Well, readers, this is yet another post about dogs. It’s been just a little over 6 months since Bailey has come into our lives and I am satisfied with his progress thus far. He is a sweet boy, but he can be bossy. I think that is a male thing, though. I’m talking about assertive and unaggressive in-your-face pushy. He is energetic, sweet and loves attention.

 

Jerry and April told me that Bailey grabs Verona’s leather collar and pulls her to try to get her to play. This is after rubbing a toy in her face, whapping her in the head, and play bowing and verbalizing. He is either ignored or given the brush-off. Verona will, when possible, hide behind one of the humans as if to say, ‘save me from this big goofus’.

So, I take off her collar and re-direct him. I don’t get mad I just convince him to do something else. It only works half of the time, though; he is a very single-minded dog.

 

I must say at this point that Nikka does not tolerate any of this from Sir Bailey. If he begins to treat her the same way as he treats Verona, she will bark, chase him, and put him in his place. Let me say that knowing Sir Bailey tucks tail and makes for safe ground is quite amusing. The only animal who dominates Nikka is the cat. Hehehehe

This character trait works out very well when guiding. He has a great energy and drive, especially when he is familiar with the surroundings and we can relax in our work. I love it when he picks up the pace and we fly. The feeling makes all the effort worthwhile and I know I made the right choice in 2009 when I first picked up a harness handle.

 

Anyway, our latest power struggle is food time. In class meals were at 6 a.m. and 4 p.m. with a water and relieving break in-between. After a few months at home, he began bothering me at 5:30 a.m. At this time he was on tie-down beside my side of the bed. I would re-settle him and wait until 6. Then we went to California and the time change screwed up everything. Now, he is often bothering me at 4 a.m. I think it’s partly due to having night owl hours with Jerry, who can’t sleep from post-surgery pain; he will take the dogs out to distract himself from the pain and when this happens, Bailey thinks, hey, it’s morning and time to eat!

 

Then, Verona joins in and I am roused, doinked and otherwise accosted by canine noses until I sit up. It’s very unbecoming, my eyes full of sleep, my hair a mess, and my mind barely registering that I am sitting up. Oy, ugly.

But this matters not when puppy tummies are empty and there is kibble two rooms away. After a few rounds of ‘no, lay down, go back to sleep’ and ‘it’s not time yet,’, I flop back down and huddle under the covers, as if it will signal to them to stop bothering me.

Then I notice that my bladder is bursting. I lay there, thinking, that if I get up, all bets are off and the doinking of noses and snuffling will start up again. So I lay there, miserable, praying that I fall back to sleep, knowing I won’t.

 

As my aching bladder throbs, I dare to poke out a finger from under the covers to touch my I phone to hear the time. Bailey must be watching me because as soon as I move, he pops up and doinks me with his big, wet nose. I retreat under the covers after getting the time check. 30 minutes have passed and my bladder is screaming. I have to get up. I tuff it out until 4:45 and fling off the cover and make it just in time to the bathroom. I am, of course, accompanied by both bailey and Verona.

Then, I walk down the hall, being herded by a dog to each side of me, taking turns licking my hands, doinking the back of my legs with their heads. They make sure I don’t turn into the kitchen and herd me into the office, whereupon I pick up the food bowls and begin dispensing tasty goodness in the form of kibble.

 

So, readers, here is a Monty Python-esque piece based on these experiences — hope it makes you smile.

Woof!

 

Upon the hour of 3

Ye canine shall entice the Master

With four legged antics,

Frolicking exploits

And other doggerel

to thereby convince the Master

To fill Ye Holy Kibble Pail

 

Ye canine will not,

Repeat, not,

Attempt to entice the Master

Before the strike of 3 of the clock

 

Feeding of the canine shall not

be at the strike of the one hour,

nor the two hour,

but at the hour of three

As decreed by the

Most Noble Master and Keepr of Ye Royal Kibble.

 

Emotions, Dogs, and New Paths

This entry will focus on a few divergent topics, all of which, I hope, will come together in the end. If not, well, I hope they are entertaining and thought provoking so you won’t be disappointed.

Topic 1:

I’m trying to process the struggle of retiring a guide dog. I’ve just experienced this transition and have been monitoring other guide dog users who are also going through this adjustment. It the best of circumstances it is emotional and anxiety provoking, in the worst, it feels like losing a loved one or cutting off a finger. I would argue the point and say it is saying goodbye without the internment of death. It’s a limbo that hangs on even after you are matched with a new dog.

 

I happen to be fortunate to have kept my retired dog and she still comes to the harness even after almost a year. She is used to being with one person all the time, day and night. She has turned to my husband for this reinforcement while I am away with my new dog working. I sometimes feel guilty, sad, and wistful; she is my first guide dog and the bar has been set high for my new dog, much to my discomfort.

 

Like John Grogan state in his introduction of the book, Marley and me, Verona is my Saint, the ultimate dog. I will compare every subsequent dog thereafter to her. Does Bailey know he’s being compared to Verona? I don’t think so. Do I struggle with this habit? Yes, and it often leads to trouble bonding and communicating with my new dog. I wish I didn’t follow these unrealistic expectations with Bailey, but I also think its human nature, part of the transition.

Topic 2: Expectations

I must turn to my new dog for my enhanced mobility and while I wish I could instill many of Verona’s personality traits and working behaviors into Bailey, I must accept his style and quirks to make it work between us.

 

For instance, when Bailey resorts to his dogginess, and I am frustrated by it, my first thought is, ‘Verona didn’t do that,’ Then the pang of guilt reminds me that bailey is not Verona, that every dog is different and it isn’t fair to expect this 2 year old very exuberant male Labrador to behave like my 9 year old female, who has many years of practice and poise to draw upon.

 

I do ashamedly admit   that I wish she could instill some of her poise and dignity upon him, waive her canine fairy wand over his head and with a poof! Bailey would no longer dive under chairs for discarded napkins.

It would help me feel less frustrated.

 

Topic 3: obsessed with training

Every moment is a training moment. Yes, I have turned into an opportunist of the worst sort. It began with Verona and now it has become part of my autonomic system. Don’t just give them a treat, make them work for it.  I recently taught Bailey how to give us a paw. He slaps the hand holding the treat and it’s very funny.  It’s an expected social interaction with people, after all and I was surprised he didn’t know how to do it. I had to enlist the assistance of a dog trainer to help me help him make the connection. We are going to work on the other paw next week.

 

This trainer, by the way, was one of the other guests at the bed and breakfast we frequent. Talk about not being able to put away the clicker and treats for the day; we even kept in touch afterwards and will get together at some point to proof out my dogs for their CGC (Canine Good Citizen Certificate).

 

Verona knows her right paw from her left paw and also sits up and begs on command.  Work for it, you doggies!

Topic 4: Trust Your Dog

But I digress. Back to retiring the first guide dog. For me, traveling up to Guiding Eyes without my dog in the harness was bitter sweet. I cried and the first two days were the hardest. The insecurities of the first time came flooding back; would this match work out? What if I got a bad match? What if my dog doesn’t bond to me, or, worse, what if I don’t bond to my new dog? What if the dog has a weird name like Petunia or Fireball?  I wanted a dog as different in looks from Verona as possible. I requested a taller, stronger, faster dog.

 

And, yes, all these doubts were scattered when he came into the room. Bailey was strong, whined for his trainer, and accepted me reluctantly. I remembered the whining, the restless way both dogs exhibited and I wanted to tell Bailey that it would all be okay, that He would get more love, discipline and care from me and he didn’t have to go back into the big, noisy, kennel tonight or anymore nights in the near future.  Knowing he wouldn’t be able to understand this allowed me to be kind, patient, and hopefully comforting in some way.

 

I learned about Bailey as he learned about me. He had to learn how to clear us from obstacles, make sure I was on safe ground as I walked. He had to stop for elevation changes like curbs, steps, low hanging branches or store front signs. He had to learn to back up with me holding onto his handle, push and pull me and move me to keep me safe. I had to learn his body language, his pace, and his signals. We both have likes, dislikes, habits and quirks and sometimes we butted heads over them.

Now Bailey loves brushing, but we had to work on convincing him brushing and ear cleaning were both necessary and good to tolerate.  He does funny things with flip flops, like using them as tug toys. He loves tissues, and will pluck them from the box if he can.  He brings me my shoes in the morning. He doesn’t like going under a chair, and once under it, will tangle himself up or back out of his harness like Houdini the escape artist. He is a sniffer and has taken liberties with many items he thinks would be good candidates for food. The first week I had him home with me he brought me a few bottle caps, different shoes, ripped up my daughter’s flip flops, and ate through a few dog beds.

 

 

Verona was smaller, getting under chairs was never an issue. Verona ignored food until given the okay. Well, if I’m going to confess, her weakness has always been French fries and potato chips. Verona has delicate feet, often slowing down to go over surfaces she disliked as if she were stepping through glue. She is very empathic and we are soon going to train as a pet assisted therapy team.

 

Bailey’s strengths are the way he blocks me from steps until I place my hand on the rail or a foot on the edge of the step. He loves to just walk and is great at remembering routes. He has the biggest heart, the best kisses, and most of all, has accepted all of us as his new family. It’s taken 6 months and many hours of hard work, and even some doubtful moments, but we’re finally over the hump and on our way to a great partnership, thanks to Bailey’s giant Labrador heart and his willingness to work for me, Saint Verona, some awesome instructors, and loving and dedicated puppy raisers.

 

In Celebration of Dogs & National Guide Dog Month, (September)

Dogs enhance our lives by imparting unconditional regard, affection, and loyalty. Guide and service dogs take these attributes and expand upon them, assisting us and stepping into a role even more profound than a pet. I have personally witnessed a dog redirect his handler during an anxiety attack, another steady her handler as she struggled to stand up and transfer from a wheelchair to a stationary chair. My own dog has blocked us from oncoming cars, other obstacles, and unerringly finds what I seek on command.

 

Then there is the work that goes into a guide dog. From the time they are born, training programs are evaluating and preparing these dogs. Experienced socializers watch puppy play, provide testing with touch, sounds, and other stimuli to determine a dog’s nature and character. Some pups are passed over, many are given the green light and proceed to the next step and are raised by volunteers until they are 16 months old. Then there is more evaluating, training, and a matching process.

 

But before the match, there is also so much more that is happening at the human end of this endeavor. I will try to explain it. Training programs require an application, for first timers and those returning for a successor dog. A medical and orientation and mobility form must be submitted, plus other release forms. There is a home visit, maybe some video taping, and practice walks, called juno walks, wherein the instructor holds the harness and mimics the dog while you follow and give commands, execute turns, and street crossings. They look for pace, pull preferences, and other habits. They also get an idea of what you will require of a dog in your home environment in terms of guide work.

 

In class training is 3 weeks. Condensed classes are offered for those returning for successor dogs. A typical day begins at 6 a.m., followed by relieving and feeding your dog. Next is obedience, breakfast, and preparing for traveling to the training routes and locations. Routes are done one-on-one, two times per day, with a lunch break in-between. After returning to the dorm, the dogs are fed again, relieved, and there is lecture and dinner, one more relieving break, then bed. This is more or less the routine for three weeks. Highlights are learning about the harness, leashes, collar and other equipment. We learn how to walk in both city and country environments, and so much more. My favorite part of all of this is getting to know my dog through the husbandry end of things. Brushing, feeding, playing, obedience, the bonding elements. Let’s not forget booties. If you want your dog to walk like a duck, resist you and suddenly forget commands, put on those booties.

 

When I first met Verona, my first dog, it was a very emotional experience. She was calm, quiet, and once she accepted me, became a very loving and excellent guide. When Bailey and I met, it was a bit more energetic. I remember saying, “Wow, he’s so much bigger,” and, “he’s intense,” The first night he barely settled down, walking, rubbing on me, whining at the door, and watching me. He is more distracted than Verona was at his age, too. Yet, for all their differences, they are both great guides and companions. I love how Bailey pulls into his harness, has confidence in crowds, and takes charge when I need him to do it. I love that he comes right to me when he sees his harness, remembers our routines, and settles in when we travel on the, big, rickety busses. I love his exuberance, his doggie smell, and his kisses. I love when Verona is so happy to see me that she hops like a rodeo horse and running in-between my legs, being very silly. It’s these things that melt my heart, soothe my soul and keep me thinking I am the luckiest person in the world.

 

 

 

 

I was chugging along, trying to cope with a serious ankle sprain. I was, admittedly, feeling very much sorry for myself and having one of those pity parties – you know the kind where you just want to have your back rubbed and folks to murmur nonsensical things in complete commiseration.

 

Then, Mom died. I felt like I ran out of gas. Clunk, clunk, clunk. Then, I ended up emotionally stranded on the side of the road.

How the heck was I going to deal with this? Now, when I can hardly walk, let alone travel out to California with a bum ankle and a new guide dog? To say I was overwhelmed is a vast understatement. I felt so alone at first, but after the initial shock, was grateful my sisters were there to help and the mutual moral support helped us all.

 

I actually don’t know how I managed, I just pulled up my big girl panties and forged ahead. I got help from my family, and, without help from my sisters, Cheryll, Terri, and Lauri, and so many others, I couldn’t have done it alone. My husband was the best, he went along with everything, paid for the $3000 trip and told me not to worry about it.

 

There were some stressful moments and I did have one major panic attack. I managed to hold it together in public and, along with my family and many of our Mom’s friends honored her life with the best I could give in the eulogy. Sister Lauri was wonderful and sister Cheryll and Terri held down the fort, organizing the sorting out of a life. Taking care of the cats, finding all the paperwork, and making sense of the detritus of living 81 years. The family got through it all.

 

So, we are home now, back into the routine, my ankle is still a mess and I have to begin again, the doctor, the rehab, the physical therapy.

 

My new guide dog was a good boy, only peeing in CVS once from the climate change and having to drink a lot more water.

 

The panic attack came when my dog and my niece’s dog got into a scuffle over the other dog’s food. There was snarling, yelling, and mayhem. The smaller dog was bruised, shaken up but okay. My dog didn’t even seem affected. My sister got a large bruise on her arm, too. But my mind was past being able to cope and I began hyperventilating and it took me a few moments to get control and realize that the other dog didn’t need the emergency vet and would recover. Oy.

 

I miss Mom every day. I remember her last words; we told one another to hang in there, even though I knew my worries were nothing in comparison to her own.

Saying the Lord’s Prayer and the Hail Mary over her remains seemed the right thing to do for her; with my new guide dog beside me, trying to understand why I was crying, I gave her one last farewell. I said those prayers because they are the words that I know, that have been said so many times to say goodbye to loved ones. I hope they assisted in spiriting her energy to wherever it goes. I think prayers and intentions, when offered, really do make a difference.

 

I think that I am ready to begin the letting go. Her two cats have been fostered out to a wonderful organization, my sisters and I are trying to get back into some kind of routine to help us cope and our kids are also doing their best to grieve the loss as well.

 

Mary gave us her best, gave our children and their children a legacy of love, acceptance, and respect I will cherish until it’s my time to walk the path into the clearing at the twilight of my own life. I have much to live up to, for sure. Mom set the bar very high. She was an accomplished writer (who knew), was artistic, her ability to achieve excellence in whatever she set her mind to was remarkable. She was a loyal friend, clearly cared for the people and animals that surrounded her life and was a wonderful grandmother, giving each child special memories and individual time with her whenever she could.

I love you, Mom and will miss you terribly.

 

11/17/33 – 7/1/2015