I can only assume that I’ve only just now received this “diploma” after such a lengthy wait because I didn’t attend last year’s walkathon and thus was not present for the graduation ceremony at the banquet as I was with Yara back in 2008. Of course, I generally think of my partnership anniversaries to be the date I’ve first been introduced with my guide dogs so I’m not really concerned with the delay. Frankly, I wasn’t even sure that I was going to ever have a certificate and thought they might be merely a part of the ceremony itself however informal they may seem.

However, I must admit that it does boggle my mind to realize that Uschi and I have been partnered for almost a year-and-a-half already. The time has truly flown by!

Okay, no it’s not. Though, the title is a reference to A.A. Milne’s character. (Albeit I generally think of The Muppet Show as Rowlf is quite famous for singing it.) Rather this is about how Uschi is not anything remotely close to serious and is far more often times the living embodiment of a “fluffy brain.” If Uschi had a theme song, it would be “Cottleston Pie.” (Mine, if you’re curious, is probably the “Cupcake Song.”) Now let me assure you, she does have quite a lot of brain and I’m almost entirely certain she is not full of stuffing. Nevertheless she has moments where I sincerely debate these things as fact. For visual proof, please note the photographs in this post. They are some of my most favorite shots of her because of how adequately they showcase my goofy partner.

In controlled situations I truly do not mind the fact that my guide dog is less a working assistance dog and more closely resembles the Nutty Professor. And by “controlled” I mean any time I am not working with her in public, entertaining house guests, or trying to get anything that could be loosely categorized as productive done. I’m highly amused by her. I was quite adamant when I retired my previous guide dog that I wanted the school to provide me with her duplicate sans health issues. I’m just as positive that they thought I said this with tongue firmly in cheek and what I actually meant was “I want a dog who can keep pace with me, but is small in stature so as not to overpower me and has personality to spare.” So, that’s what I got.

I’ve seen a fair few handlers that have mellow dogs and most of them seem quite happy with this. Call me a snob if you will, but I don’t get the appeal of mellow dogs. I don’t really know why, but for want of words to fill out this post I’ll postulate that it stems from my childhood. We always had at least one pet dog while I was growing up. Unfortunately, most of those were senior citizens and excepting when they were either actively working at creating awesome amounts of poop or physically generating said poop they were little more than furry space heaters. Don’t get me wrong, I loved them to bits, but they were not Frisbee catchers or ball chasers or known for trying to stand on their heads. And if any of them were, I was too young at the time to commit this to memory.

Uschi is also a space heater, but that’s the only similarity with my childhood pets. Even in this she separates herself from the pack because her heat output is such that I’m convinced only the fires of Hades can outperform her. At 70 pounds, she’s a tiny thing as shepherds go and like all things that are packaged in a small way she is inherently good. To Uschi, or so my theory goes, “good” means “excessive amounts of energy” which when witnessed is quite impossible to differentiate from what most functioning brains would define as “crazy.” Sometimes this is exhibited by trotting around the house in a very convincing imitation of a dressage horse. Other times she’ll eschew such formality and instead use the length of my house as a racetrack. My personal favorite is when she is so bursting with excitement that she is only capable of processing that she’s very thirsty and so she flits about the house dribbling the entire contents of her water bowl.

Literally and without a drop of hyperbole, she has the most pronounced difference in demeanor when in and out of harness of any guide dog. Not just my girls, but of any guide I have ever known in my entire life. It’s been a year now and I still find myself shocked and amazed that this wild child of a dog actually has the ability to focus and be calm and, you know, work as a guide dog. Oh, and it’s worth stressing this fact: she’s an excellent guide.

Except for when she’s not.

Three guesses when that is — and the first two don’t count. Right. That whole “crazy” thing. You see sometimes she just can’t help herself and that goofy personality just slips out. Thankfully, a good number of these times have been situations where I’m mostly embarrassed in front of a friend or family member, like when instead of just getting into my friend’s car she literally hurled herself across me and into his lap! More concerning is when her “fluffy brain” turns the most random things into nothing short of intense distraction. Yesterday for instance she spent no less than five minutes completely entranced by one of the garbage cans in my driveway. She actually lunged at it — and very nearly sent me into cardiac arrest because I had no clue what she was reacting to at first. Granted that’s a random example even for her, but sometimes I swear she’s having an incredibly vivid hallucination while she’s supposed to be, well, guiding me. So far this hasn’t caused me anything but temporary confusion at why we’ve stopped for no reason other than for my partner to sit down and observe some elusive thing only she can see. I almost would prefer her wild and intermittent animal distraction. Actually, no. This is at least mildly entertaining and that day in the park was so very not. I used to say that Dolly had a “fifteen minute or two block rule” that was basically her version of needing a cup of coffee in the morning; she needed those minutes or that length of a walk to actually wake up enough to realize she was not asleep and really working. Uschi, on the other hand, is like a three-year-old in her own imaginary play land and sometimes she forgets that the play land is in her mind and it takes over completely. Last year I used that same description save for that she was a two-year-old . . . I’m not sure how long I can justify her childlike (mis)behavior based on age alone. Especially since I don’t think her actual age has anything whatsoever to do with the inner-workings of her stuffing-filled brain. If I had to give a reason, I would say that while her brain may not actually be full of stuff and fluff, it has a specific capacity to hold information that is only rivaled by its ability to be completely overwhelmed by, for lack of a better word, fun. Essentially, she gets carried away with herself and no amount of discipline and obedience is able to fully overcome it.

Let me assuage your fears: her bouts of absentmindedness during work are infrequent. Though, I’m torn between mind-numbing paranoia that one day she’ll fully commit to her Mr. Hyde side and havoc beyond imagining will ensue. However, she is not only almost always spot on when in harness, but she’s shown an amazing ability to stay on her job when other crazy things have happened, like a cat spazzing out on her in a bookstore. So, while the potential exists that she’s going to royally embarrass me in front of more than a few close friends, I’m not wary of her ability to keep me safe even if she is possibly certifiable. Also, and I can’t stress this enough, she proves on a daily basis to be tons more entertaining than my television was all of last year.

This post was written as part of the Assistance Dog Blog Carnival. This sixth carnival’s theme is “Obstacles” and further information can be found here on the founder’s blog.

In thinking over our time together I find myself at somewhat of a loss; the events that truly stand out seem so far removed from the present. Perhaps that’s a blessing because it seems to have eased some of the less pleasant recollections I have of our past events, such as training during the most horrendous weather while I was incredibly sick and the fiasco at a local bookstore. Though, I don’t I find there’s any less distance between other memories and can hardly fathom that it was so recently we went to the Tulip Festival and the Great Escape!

Standing in sharp relief within my memory is a resounding feeling of trepidation. I didn’t know what to expect of this partnership. I was optimistic that it would prove equal to my previous experiences, but realistically knowing it could be a failure. And while I was quickly smitten with this adorable shepherd and her childlike personality, I found that truly bonding as a team did not come as easily or quickly as with the dogs before her. I’m not positive of exactly when I felt us gel into a team, but I do remember that I had a bit of an epiphany around Easter and realized I had been distancing myself. Maybe I was subconsciously trying to protect myself from the possibility of the partnership failing, however remote. But I think mostly I was preoccupied with concerns over Yara’s well being and it was seeing in person that she was thriving and that both dogs got along so well that seemed to clear out the emotional clutter I wasn’t even aware of.

Reflecting on this last year the most intriguing thing to me is that in many ways Uschi and I have surpassed my previous guide dog teams. Whereas I would generally build up to certain experiences and expectations, I never had much of a need — and more often no opportunity — to ease Uschi into certain tasks. Honestly, upon realizing this I was mildly horrified that I had been so lax about this, but Uschi’s risen to every challenge without fail, including several instances I would consider far more stressful than necessary and would have liked to avoid completely. Much like Yara, she’s had no need for settling into her role as my guide dog. A fact I still find astonishing given her antics when out of harness!

If anything, she certainly keeps me young with her limitless energy and exuberant personality! Every morning she practically throws herself at me for a bit of cuddling and then speeds around the house, bounding over large stretches of floor and flinging herself onto a piece of furniture or one of her numerous beds. Sometimes she will loudly toss her toys about or prance through the house proudly showcasing her dressage mimicry and it’s all I can do to keep from rolling with laughter. She’s nothing if not unique.

Truly, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I don’t normally do posts recapping the year because (a.) it’s tedious and boring for me and (b.) I usually note the yearly partnership anniversary of me and my current guide dog so it seems redundant at best. But after digging through the 750+ photos from last year I thought I’d share some of my favorites. These aren’t all photos I took personally, though the majority are, just a smattering of the ones I’m particularly fond of.

January
Even though the back row suffered a bit due to my own clumsiness, I’m incredibly pleased with these cupcakes. In fact, the post detailing how to make them is one of the most frequent landing places for search terms that bring new visitors here.

February
I actually posted my very favorite the other day, but the fact that I had this one on my about page for most of the year certainly speaks to how fond I am of it. Uschi’s much more relaxed with having photos taken of her than she was during this shoot with Jean — at least when it’s not me trying to take the picture — but she’s absolutely no less silly. Really, I wouldn’t expect anything less of her.

March
This was a pretty dry month photography-wise, but even if I took over 100 I would probably still find this video tops all of them. It’s dark and grainy, but nevertheless it’s hysterical. Yet for as crazy as these to get, it’s nothing compared to the duo that is Yara and Uschi.

April
Uschi’s managing to encompass two defining traits of both her predecessors in this photo: she’s using my leg as an armrest (a la Dolly) and letting others (in this case Josh who took the photo) know that she’s claimed me (like Yara). Also, we just look damn cute.

May
There are so many great photos from the Tulip Festival and around Albany that this was a hard one to choose, but the company in this photo just can’t be beat.

June
My camera’s untimely death made this a pretty lacking month for photos, but that didn’t mean I missed capturing all of Uschi’s adorable antics.

July
When it comes to getting photos of her, Uschi is unpredictable at best. But this reaction to my new camera remains one of the more humorous things I’ve managed to capture. Incidentally, this was literally the very first photo I took with the Nikon.

August
When I was a kid the slogan was that M&M’s melted in your mouth and not in your hand. I thought about that a lot while trying to make ladybugs, which was possible the most difficult piping I’ve ever done. But they are cute.

September
If there’s one thing I love, it’s a dog with personality. Quirkiness is a bonus and Uschi has some of the funniest, like licking the air when she’s getting a good scratch. But the bizarre positions I find her when she’s asleep really amuse me.

October
This photo was actually what sparked this entire post. There’s just no better showcase of what a goofball Uschi is. Honestly, it’s sometimes hard to believe this is the same dog that guides me. . . .

November
A motion blur would be a more accurate photograph of 99% of the time Uschi spends with Yara. But I’m rather tickled that she actually tries to emulate her “big sister.” Usually it’s a vain attempt because Uschi has serious ADHD, especially when there are other people around. But in quiet moments, like this where I was packing to go home, she manages Yara’s trademark supervisory role quite adeptly. It was short lived, though.

December
Admittedly, there’s a more recent photo that I’m particularly fond of, but I do find this one ridiculous beyond words. Sometimes shepherds are too smart for their own good. And here I thought having to eat on a carpeted surface was quirky.

On a wholly other note, the sixth Assistance Dog Blog Carnival (ADBC) has been announced! The topic for this edition is “obstacles” and posts are due by January 29th. As always, having an assistance dog (guide, hearing, or service dog) or puppy-in-training is not a requirement and anyone with a blog is welcome — and encouraged — to participate. Further information on the ADBC can be found here at After Gadget.

I keep meaning to do something about that but the thing of it is that I’ve had surprisingly little to discuss in terms of her working life. This isn’t because she’s lacking in any way or that we haven’t done lots of stuff, but rather that she’s so seamlessly settled into life as my partner that I’ve had precious few things happen that stand out to me as noteworthy. I guess that in itself is cause to mention, but I sort of didn’t realize that was what was going on.

Here’s the thing, a lot of the time new guide dog partnerships like this have a period of breaking in. Neither Uschi nor Yara had this; they just were my guide dogs. Moreover with Uschi I’ve noticed that a lot of the things that are routine to us are things that should have required some emphasis to become that way, but it’s like she just took over where Yara left off and I’ve had very few things that I’ve had to take the time to really train her about. For instance, she picked up on certain things I would have landmarked before I even thought to teach them to her. I’m very impressed with her intuitive attention to detail.

One thing we have worked on, though is the broken part of the sidewalk at one end of my street. This part of the street makes me crazy for a number of reasons aside from the missing bit of cement. There are a few neglected bushes that are in desperate need of being pruned back and so they block a good portion of the pathway. And, of course, there’s the pizzeria that likes to plow their parking lot onto the sidewalk in the winter months and so when it’s not covered in snow it’s a sheer block of ice. Basically this section of the street is impassable pretty much the entire year and so I just walk in the street for that ten feet or so.

What’s astounding is that Uschi was introduced to this section of the street when it was buried under feet of snow and she automatically guided me onto the shoulder of the road. Once the snow melted and we headed in that direction for the first time she stopped right where we had first turned off into the road and when I prompted her forward she proceeded to the curb and from there led me down the street and back onto the sidewalk once we were passed the bushes. Every trip coming or going she does this, hugging the shoulder until we can safely get back onto the sidewalk.

I can’t tell you how impressed with and proud of her I am.

Holiday card portraits were today and I have to say I didn’t really know what to expect. Uschi’s generally not very cooperative when it comes to having her picture taken and we’ve had varying difficulties at past professional shoots. I will say that the cards are phenomenally adorable and I cannot wait to share them. Part of the success is because Cindy is amazingly patient and waits for that exact moment when Uschi’s actually in the perfect position, but also because I incorporated a second photo shoot as sort of a test run. I figured it would help acclimate her and tone down her stress, which seems to increase the difficulty of getting her to cooperate.

The test shoot actually ended up being a boatload of fun and there are some very lovely shots from it. The photo at the top of this post being a good example; I especially love that you can really see the red in her coat. But, as expected, Uschi was very silly, though not in a stressed out way. Mostly, she thought the whole point was to showcase her cuteness and I can’t exactly disagree with that assessment. Her method of choice was to roll on her back or try and crawl onto my lap. Without a doubt my absolute favorite images are of her hamming it up. Click the cut or scroll on to see.

There are a bunch more photos from the shoot, mostly of Uschi in harness, here on Flickr. As for the actual holiday portraits, well, you’ll have to wait on that a bit. But since everyone is such a fan, here are two outtakes from the shoot:

]]> http://gentlewit.com/2011/10/28/hamming-it-up/feed/ 2 ceo Headshot of Uschi lying on the floor Uschi and me together; Uschi is basically standing on her head, trying to roll herself onto my lap Uschi upside-down sprawled across my lap Uschi taking treats from me Uschi directly in front of me lying on the floor and looking at me intently Uschi rolling around on her back with me sitting next to her Uschi leaning into me for a big, slobbery smooch http://gentlewit.com/2011/10/25/stars/ http://gentlewit.com/2011/10/25/stars/#comments Tue, 25 Oct 2011 10:31:41 +0000 Cyndy Otty http://gentlewit.com/?p=4879 ]]> Yesterday was a bit of a bust for the birthday celebration because I felt like crap. I’m still dealing with the migraine, though my teeth and jaw aren’t aching nearly as much. But even though she was all manner of hyper and excited, Uschi didn’t seem to mind that I stayed holed up in the cave of my bedroom for most of the day. In fact, if anything she wanted another pupcake to enjoy!

So, fun activities are on hold, but that doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate via other outlets. Today, for instance, Uschi is the featured grown-up puppy on DailyPuppy.com! She’s one of the few guide dogs to ever be featured and joins the illustrious ranks with Yara, who was featured last year and the Guiding Eyes puppies and guide dogs.

I love the selection of photos they chose out of the submission I gave; I think they really show both sides of her widely dynamic personality. Doesn’t hurt either that some of them are personal favorites of mine.

On an unrelated note, I’ve extended the deadline for submissions to the fifth Assistance Dog Blog Carnival. I had a few people contact me that they wouldn’t make the original deadline and others who voiced some displeasure at the submission they did make. Plus, since yesterday I was finding reading to be nauseous I knew I wasn’t going to get the Carnival up any time soon anyway. So, if you wanted to participate you now have until October 31, 2011.

Obviously, I didn’t take this photo, but when I saw this week’s photo challenge theme this image from our recent trip to the park immediately sprang to mind. There are several definitions of opportunity; in this case I’d say this particular photo embodies the concept of “advancement” but I think there are several ways it fits within the theme. I’ll leave that up to your individual interpretation.

For me, today was a busy day. Uschi and I observed White Cane Day by waking up at an ungodly hour for a Saturday and then booking to to Albany for my incredibly overdue hair appointment. After that surprisingly long appointment, we headed straight back home to meet up with Jenn, Greg and Mandy and then sped off to Alice and Josh’s to help out with their move. In exchange for our assistance in packing and lugging their stuff across the Capital District, we were fed both lunch and dinner. And I am now so exhausted from the day I can’t recall much more than that other than my dog was quite a good girl given the circumstances.

I shall go faceplant into my bed now.

Spent the afternoon at Central Park with Cindy. I’ve rarely been to the park so it was quite lovely to take Uschi on her first visit. We had a pleasant enough time — and when I have a chance I’ll be sure to share more photos — but I’m far too exhausted. We walked all over and I’d already had quite a busy morning, but mostly I’m drained from dealing with Uschi. She was just incredibly uncooperative.

This was her first trip and so the foreignness of the park itself was a mild distraction. I really don’t think she even equated the environment as one where she was working because while she wasn’t blatantly so, I found her guiding a bit sloppy. Not to mention that she’s historically shown a varying degree of distraction from other animals! She was interested in the Canadian geese and ducks swimming around the pond when we first entered the park, but her focus was easily turned back to work. However, she was incredibly bothered by the other dogs we passed by. I was completely unprepared for how dramatically she would react, though it was very inconsistent. One dog she raised her hackles at, another she barked at, still others she gave a low growl to. Then she all but ignored two more that we came across in the rose garden. After that I thought perhaps she’d gotten her distraction issues out of her system, so when she nearly yanked me off my feet to lunge at another dog I admit that I’m sort of shocked I didn’t completely lose my shit. It was thoroughly frustrating. And I don’t feel that her attention was ever completely on me during the entire time at the park. The most puzzling thing was that after all of that oddness, she walked out of the park almost completely without issue. We passed two squirrels even and they barely elicited a response at all.

In the end I’m mostly aggravated with myself for expecting her first park trip to be without incident. Especially since I don’t have the luxury of an almost daily walk through a park like I did with Yara. Something that would most certainly benefit Uschi greatly given her specific target of distraction. However, I have been very mindful of her dog distraction and thought we had made a lot of progress with it so I’m rather bummed at how much of a step backward today was with that.

Location, Location, Location

Obviously, by its very nature, home training occurs at home. This means that there is no need to travel to a campus and spend the duration of training there. For the most part, I had little interruption in my daily activities during my two weeks. I did some work; I went grocery shopping; I shoveled my front walk (a lot). On the other hand, during my time at GEB I actually felt cut off from my regular life. In fact, one of my classmates made a comment regarding this — and later that day I found out there had been a hurricane at my house the week before and I’d never known!

Being in my own community also meant far less travel to a route to work. The only time I spent more than 30 minutes en route to somewhere was when Jason and I got sort of lost and had to drive through a blizzard. However, nearly every day of training at GEB required at least a half hour trip to get places. Frankly, I felt like a sardine packed in a can when we traveled, and the transportation I experienced was apparently an improvement over previous modes used. (There have been further changes since I was there, though I don’t know exactly what.) This lack of long travel also meant a much later start to my training each day — potentially I would have been able to sleep in if I didn’t have insomniac GSDs — whereas whether I wanted to or not, I was forced awake at 6:30 sharp every day at school. And life from that moment was commanded by the regimented school’s schedule: meals at this time, lectures at that, etc. Fidelco’s training also had a schedule, but it was by comparison so much more laid back; for instance, even though I was still waking up, generally, just as early I did get to take a nap most days because we either had completed our daily routes early enough or there was a substantial break around lunchtime. With everything involved with traveling away from campus each day, I was never afforded such a luxury. Most days, when I wasn’t actively walking a route, I found myself in an exhausted and bored stupor.

Less Is More

Believe it or not, I actually am incredibly shy. Specifically in situations with many other people. I find it hard to single a person out to communicate with and I never feel comfortable trying to express things to an audience. Understandably this makes the 1:1 student/instructor ratio that home training affords much more enticing to me than the class of 16 with two instructors and a supervisor that I had at a training school. I had the misfortune of being in a class with almost no one I could relate to — I was the youngest by quite a margin and most of the students were veteran handlers. For a great many reasons, I also had a very hard time interacting with the staff. Truthfully, I felt very lonely during my month of training. So much so at first that I cried myself to sleep one night. Dolly helped ease this burden, but then when I’d found myself already bonded with her, I was forced to relinquish her to the school to mend from her feet injuries for nearly a month. (All of this is a story unto itself.) This undoubtedly contributed to my feeling that I was always competing for time and attention from the instructors. But with 15 other students, there was obviously a lot of “down time” where I waited for my turn. I knew this was the case beforehand, but I was unprepared for the extent of “sitting around” that actually took place. It made a lot of my training work seem nearly insubstantial.

My experience with Megan was so different that it’s nearly unrecognizable in comparison. I found Megan very easy to talk with and by the end of training we had truly “clicked.” With no one else around, I always had my instructor’s complete and undivided attention. Which meant I could focus completely on working with my dog and not neurotically ruminating on how I might be coming off as a nuisance. This one-on-one relationship also allowed the trainers to fully absorb themselves in me and the dogs, which gave them the ability to notice anything and give immediate feedback to me. This also meant that we had time to work together more; there was no rush to accomplish any day’s tasks. We could extend our time working a route for as long as we wished or rework on specific things without taking time from anyone else. I was able to have long conversations about all aspects of my dog from equipment to food. It was a very comfortable and enjoyable training. Of course, there is the chance that the instructor and student don’t mesh as well — a fear I certainly had and voiced to Megan, who admitted there certainly were times that such a thing happened and it was always a bit of a “strain” but I would have been well within my rights to ask for a different trainer if it were enough of an issue.

Working Like a Dog

[Note: As I have never attended an "accelerated" training program at a guide dog school, in which you are not required to attend for the full 3-4 weeks. This specific comparison ignores anything attributed to them.]

To anyone who’s never trained with a guide dog, it can be hard to explain how intensive it can be. Depending on how physically fit you are, it can be downright grueling. Especially if you have a rather exuberant dog! But more so it is very emotional draining. Home training can be even more exhausting because it is much more condensed than training at a school. The shorter length in time requires that more work is done and more information given in a quicker time frame. As an experienced handler, who is quite physically fit, I had to admit that at times I did experience a bit of information “overload” and I was utterly exhausted by lunch time. (It didn’t help that I was horribly sick during Uschi’s training.) I did find myself quite astonished at how much was accomplished so quickly at several points during my home training, but I was never overwhelmed. Whereas at a school there is much more time and all of this is far more gradual; sometimes I felt like nothing was happening at all. Though, it should be noted that in all types of training, the steps are such that the handler and dog are eased into the work.

The I in Team

Somewhat in contrast to the benefits of the ratio size, home training does require a bit more self-monitoring than training in a class. When you train at the school, you have your classmates and instructors (and sometimes other staff) to give you constant feedback, criticism and advice. For the inexperienced handler especially, this can be a goldmine of information and assistance.

Home training requires you to be your own teacher and student in a lot of ways. Depending on how experienced you and/or your instructor are, you may be at a disadvantage in terms of information you may not receive. There were a lot of nuiances of guidework that I gleamed during my month at GEB, other handlers, and my own years of working with my guides. This prior foundation was all quite beneficial while working with Megan and Jason. Fidelco instructors do not have any O&M training and, of course, have not had the experience of living amongst their students that school-based trainers get. These deficiencies didn’t seem to bring about anything that jumps out to me as lacking in my training, but I would have qualms if I were a more unsure independent traveler or the like.

It’s a Vacation, Of Sorts

When I was first researching guide dog schools, one of my handler friends said to me: “You’re going to love it! Seriously, it’s like going to Club Med — and you get a dog in the end!” Her tongue-in-cheek description basically was in references to how well cared for you are at a school; living quarters are comfortable, meals are delicious, and your roommate is this spiffy canine. Most schools will also at least partially cover your travel back and forth to the campus, though, you are always welcome to make your own plans. (I did.) Depending on your classmates, it can be an almost tranquil experience to be at a guide dog school and, as I hinted above, you basically are removed from your life — you can “get away from it all” as it were. Certainly an impossibility at home; and for some this could prove to be a major handicap depending on your lifestyle. Those with very important or busy careers (especially parents) may find it incredibly difficult to concentrate on training in such a distracting environment.

Easy Come, Easy Go

As I said, there is generally quite a lot that is included under the umbrella of going to a campus for training. Though, in my experience, I did find it rather impossible to avoid spending undue money while at the training school. I donated a rather large sum of money (especially for an unemployed college student) and then spent nearly that same amount via purchases through the equipment and gift stores. I’m not saying that one shouldn’t be faithful and grateful to their guide dog school; or that one shouldn’t feel the need to support them. But whether it was from inexperience or youth, I did feel consistently pressured to make purchases on several occasions by various staff. Since Fidelco came to my home, I never interacted with a staff or volunteer whose sole purpose seemed to be to fundraise. In fact, a good deal of additional (read: “optional”) things I’d bought at GEB were provided as standard by Fidelco.

Four + Two = One

Much of the bonding process begins — even occurs — during training. In my very humble opinion, this is one of the main reasons a first time handler should not utilize home training because this bonding process is a new concept and can then occur removed from one’s normal surroundings. In specific, when I was training with Dolly I spent a month with her away from my friends and family. Never once did I need to remind those close to me to not interfere — and frankly I doubt I would have realized the necessity or known how to adequately express this as a new handler. These are things I learned from being away and also from the shared experiences of my classmates who were training with successor guides. I feel quite strongly that this was a vital foundation in working with Yara and Uschi, even though ironically enough between the busy training regimen and horrendous weather I didn’t see much of anyone during either training at home. Though, that could very easily have not been the case. Still, this knowledge of how to isolate myself to bond with my new dog and how to tactfully get people to back off from my guide were absolutely not something I would have garnered without that school background and years of experience as a handler.

In conclusion, I am neither advocating for or against either method of training. As I have stated there are pros and cons to both. Personally, I have absolutely no desire to ever train at a campus again based solely on the 1:1 ratio. But in no way do I think home training is without any flaws, nor is it the ideal choice for everyone. When asked by those interested, I have been honest about my feelings on both forms of training. And have expressed my own qualms regarding first time training at home. Of course, I do know of a people who have gotten their first dogs from Fidelco and/or trained at home. I also know of a few people who have never been to a school to obtain their guides. To that, I will merely say that I do not feel there is really a right or wrong approach, but that an informed decision is the best course in choosing what works for you.

EPI is highly treatable, thankfully, but to say the entire thing was a struggle is truly an understatement. Yara has a penchant for stubbornness and from practically the moment she entered my life her choice method to showcase this was refusing to eat. Looking back it’s hard not to focus on all the mistakes that I made. Signs of her EPI were present from the moment she entered my life; her bowel movements were a tan color and always disproportionately large in comparison to how much she ate. Our instructor assured me that this was normal and so I never gave much thought to it. At her first annual checkup she got a clean bill of health, but had dropped an alarming twelve pounds! The weight loss continued steadily over the next three months, which was certainly baffling but not exactly alarming. Other than a noticeable increase in her bowel movements and an occasional bout of diarrhea or vomiting Yara seemed fine.

Throughout this I was in constant contact with Yara’s school, Fidelco. They were very sympathetic, but hardly alarmed by the weight loss. They offered a bunch of suggestions that included adding everything from vitamin supplements and probiotics to canned dog food and raw beef to her daily meals. At her peak Yara was eating what amounted to more than nine cups of food a day! The addition of the raw beef ignited the first undeniable symptoms of EPI; Yara’s stools morphed into a bright yellow “cow plop” and she started vomiting almost daily. It was exactly the worst thing she could have had in her diet, but I’m strangely grateful that we did because it alerted everyone to how serious things were. Still, it would take nearly two months before she was formally diagnosed. She had a battery of different tests run and they all returned normal results; in fact, the GI test that determined her EPI diagnosis initially showed that she was “marginally” in the range.

By that point I was fully on board with whatever the vet told me. Yara was clearly sick! She never was as ravaged as some EPI dogs I’ve seen, but her ribs were clearly visible at the height of her weight loss. (This photo is the best example I could find.) A fact that the general public made me aware of almost constantly. In fact, there was even a formal complaint made to Fidelco! I tried not to take it as a personal offense when they sent a trainer out within a few days to check on things while for months before they were made aware of the entire situation at every interval and had been completely nonplussed.

The resounding memory of these six months is the amount of stress I was under. I felt pressure from Fidelco to take their advice against my own better judgment or that of my vet’s. This greatly influenced the length of time it took to diagnosis Yara. On the rare occasion that I didn’t side with the school it was made abundantly clear they felt that decision was the root of the problem. (I had changed her food, for instance, so that might be the culprit because she was used to the other food.) Admittedly, I took a substantial amount of time off because of Yara, but my superiors at work were largely unsympathetic. The level of passive aggression and outright punishment directed towards me probably only furthered my own health issues with chronic migraines. (So, when I needed time off because I was sick it was a Big Problem.) And I got no respite because everyone from my family and friends to outright strangers made it known how bad things were. People made a point to remark about how thin Yara was and suggest ways to offset this. (“I think you need to feed her more.”) On countless occasions I was accosted in public about my “obvious” abuse; one woman actually dragged me by the arm while literally in the middle of crossing a street to yell at me!

Worst of all was my own personal struggle. I scoured every possible resource for anything that might help. Perhaps she was sensitive to chemicals and so along with her various food alterations she drank only purified water. For months. I changed all of my cleaning and laundry supplies to green products, which I admit I had wanted to do anyway because of my migraines. I went so far as to replace all of her bedding, including a very expensive bed, thinking that she might have an allergy (which she does but that’s a whole other story) and began a long process of eliminating things one by one to determine the cause. But with every change that netted no resolution I kept coming back to one constant: me.

Part of me couldn’t believe that this was possible. I rejected the notion that I was the problem by reminding myself of her nearly flawless work in harness. But every time she refused a morsel of food or had an accident in the house I became just a bit more convinced that she was stressed out by her job. I felt like a rotten human being; I was selfish to want to keep working her and cruel to continue to do so if she wasn’t cut out for this life. Mostly, I felt like a failure. The partnership was faltering and I couldn’t fix it. I was increasingly convinced I was doing something wrong, but proud enough that I wouldn’t dare admit it. Friends tell me they guessed as much, but I never told anyone how bad it really was for me or how close I came to calling Fidelco to take Yara back. To this day I can’t tell you what stopped me. I could say I didn’t want to give up, but I did. I could say that I didn’t want to be parted from her, but that’s hard to believe when every room in the house is covered in dog sick.

Obviously it wasn’t all for naught and we made it through all of this. Yara’s recovery was very swift and though I did eventually retire her because of her health issues it actually had very little to do with any of this or the fact she has EPI. I’ve since remarked on how profoundly she impacted my life in her short working career even though we had more than our fair share of “downs.” Not that I want to repeat it, but I don’t regret the struggle. For all I know it only made the bond we shared even stronger. Mostly, it made me appreciate all the positives we had. Sometimes it was a way to distract myself from how miserable things were and other times that focus was the driving force behind figuring it all out. Together, we accomplished so much!

This post was written as part of the Assistance Dog Blog Carnival. This fifth carnival’s theme is “Achievement” and further information can be found here on the founder’s blog.

I covered a few of the most common questions about guide dogs, but those are hardly the most common questions I receive. They vary from basic stats about the girls to inquires about the training involved to the downright random and sometimes rude, but hopefully the answers will be informative for all and maybe a bit amusing.

What’s your dog’s name?
My current guide dog is Uschi. (Dolly was my first guide dog and my second was Yara.) In public I generally won’t reveal her name because (a.) it really isn’t information anyone but me needs to have and (b.) when you give someone the dog’s name they will almost always repeat it and so this ends up being an exercise in punishing the dog because I’ll just have to reprimand her for reacting to her own name! When I’m in a rush and can’t explain all that I just say her name is Sam.

How old is your dog?
Uschi will be three on October 24. (Yara is six.) I don’t usually answer this one in public either because when the dog is young people start to jump on anything they perceive as a mistake.

What breed is she?
Uschi is a German shepherd. (As is Yara. Dolly was a Labrador retriever.) [Often this question is asked as a guess: "Is that a <insert breed of choice>?" The most amusing of which is when I'm asked if she's a wolf.]

Is she a mix?
She’s a purebred shepherd. (Actually, none of my guide dogs have been mixes.) [This is a common follow-up to the above question and often has the same type of variation with the guesswork. The tone generally says that I've been conned into thinking my guide dog isn't a mongrel of some variety. I've only come across this since I started working shepherds. I'm fairly sure this is because the general public think all shepherds look like Rin Tin Tin, black-and-tan with a big saddle/cape, and my girls are both sable. Speaking of. . .]

What color is she?
Uschi is sable. (Yara is another variation of this color. Dolly was completely black.) [Sometimes it's also called grey, but the defining characteristic is that the coat is two-toned ranging from one color at the root to another at the tip. And yes, if you're wondering, that means her hair shows up on absolutely everything.]

Isn’t that a unique color?
[Also: "I've never seen a shepherd that color before."] Actually, no it really isn’t. Not only can shepherds be pretty much any color and vary widely in markings, but the first recorded GSD was a sable.¹

Is that a blind dog?
No? She’s a guide dog. I don’t think it would be nearly as helpful if she couldn’t see either! [Basically this is a probing inquiry from people who recognize that she's a working dog of some sort. Sometimes they identify her as a guide dog, but more often than not they aren't sure what the proper terminology is. My favorite variation to this was when I was asked: "Is that one of those walking-eye dogs?"]

Are you training her?
No, she’s not in training; she’s my guide dog. [When I first started working a guide dog I used to be offended by this question because it seemed to imply that I didn't need to use a guide dog to get around. And sometimes that is the veiled meaning behind the question. However, it's more often the case the person simply doesn't realize they've come across a real-live blind person with her guide dog. I also happen to live in a pretty active region for puppy raisers, so there are a lot of pre-training puppies out and about.]

Did you train her?
I did not. Uschi is from a training school in Connecticut called Fidelco. (Yara is also a Fidelco dog; Dolly was from Guiding Eyes.)

How long was her training?
After being puppy raised for approximately two years, Uschi had six months of formal training at Fidelco and then we trained together for about two weeks. (Same for Yara. Dolly had four months of formal training and because she got sick in the middle of our training we had a total of five weeks together. Some of that was home training.)

Can I pet her?
Sorry, no. See here, please.

Does she bite?
No! [I freely admit I hate this question. I don't want to give any impression that my guide dog -- or any working dog -- is prone to aggression. But "no" seems to be synonymous with "please distract my dog by putting your hand near her muzzle and/or pet her."]

Would she protect you if you were attacked?
Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve never been a situation where my guide dog felt I was being threatened. She’s pretty passive and submissive and I expect she would more likely run away than attempt to go after someone. (Likewise for Yara and Dolly.) [This is often related to the above question and also comes in about nine million variations. Basically this can be categorized as an inquiry into aggressive tendencies.]

Does she know any tricks?
Well, she knows how to guide a blind person around. [This one also comes in a wide number of variations, e.g., "Can she turn on the lights?" Essentially, people lump guide dogs in with every other kind of assistance dog and want to know if she can do or does perform other tasks. I get the impression that other people don't find guiding a blind person nearly as impressive as these other skills and that just cracks me up.]

How do you know when she has to go to the bathroom?²
We have a schedule. She eats at the same times each day and we take trips out to relieve at specific times as well. But if she really had to go and it wasn’t part of the routine, I’m sure she’d make it known.

How often does she get a bath?
Very infrequently because she gets groomed every single day. Believe it or not, the oils from her skin keep her very clean and bathing would actually strip the oils away. Of course, if she had a Pepsi dropped on her head or something of the like I’d have to give her a bath! (Yes, that actually happened with Dolly and we were not anywhere near home at the time.)

Who takes care of her?
[Generally asked in the specific, such as: "Who cleans up her poop?"] Me. It’s all part and parcel with the gig of working a guide dog; she’s completely my responsibility.

What does she eat?
[The more common variation: "Does she eat people food?"] Uschi eats about four cups of Nature’s Variety Instinct Grain-Free Chicken Meal kibble a day. There’s also an entire shelf in my kitchen dedicated to various treats. She might also get a raw carrot or something, but table scraps are not part of her diet. (Since Yara’s dietary needs are so strict, I’ve become almost militant in my finickiness about what my guide dog is allowed to eat.)

Can she have a treat?
Thanks, but no. [I used to accept treat offers with the stipulation that I was to give it to my dog. But Yara's strict diet made this impractical since to do so I would have to quiz perfect strangers on treat ingredients.]

Are dogs allowed here?
Guide dogs are allowed wherever the public is. So, basically, if I can go in, she gets to come too.

Does she like riding in cars?
[Another question with countless variations all to do with how my guide dog handles different work situations.] Indeed she does! There are probably some days she enjoys <insert situation of choice> more than others because it’s new and different or a particularly fun. But I do try to keep work from being boring or monotonous for her by giving her play breaks or down time or varying up our routine.

Do you like answering all these questions?³
Yes. And no. Don’t get me wrong, I love my girls! And I do very much enjoy talking about them. They’re a huge part of my life! But even I have to admit that sometimes it gets a bit old. I repeat a lot of the same stuff ad nauseam and sometimes it seems like I get swallowed up by all the attention the dog gets. I will say it’s much easier for me now than it was when I first started working a guide dog. I’m a bit on the shy side when it comes to talking about myself — and I still am — but as a handler I feel a responsibility to educate the public about guide dogs. And, let’s face it, more often than not the dogs are infinitely more interesting than I could ever hope to be.

1. In defense of the general public, I didn’t know any of this before I was partnered with Yara.
2. It is mildly horrifying to me how often this is asked.
3. Okay, I admit it, I probably can count on one hand how often this one has been asked.

Setting the practical reasons aside, working dogs come with their own specific reasons not to be petted. Since it is without fail the number one most common issue I come across with the public, today I’m going to highlight reasons why you should never pet a guide dog.

Like any working dog, a guide dog’s job is very important. I would go so far as to say that a good portion of their job is protecting their handler’s very life. A mistake made at an intersection, for instance, could end very badly for a guide dog team. When you think of a guide dog in those terms it shouldn’t be a great logical leap to understand that you want to avoid interfering with the dog’s work. Think of it like this: you’re driving down the street with a passenger who suddenly makes a bunch of whooping noises and thrusts his arms in front of your face, startling you and obstructing your view of the road. Definitely a recipe for disaster, no? Well, when you distract a guide dog, that’s basically what you’re doing. You are taking a guide dog’s focus — who is essentially acting as a blind person’s eyes — and shifting it away from her work.

“The dog was just lying on the floor quietly,” you say, “how much work can she possibly be doing?” Okay, I’ll give you that she isn’t actively “guiding” her blind handler when lying under a chair or something similar. But as I’ve said before, don’t forget that first and foremost a guide dog is a dog. It’s not in the nature of a dog to be calm and just sit around for long stretches of time. Using my current guide dog as an example, anyone that has seen her out of harness can attest to the fact that she is capable of anything but lying around. Right now she’s racing back and forth through the house with her squeaky football, which she’s been doing nonstop now for at least the last 30 minutes. (I wish I was exaggerating.) Part of raising a guide dog puppy, their formal training, and ongoing obedience regimen with their handlers is to get them to understand that this sit-and-wait routine is actually, well, routine. Each handler has her own average activity level for a given day, but every guide dog will have substantial time chilling out under chairs, tables, desks, and the like. That does not mean it’s okay to distract them from this task because while it might look like lounge time to you, it’s actually a lot of concentration for the guide dog.

“I love dogs! And she’s so [insert endearment of your choice]; I just have to pet her!” No, no you don’t. It’s really not that much impulse control to restrain yourself from doing so. I know because I’ve seen children as young as four not pet my guide dog without any prompting from their parents or cautioning from me. If you can’t manage what a four-year-old is capable of you should be very ashamed of yourself.

“What if I ask to pet your guide dog?” Well, hallelujah, now you’re learning because that is the key. This really should be something you do when approaching any dog, but yes always ask first if you want to pet a guide dog. Now that doesn’t mean the handler is going to say yes. Usually my response goes something like this: “I’m sorry, no you can’t as she’s working and shouldn’t be distracted.” Lately I’ve been tacking on a further “thank you for asking” because so few people bother to do so. Of course, when it’s a child who asks me my response is generally very different because, provided I have the time, I will allow them the opportunity to pet my guide dog while I educate them about what a guide dog is and emphasize how important it is to ask about petting one. (By the way, I actually started doing this as a training exercise with my last guide dog because she was super distracted by children.)

“And if you say no, what then?” No means no. It’s not personal. Really. I’m sure you’re awesome. And I’m even more sure my dog will love you. But her job is to guide me. Please respect that.

If Uschi had a theme song it would be “I’m a Hard Workin’ Dog.” Everything she does in life is approached with a cheerful exuberance that I am quite honestly a bit jealous of. And that includes her job guiding me about. Of course, this should be expected — and both of my previous guides were also very eager to do their jobs, too. But I was surprised to hear that a lot of people don’t realize how enjoyable a guide dog finds her chosen career. And yes, she really did chose her job. (But that’s a post for another day, I think.)

See the thing is in a lot of ways guide dogs don’t really think of their job as work; it’s more the thing they’re supposed to do, like your pet dog is supposed to play fetch with you. Dogs are pretty neat creatures in that they really do live to please their human companions. Guide dogs are no exception, it’s just that the way they please their humans is by making sure they don’t walk into trees or fall down flights of stairs. Moreover, throughout their lives with their puppy raisers and trainers they’ve come to expect that they’ll go places. They’ve learned from a young age that they accompany their human companions all over the place — and a guide dog quickly picks up on the fact that she goes everywhere with her handler. Certainly going anywhere is more interesting than staying cooped up at home all the time so it’s only natural this would be an enjoyable activity.

That isn’t to say that every guide dog is going to prance down the street like Yara or have a goofy grin plastered across her face like Uschi. (My first guide dog’s most common facial expression in harness could at best be described as exasperation, but she was always wagging her tail!) But you can rest assured they’re just as content in their work as my girls.