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.
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!
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.
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.
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 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….
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”.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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)
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.
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.
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”.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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”.
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.
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?
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.
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”.
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.
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…..
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?
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”.
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.
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.
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?!
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.
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”.
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!
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!
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!
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.
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”.
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’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’.
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.
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…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.
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.
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.
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.
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).
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?).
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!
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!
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.
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.
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!
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?
“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! 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 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!
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.
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).
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.
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).
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)
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.
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!
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) anymore. 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.
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).
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.
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.
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:
My dog is a registered Guide dog. You don’t ‘walk’ a guide dog. She needs to relieve near the building.
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).
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!
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.
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!
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?
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?
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…
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.
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!
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.
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’.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Some really weird and horrible stories are exchanged within the guide dog handler community. I laughed at the “my dog ate…” stories at a massage workshop (T-Touch) last year. On the surface, it seems benignly humourous to hear of a lab-run-amok in the kitchen. One ate half a chocolate birthday cake. The dainty, black bitch scarfed down 8 blueberry muffins (low fat), and one day, the Golden retriever retrieved two steaks marinating on a countertop while the handler and blind boyfriend were indisposed. My girl, Opal fancies a dish of Lucy’s cat food once in a while, usually as a signal that she is bored and wants me to know it. She also demolished a CNIB Daisy disc and case once. That, I rationalize as having been mistaken for a toy. After all, they come in bright, yellow plastic cases. I had flung it across the room onto a chair as we entered the house. I like to think that she thought it was a square fizzbee. In reality, this opportunistic scavenging done by Guide dogs, is not funny at all. It can make them ill or worse. I’ve already mentioned in a past blog, the hazzard of medications and inhalers (puffers), if accessible by your dog. If you take any type of medication, including over-the-counter types of aspirin, vitamins or supliments, here is what you should do. Keep them in a drawer, perhaps a bedroom chest drawer. When removing a tablet or capsule out of a bottle, do it over the open drawer. If you drop you pill, it will fall into the drawer, and not onto the floor where you may lose it, and your animals might find it. Bring your water to your drawer to take the pill, so that the pill never travels away from the area above the open drawer. This is a good idea if you have ANY animals or kids. By the way, grapes, raisins and chocolate are toxic for dogs (and cats). Some common houseplants and outdoor shrubs (like ivy) are poisonous too. I had a cup of tea with a friend the other day. Her son has a Guide dog. Sadly, his last dog had a STROKE and died within two days. A seemingly healthy animal just keeled over. The young man was devestated. This was only the beginning of horrible stories I was to hear that day. My friend also asked if I ride the escalator with Opal. I replied that I do, and that she loves it. She told me that one day, she rescued a friend’s guide dog whose TOENAILS had become wedged in the little grooves on the escalator step! THEN she asked if I had heard what happened to Mr. O’s Guide dog. I said no. My jaw fell open when I heard that Mr. O. had gone out for a few hours with a friend. He did not bring his guide dog. (it’s a good idea to leave them home once in a while, otherwise, they begin to believe they are indispensible and it is too much pressure on them). He had left his dog in the bedroom for the few hours that he planned to be away. Aparently, the dog had severe separation anxiety, because he had CHEWED UP the MATTRESS, SUFFOCATED and DIED. My friend, Richard plays in a barbershop chorus in Toronto. At a new rehearsal location, his dog was unable to see him from where he was lying. He had been leashed to a table. The dog ATE A CHUNK OF THE LEASH, to free himself. The leather bits caused him to have stomach upset. He’s lucky to have ‘passed’ it. Bowel obstruction is very common. It can mean that your dog will be in pain, and begin to vomit. It might require expensive surgery, or even die. Be very cautious and attentive to what your dog picks up. Learn his/her tendancies and peculiarities. For some, it is socks or rags. My sister’s yellow lab, Buddy, required TWO surgeries for obstructions in his lifetime. Once, they found a peach pit stuck in his gut, another time, it was a small piece of corn cob. He had grabbed and eaten these while on a walk. People tend to throw all manner of garbage out by the side of the road, in the mistaken belief that if it is compostable, it is harmless. One of the most upsetting stories was about a Guide dog who ‘refused’ to work for its handler. I had unfortunately, heard this through the grapevine, just after I had moved to our new digs. The Guide dog who ‘refused’ to work, was ‘taken away’. I believe he was retired at age five. His handler was devastated and agonized about training with a new guide dog for a long while. When Opal and I moved to a new apartment, only one of our routes was new and different. I was stressed out during this period, so naturally, she was too. For the first two or three weeks, when we got to this certain street, she would slow to a crawl. A five minute walk turned into a twenty minute nail-biter. She was obviously nervous, anxious, and worried about this stretch of road. I don’t know if it was the surrounding view (elevated) or a smell or something else. We had no other choices for getting places It is the road that leads to all bus stops and all of our other routes. My mind filled with thoughts of losing her, if she ‘refused’. I could not imagine life without her. One morning, she was creeping inch by inch on the pavement as I shuffled my feet, trying to keep myself moving. This was it. I knelt down by her ear and said. “Opal, I know your upset. But mum needs to go to the store. There’s a good girl. Let’s go”. With a pat on the head, and some strength in my voice, we were underway. I EXPECTED her to work, and she did. My intention is not sensationalism in recounting these nightmarish Guide dog tales, but to point out the potentially dangerous environment we create for our animals in our everyday life. By careful scrutiny of our environment, we can minimize the hazards and maximize the safe and healthy lives of our dogs. I would suggest, that ‘emotionally’-related conditions, such as separation anxiety should be nipped in the bud early. I’m not a big fan of pharma-treatments, like doggie ‘prozac’ etc. for conditions that have an alternate solution. There is no good reason to drug a dog for a problem that can be resolved with a patient and consistent response.
If you ever wondered where the nearest Guide Dog School is located, or are curious as to how many there are in various countries, go to the link on my blogroll (Ultimate List of Guide Dog Schools). Pick a nation and you will get names, addresses and contact information for every Guide dog school in the world.
Actually, it’s not ALWAYS about love. Sometimes, it’s convenience…dog owners and handlers who are experiencing a ‘touch of gas’, can tussle their canine’s head and say, “Really, Fluffo!”
I am not a professional dog trainer. Nor am I an expert on dog behaviour. I am, however, EXTREMELY knowledgeable about MY dog’s personality. I know what makes Opal tick….at long last. By the time my pre-Opal period had moved to the training phase at the Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind training Centre, I had a headful of half-baked ideas about dogs. You might describe my eager desire to learn-it-all and stick-to-it as mild obsession with a touch of naievity. There’s nothing like experience to drive it home. Opal and I have had our ups and downs. She has ‘tested’ me as only a clever dog can. Now that we have survived almost two years together, I can reflect on what I learned. One thing is certain; dogs live ‘in the moment’. It is futile to attempt to relate to your dog as though it were otherwise. To put it in perspective, I will cautiously use the ananalogy that dogs are much like two year old children in that their mental ability and attention span is similar. Of course some dogs are much brighter than others. As with humans, their abilities and ‘brain power’ must be developed and utilized through proper training in order to reach their potential. It is pointless to correct your dog for something that happened five minutes ago. (NOTE: I say ’correction’, not punishment) It’s not fair to your dog to address the situation or behaviour after the fact. They have no idea what you’re going on about. Also, don’t take it personally when your dog looks at you with that bored and vacant look when you say (with much wistful nostalgia) to him/her…”remember our trip to Bonavista Beach, Fluffo?” Chances are good though, that Fluffo will go nutty the minute he finds himself back on that same beach and ‘it all comes back to him’. Of course, the minute you leave?….out of mind until the next time. Dog behaviour experts tend to agree that dogs ‘think in pictures’, rather than in the kind of abstract concepts that humans develop. Opal, for example, often displays ‘anticipation’ when we go to the mall and she sees the escalator. It’s a visual cue that reminds her that something good happens when we go up that thing called “Escalator Up” on the way to the Rocky Mountain Candy shop (a piece of kibble). Similarly, she is not impressed when we try a new route on a busy street. She has no picture history in her mind of this strange place. She is concerned that I am making a ‘mistake’ and that I don’t know where we are. Maybe I don’t, but it is my job to convince her through my confident voice and body language, that it’s OK because mom knows best. Remember, that your dog can only learn from your ‘correction’, when you initiate it IMMEDIATELY. There are some situations when this is overidden when it involves the safety of the dog. For example, if your dog runs into a busy street, your priority is to ensure his safety, rather than to stand around correcting him for not coming. (It’s YOUR fault that he’s off leash in the first place!) Don’t blame the dog for your errors in judgement. If you leave a dinner plate with a slab of steak on within his easy reach, you have just created a situation where temptation and opportunism can take over. Avoid the whole ugly scene (dog with a bellyful of steak, you with no steak) by being consistently proactive about removing anything you do not want your dog to get into.
Darn, I wish I had said that! I recently read a great book by Dr. Stanley Coren. You might know him from his television program, “Good Dog!” which airs in Canada, Australia and New Zealand. He is is a professor of psychology at the University of British Columbia and a recognized expert on dog-human interaction. I highly reccomend his books. In ‘Why Does My Dog Act That Way?’, you will find the following entertaining bit of comic relief. He poses the question, “How many dogs does it take to change a lightbulb?” (to the dogs). The answer, it seems, depends on the breed.
Border Collie: Just one, but why not let me change the light fixture so that it will accept fluorescent bulbs, which are much more efficient?
Bulldog: Don’t bother; I’ll just lie here in the dark.
German Shepherd: Just one, but it will have to wait until I’ve rescued those people trapped in the dark and led them to safety, and then checked the house to make sure that no one has entered under cover of darkness to take advantage of the situation.
Shetland sheepdog: I will as soon as I arrange all of the new bulbs in a tight and orderly little circle.
Golden retriever: The sun is shining, we’ve got no work to do today, I’ve got this neat red ball here, and you’re inside worrying about some silly lightbulb?
Rottweiller: Go ahead, and see if you’re tough enough to make me!
Corgi: First, I’ll bark until the old bulb leaves of its own accord and then I’ll nip at the new one until it goes into the socket…
Labrador retriever: I can do it! Please!….Please…I can. You know I can. Please….
Greyhound: It isn’t moving, so who cares?
Pointer: I see it. There it is. Look, it’s right there…
Jack Russell terrier: Me! I can reach it! All I have to do is to keep bouncing off the furniture and walls.
Poodle: I’ll just whisper sweet nothings into the Border collie’s ear and he’ll do it. By the time he’s finished putting in the new light fixture, my nails will be dry.
This is a great book. It also includes a ‘dog behaviour inventory’ for you lovers of quizzes. Look for other titles by Stanley Coren.
My girl, Opal (IV) and I, are happy graduates of Canadian Guide Dogs For the Blind in Manotick, Ontario, Canada. I am proud of my canine partner. Most of the time, I am happy to answer questions or reply to the numerous comments I receive from the strangers we meet on our treks. And there are plenty of them! 99% of the time, I don’t mind, as long as Opal can get a rest if she needs it, or I’m not having an indulgent, “don’t bug me, I want to be incognito” moment. Here’s a recent transcript of recent conversations I had one day at the mall. These all occurred within a half-hour time frame. We were sitting quietly in a carpeted public seating area, resting, and just enjoying the moment. Stranger one: “That’s a lovely seeing eye dog you have there”. I smile and say to the woman, “thank you…but she’s actually called a Guide dog. Seeing Eye dogs, are guide dogs that come from The Seeing Eye school in Morristown, New Jersey. My dog is from Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind in Ontario. It’s a little like the difference between Kleenex and tissue. Seeing Eye is a ‘brand’ name. There are many different American and Canadian schools where Guide dogs are graduated, like Guiding Eyes, Leader Dogs, Canine Vision, MIRA, etc. A tissue can be a Royale, Puff, store brand or a Kleenex etc. but we inacurrately use the term kleenex, when referring to any tissue”. She seems to have grasped this. Seconds later, a man with a thick Cape Breton accent comes by and says, “Lady, you’ve got one handsome seeing eye dog there”. Once again, I launch into my explanation. This guy is quite surprised and goes on and on about how he had never realized the difference. ”yes”, I say. ”All Seeing Eye dogs are guide dogs, but not all guide dogs are Seeing Eye dogs”. He says something about getting to the pharmacy and leaves. A mom with a couple of kids hovers, and says to the kids, “look Justin and Corry! there’s a lady with a seeing eye dog!” I try to blurt out my pat shpeel, but I’m more concerned with ‘Justin’ who seems to be slithering on the floor, creeping up very close to Opal. I sort the kid out and the mom hauls them both away. The sound of chunky heel approaches. The newcommer it turns out, is meeting up with the lady who is sitting nearby. The new lady says,to her pal, “Hi Raylene…hey! Look at the seeing eye dog right there next to you! She’s a beauty…looks a little like Mike’s dog”. Then to me, “How long have you had your seeing eye dog, dear?” I sigh, and say, with a momentary sense of defeat, but my ever-present pride, “almost two years”.
THIS JUST IN!!! WISEADVICE chief, HRM, is now allowing one more group of a select thousand people to witness the incredible site in her home. ”It all started a week ago, on a Sunday morning”, says the queen of Crisis Central. ”Opal yawned and emerged from her bed around 5 am. The sound of coins clinking alerted me to…this incredible site!!! There, on her bed, 45 pennies and 7 nickels, all in a little pile.” When word got out, crowds started to gather outside the residence. By Tuesday afternoon, Mounties had to be called in to control the pandaemonium. ”By early this morning, I found $387.00 in change (mostly silver dollars) where Opal had slept. The phone is ringing off the hook! Everyone wants to know what I feed my dog. Purina offered me a new car if I put up their poster next to her bed and let them take some snapshots…I’m holding out for a chauffeur too.” A private security detail has followed Wiseadvice and her dog everywhere, and at all times. It seems that hopeful locals are shadowing them, in hope of “poop scooping” a small fortune. Prime Minister Steven Harper is said to be sending a representative from Revenue Canada. Life has been turned upside down in this sleepy port city. We asked Wiseadvice’s neighbour, Poprah Minfrey to comment. ”This is the best thing that could have happened here. It tops the ‘jesus face’ that showed up on the wall in the ladies room at the Vimy Legion Hall last Easter. Frankly, it couldn’t have happened to a nicer lady. She always has a word of advice for people. The dog? I agree with the CBC radio poll. The dog gets to keep 50% of whatever she generates. Fair is fair, eh?”
I love numbers, pneumonics…anything that helps me remember important stuff. Of course, if what I need to remember, has something to do with dogs or Guide dogs, I enjoy my memory aid even more. So, here is my personal Guide Top Ten: a checklist to ensure I’m doing OK with Opal.
0- Zero people food. I do not give Opal any handouts from the table. Giving a guide dog food, other than its rations, is not a good idea, because you must keep their weight within a close range, AND, your dog might get the idea that any food is fair game, including that twinkie she spots lying on the street as you are working across an intersection. You want to get across safely.
1- One person in charge. That would be me, in Opal’s case. I am the only one allowed to give commands and make rules. I am ‘top dog’, ‘Alpha’, ‘leader of the pack’, etc.
2-Two meals. I must provide The Girl with two squares a day, usually around the same time. The ammount is consistent and would only change if her weight had changed. The brand and type is between me and our Vet. It’s not a good idea to be switching a dog’s brand and type of food without a valid reason involving a health issue. “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”.
3- Three poop bags in my pocket: I don’t want to get caught without my bags. I never know when Opal might have a ‘two-parter’, or even a ‘three -parter’on one trip outside to relieve. On the road? Who knows.
4- Four feet: Opal’s feet are critically important. I wipe them dry on rainy days. I use a small container of warm water to dip her paws into after coming in from travel on salty sidewalks. I have four boots for her to wear on bitter cold days. I check her four paws for cuts, blisters, or any debris that might get stuck to them (chewing gum, tar).
5- Five Point Grooming: Check ears(smell) and clean, if necessary (labs have drop ears which are a natural incubator for bacteria that cause infection)… use a tissue to wipe shmootz from eyes…. explore mouth and gums, and brush teeth with a finger brush and DOGGIE paste…comb and brush coat. Explore body at same time for irregularities…examine feet again.
6- Check Opal’s ’space’ for these six points… accessible fresh water in her bowl…NO access to garbage or food lying around…toys and bones should be checked to see if they are intact and safe…bedding should be clean and dry….Is there anything tempting in range? like socks, rags, medication, electrical cords, cups of boiling hot tea? Dogs have been known to get ill or die from bowel obstruction after swallowing a sock or facecloth. Others have chewed ‘puffers’ (asthma inhalers) and died. Hot drinks can burn. Dogs are individuals. One might be attracted to one danger, another dog to something different…Equipment. Her gear, including leash, play collar, and harness (girth strap, handle, chest strap, reflective sleeve, buckles etc.) should be checked for state of cleanliness and damage that require repair.
7- Seven toys on the go at any given time: It’s tempting to flood a dog (or kid) with a houseful of toys. They don’t need that many. Put some away and switch them around to keep your dog interested. Some toys last longer than others. Some are poorly made and dangerous. Others are just plain boring. (Just because YOU like it, doesn’t mean your dog will be impressed).
8- Eight opportunities for Opal to relieve on a typical day: Weather, health (mine and hers) will alter this number on occasion. If I have a bad flu, it could be that I take her out only five times. If she has diarhea…
9- Nine items in the Disaster Bag: Ok, chances are that we’ll never need the Disaster Bag, but I leave it hanging by the door, just in case. Consider what you might want in yours, if a fire wiped out you house or apartment. Taking care of a dog if you have been wiped out would be difficult, but with these things, life can continue. In our bag, I have… Opals ‘papers’ including Health book, microchip number, and other vet records…dog food in an air tight bag with a dish…a bone in a sealed bag…a toy…a cassette recording of all my important phone numbers…a print out of Opal’s contact information (Canadian Guide Dogs for the Blind, family) and instructions for her care in case of my demise…medication and ID (for BOTH of us)…crank radio…cell phone…and a grooming brush. I replace items as required. (I also have some things for Lucy the cat). When the fire alarm goes off in the building, I do not debate if I should leave, or what I should bring with me. We are outside with the Disaster bag in short order. It’s good practice. Hopefully we will never need our DB.
10- Ten minutes to rest: I give Opal a break after every 45 minutes or so of working in harness. She needs a chance to rest her mind.
I know I started with Zero and that’s actually eleven…but ‘top eleven’ doesn’t have the same ring to it.
I have often wondered how my guide dog, Opal, got accustomed to some of the things she faces in our travels. She doesn’t mind a bus whizzing round a corner near her head. Working her around a construction zone is no problem. Hospitals, grocery stores, malls are taken in stride. She LOVES escalators. My girl is a busybody…fascinated by trucks, people, animals, airplanes overhead etc. She spends as much time looking out the window, as our cat does! Guide dogs start out as puppies too. They are raised by generous and caring families who are willing to take in a little bundle for a set period of time. Then they part with them, hopefully sending them on their way for training as guide dogs. Some dogs make it, some don’t. Guide dogs schools (and there are many in Canada and the United States) usually have a ‘puppy raising’ or ‘puppy walking’ program. I found this on the Guiding Eyes for the Blind web site, on the puppy raising program information page. Margaret Hughes is credited. She created a wonderful set of guidelines about what puppies should experience before 20 weeks of age, in her book, Positive Puppy Training. She says that puppies are most willing to try new things before they are 20 weeks old. To socialize puppies, she suggests exposing them to a variety of experiences. Be sure the experiences are safe and positive, she adds. Accompany with praise. Here are the Puppy’s Rule of Twelve: By the time your puppy is 20 weeks old, it should have:
Experienced 12 different surfaces: wood, woodchips, dirt, mud, puddles, deep pea gravel, grates, uneven surfaces, a table (ie. Vet.) etc.
Introduced to 12 different objects: toys, big and small balls, hard toys, funny sounding toys, metal items, statues, balloons, etc.
Experienced 12 different locations: front yard (daily), other peoples homes, school yard, shopping plazas, lakes, pond, river, boat, basement, elevator, car, moving car, garage, laundry room, kennel, etc.
Met and played with 12 new people (outside of the family): include children, adults, elderly adults, people in wheelchairs, walkers, people with canes, crutches, hats,sunglasses, etc.
Exposed to 12 different noises (ALWAYS keep fun and watch puppy’s comfort level-don’t want it to be scared): garage door opening, doorbell, children playing, babies screaming, big trucks, Harley motorcycles, skateboards, washing machine, power boat, clapping, loud singing, pan dropping, horses neighing, vacuums, lawnmowers, birthday party, etc.
Exposed to 12 fast moving objects (don’t allow to chase): skateboards, roller skates, bicycles, motorcycles, cars, people running, cats running, scooters, vacuums not on, children running, children playing soccer, squirrels, cats, horses running, cows running, shopping carts rolling, etc.
Experienced 12 different challenges: climb on, in, off and around a box, go through a cardboard tunnel, climb up and down steps, climb over obstacles, play hide and seek, go in and out of a doorway with a step up or down, exposed to an electric sliding door, jump over a broom, climb over a log, bathtub (and bath), etc.
Handled by owner (& family) 12 times a week: hold under arm (like a football), hold to chest, hold on floor near owner, hold in-between owner’s legs, hold head, look in ears, mouth, in-between toes, hold and take temperature, hold like a baby, trim toe nails, hold in lap
Formal GEB Body Massage done in 12 different locations
Eaten from twelve different shaped containers: wobbly bowl, metal, paper, plastic, Kong, paper bag, from your hand, etc.
Eaten in 12 different locations: back yard, front yard, crate, kitchen basement, laundry room, bathroom, friend’s house, car, school yard, bathtub, up high (on a cardboard solid box no more than 1 foot off the ground) etc.
Played with 12 different puppies (or safe adult dogs) under supervision.
Left alone safely (in crate) away from family and other animals (5-45 minutes) 12 times a week.
Left alone safely (in crate) near family members (5-45 minutes) 12 times a week.
It is a lovely day in Halifax. I have been stressed out and busy these days. Today, I will take time to stop and smell the proverbial roses. My dog insists. When I am stressed and distracted, Opal is too. She deserves better. My Guide dog (like most dogs) mirrors my mood and anxiety level. Yesterday, I was not as patient or focused as usual while we worked down a busy downtown area. Neither was she. Dogs are a lot like small children, in that they need to feel that the ‘top dog’ (that’s me, in opal’s case) is in charge, and that top dog will consistently provide calm leadership. It is reassuring for dogs (and children) to have rules. They do so much better with routine and consistency in their lives. Don’t think for a second, that dogs don’t have an emotional response to an angry, impatient voice. Of course, humans will be humans. We carry a lot of ridiculous worries around in our head and use our interaction with our dogs as a means of expression. Opal, like any child, does not understand or care that I am unprepared for next week’s meeting, or that I don’t have enough money to buy some items I think I need, or that I feel guilty about not doing my Spanish assignment, and that these things are stuck in my head. She DOES know when I am ill, fearful, stressed, angry etc. She shows her concern if I am sick by being quiet and staying close. She expects little from me, other than food, shelter, love and kindness. I do the best I can. When we’ve had a bit of a bad day, I try to give her (and myself) a chance to regroup the following day. So, on that note, I am going to shut down this blog for today, and take my dog out for a romp in the snow…my version of taking time to smell the roses.
Yesterday, the media broke a story here in Nova Scotia, that has everyone reeling. Reports revealed that over one hundred animals, including 80 cats and 27 dogs, were rescued from a site which had been operating as some sort of ‘animal shelter’ in Port Hastings, Nova Scotia. The SPCA had been trying to investigate this situation for several months. It was not until last Sunday, that they had the legal authority to search the premises. When their team of workers, along with RCMP officers, entered the Celtic Pet Rescue centre, they were horrified to find two building full of animals in deplorable conditions. Cats and dogs were lying about in toxic filth. The stench of ammonia was so bad, that some of the workers were not able to proceed. A number of animals were found dead. The basement was filled with sewage where animals lay. Cats were so encrusted with feces, that their colour could not be determined until they were taken away and bathed for hours. A dog and her nine puppies were found in a crate, hidden by boxes, nursing her pups. It was estimated that many of the animals had not been attended for over sixty hours. SPCA workers were shocked (and they don’t shock easily) by the scene. They had anticipated a rescue of 30 or so animals and ended up with a scene they had not expected or prepared for. The situation necessitated two trips to remove the animals. The cats and dogs were taken to sites in Halifax and Dartmouth, for the most part, and work began to evaluate their condition and treat them. Nine cats were found to have Feline Leukemia. The response has been overwhelming from concerned animal advocates. Even people who are not big animal lovers have expressed sadness and concern, upon hearing the news. Offers of veterinary care, donations, and requests to adopt have poured in. Of course, the first question on everyone’s mind, is HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? The woman who was granted a license to operate an ‘animal shelter’, has not been charged yet, though public outrage will undoubtedly result in a careful investigation on the part of the authorities. It is expected that charges will be laid. Background information on the operator of this ’shelter’, is sketchy. The SPCA is the only organization that has the right to actively investigate and seize animals in such circumstances in Nova Scotia. Their resources are limited and their powers are also not extensive. The woman who applied for, and received a lisence to operate this place, is reported to have met standards to open. How and why conditions deteriorated is unknown. Without legal authority, it was not until recently that the SPCA were granted a warrent to enter, even though they had requested permission to examine the site, and were denied. They could not act. If an adult is suspected of physical abuse or neglect of a child, the system moves very quickly. Obviously, society’s conscience and values, do not provide for the same intense scrutiny and care for animals, as it does for children. We can’t seem to strike a balance. Comment?
There’s nothing that puts a burr under my saddle like irresponsible dog owners and handlers. When I hear of a situation where a dog has either been ill treated, or allowed to behave inappropriately (an extension of ill treatment, if you ask me) my blood pressure rockets. Here’s what boggles my mind; if you can’t accept the responsibility that is involved with owning a pet dog, or handling a service dog, then you have no business having a dog in the first place. It’s simply not enough to love the dog. Before you entertain the idea of getting a dog, you must be able to answer YES to these questions:
Do I REALLY want a dog in my life, or am I just romanticizing how ‘nice’ it would be to have a dog?
Can I afford to take care of dog? Will I be able to pay for food, routine Veterinary care like shots and flea and worming medication, grooming costs, and the unexpected veterinary costs if the dog is ill or injured?
Am I willing to commit to giving the dog an opportunity to relieve at least six times daily, in all weather including snowstorms and heavy rain?
Will I have enough time in my life (work, meetings, social life) to ‘walk’ or adequately exercise the dog every day?
Do I have the patience to see a dog through training, on my own or with someone who has expertise?
Will I be willing to ‘pick up’ after my dog ALL THE TIME?
Am I willing to admit that dogs will be dogs, and therefore I must keep my dog on leash whenever there is a possibility of putting my dog, other animals, or people, at risk?
Can I get over any disdain I may have for dog hair, or dog slobber?
Will I find the time to groom the dog regularly?
Can I deal with another animal in my home that might have an ‘issue’ with a new dog’s presence?
If I get a new puppy, do I realize that I will probably need to be around the house a great deal initially and I will not get much sleep at first?
If I adopt or rescue a shelter dog, do I realize that the dog has a ‘past’ and I will need a lot of patience before it adjusts? And I can’t mold this dog into what I precisely choose?
Will I make ’sorting out my dog’ a priority at all times? (dealing with the dog immediately to ensure that the dog is safe, secure, and not annoying someone)
Do I accept that not all people like dogs? that some are afraid of them? so I must see to it that I respect their feelings by keeping my dog in check?
Do I swear that I will never yell at, hit, or otherwise strike my dog in anger?
Will I take immediate action on complaints about my dog? including barking or property damage?
If I live in an apartment or flat, does my lease permit me to have a dog?
Am I willing to do whatever I need to ’safety proof’ my dog’s environment? including installing gates or fences, stowing the delicate coffee table ornaments forever, putting away medications, modifying location of garbage, and other accessible items?
Are my children ‘old enough’ to have a dog in their lives?
Will I do some research on dog breeds before I go out and get a dog which might turn out to be the wrong one for me?
Will I be consistent with the dog’s ‘rules’? (it’s not fair to give the dog permission to lie on the bed one day, and deny it the next.)
Will my life be fairly stable? or will I be relocating often, travelling on business most of the time etc?
Will I stay away from ‘puppy mills’ and other ’side of the road’ dog dealers?
Will I engage with my dog routinely, by playing, fussing with, and loving him or her?
These questions are a guide for anyone thinking about having a dog in their life. I hope I scared a few out of ownership…for the sake of the dogs out there waiting for a home. They deserve responsible people in their lives.
It’s a slow day for advice. Apparently all is well with the world. I know it is in mine. Why, you ask? I have shelter, food, water, reasonable health…and a Guide dog. Life for a person who is blind can go lots of different directions. Sometimes the challenge of vision loss can really bum a person out. My life took a huge upbeat when my Guide dog, Opal came into my life. Sure, you’ve all seen guide dogs at work, but have you ever stopped to think how incredibly awesome they truly are? Here’s what’s going on when YOU see a guide dog team at work:
the handler (blind gal holding the harness) is making the decisions.
the Guide dog can over-rule if the decision would result in danger. This is called Intelligent Disobedience (example: Guide dog stops handler from stepping in front of a car).
Distraction is the Guide dog’s biggest challenge. It comes in the form of scents (dogs have a nose 1000 to 10,000 times more functional than a human shnoz), other animals (usually dogs, but sometimes the run-of-the-mill cat and squirrel, noise, movement (like fountains and planes), discarded food, and other unexpected things.
Guide dogs get mentally tired long before their bodies tire out. 45 minutes of harness work should be followed by a break.
At home, they are very much like any dog…they need to play, sleep, eat, be groomed, and above all, they need affection.
As a team, Guide dog and their handlers are allowed everywhere (Access Laws)
Only a small percentage of dogs bred as Guides, actually qualify. It is the hardest ‘job’ a service dog can have.
Quiet, are’nt they? they are trained not to bark (all heck would break loose if they worked AND barked)
All dogs are colour blind. They don’t know what the traffic light colour scheme means. The handler listens for flow of traffic to determine when to cross.
The kindest thing, and the RIGHT thing to do when you meet a person with a Guide dog is:
Do not touch the dog when working (in harness).
Do not call or talk to the dog. ditto whistling, waving or other silly noises. Avoid eye contact with the dog.
Do not feed anything to the dog.
Never give the dog a command, even when it is not working.
Don’t call it by name (chances are, the handler has given you a fake name if you are a stranger…that’s the drill)
If offering assistance at a noisy street crossing, speak to the handler and ASK what they prefer (example: taking your arm, following, or nothing)
gum wads (these stick to their paw pads) and other discarded food is a Guide dog handler’s nightmare.
Dear Wise Advice, my name is Eleanora Hampsterson. I live in the lovely village of Come-By-Chance, Newfoundland. Things here were quite lovely until last week. That’s when the lady next door, you know who I’m talking about, eh? the lovely redhaired lass with the nutty dog? Well she comes round to the door, see. Banging and hollering like a wounded seagull. So I says to her, ”What’d that old, nutter of a husband do now? Has he landed his truck in the sea again?” She shakes her head and comences to flailing her arms, pointing to her front yard. ”Dearie, there’s nothing there”, I tells her. Only after I be giving her a lovely cuppa tea to calm her, does she explain her worries. She’s right excited still, but gets out a crazy yarn…something about her dog, (it’s a lovely big beagle) not wanting to step on the grass. Have you ever heard such a thing!!!!??? So I says to Netty, (that’s the poor soul’s name) ”Netty, your talking foolish, dear. Just give that dog a lovely bisquit and send it on it’s way.” After seven more cups of tea, she was near to convinced that her dog might be willing to step on the grass. Good enough, I think. Off she goes, don’t you know. So I commences to putting on a lovely pot of fish chowder, as my dear husband, Alfred, is about to come through the door. Alfred expects a nice meal on the table, don’t you know. Just as I’m cutting up the cod for my chowder, a shriek, the likes you’ve never heard, startles me so bad that I drops my cod on the floor. Miss Lucy (our lovely cat) dives after it like a starving gull and drags it off before I can nab it back! The shrieking, which is getting louder by the second, is coming from Netty’s house. I gets my gumboots and mac on and goes over, fearing the worse. I’m half expecting to see poor Netty half dead and all tore to bits! What do I find? Well I never would have believed…!!!! So you see, dear, you need to be sending one of those crisis teams I been hearing about. Spare no expense; bus, lunch money, for the lot of you. We’re desperate here in Come-By-Chance. Be sure to dress warm, eh? It can blow a bit on the ferry crossing. And would you be kind enough to bring some of those lovely Peak Frean chocolate bisquits from the Mainland? Mrs. Eleanora Hampsterson
URGENT!!! Dear Wise Advice, my neighbour, Mrs. Hampsterson told me that you always come through in a crisis. I don’t know where to turn. My life is a shambles. Recently, my dog, Big Beagle Boy, has been acting strangely. He drools excessively at odd times and has developed an intense fear of walking on grass. To make matters worse, my friends have stopped coming over. They say they are “busy”, but I KNOW it has something to do with Big Beagle Boy. Can you help? Dismayed in Newfoundland.Dear Dismayed, Thank you for your recent service request. In order to assist you, we require the following information:1- Does Mrs. Hampsterson live in a duplex or a detached bungalow?2- Has it snowed in Newfoundland this morning?3- How many cats reside with you? 2?more than 7? 4- Have you been playing much John Denver music lately?5- Do any of your ‘friends’ work for the Canadian Government?In the meantime, we will dispatch the Mobile Unit for Drooling Dog Investigation (MUDDI). With their expertise, Big Beagle Boy will be coaxed onto the grass, or at least the pavement. Above all, REMAIN CALM! and have Mrs. Hampsterson make you a lovely cup of tea.Biff, Juliette, Buzz and Regina (WA intake staff)
