. Their curiousity (my Opal is a busybody extraordinaire) sometimes gets the better of them, even when they are in harness. Variables like their level of stress, the ‘newness’ of a situation, the scent in the environment, and their relationship with you at any given moment, contribute to  potential distraction and unwanted behaviour. It takes a long time to get into sync with a new guide dog. It was a year before Opal and I were truly in tune. She is my first guide dog, so perhaps it was a longer process for us. I had been cautioned that I would be ‘tested’ by her, when we returned to Halifax and started out on our journeys together. How true! Dogs are capable of all sorts of mind games. It is their way of determining who is ‘in charge’. For example, Opal would insist on an opportunity to relieve numerous times on our way to the bus stop near our home. I gave her the benefit of the doubt for a while, but called her bluff when I realized that this was just a gigantic ploy to sniff around. More significantly, she wanted to see if I would let her be the boss. Our instructor’s words echoed in my head on Opal’s first visit to my bank. I was trying to do some business with the sit-down teller and the bank manager with Opal at my feet. Opal was getting up and trying to check out the litter basket when I said to the bank manager and teller, “excuse me” and promptly ignored them and ‘sorted my dog out’.  I did not return my attention to them until I was satisfied that Opal was back in place and not doing anything goofy. I continue to do this when the need arrises, regardless of who I am with, or where I am… I could care less if I am with a head of state, or an journalist doing a TV interview with me (as was the case last week) or anyone else who is expecting my undivided attention; my priority is to ensure that my dog is safe, comfortable and not bugging anyone. When the day came that Opal realized that this is my consistent response to any silliness or distraction on her part, she started behaving nicely most of the time. She understood (with great relief), that I am ‘top dog’.  This applies to all dogs, pets and service dogs alike. There is nothing more annoying than an uncontrolled dog (or child) misbehaving in public. Sort them out!–they will love you for it because they feel the ‘leader of the pack’ is handling it and is in charge. 

Guide Dog Stamp Issued By Canada Post

THIS FROM MARKETWIRE: “On April 21st, Canada Post issued its first ever Braille stamp featuring Guide dogs. The domestic rate stamp will have the denomination in both print and Braille.  The stamp is being issued to coincide with the 100th anniversary of the Montreal Association for the Blind which is also being recognized with a commemorative envelope.” the article goes on to explain Canada Post’s commitment to provide Canadians with inovative and interesting products.  ”Stamp designers  Stephen Boake and Andrew Pero of Toronto’s Designwerke sought to keep the design simpleto give prominance to the dog in order to reinforce the intimate connection with the human partner.  The Yellow Lab on the stamp is a Canine Vision Dog Guide from Lions Foundation of Canada Dog Guides. The addition of Braille on the stamp created variuos printing challenges, as did the increase in font size of the denomination, another incorporated element to assist vison-impaired individuals….The 52 cent stamp is avaialable and measures: 38mm X 27mm.  3.5 million stamps were printed to be sold in booklets of 10. Additional information can be found in the newsroom section of the Canad post web site and photos of the stamp are in the newsroom’s photo centre.” I will put the Canada Post link on my blog roll for easy access by anyone who wants more information or a look at the stamp. 

A Sad Reality About Guide Dog vs White Cane

 I first noticed something extraordinary when I  started appearing in shops and on buses with Opal, my Guide dog; people had a totally different response to me….they were friendlier, more helpful, more apt to interact,  and more cognizant of my blindness.  This sad reality left me with mixed feelings. I was conflicted; I loved my new independence and confidence with Opal by my side, yet I felt awkward (guilty)  that my friends who continue to navigate with white canes, were experiencing what I had left behind. This all became crystal clear on the first day I went into my community with Opal.  We went into the local pharmacy at the shopping centre, where I had been shopping for several years. In the past, the experience was, ah…less than pleasant. I would stand around near the counter, and try to get the clerk’s attention so that customer service could be summoned to help me find things in the store. Sometimes I would wait upwards of 15 minutes.  I was left with the feeling that I was imposing on their time.  The very SECOND I entered the store that day with Opal, before I could even open my mouth to request assistance, I heard a clerk exclaim, “Hi, how are you today? I’ll get someone to help you right away. What a beautiful dog you have!”.  I thought that this might be some aberrant experience. Not so. I soon learned that the world is much kinder to me with Opal by my side. Sure, some people remain eternal a-holes, but overall,  I am treated (by default, because of the interest in Opal) so much better than when I travelled with a white cane.  I would like to create a greater awareness of this in the public mind. Do they realize that the person using a white cane is entitled to the same interest, assistance and  interaction as the person with a Guide dog?  I hope to get some comments on this. 

Now that’s what I call a church service worth going to!

Earth Day is coming up on Tuesday. While most churches carried on with their typical fair today, the Universalist Unitarian church of Halifax’s celebrated Earth Day.  It began with Raffi’s ‘Big Beautiful Planet’ song, followed by opening words from the UN Environmental Sabbath Program.  The Gaia singers performed and coaxed the congregation into rather lovely harmonies with “The River is Flowing/Tomogami Round”–…”if we loose this forest, if we ravage this land, we might as well be cutting off our own right hand. For we and the Earth are one, under the moon, under the sun..”

UU’s are not the most dogma-loving creatures. Nor am I. That is why today’s focus on Earth Day was typical of a UU service. UU’s are often accused of being from the church that is…a bit of everything except ‘religion’.  I like that too. I like the open discussion, the inclusive nature and the acceptance that one’s belief’s or tenants (from Christianity, Buddhism, Islam to Atheism, Paganism and Humanism etc.) are personal choices which must be respected.  The Universalist Unitarian focus on community, social justice and planetary concerns have won me over. Yesterday, Opal and I attended UU orientation. We will become official UU’s in two weeks  (I’ll be the one signing).  Happily,  my choice was affirmed in my mind today. Now that’s what I call a church service worth going to! 

Opal does Hollywood (north)

Yesterday started out like any other day. I stumbled out of bed at 5:30 after Opal gave me her usual wake-up kiss.  We normally greet the day before most everyone in our building. I like that. The air seems fresher then and the city is quiet, except for the resident crows and the sound of distant early buses.  I fed the girls and settled to listen to the morning news on CBC radio, our public broadcaster.  I did my chores while Opal caught up on her beauty sleep. We were at the theatre the evening before, so her bedtime had been pushed back and she was a bit tired.  A phone call came in around 11:30. It was an O & M instructor (Orientation and Mobility) from CNIB who wanted to know if we were available for a TV interview.  I asked who wanted to do it and what the piece was. I was passed along to the reporter who was going to be doing it.  She was in the field. Actually, she was in the airport. The piece was about working dogs and they were just winding up with the luggage sniffer dogs at the airport.  The show was ‘Live at 5″, a CTV local feature hour that leads into the supper hour news. I agreed to meet her in one hour at the nearby Walmart.   I groomed Opal in a hurry, even though the girl is drop-dead gorgeous most of the time. The young reporter found me at Walmart and suggested we do the interview outside.  Cyril, the camera guy, met us at the nearby bus terminal. The interview was done right amidst buses and people walking all around. Opal was content to sit while I blabbed responses to the interviewer’s questions about how she has changed my life, what Opal does, her personality and so on. I think Cyril took a lot of closeups of Opal. Then we went for the action shots. Cyril was walking hunched over, BACKWARDS, so that he could shoot Opal as she worked. We went through the same crosswalks and intersections several times at his request.  I could hear Opal thinking, “why are we going back and forth, mum? we’re not getting anywhere.”  Finally, Cyril was happy, and so was the interviewer. I confessed that I did not own a TV (by choice), but would be happy to receive a copy of the piece for my family and friends. Opal and I ambled home. I had just taken Opal’s harness off and given her a fresh drink of water when the phone rang. It was the journalist and Cyril. They had followed us home. “Boy, you guys walk fast”, she exclaimed. They wanted us to come back out to do the teaser for the piece on our front lawn. Opal was getting a little tired of her new fame and star status, but she obliged them with a promo shot. We crouched on the grass. The journalist did a couple of takes saying, “She’s not just another pretty face…” as Opal licked her into a giggling heap.  Finally, it was ‘in the can’. They thanked us and left. I vacuumed my apartment while Opal rested. Friends started phoning soon after it aired, with much praise and kind words. Opal wants to hire a publicist.

When Guide Dogs “Fail”

Guide dog schools often have a breeding program.  Dams and sires are retained to breed pups that will one day become Guide dogs for the blind. At least, that’s the intention. From the moment the pup is born, it will be evaluated to determine its potential as a guide dog. If the pup meets the requirements (size and early health condition), it will be whelped and then placed with a ‘puppy-raiser’ or ‘puppy-walker’ family. The various guide dog schools usually have puppy-raiser programs. The puppy will continue to be evaluated throughout its puppyhood.  I am only generally familiar about the puppy raiser-experience. I can say, that there are stringent requirements and guidelines to meet, before a puppy is placed with someone. Ideally, the puppy-walker will expose the puppy to many things in the 12 to 18 month period that they foster it. Some puppies will fail evaluations along the way. I am not certain about these dogs, but I suspect that the guide dog school find good homes for them, if the puppy-raiser chooses not to keep them.  The dog that survives the evaluation and periodic testing until it is finally ‘good to go’, faces a new and even more arduous series of challenges. The training involved in teaching a dog what it needs to know at the guide dog school  usually lasts upwards of six months. This is the ‘make and break’ period where trainers and apprentice trainers teach the dog the skills it will need to guide a blind person. They don’t all make it. That does not mean that a dog who ‘fails’  guide dog training, has reached the end of the line.   There are all sorts of reasons why a dog would not make it. Perhaps the dog is easily distracted by noise, scent or motion (to the point where it can not overcome the distraction, regardless of all efforts to correct it).  Some of these dogs, will be re-trained for another purpose…. drug, explosive and arson detection, special skills training for a wheel chair user, alert dog and so on. The dogs that are not retrained, will often be offered as pet dogs to good families or individuals.  These dogs are anything but ‘failures’.  They are well behaved, social creatures that can be the pride and joy of someone’s household. If you live anywhere near a Guide dog school (check the ultimate list on the blogroll), and you plan to acquire a dog, consider contacting the school. If you go onto the individual schools’ web sites, you will probably be able to learn if they offer this). They might have a dog (pure bred or cross bred) for you at minimal cost.  The dog will have had excellent health care and attention throughout its young life.  Sometimes the guide dog schools keep a list of individuals who are seeking to buy a dog that did not pass the training. There might be a waiting period, but I think it is well worth it. This is an excellent alternative to buying a pup from a breeder or through a shelter, especially if you are seeking a dog that is already seasoned for sociability. 

A Guide Dog Retires

Opal has been my Guide dog for two years. It has suddenly hit me that we are 1/4 through her working life. This realization both shocks and frightens me. It seems like “we’ve only just begun”.. as the Carpenters crooned long ago. The frightening part is that I can not imagine my life without her, or with a different  Guide. I’m sure I will wrap my head around this reality one day.  A friend who lives in my apartment building, also has a guide dog. Actually he has an authentic Seeing Eye dog. I have explained the difference between a Guide dog and a Seeing eye dog in a past blog.  Next week, he retires his dog, Russo,  and he will leave for Morristown, New Jersey to train with another guide dog. He summed up his emotions very well in an e-mail to me…. “I am very happy, and I am very sad”. Russo is now 10 years old. This is the typical age when guide dogs retire.  Some dogs work longer. Others retire early due to health reasons, or other factors (change in handlers circumstances or for whatever reason, the dog no longer works efficiently). Many people ask me, “what happens to guide dogs when they retire?”  The answer?   It depends. The Guide dog schools have various policies for retiring dogs. Sometimes, the dog is allowed to remain with the handler as a pet. This does not happen too often. If the blind person goes to re-train with another guide dog, there would be two dogs in the household. One working, one pet. The pet (retired dog) must still be fed, exercised, played with, groomed and provided with veterinary care. That dog no longer has ‘service dog’ status. No more vet discounts, no more provisions under the access laws if living in a no-pets allowed building. It would be impossible to have a retired dog AND an active guide dog, without a sighted person in residence.  The Guide dog’s harness is returned to or collected by the Guide dog school. It would be impossible for the lone Blind person to ‘walk’ the retired dog (without a harness) multiple times per day, AND to provide both dogs with adequate attention.  Such a situation, would be unfair to both dogs.  Imagine too, when ‘mum’ or ‘dad’ come home with the ‘new’ guide dog,  the difficult transition for the retired dog as it observes a strange dog taking over the guiding job. Most often, the retiring guide dog goes to another home. Sometimes, the dog will go to live with a family member. Other times, the original puppy raiser is given the opportunity to take the dog if their situation is suitable.  Very often, a friend of the handler who lives in the retired dog’s area, will be approved by the Guide dog school to take the dog. If the dog is ‘locally’ retired, then the ex-handler might have the opportunity to visit. I don’t know if that is a good idea or not, given the potential emotional difficulties involved for the dog (and handler). Russo, is going to a rural town one-hour’s drive away to live with his handler’s friend.  They have been visiting, and attempting to familiarize Russo with the new home and location.  I think a solo weekend visit for Russo was undertaken recently. To tell you the truth, I don’t particularly like Russo’s handler much, but I feel for him this week. His church is planning a final ‘goodbye’ service for the dog that has been attending for eight years. When I heard this, I felt a lump form in my throat. The day after the next church service, Russo will travel to his new home without his handler. Opal will no longer be smelling “the big boy” on Sunday afternoons (after Russo has run around off leash in Opal’s relief area, as he has every Sunday since we have lived here). The following day, ‘A’ will leave for Morristown and train with a new Seeing Eye dog.  He will return several weeks later with ‘dog’ (specific information about the dog is not given to the client until they arrive).  I think I will go say goodbye to Russo and wish ‘A’ good luck.

Yet another announcement about announcing bus stops

Why go through the agony of going to a traditional court, when you can access the Court of Public Opinion?  In recent months, I have slogged away in an attempt to force our local transit company to publicly announce what they have been saying to me behind closed doors… (actually a series of correspondence through my legal representative).  The problem? Bus drivers (they like to be called Operators now) in the city of Halifax have never adopted the practice of announcing any MAJOR stops on their routes. They will, announce a REQUESTED stop.  Perhaps I would not have chomped at the bit so voraciously, were it not for the drivers’ haphazard success to announce REQUESTED stops. It is an inconvenience at best and a potentially frightening and confusing experience, for Blind and partially sighted people to be dropped off at a location other than where they expect to find themselves.  I acknowledge that drivers have a lot on their plate at times, with traffic and weather. However, so often, they are occupied with mindless conversations with other passengers, personal cell phone conversations (now illegal when driving in this province, or they simply ‘forget’. It’s a nice gesture for the driver to say,  ”sorry, I forgot” when they finally realize that  they have forgotten to announce the requested stop for the blind passenger and have blown by the stop (or maybe the passenger has asked, “are we at my stop yet?” and have dragged the driver back to consciousness long enough to let them off the bus). However, this is little comfort to the person who may be several yards or blocks beyond their familiar stop.  I am a resourceful type. Being ‘lost’ is a pain in the butt, but at least I have the skills and hootzpah to re-orient myself. Many blind people do not. So, as a result of a complaint about a specific incident which I reported, I was eventually offered a little olive branch. Legal council for the city and Transit management realized (once they studied the precedents which had somehow missed their radar) that they must accept that announcing bus stops is an OBLIGATION rather than a courtesy. To put it simply, transit companies all over the country have been hauled in front of the Canadian Human Rights Commission and other provincial human rights agencies by blind lawyers (see David Lepofsky v Toronto Transit Commission) and these tribunals have ruled in favor of the complainants. IE. Financial hardship (which TTC argued prevented them from implementing a voice enunciator system) was NOT a defense for not meeting the requirements for REASONABLE ACCOMMODATION for the disabled. Cities large and small (Vancouver, Winnipeg, Ottawa, North Bay, Sarnia, Woodstock, Waterloo region) have smelled the odor of imminent litigation, and wisely chosen to be proactive and voluntarily draft and enact similar policies  that obliges their transit drivers  to announce bus stops. Some are not very happy about it, but they are, at least acting on it. So a statement was sent to…pacify me?..shut me up? …lull me into complacent abandonment of my claim?..hold me off until AFTER the next municipal election?…I don’t know. The policy issued to me via my lawyer?…Here it is: “ANY person may ask a driver to announce the major stops on the route, and the driver will do so, until that person leaves the bus”. It sounds like they made  a desperate attempt to ACCOMMODATE , without giving it much thought.  How will a driver determine what a ‘major stop’ is, or how they will know when someone is leaving the bus? It did not matter much anyway. They did not tell the public about this new ‘policy’. They even neglected to let the DRIVERS in on it!  This became apparent, when a bunch-o-blind folk put the ‘policy’ to the test. Confusion, hostility, resentment, reigned. Some (3 out of 21) made an attempt to announce something. One driver decided to announce turns, and the other 2 winged it.  The other 18 drivers either refused,  or asked, “why?”  or “what’s a major stop?”, or had absolutely no response. When asked about the directive they allegedly received a month ago, they all said they had not received any such thing. That is when I thought it would be time to share my news with the public. A media release was issued. Radio and other media started phoning me for interviews. It seems that the public has a range of opinion on the whole idea of announcing bus stops. That’s why I believe in the Court of Public Opinion.  The public affairs manager of the transit company was asked by a hot line radio program for an interview to respond to me. How happy I am today!  Metro Transit has fessed up that they don’t have a date for implementing the automated voice enunciator system on buses yet, but at least they have told someone other than ME, that it will be installed eventually. In the meanwhile, drivers are suppose to be getting the elusive directive to urge them to announce major stops upon request. On today’s radio interview rebuttal, I suggested to the transit drivers, that they speak to their union and urge management to fast track the automated system, because after all, it is soooo  hard to remember all those bus stops. 

Opal, you should report me!

I have an oft-used line that I say to Opal…”You should report me!”  I  uttered it today, when for the SECOND time in a week, I made the girl drink water out of a kidney basin. A kidney basin, by the way, is a banana-shaped plastic container which is used as a recepticle when people feel the need to…uh…wretch or vomit.  I insisted on a sterile one, of course!  I was at the blood collection lab at the local hospital with Opal, on this warm spring day for routine blood work. I noticed that Opal was panting. I had remembered to bring a water bottle, but had left behind her travel dish.  Not one to let my girl feel uncomfortable, I asked for something to use as a water dish. (The little bit I managed to dribble into my hand wasn’t cutting it). The blood technician offered a kidney basin.  My poor girl was challenged AGAIN by this thing which I had forced her to use, only a few days ago. She could not seem to decide which side of the curve to drink from, so she alternated.  That’s when I gave her a pat on the head and said, “You should report me!”.  Hey, you do what you need to do. I will not allow my dog to go thirsty. This is also the 60 pound dog that I have CARRIED for several meters on a stretch of sidewalk that was covered in broken glass. This is the dog that I have sat up with entire nights, to make sure that she was going to be OK.  This is the dog that I have moved bedroom furniture for when she was displeased about the new arrangement (could not see out the window… what was I thinking!)  This is the girl I love.

Paul Watson–Eco-terrorist goes too far…again

 Canadian Green Party leader, Elizabeth May announced her resignation from the advisory committee of the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society after Paul Watson is quoted as saying,  ”the death of seals is an even greater tragedy than the death of four sealers”.  Mr. Watson, a self described Eco-terrorist, repeated this comment today. Conservationists and Environmentalists are dropping their support of Watson.  He made these comments as the funeral of three sealers in Cap-aux-Meulles, a small community in the Madlelaine Islands was taking place. A fourth sealer’s body is missing.  Mr. Watson has rammed, skuttled and sunk fishing vessels all over the world. The names of the ships he has sunk are painted onto the side of one the cement-hulled boats he uses to ram them.  His ships are also armed with high-powered water cannons and protected with barbed wire. He has used acid, explosives and other means to sink or disable “enemy” ships.  His goal to bring an end to the fishing industry has found him brandishing an AK 47.   a Watson was a co-founder of Greenpeace, but splintered off because of the groups ‘impassivity’.  While the world still grieved in the aftermath of 9/11, Watson announced “there is nothing wrong with terrorism, as long as you win”. The eco-terrorist goal is to return the earth to it’s pre-human condition by any means. Watson’s dogmatic and authoritarian ‘love’ of animals coupled with his hatred of humanity has led him to absurdly remark, “earthworms are far more valuable than people”.  His distorted stance of ‘animals first/humans last’ is bizarre and frightening. His claim that he owes no allegiance to humanity is incongruous with the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society’s  (the group he founded) claim that they “are a vehicle to empower people”. I am disgusted and enraged by the words and actions of Paul Watson. I encourage all Canadians to withdraw support from the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society and any groups Mr. Watson is associated with, including the Sierra Club, until those organizations remove themselves from any association with Mr. Watson.   I think that Farley Mowat, the great Canadian writer and naturalist, should step forward and comment on this, given that Watson’s premiere ship is named the ‘Farley Mowat’.  For the record, the names of the three victims from the fishing vessel,  l’ Acadian II are: Gilles Leblanc, Bruno Bourque, and Marc-Andre Deraspe.  A fourth man is missing and presumed dead. His name is Carl Aucoin. 

Opal Goes To The Movies

I  plan to go to a movie this afternoon.  My Guide dog Opal is coming with me.  Some Guide dog training schools suggest leaving the dog at home when one goes to the movies because the sound level is too high. I agree. Cinemas tend to crank out the sound beyond a comfortable level. I don’t enjoy it, so I can just imagine what a dog is experiencing.  Dogs have very  sensitive hearing.  There’s also the problem of popcorn all over the floor area that even a well trained Guide dog would find hard to resist.  I have solved both problems, thereby allowing me to have Opal with me.  The major issue of intolerable sound was dealt with by speaking to the cinema manager.  It is important to restrict movie-going to weekday matinees. That is when they are fewest people going to the cineplex. Often, there are only a half dozen people going to any one movie, especially the non-Hollywood blockbuster films which I prefer to avoid.  The manager is always willing to speak to the projectionist (more of a programmer these days) and have them set the sound down.  I also make sure that I enter AFTER all the promotional claptrap that appears before the feature which is always louder.  The popcorn problem is less of an obstacle.  By going to the first show of the day, chances are that the cinemas are quite clear of food on the floor.  I remain vigilant  none the less, with my harness arm ready to sense Opal attempting to snag a snack on the floor, so that I can tug her head up. My free hand is ready to shove into her mouth and yank out the scavenged food if she has moved too quickly. I’m sure some people are grossed out by the idea of probing a dog’s mouth, but if you are committed to your dog’s health and safety, you must learn to ‘get over it’. Your town’s cinemas may have matinees and hospitable management that would allow you to feel comfortable in bringing your Guide dog with you when you go to the movies. Some movie houses also offer free admission to a companion for disabled people.  This is sometimes an available courtesy provision at theatres and other entertainment venues. Some cinemas and theatres offer ‘descriptive’ options for the blind. This involves wearing a head set to hear a description of non-audible action and sets of the film or play you are attending.  Call first to inquire. 

My Guide Dog’s Name is Lucy, Mindy, Rex, Georgie…

Here’s your tip for the day: Do not ask that blind person on the bus or in the supermarket this question: “What’s your Guide dog’s name?”.  Why not?  Chances are, you will be getting an alias.  One of the bits of information I gleaned in Guide dog training, is to answer this question with a phony name.  The rationale behind it is, many people will parrot the name back….”Ooo you’re a pretty dog Mindy!!! Mindy, you are such a smart dog! Hey Mindy!!!”…This can be a huge distraction for the dog. I think the pat fake name given to me at the guide dog school one day in training was, ‘Georgie’.   When I returned home with Opal, and hit MY streets, I soon understood how important it was to have a ‘stage name’ for my dog. Trouble was, I had forgotten the pat answer (‘Georgie’) by the time I took that first solo walk with Opal.  We were on a bus going to the ferry terminal, when I  was suddenly faced with this question for the first time.  When a  woman asked,  my brain went numb. What was that name they told us to use, I asked myself.  I drew a blank.  She sounds like a nice person,  I thought.  What difference does it make, I  reasoned.  So, I  proudly announced, “Opal”. The nice lady promptly went ultrasonic in pitch, saying, “Opal, Opal, Opal” over and over using maximum voice output. Opal sprang up like a jack-in-the-box. Needless to say, I decided to come up with an alias for Opal that I would remember for all time.  What easier name to remember than, ‘Lucy’?  Lucy is our cat.  I am certain that Opal wonders why on earth I am always talking about the cat when we are out and about. It may seem unusual, but it is for our own safety.  People we see regularly (neighbours, friends, relatives, committee members) all know her real name.    I  consider that I am entitled to a certain amount of privacy. Therefore, please do not be offended if you later learn that you have been deceived by me or anyone who gives you a fake name when you ask the Guide dog’s name.  Remember, that in public places, there might be others taking notice,  (like kids) who will remember the Guide dog’s name  and one day, start shouting it when they spot the dog working across an intersection where total concentration is required by both dog and handler. 

I Love Lucy

I have written endlessly about my Guide dog, Opal. Today I am devoting my words and long-overdue attention to my cat, Lucy. It is April 1 st today. It is Lucy’s birthday, and that’s no April Fool’s joke.  Little Lucy is seven years old today (more or less).  Four years ago, on this very day, I went to the Bide-a-While animal shelter in search of a feline companion with my friend, Betty.  We were ushered into the ‘cat room’ of the local animal shelter that morning.  In this large room were upwards of thirty cats, all roaming or sitting on ledges and posts, vying for attention in hopes that someone might adopt them.  Betty is a serious cat lover. That is why I enlisted her help.  She also has good ability to describe things, including cats.  I stood in the center of the cat room and hoped for inspiration or a sign that ‘this is the one’.  Betty immediately sat on the floor and began to play with a tiny tabby. “This little guy is so friendly, Helen” she said.  By now I had found a gigantic fluffy cat sitting on a window ledge  and  working on its tan.  ”Hi there”, I greeted the big pussy as I attempted to stroke it.  It replied with an angry howl and clawing swipe at my hand. Hmm, I thought,  I don’t think we’re meant for each other either…  I moved across the room to a four-foot scratching post where a little calico sat quivering.  Betty persisted in trying to connect me with the friendly, beautiful tabby. “This guy is soooo nice. Come see him” she said for the second or third time.  Meanwhile, the terrified calico was doing a number on my heart and head. “Betty, look at all the toes this cat has”, I remarked. “Yeah, a double toed calico”, she explained…”oh my gosh, see how cute my tabby friend is” she went on, still lobbying on behalf of the perfect feline adoption specimen.   I ignored Betty and reached out to the little calico.  She was obviously terrified.  I made up my mind on the spot.  ”Betty, this one really needs a chance”, I said, trying to convince myself that taking on a cat with ‘issues’ was the thing to do.  I rubbed the top of the cat’s head. A little purr came out. “That’s it, we’re going home,  and this girl is coming too”, I announced.  Betty knew better than to disuade me.  We went to the office and filled out the paper work. I paid the adotion fee and was told the following about my new cat: She had been left by a family who “could not handle her”, and maybe one or two owners before that. She was three years old, spayed, weighed seven pounds, had been checked by the vet and given her shots.  They had no knowledge of her name. We put her in the carrier and left the shelter.  At home, a clean litter box, water and food dishes, a scratching post and a few toys awaited her. Betty asked if I had a name in mind.  I thought for a moment and announced, “Lucy”.  This cat for some reason,  reminded me of Lucille Ball. Perhaps it was her ability to survive hard times, or the bit of orange in her multi-coloured coat that made me think of  my childhood heroine.  I always loved Lucille Ball. I thought she was a spunky (yet vulnerable at the same time) woman. I had come to know her, like millions on “I  Love Lucy”.  My life with Lucy turned out to be challenging.  It would be 3 months before she would come to me or allow me to pet her.  She is a nervous cat.  I though she had asthma for a while, but soon realized that she was hyperventilating and only having and ‘attack’  when she was overstimulated by petting.  She did not like to be picked up (still doesn’t) and it soon became clear to me that she had been abused by past owners.  Her belly area was off limits for touching. I suspect she had been picked up and thrown or kicked more than once.   My trust would be earned over time.  Lucy soon became the center of my life and the focus of my attention. This happens when you have no partner or children.  She came with bad habits. Lucy will chew electrical cords, plastic bags, and rubber bands if they are accessible.  She might also be called a glue addict…licking envelope glue and chewing sticky tape of any kind if she finds it. She will lick photographs too and stick her paw in my glass of water, given the chance. Unlike the people who gave up on her, I stuck it out and accepted that I must keep her environment safe. I put away all the things she likes to chew or lick and keep my water glass in my hand until it is empty. She rewarded my patience with love.  Yes, I love Lucy for many reasons. She is a chatty cat who ‘talks’ when I come near.  This is good, given that I can’t see her so I don’t need to worry about her being underfoot.  Like all cats, she has a personality, definitely an ‘attitude’ and ‘moods’ I can’t figure out (who can possibly figure out a cat?).  Two years into our love-fest, I changed her world by changing mine.  I left Lucy at a friend’s house for one month and when she came home expecting a happy reunion with ME, she was intead, greeted by a new roomie; a furry black beast. That would be Opal.  Lucy did not take this change well at first. In fact, she immediately jumped up to a bookcase and cowered there for two days. Finally she descended to eat and use the litterbox, but prefered to live up high for months.  I felt guilty that I forced her to eat in the bathroom (keeping food out of Opal’s reach). I felt like a traffic cop for a while too, what with giving commands,  ”Opal stay!” and “Lucy, go eat!”, my hands waving at both of them as I sent them to separate parts of our apartment.  Grudgingly,  Lucy accepted that Opal was sticking around and not just a temporary burden.  She learned that Opal would do her no intentional harm.  (She also discovered that a lab’s wagging tail can knock a cat over and it’s also not a good idea to be near Opal when she does the supper-time happy dance).  I became so wrapped up with my new guide dog, that Lucy went with insufficient attention for a long while.  Fortunately, she figured out that by demanding what she needed (some ‘luvin’), she would get it from me.  Coming into my bed for a ‘cuddle up’ of ten minutes or so several times a night seemed to make things tolerable for her.  Our relationship will never be as it was, but I like to point out to Lucy that she now has a kind ‘sister’.  She asserts herself with Opal by demanding to be groomed first and drinking out of Opal’s water dish. She drags Opal’s bones and toys off to corners, sits in Opal’s toy box, and expects Opal to walk around her when she is ‘resting’ in the center of the floor.  At some point, I stopped running interference and let them sort each other out. That’s what animals do naturally.   She stares at me and then walks away insulted when I say something stupid like, “Lucy come”  (as a result of my habit of giving Opal commands).  What am I thinking!?  Trying to give a command…to a cat?!  Now, Opal, Lucy and I  have group cuddles that could inspire a Halmark greeting card.  Lucy earned her keep at our old place by catching  the mice as the weather turned cold. I almost (ALMOST, but not quite) want to buy her some little mice to catch in our new rodent-free apartment, just to give her something to do. Hopefully, the weather will warm up in Nova Scotia so that I can put Lucy’s harness on and take her outside for some fresh air and leaf chasing.  Walking Lucy feels much like (now that I am so accustomed to going out with 60 lb.Opal),  walking a balloon.  We are planning to buy Lucy a new ‘necklace’ (code word for collar in our home) as a birthday gift for Lucy.  I suspect she hid her old one,  knowing I need to cut her toe nails soon. (Her necklace is handy to keep her from escaping the pedicure).  I don’t know what exact date Lucy was born, so I chose today, her adoption anniversary, as her birthday.  A friend suggested bonbons and ‘I Love Lucy’ dvd’s for her…I have no TV to play dvd’s, so I’ll just wing the entertainment part of her celebration.  Lucy’s idea of a favourite snack is any crunchy food like tortilla chips (organic and unsalted). We will have crackers in bed tonight. Happy birthday, Lucy.  We love you. 

Wise Advice From Whitestick

I like to share.  While wandering aimlessly through the net last night in search of ‘blind games’ to play, I stumbled onto this site.  My plan to fritter away some time playing games evaporated when I discovered Whitestick.  This is a British site that has very useful links to all kinds of things that might interest someone who is blind.  If you want to get information (sure some of it is UK restricted, but much is of global interest) go to: Tom Lorimer’s Whitestick website. The link is on my blogroll.  Audio books, computer downloads,  travel for the blind,  blind blogs, on and offline games for the blind,  online petitions,  chat rooms, ‘never ending stories’,  mailing lists, music and podcasts, internet TV and more. 

Opal goes to Sunday school

Actually,  Universalist Unitarians call it RE or Religious Education.  There are no Bible studies and I don’t think there is anything particular religious about it.  UU kids learn about many things with the hope that it prepares them to become good human beings and citizens who care about others.  Today, Opal and I visited with the kids ‘upstairs’.  Our church is housed in a historic building. Originally, it had been two large, private homes with several staircases and many rooms of all sizes.  We had pre-arranged our visit with the RE teacher.  The number of kids in the RE class varies from week to week. Today, there were ten or so. They ranged in age between 2 and 10. Opal knew something was going to be different the minute we entered church.  She wanted to take me to ‘my seat’, but I coaxed her to the front row. We sat on the floor with the young ones during the ‘Story For All Ages’.  Then, when the congregation began to sing, “Go Now In Peace”, to usher the kids out of the room where the service is held,  I asked her to “follow”.  Up the multiple stairways that twist and turn we went  with a backpack full of ‘stuff’.  We often go to schools to talk to kids about Guide dog etiquette and also about vision loss and ‘blind stuff’.  The difference today, was the age spread of our audience.  It’s difficult to keep things simple enough for everyone to understand.  Still, I think it was a good learning experience for them.  The first question was, “what happens if Opal becomes blind”?    This, oddly enough, is not the first time I have been asked this or something similar. I was once asked, if Opal’s mom had been blind.   Other questions have included, “Does she take a bath with you?”, “Does she chase cats?”, and “Will she always be your dog?”.  Jordan (the one who asked about Opal going blind) was tenacious.  Her follow up question was, “Would she still be able to work if she was blind?”  Once we established how unlikely that would be to occur, we talked about Opal’s job and why she must be allowed to concentrate.  I must confess, I had an ulterior motive in planning to  visit the kids… I have noticed that several of them come up and pat and talk to Opal as we are walking through the crowded church entry area and fellowship room.  My solution?  Be proactive and chat them up and sort them out as a group.  I offered ourselves as guest speakers, and the RE teacher was delighted to plan for our visit. ( I do most of the talking. Opal is the silent type).  The culprits who pat her, may or may not have been present today,  but kids tend to share their information with each other.   I hope so.  It’s always surprising for kids (and adults) to learn that the approximate cost of putting a Guide dog into the hands of a blind person, is in excess of $35,000.00.  We also brought gadgets which usually interest kids.  The talking calculator drew some “Neat!”s. The Braille kids books were also interesting for some.  I pointed out that blind people do not all know Braille but I find it very useful.  Out came the Braille tags which are used to put on clothing, the labeler to create stick on labels, and examples of a Braille phone bill and bank statement.  They peered through the vision simulator cards I had brought. These are plastic cards with circles to peer through, with each circle providing a simulation of what things might l0ok like with diabetic retinopathy, macular degeneration, cataracts or glaucoma.  Opal, meanwhile had a power nap.  She woke up periodicaly to comfort the little guy (2 years old) who was in the care of a family friend today (not too happy to away from mom).  When the service downstairs could be heard wrapping up,  the kids began to collect their things. Opal and I  packed up and left to find one of the many twisty stairways down to the ground floor.  We ended up in the fellowship room where everyone usually gathers to shares tea and coffee after the service. At least three older ladies and one man asked to pet Opal.   I realized that our work was not done yet!  Finally, I decided to have EVERYONE who wanted, a chance to greet her…”Get it out of your system today” I suggested. The UU church dog lovers gave her a pat or two and thanked me.  They said they would be OK from now on. I’m not entirely convinced.  We may end up having a similar talk on Guide dog etiquette  with the grown ups some time. 

Something to think about…

CBC radio did a short interview with renowned Canadian artist, Robert Bateman.  He appears in a short docu-shocker on You Tube to protest the potential environmental and ecological disaster if  the  ban on tanker navigation is lifted on the BC coast. In this clip, he destroys one of his own works. Bateman, of course is the premiere artist who has created many scenes where animals or nature are painted in an uncanny photo-like style. see for yourselves. go to notankers.ca where the clip is shown and people are encouraged to sign the on line petition. Or go to You tube and enter Robert Bateman. click on the “Not a Pretty Picture” clip.  

Why I sing to my dog, Opal

I risk being branded a nut for admitting that I sing to Opal. It wouldn’t be the first time and I’ll chance it!  I made an accidental discovery one rainy day last year.  Opal and I were slogging through the rain here in Halifax, in typical Nova Scotia fashion when I burst into song. It rains a bunch here and unfortunately, Opal does not enjoy getting wet.  Paradoxically, like most labs, she loves to swim.  Go figure!  She even ‘puddle jumps’ in an effort to keep her feet dry.  This is no big deal, as long as she doesn’t vault off a curb (with me in tow), in an attempt to avoid the accumulated water at the curb.  She’s an odd little duck of a Guide dog… when displeased about being out on a rainy day, she slows down, thereby extending the time we must spend in getting to our destination.  You would think that she would want to speed up and get it over with.  No, I have learned to accept her responses and behaviour, much in the way that she accepts my eccentricities.  I wear good rain gear and Carry towels in my backpack on these days. The towels are for Opal when we arrive wherever we are headed (we sometimes share). It would be uncomfortable and unpleasant for her to remain wet for any length of time while she lies and waits for me at a meeting or appointment. I do my best to keep her working time in the rain tolerable by singing.  It seems to help. It helps me, at least, and if I’m happy and relaxed, Opal usually is too.  My choice of rain songs is vast. Plenty of tunes about rain, of course: ‘Singing in the Rain’,  ’Raindrops Keep Falling…’, and show tunes.  I once got us through a nasty, long stretch with the score to “West Side Story”, or at least, what parts of it I could recall.  There are breaks in my singing to give Opal commands as required. It probably sounds quite horrible to any passersby.  I  do not have a good singing voice.  That does not seem to matter to Opal. I doubt she hears anything clearly, what with the ambient noise from the rain and wind. I’m positive that the lyrics (which I largely bungle) don’t make any sense to her.  My singing career is going nowhere, I know. But here’s what I think about the value of singing to your dog (or cat).  I was grooming the girls (Opal and Lucy) one day. Opal was restless. I starting singing  ”Moon River” (remember Audrey Hepburn as Hollygolightly in ‘Breakfast At Tiffany’s'?). It is a lovely melody, very soothing and gentle.  My original lyrics were improvised…’moon river, longer than a mile, I’m crossing you in style…you dream weaver, you bee keeper…) Understand that the melody was important at the time. I was shocked. Opal was mesmerized and settled into a heap on the floor. Lucy too. I shrugged it off.  The following day?  Same thing.  Total fascination with this tune and complete relaxation. I have since found the correct lyrics (found at the end of this entry) and sing it anytime I want Opal or Lucy to relax.  I love it even more, now that I have learned the lyrics, especially the bit about ‘two drifters’…I get teary-eyed.   It ‘s not a magical thing, even though it has magical results.  I’m sure the reason it works , is because it works for ME.  Relaxed handler, relaxed dog.  Find a song that works for you and your dog. It should be smooth and flow gently. You must love it and it must make you feel calm.’Moon River’-Lyrics by Johny Mercer. (Music Henry Mancini) “MOON RIVER” ‘Moon river, wider than a mile.  I’m crossing you in style, one day.  Oh dream weaver, you heart breaker, Wherever you’re going I’m going you’re way. Two drifters off to see the world. There’s such a lot of world to see. We’re after the same rainbow’s end- waiting ’round the bend, my huckleberry friend, Moon river, and me.  

Forgive me, Opal

There are times when I lose my mind for a moment. The consequences?  Usually, I say something, born straight out of anger or frustration, that I regret.  The ‘right thing to do’, would  be to pause, breathe, count, essentially anything… except yell at my girl, Opal.  Sure, dogs can frustrate you just as much as kids can. Similarly, it is not acceptable to yell at  (or god forbid, strike) them either. I’m not sure when ‘uman beans’ started running the Big Power Trip on every living creature other than their own species.  Maybe it all began with the post cave guys who had too much time on their hands and started domesticating animals.  In recent decades, our relationship with animals has gone OTT (over the top). Our children have no idea how that chicken nugget from mickey d’s came to be. They may see it move from a huge  box of similar frozen bits, and into the deep fryer (I feel sick already), where it remains until a ‘ding’ or ‘beep’ signals the pimply-faced teenage fry cook to dump them out into the warming table.  The portion controlled amount is scooped into a styro container and handed over to your kid with ample packets of ketchup to disguise the taste of this ‘treat’ you have just paid an obscene amount of money for.  Does your kid know how that ‘chiken’ got into the Mickey D’s food chain?  Do they have any idea how the original bird was kept confined en masse in a miniscule cage until it met its demise?  Do you?  Not likely.  This is a ‘clean blog’, so it suffices to say that it is not a pretty picture.  I believe that the western world’s love affair with meat (and the animals killed in acquiring it), has created a monster industry.  Of course, there are many who have pet animals and claim to love them immensely.  Maybe so, but some people are delusional in their thinking and rationalization of their treatment of pets.  Buying jeweled collars, funny outfits, paying for spa days, silver plated water bowls etc. is an extension of their collection of status accessories.  The urban dweller seems to have lost touch with nature and the respect and care of it.  We encroach on the habitat of many species and  turn their space into ours on our terms. We create fake forests (better known as parks) and justify killing the lost critter who wanders into the city limits, an area which was once their home.  Our relationship with nature is all out of whack.  Sure, we donate to ‘save’ whatever a marketing executive convinces us we should pay our guilt money for.   We listen to the news:  In the 70′s we learned that we experienced the collapse of the cod fishery in Atlantic Canada because of over fishing and bad management. We learn of global warming and climate change now,   but did not  pay attention to the scientists like David Suzuki who has been active in environmental action for decades.  We elect governments who cater to lobbyists with oil interests that do not want to ratify the Kyoto Protocol.  Then, we watch Paul McCartney and his estranged airhead wife, play with seal pups on an ice flow, as they pause for a photo op in their protest about the seal hunt.  The McCartney’s leave and so does the camera crew, but  the baby pup that Linda fondled is left to die by its mother, because now, it has  human stink on it.   While I do not endorse clubbing baby seals, I  am concerned that some Inuit Canadians should be included in the debate over banning the hunt entirely.  I’m sure that the McCartneys and even people like Al Gore pay for ‘carbon credits’ when the jet around the world in their busy schedules saving this or that. I’d rather they stop crapping up the planet with jet fuel, which no amount of trees planted with ‘carbon credit’ money will fix.  The only fix here, is their public image and personal guilt trip.   But I digress.   Back to Opal and why I need to be forgiven.  I often feel conflicted with Opal as my ‘guide’.  I know she loves her life, and her job. But is it fair? She has no say in it.  She was bred, raised, and trained with the ultimate aim of turning her into a Guide dog.   All I can do, is treat her with respect and kindness.  Therefore, yesterday as she was dawdled and sniffed when I gave her an opportunity to relieve before church, and I yelled, “GET BUSY NOW!!!”, out of frustration and fear that I might need to leave Easter service later if she decided that it was the time to relieve, I checked myself.  As always, when I insist too loudly, my sensitive girl simply sat down and stared at me.  I got down on my knees in the snow and apologized to her. I told her it was ok, that we could “try later” and I was sorry I had yelled.  I explained that her mum is a goof sometimes and we went to church where she had a long nap and did not ask to leave.  

ACCESSIBILITY 101

The last thing I had on my mind yesterday, as I went to the mall to help sell tickets for a fund raising initiative for the local CCB (Canadian Council for the Blind), was that I would find myself donning  my ‘Accessibility’ advocacy hat (the one that puts my mouth in gear and finds me writing, phoning… and blogging).  The Halifax Shopping Centre is managed by a group called Vic 20 retail. The head of this little empire, Blaize Morrison  is the elusive fella who I have left messages for in the past, but never spoken to directly.  I have tried unsuccessfully to reach him to complain about the mall renovations which lasted eight months and created great hardship for people with disabilities.  Opal and I  entered the mall at 8:45 and the place was very quiet, as stores do not open until 9:30.  My plan was to get a snack in the upper level food court and then go to the community booth to help my friend set up.  Opal’s feet were caked with salt, so that necessitated a trip to the washroom before going up to buy my snack.  We were  just 7 meters inside the mall, when she stopped. Hmm, I wondered.  I slid my foot forward and encountered some sort of obstacle.  It was a fixed beam-like thing, almost two inches high and six inches wide. I slid my foot between the floor and this obstacle, and found that it ran quite a width.  I praised Opal for finding it and asked her “forward”, and we gracefully stepped over it and moved on down the hall in search of the washroom.  Eventually, we navigated up to the food court.  These places aren’t my idea of dining options, but I had a Tim’s card in my pocket, with a credit balance that would pay for a bagel and a cup of tea. Opal dazzled all the sleepyheads at Tim Horton’s with her clever ability to “find the queue” and “counter”… Snack items in hand, we swung around and headed for the area of the elevator. When we reached the end of the food court area, a woman said, “Watch out for that thing on the floor, dear”.   I thanked her even though I know Opal would find it.  She did and we safely wandered off.   By the time we found the lift, I was thinking about these obstacles, and that a trip to customer service might be in order. We greeted Alice who had set up the display in the ‘community box’. Opal lay dutifully, hopefully attracting some ticket sales with her stunning looks (or so Alice hoped).  Along came Mary. She was being guided by a stranger that had been drafted into assistance near the entrance of the mall.   Mary said that  she was lucky her white cane found this “big board” on the floor.  That was it. I  went to customer service and asked why there are dangerous obstacles on the floor, on this busy Easter Saturday?  I was told that it probably has something to do with “Easter events…wires or something… just temporary”.  I asked  to speak to a management person.  I was told that there no management employees worked on weekends. I told the customer service woman that the mall is liable for injuries to shoppers. I ranted a bit about accessibility, barriers, public safety, lack of consideration for people who are blind or partially sighted… I heard her snap her gum and offer a kid a paper bunny hat.  Once back in the booth,  I learned that Susan had arrived. She told me that she “just tripped over this obstacle and hurt my knee and hand. The security guard was nice and all that, but what are those dangerous things doing there?”.  I hauled Susan back to customer service with me. Opal sighs. I hear her thinking, ‘mum is on another mission’.  We lodged a complaint, and demanded that sufficient security be posted to warn people (even though it will be too crowded to effectively warn everyone with all the frenzy and the Easter shoppers).  The security guard was summoned.  I gave him the accessibility schpeel.  He called the manager of security.  Lovely B.J. arrived and informed me that there are six locations in the mall with these strips covering a floor joint renovation project.  She was obviously feeling a bit embarrassed about this whole mess.  I ran with it:  pointing out the issue of public safety. I  told her that while the mall may find it economically advantageous to start this work in six areas, they have a responsibility to maintain accessibility standards.  Doing construction projects in one secure area at a time, would have been preferable. Now that it is Easter Saturday, and there is no management staff, and the crowds are streaming in, I suggested to her that it will be a miracle if no one is seriously injured by day’s end.  She agreed that even sighted people would be in danger, as most would not notice the obstacles despite markings with yellow tape.   I also pointed out liability to the public, and that I had advised my friend to see her physician on Monday. I told her, that as president of the Halifax chapter of the Alliance for Equality of Blind Canadians, one of my roles is to address issues of accessibility.  I remarked how inconvenient it had been for people in wheelchairs, seniors, people with strollers,  and guide dog handlers, when the lower floor washrooms were closed for six months due to renovation delays and everyone was forced to travel to the upper level.  ”Yes, but look how accessible the new ones are” she said.  I laughed at B. J.’s remark.  I explain that while they (the mall designers and management) may have run around measuring and meeting wheelchair standards and codes, they did not really have an interest in creating an ACCESSIBLE  environment.  Mary told her that by using one (off white) colour tile design from floor to ceiling in the long tube-like hall to the washrooms AND low incandescent spot lighting, they turned it into a partially sighted persons nightmare. They had not made any attempt to consider vital factors such as contrast, lighting, and texture.  I added that the automatic flushing toilets, auto-start one-temperature sinks, and auto dispense paper towel were a gimmick that no one needed and that money and effort should have been spent on designing an accessible space.  They used an open door concept, which makes it very hard to determine where the ‘men’s’ and ‘women’s’ begin and end.  The signage is not tactile, large print, or Braille.   I pointed out that there is no shortage of guidelines, checklists, design notes, accessibility resources and studies available to ‘professionals’ who design these public spaces.  B.J. and I exchanged contact information and she told me that she would be calling Mr. Morrison immediately.   Later, on my way out of the mall,  B.J. was at the obstacle with a team of security guards, trying to prevent sighted and able bodied people from tripping.  She yelled at me, “there’s an obstacle ahead…..and I’m on the phone to the construction company manager…”  I smiled as Opal stopped long enough to allow me to find the beam. We moved out and headed home.

Blind Etiquette 101–vocabulary

We live in a society where political correctness has commandeered the English language.  People get all bent out of shape over nonsense… or is it?  I think it depends on who is saying what to whom, and when they are saying it.  As far as the words used for describing people like me, for example, there is quite a selection: ‘Person who is blind’, ‘partially sighted’, ‘visually impaired’, ‘visually handicapped’, ‘visually challenged’, ‘person with vision loss’, ‘legally blind’, ‘with low vision’.  Some organizations and groups ask on forms, “are you a total?” (totally blind).  I personally do not like to be linked with the word, ‘impaired’.  It brings to mind, ‘impaired driver’ i.e.. drunk, and having done an evil deed by choice of action. It is negative and not a good choice of words, in my opinion,   yet I hear (let’s call them Blind) people refer to THEMSELVES in this fashion,  way too often.  It boggles my mind. I try to be consistent, and go with Blind (note the capital, like a nationality), deaf-blind and partially sighted, whenever possible. These are the words that the Alliance for Equality of Blind Canadians encourage their members (of which I am one)  use,  as well as  their chapter presidents (of which I am one)  when writing advocacy letters and making public statements.  On my own time?  I go with blind… as in “a bunch of blind folks are getting together at…”  There is, of course, as in every group, a humour and lingo used by blind folks.  There are ‘blind jokes’ .  It’s a little like the permissive dialogue available to members of the gay community, or other social community.  I  encourage EVERYONE to make free use of words like, “see you later” or “look at this” when conversing with blind people.  Please avoid saying, “it’s over there” as you point to something.  That, as I have often complained, is totally ridiculous and a bit thoughtless, especially when it’s coming out of the same person’s mouth  time after time.  Regardless of what’s coming out of your mouth, make it audible and clear.  Use the same level of vocabulary and tone that you would with any one else.  I swear, some people are compelled to speak to me and other Blind folks,  LOUDLY and in a SLOW,  SYROPY tone that they would use with children or intellectually delayed people. 

Braille and the ‘Braille Crisis’

What is Braille?  Braille is a system of  6 raised dots, arranged in combinations in two vertical lines. There are 63 combinations. The space they occupy is called the Braille cell.  The positions of the dots within the cell are identified by a specific number;  top left is #1, middle left is #2,  bottom left is #3, top right is #4, middle right is #5, and bottom right is #6. Louis Braille was born near Paris in 1809.  His father was a shoemaker.  One day,  at age four,  while Louis was playing with a tool for punching holes in leather (awl), he ended up piercing  his eye.  The other eye soon became infected, and he lost all his vision.  He was sent to a school for the blind in Paris.   In 1821, a man named Charles Barbier visited the school.  He showed the kids his communication system called, ‘Nightwriting’. It had been developed for soldiers to pass information to one another at night.  While it failed for the French military, it did give Louis the idea to develop its use for the blind in 1827.  He expanded it to include codes for math(Nemeth) and music notation.  Braille would not become a big hit in his lifetime.  In fact, it was ‘banned’ from use with blind kids for a while.  Naturally, kids enjoyed the idea of reading the contraband books, so it did not die.  In 1868, Dr. Thomas Armitage led a group of four blind men to form the ‘British Society For the Embossed Literature of the Blind’.   Louis Braille died of tuberculosis in 1852 at age 43.  In 1952 his body was moved to the Pantheon site where National heroes of France are honoured.  One little know fellow is William Moon. He was born in Kent, England in 1818.  He developed the ‘Moon’ system of reading in 1845.  It uses raised curves and lines with 14 characters.  Moon  is easier to use, and is much easier to learn by people who loose sight later in life, particularly if they are elderly.  William Moon died in 1894. His daughter continued his work and founded ‘Moonworks’.  For more on Moon, visit…. http://www.moonliteracy.org.uk Braille has been around for  over 180 years.  It has provide blind children with the opportunity to become literate.   Today, it is estimated that fewer than 20% of Blind adults use Braille.  The push and allure of technology has created an audio- dependent generation of Blind people.  I sit here, using a computer that is ‘talking’ to me, courtesy of screen-reading software allowing me to  write a blog on Braille.  Somehow,   I find the irony of that, to be both amusing and alarming.  I had the opportunity to learn the alphabet, grammar, syntax, phonics, use of punctuation, composition etc. as a sighted child.  When I began to loose my vision, I made it my business to learn Braille.  The emphasis of the type of ‘mainstream’ education Blind children recieve today, is not on Braille literacy.  We now have, what is called by many, a  ”Braille Crisis” . In fact, legislation called the Braille Bill was passed in Minnesota in 1987.  Groups such as the National Federation of the Blind, have advocated vigourously for similar bills to be passed.  There are many more states that have endorsed Braille bills.  These protect the important need/right of  blind children to become literate.  Audio-heavy education does not foster literate children who can move ahead successfully in life.  

Traveling Blind

Interesting to note that travel accessibility for people who are blind or partially sighted has taken an even bigger step forward.  Cruises are now catering to the requests and requirements of their patrons who are Blind. In fact, some travel agencies are creating special packages for groups of people who are blind.  Guide dogs on board?  No problem. Appropriate signage and menus (Braille and Large Print) have become a more common feature on some of these ships.  Check the web site of the Society for Accessible Travel and Hospitality http://www.sath.org  Also, one of the travel agents specializing in these cruises (Florida) is found at: http://www.outtasighttravel.com 

Guide Dogs: Good Idea For Some, but Not For Everyone

Three years ago, when I started to talk about my plans to ‘get a Guide dog’, with my friends who are Blind or partially sighted (without Guide dogs), something very interesting happened.  A collective movement spontaneously occurred that had them all idly talking or thinking about having a Guide dog in their lives too.  Their family members and friends also started to make statements to them too…”Mom, you should get a Guide dog too”.   While I believe everyone should have the option, I KNOW that some people are NOT good candidates to have a Guide dog.   Now that I have had Opal for almost two years, I feel somewhat qualified to voice my thoughts on this  with more conviction.  Fortunately, there is an intense candidate screening process to go through when one applies for their Guide dog, particularly if it is their first.  Guide dog schools differ somewhat, but all of them screen carefully.  The cost of matching a Guide dog to a blind handler, is in excess of $30,000.00 in most cases.  This sum takes into account: costs for breeding dogs, supporting puppy raiser programs, training by qualified people and the cost of maintaining the dogs in training at the Guide dog school.  The school must cover its overhead, pay a staff made up of trainers, instructors, kennel staff, support and administrative people. The travel costs of the the staff who travel for ‘after care’ (checking on the dogs and handlers), and, sometimes the travel costs of the clients,  must be budgeted too.  Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind, (where I trained with Opal), receives no government funding.  The school operates as a charitable non profit organization, totally funded by money received through donations and fundraising activities. Clearly, it is in everyone’s interest (including the dogs) to be selective in determining who should have a Guide dog.   Some of my friends who were tinkering with the idea, would not  be good candidates. Why?  For some, it is absurdly obvious… they don’t like dogs much!  Other reasons include:  

• They have poor mobility skills and no initiative to learn any.  If they can not find their way to a destination with a white cane, it is unlikely that a Guide dog is a solution to ‘getting out of the house’, at least, until they learn to travel independently.
• Their state of general health (poor) would make it unlikely that they could be active on a regular basis. Some require frequent hospitalization.
• They do not have the financial means to support a Guide dog with even basics, like food and veterinary care. (Routine Veterinary care, can sometimes be supported by a school’s program. Emergency Veterinary care is usually the responsibility of the client.)
• They have a ‘free spirit’, hedonistic attitude about life.  This is not compatable with  having ANY dog in your life, including  a pet. If you can not get out of bed in the morning, or think that going outdoors in ALL WEATHER, several times a day, is  NOT for you…having a Guide dog  is probably not a good idea!  

There are sound reasons why the application process to a Guide dog school involves a great deal of paperwork.  I was required to have a family doctor detail my general health, my eye specialist detail my eye condition, and my ex-O &M (Orientation and Mobility) instructor describe my mobility skills.  I provided details about myself.  When the CGDB school received my application package, they determined  that I could move to the next step: A home visit by an instructor. We went for a ‘handle walk’, (called a Juno walk by some schools) which found me leaving my cane behind  and holding, a harness handle, with the instructor leading as the ‘dog’.  This gave the instructor a picture of my walking speed and gait. I learned (to my surprise) that I would be expected to use my arms, voice and learn specific ways to position my feet, when navigating with a Guide dog.  My height was noted (so that I could be matched with an appropriate sized dog). We talked about my everyday life.  What places did I go to?  I explained my busy life, with meetings, church, shopping, groups etc.  My concern about Lucy (my cat) and how her life would change if I was to have a Guide dog, was also considered. We talked about my age (49 then), my income, my family and community connections (I live alone).  I asked plenty of questions and they were all answered.  The instructor left me, and advised that CGDB’s committee would  meet and discuss all this information, and decide if I would be a good candidate for Guide dog training.  She also gave me hope by telling me that, while the decision was made by a panel that take into consideration all of the information,  she ‘felt good about it’.  It was a month or two later that I heard the happy news that I was accepted for training.  I waited to be ‘matched’ with a dog for several months, before being called to class in Ontario for a one month residential program. The Hadley School for the Blind offers a course called “Is a Guide Dog For Me?”. Hadley offers free distance education to blind people around the world (see http://www.hadley.edu). I suggest that anyone considering having a Guide dog in their life, should talk to other handlers about their experiences.  I know some people who have had a Guide dog or two, and then wisely decided that they preferred not to reapply for another guide dog. Their lifestyles had changed, or they relaized that they liked to go home and ‘put the cane in the closet’… something to consider. Dogs need routine and consistent care (feeding, grooming, relieving), love and attention (work, play, health care). Opal is the best thing that could have happened in my life.  It could be that a Guide dog would be equally important to you or your loved one. Do your homework and consider the reality of your lifestyle before you take the plunge. 

Talking the Walk: Audible Navigation for the Blind

There is no shortage of ‘tech’ stuff for the Blind.  The idea of having a portable talking GPS system as a mobility aid for people who are Blind or partially sighted, appeals to many.  It certainly has peaked my interest.  I like the idea that I could explore new routes or areas with greater ease. Having a portable device that would announce “Mumford road …10 meters” or be programable to advise me of my specific targets or obstacles, like “bus shelter #3″ or “building dumpster”, is a tempting notion.   There are drawbacks to all this new gadgetry. First, is cost.  These items are coming down in price, however, their costs are so high that they remain out of reach for most people who want them.  I also think there is no replacement for good mobility skills with a cane or Guide dog.  I don’t like to depend on a device that can potentially fail.  Call me fatalistic, but the ‘what if it breaks?’ consideration is what goes through my mind. Personally, I enjoy all the quiet I can get.  There seem to be plenty of ‘talking’ gadgets in my life as it is now, with my computer, calculator, glucometer, and bank note reader yaking up a storm daily. Would I accept a free trial?  Sure.  As with all technology, audible GPS systems for the Blind will improve in design in time.  They have the potential of being a valuable tool in the arsenal of the Blind.  If anyone is interested in learning more about what is available, I suggest going to the websites of the major producers. They include:  Humanware, TalkNav,  and Sendero’s Group.  I have nothing to recommend. It’s all a big, expensive high tech mystery to me. Links will be on the blogroll for a while.  They will remain on this blog entry–they are: 

• http://www.talknav.com
• http://www.humamware.com
• http://www.senderogroup.com