Day by Day, Dog by Dog

Well, it’s been a bit since my last post.  I suppose that’s because the routine is settling in.  Walk to BART.  Ride BART.  Get off BART.  Walk to work.  Work (or sleep if you’re the dog.)  Reverse the process to come home.

I’ve discovered a new question people ask.  “Are you training him?”  I suppose that might be because I wear glasses and they can infer I’m not totally sightless.  I tried to think of some clever answer, but I’ve settled on, “No.  He’s my guide.  I’m legally blind.”  Not much style, but it does the job.

Cody and Chase are getting along.  As you can see from the video below, they play and they lie down in proximity to one another.

 

Chase has been having trouble getting distracted by other dogs.  We got to the top of the escalator at BART the other day and someone had a little dog on a leash.  (I’m guessing it was a pet, there in violation of the BART rules, but I don’t know.) Chase made a “let’s be friends” lunge for the dog.  I had to use a technique they taught us called a time out.  I didn’t say anything.  I just dropped the harness handle and used the leash to pull Chase against my left leg.  I silently counted to ten, and then gave him the forward command.  I have had to do that a couple of other times in the past few days. 

He knows a new trick.  When we come out of the BART station, I’ve been removing his shoes.  I have him find a bench, then jump up on it.  That lets me reach his back feet without killing my aging back.  It took only about two times for him to get the idea. 

Chase gets a few visitors every day at work.  Sometimes he just lies on his bed and eyes them until he’s sure they’re there for him.  Other times he greets them with a waggily butt and a curled body. He seems to enjoy the company.    

Into Our Second Month

This past week marked one month since Chase and I graduated from Guide Dogs for the Blind.  He had ten weeks training.  I had two.  I suppose that pretty much answers the question about who is better trained.

We have settled into that routine I told you earlier we needed to develop.  I get up at six and get ready for work.  Then I feed, water and relieve Chase.  He sits tied down to the table leg in the kitchen while I eat breakfast and make my lunch for work.  Then I brush his fur and his teeth (with different brushes). 

We spend a little time in the home office.  I check my email.  He checks the backs of his eyelids.  Then it’s booties on, harness on, lock the door and head to BART.  We ride to MacArthur station and changed to the Fremont train, and get off at Lake Merritt station.

A ride up the escalator, a rapid walk to the fare gate and another escalator ride follow.  Then it’s straight down Oak Street to the Embarcadero, in the gate at KTVU and a walk to the back door. 

At work, I put down my bag at my desk and take off Chase’s booties.  I grab his water bowl and take him into the restroom to water him.  I take paper towels and mop up the water he spreads all over when he drinks and take him outside to do what he does outside. 

On the way back in, I grab his bed from his locker.  (Yes, he has a locker.) I put it down next to my desk and take Chase’s harness off of him.  I tether him to the desk and he lies down.  I go and wash the dog saliva off my hands from giving him kibble at every up and down curb on the way to work. 

At mid-day we go out and walk along the Oakland Estuary.  At the end of the days we reverse much of the process.

Conversations on BART are also kind of routine now.

 “What a beautiful dog.”

“Thank you.”
“Is she a Labrador retriever?”
“Yes, he is a full bred Lab.”
“How old is he?”
“He’ll be two in November.”
“Oh look.  He has cute little tennis shoes!  What are those for?”
“They protect his back feet on the escalators.”
“He doesn’t need them for his front feet?”
“No.  They told me that because he can see his front feet, they’re not prone to injury the way his back feet are.”

I also initiate some interactions.  On the way home, I often get on crowded Pittsburg-Bay Point trains.  I have learned to say in a semi-loud voice, “Would there be a seat available for me and my guide dog?”  Someone will say, “Yes.  There’s a seat over there.”  We call this unclear on the concept.  Telling a visually impaired or blind person “Over there” is a little less than semi-helpful.

I have also had to call the toll-free help line at Guide Dogs a couple of times.  Once was for what you can see in the video below

 A Balking Dog

 

 Chase would just stop at one point along the sidewalk near our house.  And he did it in only one direction.  I would tell him "Forward" and he would back up.  I thought he might be afraid of something so I had Patti take video and emailed the YouTube URL to the helpline person.  She said, “No his tail’s wagging.  I think he just doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.”  She suggested a couple things.  The first and most simple was just to take his leash and lead him forward at that point, while praising him a lot.  It worked.  He doesn’t stop there anymore.

Scaredy Dog

Do things come in threes?

Yesterday, Chase and I arrived at the Concord BART station, ready for our usual peaceful walk home.  It’s about three and a half blocks.  We walked on Oakland Avenue, past the entrance to the parking garage.  Inside the garage is a BART police substation.  Inside the substation was a police car. Inside the police car was a police dog.  Inside the dog was a very big bark that came out as we came near the entrance.  Apparently the police dog was issuing a warning citation to someone walking by.

As we stood at the curb to the driveway leading in and out of the garage, Chase’s head swung toward the direction of the bark and stuck there.  He could not hear anything except that bark.  I said, “Forward.”  He heard, “Bark.”  Finally, I gave a tug on his leash and convinced him to cross the driveway and continue down the sidewalk.  He walked about one and a half times normal speed, as if he just wanted to get out of there.  The whole time, his head turned left as he kept both eyes on the garage and listened to that bark.

We crossed the street and headed for home.  He was still wound a little tight.  We walked next to a big parking lot where vehicles park diagonally, some with their noses up against the sidewalk.  As we passed a truck, it started up, startling Chase.  He picked up even more speed.  His spring was wound even tighter.

 At the corner across the street from our development, a guy was on the opposite side wearing a baseball cap.  Chase spotted him and was not going to go forward.  Too many weird things had already happened.

So I took him by the leash, had him heel, and walked him about ten feet from the corner.  I had him sit and went to the Labrador retriever pacifier -- comfort kibble.  I fed him out of the treat bag on my waist for a few minutes (a bonus for a dog that gets his rewards one kibble bit at a time.)  It seemed to calm him down.

But he still had his usual urgency on the last block up to our front door.  I thought I heard him say, “There’s no place like home,” and click his red tennis shoes together.

What Dogs Do

Because I am legally blind and not completely sightless, I get to see things Chase does that entertain me, or at least engage my interest.

 

Number 1:  Day before yesterday, we crossed the street at the usual corner near our development.  Suddenly, we stopped dead in our tracks for a sunflower.  Well, actually it was a person dressed as a sunflower.  She had on a green onesie and a sunflower mask.   She was waving one of those big rectangular signs advertising a flower shop.  Chase was having none of that. (Truth be told, I myself am a little leery of people who dress as flowers in public.)  He stopped.  He looked up at me.  He backed up.  I gave him the “forward” command and he backed up some more.  She spoke to us, but I think that just confused him further.  Finally, I dropped the harness handle, took the leash and told him to heel.  As we walked past her, Chase’s head was on a swivel, making sure we weren’t going to get pistil whipped.

Number 2: Busy sidewalks seem to energize Chase.  He walks faster.  He tailgates.  And lately, I’ve noticed he seems to play chicken.  We can see someone coming toward us a half-block away.  Chase doesn’t veer off.  He walks right at them.  Sometimes, if they don’t adjust, they have to squeeze by us.  I just pretend I’m a jolly, sightless guy, completely unaware of what he’s doing.

Number 3:  Sometimes Chase does strange dog stuff.  We changed BART trains yesterday at 19^th Street station in Oakland.  The Pittsburg-Bay Point train was crowded.  I asked if there might be a seat for me and my guide dog.  While people were looking at each other and deciding if they would be the one to give up a seat (more precious than gold on a crowded BART train), Chase leaned over and licked the knee of the old (my age) guy sitting in the seat closest to us.  Interpret that as you will. We got a seat, but not from that guy. 

Graduation Day

A few moments from my Guide Dogs graduation three weeks ago.

First are the official portraits they take of each graduate. 

Me and Chase.  Me and Chase and Margaret, his puppy raiser.

And video of my part of the graduation.

 

 

Enjoy.