I read this today from a fellow blogger and it really spoke to me. I have felt this way about my relationship with my husband and kids, even close friends.
© 2016 Personal Hearing Loss Journal
I read this today from a fellow blogger and it really spoke to me. I have felt this way about my relationship with my husband and kids, even close friends.
© 2016 Personal Hearing Loss Journal
I’ve had to force myself to log onto “Hearing Elmo” and write SOMETHING.
I don’t like for too much time to go by and not be writing. Writing, blogging, and “talking to you” is important to me. I learn from you. I hope we learn from each other.
Saturday, October 1st, on her twelfth birthday, we said goodbye to Chloe, my first assistance dog. She retired in May of 2015. Chloe was diagnosed with Transitional Cell Carcinoma in August of this year.
I’ve started this post 8 times (and yes, I counted). The first couple of drafts were angry and mean. One draft was scary. Others were tearful and frankly? Were so full of random thoughts and words, the grammar itself forbade me from hitting “publish“.
On June 14, 2016, little Lane was killed by an alligator at Walt Disney World resorts. Like many who read his story, my first thought was, “Where the heck were his parents, and how in the world does something like this happen?”
Erin S., a friend of mine, fairly quickly put me in my place–and rightly so. Why do we immediately judge what we do not know?
We cannot ever know the “whole story”. We simply are not privy to that. There is a backstory to every tragedy and every loss. Little Lane was killed as the result of an tragic (freak) accident and he cannot be placed back into the arms of those who loved him. Why do we search for who is to blame? Sometimes, folks?
Sometimes life just sucks.
Facebook is a wonderful place; especially for the differently-ABLED community. It is a place where technology levels the communication playing field. I have re-connected and strengthened friendships. I have “met” people in this venue I may never meet face-to-face. Last week, however, I “unfriended” and “blocked” 34 people I didn’t really know. Getting one to two messages a week, led me to believe they were simply out to get a “rise”. Many posted publicly and I exercised my right to DELETE. Haters gonna hate.
I created a public page for Chloe’s last chapter to raise awareness about an organization I love, Fidos For Freedom, Inc. I wanted to share what being a puppy raiser, sponsor, and trainer for service dogs was like. I wanted to share information about the valuable resource (even MINISTRY) of therapy dogs. I wanted to share how one dog changed my life and brought me back into the world of the living after a self-imposed isolation.
When bad things happen, we tend to look for answers or worse-someone to blame. After only reading the public “cliff notes” of Chloe’s life, I was lambasted by people for making the wrong decision.
Now these are folks I don’t know and you are open to these kinds of messages when you go “public” with anything. I don’t mind blocking folks who just look for ways to get people riled. I fully trust that those who know me and know my husband Terry, trusted US to make the best and most humane decision for a furry family member. (More than that… a retired partner).
Ah. It’s an election year. It’s getting nasty out there in FaceBook land, isn’t it? Yet those I actually do know, I allow to post whatever they want on FaceBook. I may not click “like”. We may agree. We may disagree. More than anything though I hope we are the kind of “real” friends to agree to disagree… and love each other anyway.
I love Culture of Empathy’s website. I don’t agree with everything they post, but their message is powerful. Empathy is defined as, “identification with and understanding of another’s situation, feelings, and motives”. Empathy does not mean you may fully agree with them.
We can love one another and show kindness and compassion without having to acknowledge that an important connection and relationship is the equivalent of being identical twins. I love my husband and best friend, Terry, but the man is an idiot sometimes (albeit a sweet one). I do not agree with everything he says, believes, or “votes”. Yet, I respect everything he says, believes and votes and fully support him because I love him and he is my friend.
The Bible does not actually use the word “empathy” anywhere, yet it is inferred. It does use the word compassion numerous times. Compassion can be defined as “a feeling of deep sympathy or sorrow for another who is stricken with misfortune, accompanied by the strong desire to alleviate the suffering.” Especially when someone is faced with a critical decision or experiencing heart ache, can I not support them with compassion? How does judgement, argumentative jabs, and insistence they agree with ME, help? It doesn’t. It only shows I lack compassion and kindness.
I’m not perfect. But…
I want to be perfectly committed to being kind, being loving, and making a difference. I may not always agree with you, but if we have the kind of relationship that we can talk about disagreements with respect and kindness, and walk away still close friends? I count myself BLESSED.
So a crappy life lesson? Sometimes when grieving and in pain, people are gonna kick you when you are down. Sometimes when important decisions need to be made, folks are going to call into question my own character for an informed and personal choice. I’m gonna love you anyway.
For you see? Love isn’t love if it changes on a whim and because someone disagrees with you. I believe the world would be a better place if our first thought when getting up in the morning was,
“How can I make a difference today? How can I show kindness?”
Hold me accountable.
© 2016 Personal Hearing Loss Journal
I have friends who are police officers. One, Carl, is actually chief of police for a district in our area. I see him most Sundays, and tomorrow I plan to ask him, “Can you be arrested for that?” I love his sense of humor and he and his wife, Pam, are two of my favorite people. Though I know he will be witty, I also know he will be straight with me. Anything that pertains to the law, he’s gonna be frank with me.
Maybe I should back up though, and tell you the story? <grin>
First of all, I’m really tired. I could list you dozens of citations that link differently-abled people with fatigue and insomnia. I’m usually good about listing all those for you, but honestly there are over 26,000 articles since 2012 alone. (Yes… I counted, or rather Google scholar did!). But I digress…
When I’m tired I have a little more trouble filtering what I say. I am much more apt to just say the first thing on my mind. I’m trying to live with the “pause – respond” method (thanks for that Toby Mac post, Helen), and being mindful of not saying the first thing that comes to mind really helps. When I am tired though, I’m less likely to turn that filter on.
I have a dog in hospice care at home (sweet, retired Chloe), and I am very likely involved in way… too… much. Finishing my dissertation, teaching four classes, volunteering at a number of places; the list goes on an on. Just color me tired. This tired woman, with turned-off filter, entered Giant grocery store on Thursday. Milo-bear (my current service dog from Fidos For Freedom, Inc.) was tired as well as we had just completed a long training at the county police academy and he had a fairly long demo (that he NAILED). I only needed to get a few things, and so encouraged Milo for a last push before heading home.
When I’m tired, I wobble. <ahem> Ok. I wobble all the time. However, I wobble MORE when I am tired! I had one of the smaller carts, Milo, cane, and enough time that I did not need to rush. This didn’t seem to matter. I was a mess. I even wobbled when I moved my field of vision from one shelf to another. Being late-deafened, I do not always hear things in a big, cavernous store with lots of tile and hard surfaces. I turned suddenly, and almost plowed into a man standing there shopping with one of those hand baskets. He threw up his hands and watched me wobble, screech (just a little), and grab for everything stationary in my vicinity.
No face plant (this time). I whooshed out a breath of air, and locked eyes with him and was getting ready to say, “Wow. That was close“. He beat me to airtime, however.
“Well you are more than a little pathetic today, aren’t you?” with a grin and twinkle in his eyes.
Now… I’m late-deafened. I often mishear things. My husband could tell you a thousand stories about WHAT I THOUGHT I HEARD. He’s one of the few voices I can hear on a telephone, and has never let me live it down when he called and said, “Dinner at six?” I misheard and thought he said, “Dinner and sex?” Maybe inside I was thinking, “yes, please“, mature adult that I was said, “Excuse me…?” Yeah. That one has been hard to live down.
So this smiling man with a twinkle in his eye standing there waiting for me to respond, may NOT have said, “Well you are more than a little pathetic today, aren’t you?” I had to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Maybe he said “phonetic“. Eh, likely not since I only screeched and had not said anything.
Maybe he said “poetic”. I could dream.
Maybe he said “prophetic“. Perhaps he sensed I was getting ready to assault him.
To clarify, I said, “Ummm, pathetic?”
“Yes”, he replied, “because you….” his voice cut off because at this point? I had my cane raised.
I poked him with it. HARD. “I’M pathetic? You’re the pathetic piece of humanity standing there making snide comments about people who are a little different than you!”
He rubbed his chest where I poked him, mumbled something that I’m not EVEN gonna pretend I heard well or understood, and wandered off. I sat there hyperventilating.
Milo-bear looked up at me like, “Are we done yet?” cool as a cucumber. Me? My cucumber was fried.
As I stood there wobbling and taking deep, calming breaths, I gave myself a pep talk that the guy likely just had a poor choice of words. He seemed friendly, nice even. I’m sure he didn’t mean the way it sounded… the way I took it. I even had the grace to ask God that if He brought me face-to-face with the man later in the store, I would apologize and try to explain how his comment made me feel. Thankfully, I did NOT run into him, because… well I wasn’t really wanting to apologize.
Yes. I should have just moved on, or perhaps even “only” blasted him with my “how pathetic are YOU” rebuttal. I need to keep my cane to myself. (Can you tell I am preaching to myself?) Who knows why he chose the words he did. I make poor choices all the time.
And I do mean ALL the time.
So perhaps I need to practice the “pause method” even more:
© 2016 Personal Hearing Loss Journal
Always such a privilege and joy to welcome guest writers to “Hearing Elmo”… especially those who have made an impact on my own life! Ruth’s blog can be found at: http://foxbuds.com/default.html
Succeeding at being functional, in spite of major disability, requires acceptance, attitude control, and accommodation. For approximately a half year, the extreme energy challenges that defines my disability took a vacation. I went from using a wheelchair to walking a mile independently. My wheelchair was actually forgotten, and it sat unused for several weeks. Feeling so energized, I worked to increase independence and exercise. Walking in a nature park; to and from the mailbox (long city block of considerable elevation grade); to and from study groups and services at church; and during shopping became frequent occurrences. Even bi-weekly lap swimming was added to the exercise mix. Restricted time limits on activity seemed to have dissolved. I came to expect unlimited energy and endurance.
Then, as quickly as it arrived, my disability “vacation” was over. Independence and exercise became challenging; fatigue and weakness unmerciful. Within a couple of hours after awakening, my day’s energy supply was gone. Being stubborn, I let failure define my course of action. Signs of exhaustion were ignored, functioning became extremely challenging and “mito crashes” began to occur frequently. During these mito crashes, I have trouble thinking and focusing; my speech sometimes slurs; word recall fails resulting in multiple unfinished sentences; there are unexpected falls when walking; muscles feel like they are made of wet cement; sitting up is painful as gravity alone is too heavy; my heart pounds and beats become irregular; and even breathing takes effort. My unwillingness to respect my body’s inability to produce needed energy, resulted in an unnecessarily low quality of life.
To find any degree of functionality, I first had to let go of stubbornness, pride and the perception that my disability would become a focus for those around me. It is uncomfortable when people express sympathy, or question my use of accommodations again, particularly my wheelchair. Yet, when I was finally forced to go back to using my wheelchair, which is the most visible accommodation that I use, people paid very little attention to it. Everyone around me was used to seeing me in a wheelchair, it just had been a while since they had seen it. As trivial as it may seem, it wasn’t much different than people failing to notice a haircut, or new glasses.
The hardest part of a disability is figuring out which accommodations give you the greatest amount of functionality. In this day and age of high technology, canine assistance, and ADA accommodations, it is amazing the level of functionality one can reach regardless of how severe the disability. Today, a person with hearing loss/deafness has so many choices that they can make to communicate at a distance, turn speech into text, or become aware of changes in their immediate environment; a person with vision impairment/blindness has choices that
they can use to replace print, locate navigational barriers, and obtain independent transportation; for a person with a mobility impairment there is considerable access to public and even private buildings, and accessible transportation; a person with a medical disability such as diabetes, epilepsy, or compromised respiration has options of implantable medication delivery, service animals that can predict impending medical crisis, and portable treatment equipment. It is true that barriers aren’t completely eliminated by accommodation, however it is a rare person that isn’t “barrier challenged” in some way, even without a specific disability diagnosis. Technology and access will slowly, but surely, improve over time.
Accommodating my disability this time around, was easier. Everything I need for my disability barriers is already in place; I just have to use it. Also having an extremely creative and supportive husband, who is so willing to do whatever is needed to help reach an acceptable quality of life, is a huge benefit as a disability affects everyone; it’s a family affair. All that was needed was for me to stop fighting against declining energy and to start working to make the best use of the limited energy I had left.
A person with disability can accept their personal limitations and find appropriate accommodations, yet not be successful due to attitude. Anger, bitterness, and continuous frustration over the limitations of public disability access is the fastest route to an attitude of entitlement. This is a personality disability; as limiting as any physical disability. It becomes a barrier to self-advocating. It prevents a person with disability from being part of the solution, by sharing what works, as well as what doesn’t work. An entitled personality is counterproductive to legislation, research, and development of new options, as frustration and anger slows the process down. An entitlement attitude keeps a person from finding or accepting alternate ways to bridge specific barriers.
My goal is to express gratitude for every barrier that is reduced or removed, and find my own solutions when I can. Yes, frustration gets the best of me sometimes, but as with everyone else, I am a work in process.
I’ve shared on “Hearing Elmo” before how important I think boundaries are to people with invisible illness, disability or chronic conditions. I believe we are already vulnerable. Not a WEAK sort of vulnerability, for we are actually very resilient in comparison to people who do not struggle with similar challenges. Dunn, Uswatte, and Elliott (2009) report that people with acquired conditions and challenges are often more resilient, happy, and have a positive sense of well-being. Yet, because we struggle to be all that we can be with new limitations, we can be vulnerable to others through criticism, disbelief, and lack of support. I believe that as people learn to cope and adjust to a “new normal”, boundaries–and sometimes BRICK WALLS–are imperative.
One of my favorite books that I often mention, is “Boundaries” by two of my favorite psychologists/writers, Cloud and Townsend. I highly recommend the book if you are seeking to establish healthy boundaries.
I could go on and on about how MEAN PEOPLE SUCK, but this is more than that. We have all experienced interacting with people who are toxic, negative, and critical. These interactions inhibit our growth and our ability to cope effectively and successfully with challenges–that to us are not CHOICES, rather realities of living in our bodies. Boundaries can, and should be, set for these people. A boundary limits our interaction with someone that we have discovered hinders our growth or influence. Boundaries are not permanent. People can re-establish a good relationship. I always cringe when I hear people say, “Once you’ve lost my trust, you’ve lost it forever“.
I am not who I was. I hope that my life reflects a “work in progress”. I want to be a person who continues to grow each year that I live. I believe I can set a boundary for a critical and negative person, and my faith can be restored in this person at a later date. Life changes people, folks! The boundary keeps me at a safe distance, however, for whatever period of time is needed by that person to change or grow themselves.
It hurts when you have to set up a boundary with a family member or someone who was once a close friend. Even these boundaries are necessary at times. Self-care is not only important, it is necessary. If we do not do what we must (by setting up a boundary for an unsafe person), we cannot thrive or make a difference in the life of another. Boundaries limit what we offer to these people. You may choose to not share specific things about yourself with them. You may limit how often you interact. These boundaries protect you and allow you to continue to live victoriously. They allow you to be the champion… the WARRIOR, that you are!
However, there are times when boundaries become more than safe zones for us. Boundaries can turn into permanent and impenetrable fixtures to completely cut us off from unsafe people. The boundaries become brick walls.
When do you know that a boundary needs to be replaced with a brick wall? I believe…
… you will know.
The person has habitually harmed you. You have provided an avenue for reconciliation and they have repeatedly taken advantage and continue to injure you. When this happens, it’s time for a brick wall, my friend! When and if you choose to permanently block someone from your life, it is important to remember:
How do you build a brick wall and permanently dismantle a relationship? I have had to do this. It wasn’t easy. It hurts when it is someone who once mattered a great deal. However, self-preservation may mean you need to build that wall. Here are some things that worked for me:
Because this is something I once did, I feel like I should give a warning as well. Don’t build walls because you are hurt and hunker down into protective mode. This is self-imposed isolation, not deliberate wall-building to keep out those who are toxic to you.
A perk I’ve discovered of brick walls? It can force a change of direction. You never know “who” or “what” awaits you as you step in the opposite direction.
© 2016 Personal Hearing Loss Journal
Dunn, D., Uswatte, G., and Elliott, T. (2009). Happiness, resilience, and positive growth following physical disability: Issues for understanding, research, and therapeutic intervention. Retrieved September 5, 2016, from https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Timothy_Elliott/publication/232514358_Happiness_resilience_and_positive_growth_following_physical_disability_Issues_for_understanding_research_and_therapeutic_intervention/links/09e4150a3327348871000000.pdf
Earlier this summer my parents came to visit. For some reason, I always have a “project” for my Dad. For some reason, he never seems to mind. This time, he built and secured a lattice porch screen to give us some privacy between our deck and the neighbor’s house. We have a huge yard, but it is long and narrow–not very wide. One of the first things my Mom and I did was plant Morning Glories. This beautiful vine has done so well this summer. It’s a childhood “feel good” memory for me, so I love greeting the blooms each morning.
I think one of the things I love about Morning Glories, is that they are (ahem) … GLORIOUS in the morning.
I love coming out in the morning, in the quiet and cool AM environment, and having these cheerful flowers greet me.
I think one of the most difficult things about chronic illness and being differently-abled, is a sometimes, overwhelming feeling of vulnerability. I don’t know about YOU, but I hate feeling vulnerable. I’m not talking about the healthy kind of vulnerability where one learns to open one’s heart to another. I’m not talking about learning to be transparent and (at times) brutally honest (or, receptive of someone being brutally honest to YOU). I’m talking about the kind of vulnerability where you know you are at risk – in trouble – and floundering.
I am feeling pretty vulnerable. I hate having an illness that is progressive. Even though I work my butt off trying to be independent and capable, each year it seems to be more difficult to “get my glory on“. I love mornings. I’m a (disgustingly) cheerful early-bird person; perhaps, part of the reason I have been able to greet the Morning Glories with a smile on my face. While standing and watching the dogs race around the yard and work on waking themselves up, I often find myself reflecting, even praying at times. Lately, I think I’m perpetuating my feelings of vulnerability. During my AM REFLECTIONS, I have been thinking about where I was physically a decade ago, five years ago… and even last year. Ten years ago, when I was only 40-years-old, did I know that I would navigate with a service dog and cane? Did I understand that I would only be able to hear when I had my cochlear implant connected? Did I know that I would have a pronounced limp from numerous twisted ankles as the result of falls? Did I know that on the evening of August 23rd, 2016, I would have numerous bouts of vertigo, nystagmus, and several panic attacks between bedtime and when my alarm clock kissed me awake? (The benefit of having a service dog and retired hearing dog as your alarm clock). Nope. I didn’t know this would be my life. It makes me feel vulnerable (and depressed).
I am my own cheerleader.
Don’t get me wrong. When I need encouragement, I know how to reach out and ask for help. This practice being, a different and healthy kind of vulnerability. If you are a person with chronic illness, invisible or visible disabilities, and special challenges that make life rather difficult at times, you may have no problem telling someone “I’m done“. I do have problems with that. I find it easier to say, “I’m struggling“, and less easy to admit “I’m done“.
I think part of it is because I don’t want to disappoint anyone. Even at Hearing Elmo, I try to keep things positive and encouraging. As a co-advisor of a student group for people who are differently-abled, I want to model confidence and a “can do” attitude. But honestly? Sometimes, I’m just done. This morning (after the night I had), I could not “get my glory on” in spite of my special flowers greeting me the same as usual in a beautiful late summer, sun-rise welcome. I found myself struggling. I found myself feeling vulnerable, depressed, and on the verge of giving up.
When I cheerlead for myself, I tend to default to a number of cheers:
Ultimately, the way I “keep on – keeping on” is recognizing that this is hard, but I CAN do this. I’m going to have bad days. I’m going to need help. I’m going to fail, mess up, SCREW up, and want to GIVE UP. When I am weak and vulnerable, I am also strong.
I’m also learning that it is ok to say, “I’m done“. (Ouch. That hurts to even type it!) However, I recognize that this admission… this vulnerability, also means I’m strong. Stronger than I ever imagined.
©2016 Personal Hearing Loss Journal
Calhoun, L. G. & Tedeschi, R. G. (2014). Handbook of posttraumatic growth: Research and practice. New York: Psychology Press.
*tongue in cheek* It ROCKS when a guest writer chooses to post here at Hearing Elmo. I welcome guest writers and if you ever feel the “itch” to write, email me at firstname.lastname@example.org Today’s post comes from Milo-bear, my second service dog. Let’s welcome newbie writer, Milo, to the blogosphere and trust that what he has to say can be echoed by many service dog teams.
I have working clothes. Don’t laugh… you have them too. I pretty much have a great time side-by-side with my human partner 24/7. However, when my working clothes go on — my vest — I am having fun WORKING. Oh… I also happen to be GQ handsome.
Denise has had a lot of people come up to me that she does not know asking to pet me. When we know the person already, Denise actually likes for us all to say hello because I can be kinda aloof and she doesn’t really want that being a teacher and all. She draws the line at sniffing butts though so I have learned to lean, wag, and keep my nose to myself.
Sometimes though, a total stranger comes up and starts talking to me. One day last week at the craft store, someone came up and leaned down to talk to me totally ignoring Denise. If they had been paying attention, they would have seen Denise desperately gripping the shelves and trying to keep from wobbling as this person invaded our space. The stranger said, “Oh I just love working dogs. I have always wanted to see if that was something I could do… train working dogs. Oh my, you have a very cool vest pretty boy. Don’t you look handsome!?” Now – mind you – I couldn’t argue with the handsome part, but this gal was missing two important clues:
I was so proud of Denise! She hates to make people feel badly, and at times she puts herself at risk by not standing up for herself. Perhaps it was because she was wobbling SO MUCH, that she immediately chimed in on the tail end of this stranger’s gushing intrusion to say, “Yes, isn’t it a nice vest? Complete with patches asking you not to pet or distract him”.
I would have high5-paw’d Denise, but hey… she was wobbling enough and I didn’t want her to do a face plant. The stranger kind of sputtered and backed away. Then with a huff, she turned on her heel and walked away. I yawned really big trying to relax and Denise scratched me behind the ears and talked quietly to me. I didn’t understand everything she said, but it was something along the lines of just wanting to shop without the drama.
Denise doesn’t partner with me to create drama. I’m her helper to reduce the drama. She wobbles less when I’m by her side. If she drops something I get it for her. And ya know something? My gal pal drops things A LOT. I’m ok with that because – heck. I get paid to just pick it up and give it back to her. I have the world’s best job. I do things that are super easy for me and get treats and affection for my efforts! If Denise reaches for dropped items, she tends to end up on her butt – which I have to tell you is OK with me too because I can easily kiss her whole face when she is eye-level.
When I know someone, the whole scenario is different. For one thing, I don’t stiffen up. I usually start to wag like crazy. I just can’t help it. When I see a friend my tail just wags and wags. Denise releases the tension some on my leash and I can say a quick hello. When it is a stranger though, I’m nervous and she is nervous. I’m thinking, “WHY are they talking to me? Who IS this strange person staring at me and in my space?”
A couple of weeks ago, Denise and I had a break after a class. This was before the pant-’til-you-drop heat hit our area. We were sitting outside on a bench enjoying the sunshine. I was double-daring a butterfly to come a little closer, and Denise was checking her email on her phone. Some students came pushing and shoving their way around the corner and then stood right in front of us. Denise was a little startled, but continued to sit and check her email. I was SERIOUSLY uptight. I mean… they chased off my butterfly! Boy was I peeved. And then you know what they did? They all had their phones out and were jostling each other and pointing their phones at us. Here I was surrounding by all these noisy and rowdy strangers, and all of them were pointing their phones at us. My hair stood up and I made sure Denise could feel my tension all the way up through the leash. She looked down at me, looked up at the students and said, “Ummm. Let me guess. Pokemon GO?” They completely ignored her. Thank goodness they didn’t hang around long. I was starting to get really antsy. After they left Denise reached down to scratch my ears again.
“People can be clueless sometimes, Milo. Don’t let them bother you. I would have moved but DARN IT. We were here FIRST”.
I sighed really loud and pouted about not getting that butterfly. I tell ya what, I just don’t get people sometimes. I worked my butt off all morning, showing Denise where sounds were coming from, picking up things she dropped, and standing behind her while she wobbled at the board. She calls this command “WRAP”. I just call it smart, because it only takes my touching her on the back of the legs to keep her from wobbling so much. Anyway, I worked my tail off this particular morning. Well ahem, not literally of course. I just wanted to rest a bit – and yeah ok. I wanted to eat that butterfly, too. Instead, rude strangers caused me to get my hackles up. SMH.
Some people don’t think the rules apply to them. It’s just common decency to not invade someone’s space, make a lot of noise, and point your phone at them. That’s a rule even dogs understand. When my pack mates put their butt in the air and wag their tails at me, I will come over and say hello. If they are laying still and have their face pointed away from me though, I figure they are staring down a butterfly. This body language and lack of eye contact means that I know to stay clear. Especially my older sister, Chloe. That girl can be Grrr-ummmm-py! She still does the kitchen timer alert for Denise, and let me tell ya… you better get out of that girl’s way when the kitchen timer goes off. I watch her body language. I know when Tyco wants to play and I also know when his legs hurt and he wants me to leave him alone. People need to just pay attention to my body language when I’m trying to help Denise. Better yet, they need to know the patches on my vest are rules to be followed. Not because I’m snooty. I have a job to do and can’t do it if you come into my space and act like we are best buds.
I know what strangers are. When Denise’s classes start, everyone is a stranger. However, the students that sit in the front are students I start to recognize. After a few weeks of class, sometimes when Denise is talking I will lean over and put my head on a student’s desk and make goo-goo eyes at them. They aren’t a stranger anymore. At this point though, WE KNOW EACH OTHER. They may laugh and tell me I’m a silly boy, but it doesn’t distract me because I know them. Even knowing me they don’t take advantage. They know the rules. Towards the end of the semester, Denise will take off my vest right after class. OH BOY! I get to say hello to all the front-row students. Naked=Right to Visit. I take advantage of any naked time I can get.
So I guess what I am trying to say is that I know seeing me where you shop, eat, or work grabs your attention. I thought I gathered folk’s attention because I am so incredibly handsome. I’m sure that’s part of it, but it is also because some people just love dogs. Let me tell you a secret though. One of the things I’m most proud of is that Denise shops, eats out, and works because I make that possible. She told me that before Chloe she was almost house-bound. She was scared to do anything because people would jostle her when she didn’t hear them and knock her down. After Fidos For Freedom, Inc., came into her life — first with Chloe and now with me — she went back to school, went back to work, and shops alone. Listen up though… if you are a stranger and invade our space and make a grab for me? Well Denise goes back to being in danger of falling really fast. That makes her nervous again. If we know you, it’s different. Think about it this way: Would you go up to a stranger and only talk to their kiddo, and reach out to touch them without asking? Sometimes I sigh and wish I could say, “AHEM. The eyes that matter are up HERE“, and swing to point at Denise’s face. Denise said, “eyes up here” is kind of kinky and doesn’t mean what I think it means. So I haven’t tried to correct anyone with that yet.
Rules are rules. If you see a service dog with a partner in public, it may be obvious at first glance why that dog is with that person. A lot of times, though, it may not be obvious at all. Just trust that a working dog is WORKING. If you do not know them, let them shop. If you do not know them, let them eat in peace. If you do not know them, let them work and do their job. Service dogs are like a piece of adaptive equipment. You wouldn’t pet Denise’s cane would you?
A specific exception for just Denise, is that if we know you it’s great to say hello to me and scratch my ears for a minute. Denise wants me to know that there are friends in the world and to recognize them. If I don’t know you though, how about you just let me do my job? That way Denise is safe and I can focus on why I am with her. If you have to take a picture of me, cuz seriously I’m drool-worthy, just be sly about it and don’t make a scene.
Successor dog extraordinaire