The Seeing Eye, Week 2. Three Steps Forward, Three Steps Back

Monday, May 3. Intro To Elm Street

“Left. Stop sign light, stop sign light light. Left, Stop Sign.” This is the mantra I kept repeating to myself over and over. The first week of class after we get matched with our dogs is spent learning specific roots that we can then solo to demonstrate our progress. On Monday, we were introduced to the Elm Street root. It’s not complicated, but there’s more traffic to contend with than the South Street root and a lot more pedestrians out on the nicer days. Behaviour expectations were also set higher, and the instructors put up a more difficult barricade for us to navigate. The dog distractions were a bit more enticing, as well. There was an obnoxious little standard poodle on a leash that W was pretty interested in. After a few tries, he was able to work past it, mostly. We walked the root twice on Monday and twice the day after. Our solo was to be on Wednesday morning, so I tried to pay close attention to any land marks that could help keep us properly oriented.

At the beginning of class, I was asked if I’d be OK with participating in the occlusion program. This is for people who come into class with some residual vision. Essentially, we’re tested to see how big of a field of vision we have, and then we’re given a pair of glasses to wear that have been modified with duct tape to remove most, if not all, of the vision we have left for some of the roots. This is to make sure that we’re not using our remaining vision to interfere with the dog’s work in any way. It’s an interesting idea, actually. For those of us who can still see a little bit, it helps us to put that trust in the dog and to learn to work as a unit instead of contradicting the dog’s training. Since we walked the same root multiple times, we were able to try it both with the occlusion goggles and without so I could try to get a feel for what was different and what I should keep in mind when I’m no longer wearing them. I was happy to do this. It was a little scary, for sure, but I had faith in my guide, myself and my instructor, and everything went as smoothly as could be expected.

Tuesday, May 4. Running Free

We introduced W to the free run area after our morning walk. This is a fenced in area, all turf, that borders the outdoor student lounge. We started with some obedience on leash, which was made challenging for him by some more enticing distractions. Basic obedience is something we’d started the previous week and are expected to keep up with daily, but the expectations for the dog are increased steadily as class progresses, as with guide work. We worked on heel, come and sit, in that order. “Heel.” (3 steps forward.) “Come.” (Dog turns to face you, 3 steps back.) (Dog turns to face the direction you’re going, 1 step forward.) “Sit.” We also worked on down and sit transitions, and finally started some long leash recall. He was pretty fabulous for most of it, of course, but was understandably a little distracted by the toys around him during the recall. After a few repetitions of the afore mentioned, I unclipped his leash and let him fly.

There are a couple of toys out there for the dogs to play with, including a large plastic ball, which W loved. As soon as it started moving, he was obsessed. He’d chase and slam that thing into the fence with wild abandon over and over until I was actually slightly worried about the poor panels. It was the noise more than anything, though. The fence wasn’t quite solid, so when the ball hit, it would rattle and shake like nothing else. That boy has boundless energy. We had to be out there for close to half an hour, and he still wasn’t completely spent. Though it was pretty intense, it was a joy to see him so happy. Guide work is a tall order. If you ask me, I’d say it’s probably among the most difficult of jobs for a dog to learn and uphold. It’s not scent work, or anything that makes use of their inborn detection skills. It’s bravery and calculation, careful judgement and constant focus on a task wherein they must ignore one of their most basic instincts for the safety of a team. They mustn’t stop for interesting smells or meander after interesting dogs they encounter in the street. When they’re working, they’re not free to do as they please, and it was nice to watch him just be a dog for a while, not concerned about anything besides the direction of his ball.

Wednesday, May 5. A Hard Ass Day

I think I just wanna start by saying that this day sucked on so many levels. But, let’s talk about the good stuff first. We had our solo in the morning. It was a great trip. By this point, W and I were really starting to understand each other, and we were really coming together as a team. The street crossings were pretty near perfect. He stopped at every down curb, and he left the distractions alone when I reminded him to. The only thing we struggled with a little was the barricade that was set up near the end. He found it fine, but was having a bit of trouble going back around it. Our instructor, A, was standing to one side, and he gravitated toward her like a little magnet. We got it on the third try, but that little hang up was overshadowed by the excellence of the rest of the root. It wasn’t perfect, but I think it went pretty damn well for both of us.

The rest of the morning was hit and miss. I said goodbye to a friend of mine who wasn’t able to finish class for various reasons. Before coming to The Seeing Eye, I wondered if I’d make friends in class. Almost everyone here were strangers, but 25 days with a group of people requires some level of familiarity. Interestingly, I’ve made a few, and the lady who left was one of them. I was sad to see her go. She was one of the people I talked with the most in the lounges, and her dog and mine were buddies. She had the smallest dog in class, and I had one of the biggest. Our dogs had stayed at the same home together during quarantine, so we all had a little connection. I hope to see her again some day.

We had picture day that morning, as well. I straightened my hair and put on some decent clothes. I even had some forethought and brought a cute little necklace to wear. We were called downstairs in groups to take our class pictures and a photo for our personal ID cards. W got to stand on an automated grooming table so we could be the same height for the ID picture. I’m not sure that he liked it very much. LOL. We got some good ones in the end, I think.

W had an appointment after lunch to see the vet. He’d had a bit of an ear infection since I got him that we’d been treating, and we figured it was time to try something a little more aggressive than the spray we’d been using. At 1:30, one of the instructors came to get him, and I sat in the student lounge upstairs to wait for his return. An hour and a half and three cups of hot chocolate later, my instructor, A, walked into the lounge with him and handed me the leash. She asked me to come downstairs with her to “have a talk”, and I knew. 

We made small talk in the elevator, but I can’t remember what about. I barely remember the walk down the hall, either. The next thing I knew, we were in the office of the class supervisor and I was seated with W beside me. “The vets can’t figure out what’s wrong with his ear”, they told me. “It doesn’t look infected, but it’s swollen and very tender. At this point, we don’t feel comfortable sending W home with you.”

I was so lost. They asked me if I wanted to stay for the remainder of class and be matched with a new dog, or if I wanted to come back at a later time. A new dog? How could that be? How did this happen, and what in the hell was I supposed to do? I didn’t come here with any expectations, but W exceeded everything I’d hoped for. How could I start all over again with a new dog? Dimly, I remember saying I’d stay and give it a shot, but I was drowning in my own confusion… A week isn’t that long, and 7 short days was all W and I had been together for. But when you’re sharing your whole life with an animal, that constant presence, day and night, makes an impression. Early mornings, meals in the dining hall, trips into town, learning and growing together… Calm reassurance, exuberant praise, play sessions and evening snuggles… He had a personality that matched mine. He was a wonderful guide; curious and cautious all at once. He had the biggest ears, the biggest feet and the biggest doggy heart. He just made sense to me. A week’s not that long, but the bond was growing. To think of starting over, of losing all the progress… We’d just finished our planned roots and would have been moving onto free lance work that afternoon. Starting at the beginning, retracing all those steps with a new dog, thinking of W and not being able to help comparing the two… It was hard. 

We talked briefly about some other dog options, and I told them to match me with whomever they thought was best. If I’m being honest, I didn’t really care at that point. It was hard to when the best dog was being pulled from the program for reasons unknown. They offered me some time with W to say goodbye. I thanked them, rose from the arm chair and walked with him up to the dormitories. 

Like most young boys, W isn’t particularly sensitive to delicate emotions. He jumped on me and did his level best to knock me down. All he wanted to do was play, so I tried my hardest to indulge him. I tired of it pretty quickly, though. The room was getting smaller and there was no space to breathe. I put his harness on him, maybe for the last time, and we worked back downstairs in search of the leisure path. This is a half mile path around the campus for students to work their dogs in a traffic free environment. Toward the beginning, we passed the kennels on the hill. I couldn’t help thinking that my W dog would be headed back there and dreading it. It’s a good place, and I know he’s got friends, but… it was hard. We passed the guide dog memorial section and sat down in one of the far gazebos. The sun was out, and there was a cardinal calling in the trees to our right. We don’t have those birds back at home, and I think they’re one of my new favourite things about the East Coast. I called a friend because I needed someone to talk to. It was a weird situation and one that affected me a hell of a lot more than I thought it would. The crazy thing is that it wasn’t a match issue. He was great, and we were great together. There were no behaviour problems or personality clashes. We were matched perfectly for pace and pull, and our flow was pretty established. They couldn’t have matched me with a better guide.

Sometimes bad shit happens, and it’s no one’s fault. We just have to take it as it comes and deal with the consequences as best we can. I’d asked about the possibility of waiting to see whether or not the problem is serious, and I’m still waiting for updates. I’m not sure they’ll have any info by the time I leave here, but I think he’s worth the wait. I know that this is likely a dead end. They won’t put him in the program if there are any serious health concerns, which I understand, but what if it’s manageable? If it’s meant to be, then it shall be, and if not, I’ll make the best of what is. Whether or not I see him again and whether or not we’re partners, I won’t forget how great he was and what an excellent introduction to guide work he gave me. I wish all the best for him, either way. I hope this doesn’t stop him from becoming a guide, in the end. He was meant for this job, and his work was so great.

I tried to get my feelings under some sort of control as we walked back into the building and down the main haul. I don’t remember exactly where we parted ways. Maybe it was back in the little office, or maybe it was right there in the hall, but I remember giving him one final hug and surrendering the leash to my instructor once more. I scratched him fondly on the head and didn’t look back as I walked toward the elevator without him. It was time to go back up to my room and wait for them to bring in my new guide.

20 minutes later, A brought in my new dog, hastily bathed and in much need of a good brushing. He was a Shepherd as well; a brother to W from the same litter. Let’s call him W2. He was a little smaller, with a more streamlined head and different markings. His ears weren’t quite as big as his brother’s, and neither were his feet. LOL. We spent the afternoon together, trying to get something started. I tried to give him my best despite the circumstances, He was a sweet boy. We went on some trips together over the following two days, and I grew to like him. He had a slight curl at the end of his tail that I found charming. He was absolutely obsessed with his instructor and didn’t mind me either after a while. His work was pretty good, but he moved out slower than everyone anticipated. I’m a pretty fast walker for my height and need a dog that can keep up. We weren’t quite similar enough in pace, so two days later, I was rematched once again.

Friday, May 7. A Change Of Pace

I went on 3 trips Friday. I took one last trip in the morning with W2, just to confirm what we already suspected. When we were sure he was too slow, I handed the leash over and headed to my room to wait for the third time.

This time, it wasn’t a Shepherd. A walked in with a tiny black Labrador; the smallest one I’ve ever seen. Her tail was wagging from the moment she jumped into the room. She’s 20 inches at the shoulder and 45 pounds soaking wet. Her eyes are a beautiful dark brown, and she has the silkiest little lab ears. The ever-loving Labrador… they’re so different. They’re pretty much just love sponges. She was ready for play and cuddles pretty much from the beginning, and her work has always been great. A different working style from that of the Shepherd, but still great. She lives for praise and loves food more than life itself. I should time her eating a meal sometime and see how long it takes her from start to finish. I’ll bet it’s well under 30 seconds. I’m trying to keep names out of this blog until I’m absolutely sure of my guide, so for now, let’s call her Evenstar. 

We’re still getting to know each other, so I don’t really have much to comment on at this point. Her trips so far have been great, and she has a hell of a lot of pull for a lil thing. The size change is pretty drastic for me. There’s nothing wrong with a smaller dog; there are advantages and disadvantages to both. I think I like the feel of a bigger dog, but maybe I’m just used to it. Smaller dogs are much easier to travel with, of course. They fit wherever you want to put them and one doesn’t have to be so careful of them sticking out and getting in other people’s way. She’s trying her heart out, and she’s been great so far. I’m finding it hard to have much confidence at this point, but week 3 is on the way, come hell or high water. Time to start from the beginning for the third time and hope something sticks. Most of the students had some time off on the weekend, but we went on some trips to try and catch up. We need to start free lance work as soon as possible if this is gonna work.

I’ll ask. Even after I leave here, I’ll always ask. If anything else crazy happens, I’m happy to wait for a future class. I’m trying to put all my thought and effort into this new girl, but there will be a part of me that holds onto this until a diagnosis is made, and probably beyond. That W dog was a good one, and that’s hard to put aside. I’m trying. For the sake of Evenstar and the sake of this partnership, I’m trying. There’s so much uncertainty in my head right now, even though time is still moving forward. I have no idea what this week holds, but I have a feeling it’s going to be a hell of a ride. “Time waits for no man”, (Geoffrey Chaucer). Wish me luck, friends. I’ll need it.

Until next time…