The holiday season is full of celebration, but I decided to use this particular photo for the challenge even though it is quite old because of its simplicity. The first story that Dolly’s puppy raiser, Linda, told me was about Dolly’s last night at home. For the first time Dolly had full run of the house and was free to do whatever she wanted . . . so she made a beeline straight for Linda’s bed and camped out there. Rather telling considering she wasn’t allowed on any of the furniture (though, I have photographic proof of her breaking that rule at least once before). It might seem an insignificant thing, but small as it was it certainly proved that Dolly thoroughly enjoyed herself before heading off for formal guide dog training.

This is one of those posts that’s been sitting in draft for ages. I had wanted to get it up in May, but that seemed too sad. Then I figured I’d get it up around our anniversary, which might have worked had I kept the dates straight.¹ And most recently I thought I would finish this for the fourth ADBC. Instead I wrote about transitioning to new guide dogs. Suffice it to say this is a long time coming so perhaps that’s why I still feel this isn’t quite finished. At the very least, I feel there is so much  more I could write.

[The above slideshow showcases photos from this Flickr set of Dolly.]

I almost feel like I’m admitting to premature senility when I say that I have a difficult time remembering what it was like before working a guide dog. Many of the differences in my life between these two periods of my lifetime have evolved so slowly that I think I was at least partially unaware of the changes; while others were so rooted within the actual decision itself that they seem obvious to the point of forgetting that they actually are changes even though in many respects my life since is almost unrecognizable in comparison. The best way to explain this is to be completely honest about how I “dealt” with my own blindness and to do that I’ll take a moment to go off on a tangent of sorts.

Being that I was born blind, I think most people assume that there is no adjustment to my own disability. But, believe it or not, there was probably more adjustment needed on my end than my parents and others in my life. In many ways being born blind is just as much a psychological disability as it is a physical one. As a child your view of the world is pretty limited — very egocentric, to utilize a nice collegiate level word. I wasn’t officially diagnosed with achromatopsia until I was four and that isn’t really that strange. First, we’re talking almost three decades ago when testing for eyesight issues in children was not as common as it is today. Second, we were living on an Air Force Base and make what jokes you will, but the fact remains that those military doctors were not the best. Third, and most important, as a toddler I wasn’t able to communicate any difficulties I was having and so all my parents knew was that I could see something and all that walking into the coffee table kind of stuff was just me being exceptionally clumsy.² Anyway, once I was diagnosed, my parents were now equipped with an explanation of my vision, but I had no more understanding of my inability to see than I was before being subjected to all those uncomfortable tests. All I really knew was that my parents told me I had to wear my glasses, so I wore my glasses because I was one of those shockingly rare children who actually listens to her parents. I eventually knew that I was legally blind, but I didn’t really know what that meant. To me it was just another description, like I had brown hair and brown eyes and I’m Korean.

My third grade teacher is the one who clued me in. And while it’s a momentous thing for me it was completely inadvertent on her part and were she to know how such a small thing turned my entire world upside down I expect she’d feel rather badly for it. I remember it very vividly. Our class was writing letters to pen pals and one of the important parts of the letters was that we had to reveal something unique about ourselves by asking a question. I had finished my letter and brought it up to my teacher for her to look over and I remember her remarking at how great it was and then adding in a line. As I walked back to my seat, I read what she had written: “Did you know that I’m legally blind?” I was completely baffled at the time. I couldn’t figure out how this was remotely important or why anyone would care. It took awhile — I’m not entirely sure how long exactly, it could have been several days or as soon as later that day — but eventually I realized that this “legally blind” thing was important. That it somehow separated me from other people and at some point the little hamster wheel in my head finally clicked into place and I had the epiphany that I didn’t see like other people. Not even those other people who wore glasses!

Except the last thing in the world you want to be when you’re eight is different than other people. So, I spent the next eight years trying to be as not blind as possible. Or more accurately I did whatever I could to not draw attention to myself. I can’t say it was a fully conscious decision because that would mean I gave any thought to it and I’m sure if I had I would have quickly understood how futile — even dangerous — these actions would be. But the truth is some of this was simply because a lot of the adaptive aids I was being told to use were inconvenient and unnecessary, like the gigantic large print textbooks. But a lot of it was pure stubbornness, like refusing to wear my sunglasses or use my white cane. I honestly don’t know how I managed to make it to sixteen!

At sixteen two things happened that forced me to evaluate how I was living my life. I went to Spain as a foreign exchange student. I wouldn’t have admitted it unless you tortured me, but I was aware of how much I faked what I could see and I knew I wouldn’t be able to pull that off in a totally different country that I was completely unfamiliar with so I made sure to bring my white cane with me. It was the first time in my life I consistently used my cane and mostly it left me feeling like it was a completely useless mobility aid. I didn’t feel any more secure traveling when using the cane than I did without it. I did start using my cane a bit more after the trip, but then the second thing happened: I got hit by a car. Thankfully, it was little more than a bump by the car — it knocked me on my ass, but I wasn’t hurt. Though, it did solidify my insecurity with using a cane because I had done everything correctly when crossing the street and clearly I was still vulnerable.

I didn’t tell anyone about being hit by the car — the driver had sworn at me and drove off anyhow, so it would have probably only served to make my parents paranoid. But I went straight home and started researching guide dog schools. The extent of my knowledge of guide dogs at that point mostly revolved around two short clips I had seen on Sesame Street when I was six. I spent the next two years soaking up every little shred of information I could get about guide dogs and training programs. I am fairly sure that every guide dog handler I met during those two years thought I was the most annoying person on the face of the Earth because I was relentless with my questions. Basically, I was obsessed. I was also scared out of my mind because the first step for me to get a guide dog was to tell my family that I was interested in doing so. And to do that I had to admit how I’d basically spent my entire life leading them on in terms of what I could really see.

That step was not only one of the most important moments of my life, but the most profound difference that Dolly brought to my life. Being secure in your blindness is very important if you are a guide dog handler because you are now traveling with the most visible and recognizable sign of blindness there is. Not only that, but the public tends to view that “sign” as an invitation to question you and often they are quite tactless in their methods. Whatever your feelings on such attention are, it’s pretty much unavoidable and for me I found it a necessary progression in becoming comfortable enough with myself that I wasn’t trying to hide. I’m fairly certain that all the time I spent trying not to draw attention to myself only brought more awareness of my being blind, but with Dolly’s constant presence any possibility of staving off attention was now completely nixed. I’m certainly more comfortable discussing being blind now than I was as a child, but I can’t say I enjoy the public’s interest. Especially when they are blatantly interrupting me from something or incredibly rude about it. It’s been more than 13 years and I’m still working on being more zen.

To me, the more obvious difference that Dolly brought to my life was that I discovered a new confidence in traveling independently. I realized that I had developed a habit of walking hunched to watch where my feet were and suddenly I was walking with my back straight and not gazing in vein down at my feet, hoping to avoid any obstacles or hazards. I wasn’t trying to strain my eyes to determine if every shadow that crossed my visual field was something I might walk into. (In fact, I eventually developed a new habit of walking with my eyes closed outside!) I also discovered how traumatized I had become at even the simplest intersections. I had stopped trusting my own orientation and mobility training and was paranoid of any possibility that a car would turn in on me. Now I had confirmation that I was safe to cross a street and a working pair of eyes to notice any surprise vehicles.

The devastating part of this was that I broke most of these old habits during training and then had to go home for three weeks without Dolly because she got sick! I was beyond the ability to form words to explain how traumatizing and difficult this was for me at the time. I resented it at the time, but I think it was actually good for me to have those three weeks without a guide dog once more to confirm how beneficial working one would be for me. Even without her by my side I found that I had already developed a greater ease in, well, being blind around people. I hadn’t realized until then how often I second guessed myself in certain actions or avoided situations that would pointedly showcase how little I could see.

While not a characteristic that I’m readily described as, there are situations where I can be incredibly shy. To this day I don’t like being in crowds of people — even if it’s a crowd of people I know. And I am very uncomfortable as the center of attention. But for as much of an extrovert as I’m usually considered, it really wasn’t until Dolly entered my life that being able to just talk to anyone was a skill I was equipped with. I still find it slightly disorienting when complete strangers walk up and just start talking to me, even when it’s about the dog. But I’ve had years of practice now and while I think most of it is being faked on my part, I’m convincing enough that it’s almost an action that comes without thought. There are times that the dogs are icebreakers into what would otherwise be very awkward conversations. And there is at least one instance where I made a friend — and at one point a boyfriend — through an initial conversation about Dolly.

Without a doubt there are other, smaller differences that Dolly brought to my life. By her very presence in my life, she forced me to be that much more responsible. I became more organized in many aspects of my life because I had to plan around her needs. But mostly, she brought this intangible lightness to my life. She was the happiest dog ever! Even in her more grumpy moments when she would wear this exasperated look that spoke to the world of her constant suffering at my hand, she still brought a sense of levity to pretty much every situation. It never ceased to brighten my day and in some respects I think it was even calming.

She will forever have a special place in my heart for all that she brought to my life.

1. I flubbed Uschi’s anniversary date, too.
2. To this day it’s still a debate whether I’m extraordinarily clumsy even though I tend to blame it on the whole not seeing well thing.

Last night at 10:15 PM my first guide dog, Dolly, passed away. Tomorrow would have been her birthday.

I’m so very sad right now.

That funky skin thing has left her with a huge bald spot on her back. Her vet has no idea what it’s from, but upped her thyroid meds. My father sounded rather unconvinced of how effective this would be when I questioned whether this has anything to do with her thyroid.

“Slaphappy” would be a good word to describe me a year and a half ago. I was so wired from the excitement and anticipation that I didn’t sleep the night before. I tried a few times, but couldn’t get my mind to calm itself enough to give my body any peace. In fact, I spent most of the night and morning preceeding Megan’s arrival pestering everyone I knew online via message boards, Twitter, AIM and the like. The only problem with this was that most of my friends that would have understood or empathized with my punch drunk giddyness were sadly unavailable and so I was left with babbling to those who probably didn’t care or only vaguely got how incredible of a day it would be.

Of course, as with anything one anticipates, time was crawling by. I was pretty much out of my mind with impatience by the time noon rolled around . . . and by three o’clock was nearly to the point of panic. The doorbell rang sometime after that and my crazed excitement evaporated immediately into a mess of nerves and trepidation. A million different thoughts zoomed through my head, too many to even fixate on any particular one. So, while I was definitely disappointed that Megan wasn’t standing on the other side of the door with leash in hand, I was actually just the tiniest bit relieved to delay the meeting just so I could collect myself.

That delay ended up being something like 45 minutes while Megan went over all the various paperwork and equipment she’d brought with her. All this passed in a blur, though I tried desperately to pay attention. Eventually, whether by reading my lack of interest or because she actually was finished with what she needed to say, Megan put her hands down on the table and looked me straight in the eye, “So, are you ready to meet Yara?”

Yes! I shouted in my head, though I only managed to nod my head, feeling a stupor engulf my brain. I waited inside while Megan first took her puppy, Stella, for a walk and then Yara before lightly knocking on my door to be let in again. I don’t remember what I did during those few minutes, aside from sit at the table fidgetting, but it felt like an eternity had gone by.

The first thing I realized when I pulled open the door was that Yara was a lot bigger than I’d imagined her. Taller. Longer. The second was that she wasn’t remotely what I’d call “grey” as she was described to me over the phone and in her paperwork. But all of that was pushed out of my head almost the instant I thought it as she tried to drag Megan into the house and bounce around all over. I suddenly felt exhausted and old just watching her; how any living thing could have that much energy and not explode confounded me!

Megan had me walk Yara through the apartment to explore and we attempted to feed her. Megan didn’t stay too long after Yara was brought in and all too soon we were left to ourselves. Obviously, if there had been an issue I could have called her and her hotel was not even five minutes from my home. But, believe it or not, I was quite literally scared to have her go and leave me with the crazy beast of a dog! (Go figure, eh?) The very fact this was so stressed me out a bit. As did the constant ear-piercing whining. Eventually, though, Yara calmed down and settled herself.

She spent the majority of the afternoon, evening and night staring at me. It was kind of unnerving, especially in the middle of the night when every move I made caused her to jump up. But strange as it might sound it was also endearing and I grew used to her constant supervision rather quickly.

Truly, she’s a very interesting companion.

Other awesome things of note include: (a.) I was totally called “goregous” by a random stranger walking the other way down the street when taking Yara out to park. Well, okay, initially he was calling the dog that, but when I said “thank you” he caught up with us and confirmed that I too am goregous. And, (b.) I found out that Patty and Tom, Yara’s fosters, are now grandparents to a handsome boy named Finley. I think that makes Yara an aunt? I don’t know, these foster family relationships make it hard to determine how everyone is related and such.

Anyway, I’m full of yay! YAY!!!

Instead, he found out the news in person. While energy-wise, Dolly seems a bit improved. She’s still lying around, but she’s more alert, picking her head up and wagging her tail a bit. She’s walking, though still unsteadily and they’ve been carrying her up and down the stairs still. However, her bloodwork is much worse; her platelette levels are still very low and her red and white count is down even more from the weekend. Basically, she isn’t making new blood.

The vet gave her steroids and practically forced her to eat some dog food at the office, since on an empty stomach steroids will tear up one’s stomach. But other than that, she hasn’t eaten solid food since Friday.

She goes back today and we’ve decided if she continues to not eat and/or her bloodwork doesn’t improve on the steroids, we’ll be putting her down.

That sound you hear? That’d be my heart breaking. Literally.

Dad called a few times yesterday to update on Dolly.

He had first picked her up from the emergency hospital and brought her to the regular vet in Herkimer. She had a few more tests run (mostly some of the same things run again as the emergency vet hadn’t documented all the tests). Her blood tests had come up with very low platellete levels at the emergency hospital and when her regular vet had run the same tests she had come up with no platelletes. There’s still no real idea of specifically what’s wrong with her, though the general theory is that it’s some type of blood disease or disorder, probably stemming from an infection of some sort. We’re hypothesizing that she got into something we aren’t aware of, though the timing of it all does make the mind boggle.

Anyway, Dad picked her up and brought her home when he found out that no one would be physically at the vet’s office overnight to observe her, especially since he’s fully capable of administering an IV. She walked out of the vet’s office and even managed to climb up on a bit of a snow bank to take a tinkle. But Dad noted she was “hardly graceful” and that she didn’t squat down much to piddle. At home, they put her on the sofa and she was basically content. She still hadn’t eaten anything, but she was a alert and when she heard Keith in the kitchen doing dishes she started getting very interested. I happened to be on the phone with Dad at exactly this moment and he was saying that she was definitely curious about all the “kitchen noises,” probably out of pure habit of always trotting off to patrol whatever food might magically come out of there. She picked her head up a few times and was trying to figure out how to get herself off the couch (for some strange reason Keith had put her on the sofa with her back to the floor, which seemed to stump her as to how to manuever herself off). When she started wagging her tail and wiggling around Dad finally ended the call saying that if she wanted to get up and move, he was going to let her.

If she continues to improve, such as finally eating again, we’ll be able to put her on oral meds. As it stands, we aren’t sure really what will happen, it’s mostly wait and see. I’ll update again as I hear more.

He talked with me about it over the phone last night and in the end he decided it was worth trying out . . . and she’s an instant hit there. Dad reports that she schmoozed everyone for attention and food and that everybody has fallen in love with her. He’s still not 100% sure if he’ll bring her continuously; the floors there are very slippery for her and she’s certainly not going to loose weight with every staff person and patient feeding her treats all day long.

Either way I think it’s just brilliant. ;-)

My dad comes back from Amsterdam sometime today and he’ll be picking Dolly up on his way home. This last week’s been fun, but I can’t say I’ll be sorry to see her go; if only because I could use a good night’s sleep free of sound-barrier-breaking snoring. I think Yara was pretty stressed out having her here, too, which I feel very bad about.

But, as you can see above, they do get along well enough. Yara finally got over her need to take every toy from Dolly and I found them both many times contentedly chewing bones next to each other. The bed sharing thing is really cute. Most of the time they go to bed on separate beds (usually the other dog’s bed) and at some point during the night one of them squishes her way onto a different bed. This past night was the first time I caught them both in Yara’s bed.

I’d figured the biggest problems we’d have would be feeding and walking. Meal times seemed to get increasingly annoying as Dolly started working up more courage around Yara. She’d continually sneak into the kitchen, though thankfully she never tried to steal Yara’s food. I was surprised that Yara didn’t growl at her one time this whole week, especially when Dolly was stalking her dinner. Instead, walks were the biggest pain. Both dogs ALWAYS wanted to go out whenever I’d pick up a leash. Even if she’d been out already to relieve. Yara was exceptionally annoying with her bouncing around and stuff. I’ve been taking her out second each time because of just this, hoping that she’ll calm down by the time she gets to go out. I don’t think she’s really gotten the clue as it generally takes us ten minutes to get out the door when I come back because I have to keep working with her to not drag me out the door when I open it.

One morning, I didn’t leave the door properly closed when I took Dolly out and Yara squished her way through it. I didn’t even realize, until I subconsciously cued into the fact that there were a lot of extra footsteps. Yara was heeling completely in step between Dolly and us. When I stopped, she ran off ahead of us and parked her rear at the elevator. She’s really such a character sometimes.

Yesterday was a test in my own patience and sanity. Both dogs were pretty wild at first — feeding off one another’s excitement and stress. And once they calmed down, they didn’t really seem too happy about the living arrangements. For the most part they’re getting along fine enough. Yara took possession of the loan toy that Dolly had with her, carrying it around wherever she went. Dolly took this in stride and soon worked up the courage to really explore the apartment and easily found a toy of Yara’s to take for herself. She played with it for a good ten minutes before deciding that chewing it to bits while Yara looked on would be way more fun. Not soon after that she found Yara’s stockpile of bones and busied herself with sneakily trying to take each of them. She made a big pile on Yara’s bed and then tried to chew ALL of them at once! Yara seemed to think this was unacceptable, but just looked on helplessly. So, I took a bone each and filled them with treats and gave each girl one . . . two hours later I took this photo:

The only real fiasco we’ve had has been trying to get walks in. Neither dog wants to be left in the apartment while the other goes out and Yara especially is not doing well with this. She got so worked up the first time I clipped a leash on Dolly that she had an accident right there on the spot, which freaked her out even more I think.¹ And when I finally did take her out, she stood around like she didn’t quite understand the concept of relieving herself. Not to mention, the elevator was broken for most of yesterday — I truly thought Dolly was going to die of a heart attack from having to walk up and down the four flights of stairs. When we’d come back inside and were walking back up, she quite insistently wanted to go through the second floor door. I’m not sure if that was merely because the doors all look the same or she really didn’t want to walk up the rest of the stairs. Either way she was breathing quite heavy when we got back to my apartment!

Oh, well. Hopefully the weather clears up and I can take them both to the park or something.

1. Other than being sick a few times, she’s never had an accident in the house before.

My uncle’s wedding was an interesting experience. I was very shocked that both Dolly and Yara had their own program¹ and gift bags. Aside from some soft whining throughout the ceremony, both dogs were very good. I’m sure we were quite the spectacle walking in late with two dogs, especially since we were sitting right up in the very front. At the reception word spread pretty quickly about the dogs. It did amuse me that no one could keep the dogs straight as to which was whom and I must have explained how to pronounce Yara’s name about a hundred times. They both seemed to really enjoy all the attention they were getting, but once the waiters started circulating with the hors d’?uvres, Dolly became quite a handful and as we were staying the night at the mansion, Dad put her in one of the rooms for the remainder of the reception.

Yara, on the other hand, was on her very best behavior. She did whine a bit here and there, but for the most part she was content to just lie on the floor. I did give her a few breaks both outside and in my room to relieve some of her pent up energy and de-stress a bit. Not surprisingly, she didn’t touch her dinner or breakfast the next morning, but she did eat some treats from her gift bag.

We spent the rest of the days until Christmas at my father’s and it was a mixture of fun and stress with the two dogs. Dolly’s such a timid and submissive dog; not to mention old and fat. While Yara is still full of puppy energy combined with being in yet another new place. I wasn’t really sure what to expect. But after a few days they seemed to be all right with each other. They even slept together a few nights on the same dog bed! And despite being very much out of shape, Dolly got quite rambunctious a few times — once they got so excited and crazy they crashed a chair into one of the fish tanks in the living room and caused a rush of water to slosh out the back!

The biggest thing I noticed was they were both extremely jealous of one another. If one girl had a toy, the other would steal it. If one girl was being paid attention to by one of us, the other would shove her way in to get petted, too. Yara was especially annoying with her lack of rear-end coordination — she kept slapping everyone with her tail, including Dolly! The absolute funniest thing had to be the slight identity crisis that kept going on with them. Everytime I’d call one dog, the other would charge up to me. Or if I gave one girl a command, the other would listen to me. Though, there were a few times both girls would promptly “sit” or “down.” Usually when I was trying to get one dog to come and the other to “stay.” It was very amusing and only a little annoying.

While I was at Dad’s, I did notice that Yara had somehow ripped a pad near her wrist. Of course I discovered this the Saturday before Christmas and had to ability to call my vet! There was a good chunk of dried pad hanging off that I think she’d been chewing on. She didn’t seem bothered by it and as it wasn’t on her paw I didn’t think it was a huge deal. Keith looked at it and said it appeared to already be healing up and wasn’t red or oozing anything. I have absolutely no idea when or how she ripped the pad, but a few days later she gnawed off the excess bit hanging off.

Since we’ve been back home, things have been pretty mundane. We’re finally working with a pretty regular routine now and Yara seems to be adjusting fairly well. She was a bit off color about a week ago and she got sick in the middle of Walmart much to my embarrassment, but otherwise we haven’t had much issue. The weather has been horrible for outside traveling, though, so we haven’t had much chance to do curb work which is annoying. Megan called last week to check up on us and I made a point to note that as we’re due for a home evaluation at some point. Hopefully we’ll be able to find somewhere decent to work whenever Fidelco comes to see us.

I’ve got many a cute photo of the girl, but for now I tease you with this because it makes me laugh:

And on a completely different topic, in the last few weeks I’ve gotten a lot of comment spam here on the site. If you leave a comment and it doesn’t show up, it probably isn’t an error, but rather it got dropped into moderation. Don’t worry, I’ll see it no matter what, so please don’t try and resubmit. :)

1. Instead of the normal place cards, everyone was given a little program that detailed the events of the ceremony.

Perhaps I am just a tiny bit excited. I can’t help it. Nearly 21 months ago I retired Dolly. It is truly thrilling to be getting a new dog! I keep imagining what Yara looks like and how she’ll behave and it just makes me even more giddy about the impending meeting.

According to what Megan told me yesterday, she should be here in about three hours. I may possibly die of anticipation between then and now.

I think back to when I trained with Dolly. It’s hard to believe I could have ever been this excited before, but I’m sure that I was just as anxious back then. I remember that Stacey got her call first and how jealous I felt of her as I sat there waiting for my name to be called. And yet, as excited as I was to meet her, Dolly was probably ten times that. She ran around the small kitchen like she was on hot coals, then hopped into my lap and licked my whole face. After a rather disgusting frenching from her, she leaped over my head and continued her mad race around the table. I remember the trainers were all reprimanding me to get her under control. Frankly, I didn’t know what to do. I think I was kind of scared of her at first; she was so completely insane!

When we returned to our room, she settled down a bit. She sniffed the floor and my bed . . . and then walked face first into the desk. This is what they expected to lead me down the street the following day? I burst into tears. (The fact that I was possibly given a blind dog remains a joke amongst my friends and family to this day.)

It’s hard to believe that was more than nine years ago. Time certainly has flown by.

Well, except this morning!