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.