As of today, I officially own Pat.  My ownership is conditional:  I agree to take proper care of Pat, and I agree to send GDF an annual vet report on his health.   And I agree I will use him as a guide dog (until he retires, that is).  If, within the next three years, I am unable to use Pat as a guide dog, I agree to give Pat back to GDF so that he can be of service to someone who needs and can use him. 

Right now, I’m an utterly exhausted owner of Pat the guide dog.   The flu has sure sapped my energy, but the “utterliness” I feel is more from the intense emotional work with a new guide dog, which is exhausting in and of itself, and then spinning all the other plates on top of that.  Steve and I talked a bit yesterday about the in-residence training versus the home training programs.  I told him I’m very happy with the home training, but I have come to appreciate the big advantage of going away into a program where you don’t have to do anything except focus on your relationship with your new dog.   

“Would you rather have done the in-residence training?” Steve asked.

“Absolutely not, this home training was excellent for me,” I told him.   “But doing the training while also  juggling Trace and all the home stuff has been exhausting.  I would never recommend home training for a first-time guide dog user.”

“Actually,” Steve said, “we won’t do a home training for a first-time guide dog user.”  Steve said he doesn’t think any of the guide dog schools will.  There’s just too much to learn.   I could never have made such good progress with Pat in little more than a week if I hadn’t already known how to work a dog.  

I had to get used to a few new things — every guide dog school does some things differently, has some different commands, and uses some unique terminology.  As in Leader Dogs’ “park time” and GDF’s “busy time”  euphemisms.  And, of course, Steve's baseball, although I suspect that’s a Steve thing rather than a GDF thing.  He's a real stickler for keeping that left elbow in good position, as if holding a baseball between elbow and side while leaving the lower arm and wrist flexible to follow and respond to the harness handle.   After a week of that baseball, I can’t NOT visualize it in correct position every time I align myself for the off.   It really works, too.   My arm doesn’t get so tired and tense, and it really does pick up the handle movements better.

Another difference is that when I went to Leader Dogs for April and Trace, “Heel!” meant to walk quietly at your left side, while GDF has taught Pat that “Heel!” means to get in position at the left side, and stay there.  If I want Pat to walk with me in heeled position, I tell him, “Walk!”   I like this.  The advantage of separating the “Heel” and “Walk” functions is that you can get the dog into heel position without having to walk around.   

As I did at the table yesterday morning when we were going through the “graduation” paperwork.  Pat was lying on the floor perpendicular rather than parallel to my chair, so that he stuck out in the traffic pattern.  “Just stand up at your chair and tell him to heel,” Steve said.   I did, and Pat settled right into position parallel and close to my chair.  Nice!

After the paperwork, we did our “around the block” short route.  I learned that I need to give Pat  a longer busy time in the morning and make sure he does a good solid dump.   Otherwise, he will need to stop in the middle of a route, as he did yesterday.  I always clean up after my dogs, but really, it’s better to keep him on a consistently regular relief schedule.  This is the main reason why it’s so important to feed and water your dog at the same times every day.  This way, you know what goes in and when, so you have a good idea what’s coming out and when.

Getting used to a dog’s body signals for relief needs takes time, but after a few more weeks I’ll know Pat’s better.  I’m just beginning to figure out that when he whines in a certain way, he needs busy time.  (April would whine, too, and sometimes pull me to a door.  Trace’s signal is the best.  He comes up and nudges my leg with his head in a certain way.  No noise at all.  I have no idea if his puppy raiser taught him that or if that’s something he just came up with and kept doing because I gave him the response he needed.)   I’m very happy that Pat dumps it all in one place — much easier to clean up.  April was good that way too.  Trace is awful:  he starts his business in one spot and then wanders about, dropping bits of his load as he goes.   A major hassle to clean up after.

Like parents with children in diapers, guide dog users can seem obsessed with all things excreted by their dogs, particularly poop.  When you have to clean up after your dog in public, nice firm turds deposited in nice neat piles are highly desirable.   A neat pile of firm turds is easy to pick up in a plastic bag-covered hand, and once you’ve got the goods, simply turn the bag up to enclose the contents, knot it and toss into a trash can.   

Pat is trained to relieve on gravel, concrete or grass, and to relieve while on leash.   We are trained to always take the harness off, extend the leash to its full length, and rotate it from one hand to the other, moving from front to back while the dog circles around you as you stand still and firm at center.   Sometimes it’s hard not to get dragged out of position, but when I pointed this out to Steve, he simply said, “So you’re in Manhattan, and you let your dog pull you out of position so he can move from the gutter right into oncoming traffic,  and he gets run over.”

“OK, OK, I get it,” I said.  But now I wish I’d just told him, “This is Sacramento and my yard,  not Manhattan and a street gutter.”   Ah well.  

So, enough already with dog turd aesthetics.

On the home stretch block of our route,  a dog started barking as Pat and I walked by, and my mind filled with lurid images of a lunging crazed horse-sized canine foaming at the mouth, drool flying off saber-sharp fangs, eyes blazing hot coals of demonic fury,  baying worse than the Hound of the Baskervilles.   But wait … after a few seconds I could tell it was a yip-yappy little ground hugger dog  kind of bark,  not a Hound of the Baskervilles dooming bay.   Pat was cool.  I think he might have pricked up his ears a bit, but basically he just ignored it.  (I wish he’d ignore Patches and Bella like that.)

I don’t know how they train the guide dogs not to bark, but it never ceases to impress me when my guide dog calmly ignores frantic yip-yapping and ferociously frustrated booming big dog barks without a sound.  

I was hoping we might come across the little old lady with her big bad German shepherd so Steve and I could have a talk with her, but no joy.  I really am worried about that dog going after Pat someday. 

Still it was a good workout, all the more better because it was short.   I was glad we didn’t do one of the long routes.   I’m not feeling nearly as bad as I was a couple days ago, and the Sambuccol and Oscillococcinum do seem to be helping.  But I felt like I’d just run a marathon when we got back to the house.   Steve didn’t seem too full of pep, either.  (Pat, of course, was just fine.)

So we went over to the Riverside Clubhouse for a quick lunch before tackling any other projects.  I learned another useful command.  “Pat, Down, Under!”  And dang if that dog didn’t hit the floor and then squeeze himself under my chair.  Not the table, but my chair.  In future, however, I will have him go under the table or stay in heel position next to my chair.  I was at an awkward distance from the table but I didn’t want to move my chair, as I usually do when I’m at a table, or I would have shoved Pat about.   (By the time I figured this out it was easier to stay where we were and deal with it than it was to move.)  But what a useful command when I'm in a tight space (and don’t need to move the seat).  Like airplanes.   I’m not sure Pat is small enough at 62 pounds to go under airline seats, but April at 51 pounds could.  Of course, at 80 pounds, Trace is hopeless for doing anything like that.

Lunch was a good break but still wasn’t quite the recharge I had hoped for.  When Steve asked me what I wanted to work on after lunch, I could think of lots of things … fist-target Pat to the sunroom, take a nap, work one of the longer routes, take a nap, work on Pat’s cat behavior, take a nap, work on Pat’s whining, take a hot bath and then take a nap, were just a few of them.  

“To be honest Steve, I can think of a bunch of things but I’m so tired I just want to go take a nap.”  He wasn’t feeling up to par, himself, and if his flu is the same strain Andy and I are hit with, he is going to feel worse before he feels better.  We were both coughing a lot as it was, so we called it a day.  I think Steve was relieved at the prospect of getting a little additional down time to rest up before his flight out this morning.  

It was a shorter training than either of us anticipated, but I am comfortable with the progress Pat and I have made together.   The one big problem I have is his cat behavior, but with Andy’s help I’ll get that sorted out over time.  I have a minor issue with Pat's whining.  Thankfully he’s not doing any of the pitiful puppy sobbing he did the first night.  The issue we had on the first day with squirrels and other street varmints sort of dissolved on its own as we began to settle into our groove.  I have a feeling that as I continue to ignore him when he whines or simply stick him in his crate and walk away, that will dissolve itself too.

I feel good that Steve says that Pat and I are one of the best matches he’s seen, and that he’s enjoyed working with us.  The feeling is definitely mutual.

I went to bed early last night, and when I woke in the wee hours to use the bathroom, I discovered Andy had left Trace in the front house.  When I brought Trace into the front bedroom with Pat and me, he happily crawled into Pat’s crate and Pat just as  happily slept on the floor next to my bed.  Andy found them that way this morning when he came in to check on me.  They did the same thing when I took a nap this afternoon.  I’m pleased they are so comfortable with each other, and even more pleased that Pat’s excellent obedience makes it easier for me to survive the constant tangle of black beasts stuck to me like cockle-burrs.  If someone comes to the door, I can put Pat in Sit-Stay away from the door, and he stays there, regardless of what Trace does.  

Pat’s level of experience and skill at three years old is excellent.  But he’s still a rambunctious puppy when he’s excited  (witness his cat behavior).   I’m not sure I could have handled Pat well as a rambunctious puppy.   I considered taking the whole day off and not working Pat at all today, because I am so tired, but he was going stir-crazy.   I decided to take him to out on short route, and  he calmed right down, did stellar guide work as usual, and by the time we got back to the house I was actually feeling a little better for the exercise, too.  

Steve set up a three-way conference call early this evening among him, me, and Pat’s puppy raiser.  It was a nice chat and I think we’ll stay in touch.   Steve apparently warned her that I’m calling her puppy “Pat,” because she started off by saying “I understand you’re calling him ‘Pat’?”  

“Yes, I hope you don’t mind,”  I told her.  She said she was fine with it, and I asked her why she called him “Patsy” anyway.   Turns out she named him after her uncle, who was a Pat (or maybe a Patrick) and everyone called him “Patsy.”  “Well that makes sense,” I said.  “But I’m still calling him Pat!”    I thanked her for doing such a good job raising Pat and told her he is truly absolutely the best dog for me.  

“I kinda thought you might say something like that,” she said, chuckling.  "I absolutely love that dog!”  And it was obvious she really did.  She also said she loved hearing that Pat is doing such a good job for me.   

For privacy reasons GDF makes sure that both puppy raiser and guide dog user really want to keep in touch and gets written authorization  from both sides before they will release contact information.  Once all the signed approvals are obtained, GDF will forward our contact information to each other.  If she wants, I’ll send her these Guide Dog Journal entries

The first phases of Pat’s life are now come full circle … from puppy raiser to guide dog training to his ultimate user — me.  And once again, my heart is full with the gift that Pat is to me, from his puppy raiser,  from his trainers and even his first handler who gave him back to GDF so that he could come to me.   .

Life is good.

Yesterday was a bad relapse day for me, and Steve was starting to feel really lousy.  We were both  coughing when he picked me up for my Embarcadero Lions Club breakfast meeting at the Cafe & Brew coffeehouse (formerly known as Perko’s).   A bad coughing jag hit me less than half-way through the meeting so I left early.  But we did manage to fist-target Pat to the door (he knows it as “Perko’s” because that’s easier to say than “Cafe and Brew”), and I was able to deliver a box of my mosaic jars and flower pots to use as fund-raising raffle items at upcoming events.    

We took a two-hour break, and planned to work Pat on a new route, but by the time Steve got back I felt even worse and doubted I could manage the walk.   So we  hit the pet store to find a bin for Pat’s 40-pound bag of food, and a toy.   No luck on the bin, and at first I feared no luck on the toy either.  Pat’s utterly disinterested in Nylabones and Kongs, but seems to like squeaky toys.  Most of those were so flimsy they’d be history in less than a minute.   But Steve picked up a … well, I don’t know what it is.   It  feels like a big fat tennis ball trying to morph into a boomerang, and not making a good job of it.   It feels sturdy, too, like it’d hold up to serious abuse, and it squeaks.  Whatever it is, Pat was instantly extremely interested when I showed it to him, so that was it.  We also tried clicker-training Pat to the “follow” command, but a pet store has too many distractions.   So we headed for Target, hoping it would be a good place for bins, clicker-training Pat to “follow,” and cough drops.

Target was a home run.  Pat stuck to Steve like a cockle-burr following him all over the store, we found just the right bin for Pat’s food, and just the right cough drops for me.   We still wanted to get in at least a couple blocks of a working walk, so Steve dropped me off at the corner of Riverside and Fremont and I worked Pat home from there.  Steve followed slowly in the car, and said we did well.  I thought so too.  I hung onto the baseball through the wobblies and coughing jags, and Pat steered me through it all without a hitch.

Our plan was to crash for a few hours and then do our night walk after dinner.  An afternoon off and a nice long nap would be good recharge.   So I slept for three solid hours, woke up just enough to feed Pat and give him busy time in a Twilight Zone haze, texted Steve that I was not up for any night walks, and went back to bed.  I didn’t wake up again until after 9, when Andy came in to let me know he was headed to bed early, himself.   I got up, took Pat out for his final busy time, and then stayed up a couple hours to eat some dinner, and went back to bed.

When I got up this morning I felt better.  Still coughing and aching, but not sleep-deprived.  “I think I got about fourteen hours of sleep last night,” I told Steve cheerfully when he arrived.

“I got about two,” he said.  It wa obvious two hours wasn’t enough for him to feel any kind of cheerful at all.

So we kept our morning workout short, just down to Masullo’s to fist-target Pat to the door there, and back.  Probably a few blocks less than going down to Vic’s and back.  Masullo’s doesn't open until 11:30, but when Steve and I approached the door with Pat, one of the waiters recognized me and opened the door.   “I’m just training my guide dog to know your door so I can walk here on my own next time I’m here for lunch,” I told him.  

He seemed delighted and stood there with the door open, as if to watch us.  We had to tell him that we needed the door closed.  I wonder what it looked like, watching us from behind the glass door.  I have a feeling the whole staff inside stopped to watch.  I hope it looked more impressive than it was. Well,  I’m sure Pat was impressive but i felt a bit of an idiot because I kept forgetting to reward Pat with my hand touching the door (instead I would bring the kibble right to Pat’s mouth as I am supposed to do at all other times).   Steve’s voice is croaky from coughing, but it’s still drill-sergeant-resonant, and he kept booming out, “MARY, HAND AT THE DOOR!”   

Fortunately, my goof-ups don’t seem to stop Pat from figuring it all out anyway.   It’s good to have a dog smarter than I am when I have a brain fart.

Masullo’s is located in the middle of the block, so on our return home, I decided to turn around at the end of the block and walk back, counting my steps.   Now I know that after I take that third street crossing,  I just need to go about 50 steps and then tell Pat “Right, find Masullo’s!”  And when leaving Masullo’s to go back home, I know not to take more than six steps once I’m out the door before I tell Pat “Left, find the sidewalk!”  If I take more than six steps I end up too close to the street for us to make a smooth running left turn.

I thought I was feeling fairly good when we set out, but I was ready to find a soft place in the sidewalk when I was still five blocks from home.  “Me too,” Steve said.  So when we got home, we decided to break until mid-afternoon.  I really needed that break, and I bet Steve needed it even more.  

I got a tip from one of my friends about a couple homeopathic flu remedies, so this afternoon when Steve said Pat needed another “follow” session, I asked to go to Walgreens so I could get the homeopathic remedies.   Pat and I amused everyone in Walgreens following Steve up and down the aisles and around hairpin twists and turns, and occasionally cutting a corner too close and bumping into things.  That was bad.  Pat is supposed to remember to watch out for me while he’s busy following, so I had to rework those flubbed corners.   He did all the reworks perfectly.

Then we asked a clerk to help me find the homeopathic remedies I wanted:  Sambuccol and Oscillococcinum.  Yes.  Oscillococcinum.   Those guys need to come up with a more marketable name.  

Really.  Sambuccol isn’t so bad, but Oscillococcinum.   I ask you.  

So did the clerk.  Or she asked me, anyway.  “Are you sure you’ve spelled these right?” she asked, staring at the names I had carefully written out in very bold black felt pen on an index card.   It turned out that I had misspelled Sambuccol, but I did get Oscillococcinum right.  

It took the clerk several minutes to find them, and while Steve, Pat and I were patiently waiting, a coughing jag hit me again.  Steve told me later that while I was coughing, a woman near us turned around and glared at me.  Sometimes not being able to see is a good thing.

It was a good thing to get home, too.  We considered doing another short route, but I had to admit that while I was sure I could do it, I’d also feel horrible at the end.  “And I’m not at my A game,” Steve said.  

So we called it a day, until dinner.  (Andy and I planned to take Steve out to Tres Hermanas, one of Sacramento’s best (if not THE best) Mexican food restaurants.)  One of the first things I did was take a dose of the Sambuccol and the Oscillococcinum. 

And lo and behold, within twenty minutes my headache receded and I could breathe easier.  The overall body aches seemed to ease up a bit too.   But the best thing was that I did not cough once during our dinner at Tres Hermanas a couple hours later.  Steve and Andy, however, were hacking away.  It might have helped that I had chile verde.  That stuff will clear out anyone’s sinuses.  It was a good dinner and if we had felt better we would have lingered over it and chatted more, but as it was, we all felt like it’d been a very long day. 

Tomorrow will be Steve’s last day training with Pat and me, as he leaves Saturday morning.    We’ll do at least one of the routes Pat has learned (all right, let’s be realistic:  we’ll do just one of the routes Pat has learned).  I want to fist-target Pat to the sunroom door so that I can get back to the house at night after taking him out to the back yard for his busy time.   And I’m guessing Steve has a few things up his sleeve for  the last day.  We’ll see.

OTHER STUFF:
Feline Progress:
Well, there hasn’t been much, actually.  Steve said I need to give Pat a daily session of getting used to proper behavior around our cats.  “No more than five minutes,” he said, “but it’s important to do it every day.”  What’s important is not the corrections for doing it wrong, but showing Pat how I want him to behave (and rewarding him for it).   Steve calls this “giving Pat both sides of the equation.”   So in our daily five-minute sessions, I need not only to correct Pat for excessively exuberant behavior (jumping and lunging at the cats, whining, barking, et cetera), but I need to insist that he behave.  Put him in Sit and Down positions, refuse to let him whine, and insist that he heel and walk calmly in front of them.  And when I walk him past the cats and he does it calmly and smoothly without reacting to the cats, reward him.

Also, Steve says that when the cats are eating at their feeding station on the laundry room counter, I should bring Pat within about ten feet, put him in Sit-Stay and/or Down-Stay position, and get both cats and Pat familiar with each other’s presence.

So Andy and I are working out a plan.  Best time to do the feed-time observance thing is in the morning.  Since I’m up with Pat anyway for his first-morning busy time and feeding time, Andy will let me know when he’s feeding the cats so I can get Pat into position.   As for the five-minute good behavior sessions, Andy can usually grab Patches either in the morning or evening.  So we’ll just have to work at it.

It will take a while, but we will get it sorted out.

Home Training versus Residential Training:
​
I love the home training.  For Pat and me it is working extraordinarily well, better than I ever thought it would.  I think this is because he is an exceptionally mature and intelligent dog (apart from his attitude about cats, that is), and because I am an experienced (and very good) guide dog user.  And Pat and I are a good match — “one of the best matches I’ve seen,” as Steve said.

But I’m exhausted.  I'm spinning so many plates in the air.  The two biggest and heaviest plates are Trace and Andy, not necessarily in that order.

Trace has been such a good sport about Pat, and I love that Pat seems to know he needs to be gentle around Trace.  But Trace still needs a lot of attention, and I’m the one who gives it to him.  He has never bonded to Andy the way April did.   In one sense it is harder bringing Pat home to Trace than it was bringing Trace home to April, because April was a lot younger, only 9, compared to Trace’s 12 1/2.  At the time I brought Trace home to April, I was not struggling with anticipatory grief the way I am with Trace now.   He’s not much longer for this world.  I know it is time for him to go, and I am not in any way trying to make him last longer by whatever means possible.  Indeed, I am refusing invasive medical treatment for him because I am determined that his end days be as comfortable and happy as possible. 

But sometimes I feel the weight of my grief is breaking me into a thousand pieces. 

Andy helps a lot by taking over Trace’s morning feeding (as he has for years) and taking Trace back to the master bedroom at night while I stay in the front bedroom with Pat.  But I’m the one who gives Trace his afternoon feeding, who parks him as often as he needs it (about once every hour and sometimes oftener), who grooms him, who senses how tired he is all day and how skinny he is getting.  My heart aches for him, and it breaks for him when I know he’s in pain.

And then there is Andy, spinning along with a whole bunch of other plates.   Andy is not so much an issue in terms of jealousy because I’m using a dog  again instead of his arm.   (There is a bit of that.  Not much, and not unreasonably, and very likely not something he’d admit to.  But still, there is a tiny bit of jealousy and resentment.)

Andy is an issue because I haven’t had have time for him, nor time to do the things he’s used to having me do,  and that leads us to whole bunch of other plates in the air.

Andy hasn’t had a single home-cooked meal since I started training with Pat.  He’s  had to either bring home dinner or take me out dinner every night.

Andy doesn’t have any clean dry towels for his shower (unless he did some laundry on his own, which I doubt, grin).  By now he’s running out of his fave socks, underwear and knit shirts, and is working on his least-fave ones, because I haven’t had time to deal with the laundry. 

And during this whole training time, as I’ve already mentioned,  I’ve been staying in the front guest bedroom with Pat while Andy takes Trace back to his crate in the master bedroom and sleeps there by himself.  It gets lonely for both of us.  

The one big huge advantage of doing an in-residence training program is that being away from all the usual drags and drains on your emotional, physical and spiritual energy allows you to focus more effectively on bonding with your dog.  And the distance from all those home drags and drains can be truly uplifting.

Another advantage is, you’re not alone.  It really is a boot camp of sorts, and in a way, you always have special memories of your boot camp mates, even if you don’t keep up with them after you’ve moved on.

The  upshot as I see it:  if you’re a first-time guide dog user, do the in-residence training program.  First-time guide dog users are better off in a supportive environment where they don’t have to juggle powerful conflicting loyalties and priorities.  You will when you get home with your new dog, but at least you got that two-week-plus period of time alone together to bond with your dog.  I think guide dog users (and their guide dogs)  who best benefit from home training are the experienced  guide dog users and the dogs that are smarter than the average bear,

And now, it’s time for me to crash.  More tomorrow.

Good news: I’ve turned the corner and am headed back into the land of the healthy living.  I have a long way to go before I actually feel good again, but I feel less bad today than I did yesterday.  

Bad news: Steve’s starting to cough and feel off.  :-( 

So today we did Amtrak.  The Sacramento train station terminal has changed, so it was new to me as well as Pat.  It may take a couple more times before we really have it down so we can make  smooth approaches to the ticket counter and then over to the Assistance bench.  When I am traveling by myself (except for Pat, that is) I will still always ask for assistance to get out to the correct track.  But when we come back into Sacramento, we’ll be able to make it back into the terminal on our own.  At least, we will when we’re taking the Capitol Corridor trains between Sacramento and the Bay Area.   The approach back to the terminal is probably different for other routes.   I was pleasantly surprised at how easy getting from the train back to the terminal was with Pat guiding me (and Steve walking behind,  making sure we “stayed on track,” so to speak). 

When I traveled on Amtrak with Trace, the path between the terminal and the tracks was usually “under construction” and changed so often it was better just to wait for assistance.  And when I traveled with April before all the remodeling started, it was a simple straight shot on a well-marked path from the terminal out to the Amtrak trains. Now there is a circuitous walkway that tunnels under the tracks and brings you back up to the train platforms.  Safer, but a much longer and very convoluted trek. 

Pat is good about climbing into those golf-cart style trams and staying steady for the ride.  (Note to myself: remember to ask the driver which side we’ll be getting out on, so  I can work Pat in to face the getting-off side.  That way he can just step out, and I don’t have to back him up or have him get up on the seat on order to turn around to get out.)

We only went as far as Davis — just sixteen bucks roundtrip  and fifteen minutes away, over the Sacramento River and Yolo Bypass into downtown Davis.   We had about 90 minutes to hang out before the return train, so we found a pub nearby for lunch.  It was absolutely lovely being able to say, “Pat, find the door!” and walk in without having to hang on to anyone’s arm, and then to stand up after we’d finished, and simply tell Pat to “Find the door!” again.   It may seem like a little thing, but being able to get in and out of a building on your own power, smoothly and quietly, without clacking and tapping the cane into things so you don’t have to bump into them yourself,  is huge.   I can’t even begin to describe how huge.  I know I’m lucky I’ve got Andy and great friends always happy to give me an arm, and I am utterly absolutely grateful for that.  And I think it’s fair to say I have a healthy enough sense of self-esteem and self-respect that I can graciously ask for and receive help without diminishing either.    But getting back even a tiny little bit of that old independence was like reaching the exhilarating soar after an arduous long striving.  

We took the scenic route back to the station, doing some good sidewalk work that was a bit of an obstacle course in places, and testing Pat on his intelligent disobedience with some  traffic checks.  

Traffic checks — teaching the dog to refuse a command that will take dog and person into traffic danger — is part of every guide dog’s training.  Any guide dog handler who still has a problem trusting the dog after going through an effective traffic check probably will never be able to trust the dog enough to really be a good team.

I remember Trace stopping me from walking in front of a car that came out of nowhere while we were in training.  In reality it was one of our trainers driving out of a parking lot that I had no idea was there.  (We guide dog users had no clue when these traffic checks were going to happen.)  Trace just stopped dead, so abruptly that I almost lost hold of the harness handle.  He’s so stocky, it was like he turned into a huge anvil. I couldn’t budge him and I actually tried to hup him up.  Then the trainer drove back into the parking lot driveway and told me what had just happened.  Trace still would not move until the trainer drove off and left the driveway clear.

April practically body-slammed me once when we were zipping along and one of  the trainers suddenly backed out of a driveway.  After that we were both a lot more careful about driveways, and at home, even after we developed the bad habit of simply pausing at the curbs rather than coming to a full stop, April never failed to significantly slow down and come to a full stop whenever we approached a car idling in a driveway.

The traffic checks we did today with Pat were a little different.  Instead of arranging for a car to suddenly drive out in front of us while we were in motion, we were stopped at the down-curb of a crosswalk.  Steve would look for oncoming traffic and tap me on the shoulder to let me know I should tell Pat “Forward!”   If there really was oncoming traffic, Pat simply stayed put and didn’t move.  

I like this.   When you have lousy hearing and do not have directional hearing, knowing that your dog’s got your back when you miscalculate the traffic is a very, very good feeling.

Steve took some more pictures of Pat and me, including one that will work well for the Guide Dog Foundation identification card I’ll be getting.  Legally I cannot be required to show any certification or special identification for my guide dog or myself as a guide dog user to gain access to a public place, but I like having that ID card.    I have no problem waving it if I think it will help convince a reluctant restaurant to let me in with my dog or otherwise resolve an access dispute anywhere I have a legal right to be with my guide dog.

Tomorrow we’ll be working outside more again.  I want a route to Masulo’s, one of my fave little restaurants down Riverside where I often lunch with friends.  And we’ll go to my Lions Club breakfast meeting.  I really wish they’d meet at a  more civilized hour than 7 a.m. — I did enough of those breakfast meetings in my previous working life to suffice for three more reincarnations, but oh well.  I want to fist-target Pat to the door of the coffee shop where we meet and get me back to our meeting room.  That way I’ll be able to get in and out of those meetings on my own.  

The sweet splendor of that exhilarating soar, you know!

Rain, rain, lovely lovely rain.  We got about two inches today here in Sacramento.  We need it, so I'm happy for it, but not interested in working in it.  It’s bad enough getting soaked every time I take Pat out for his busy times, and having to wipe down both Pat and Trace when they come back in sopping wet.   There’s nothing like the smell of wet dog!

So today we hit the mall and used the clicker to train Pat to “follow.”   This is especially handy when I’m in an airport or train station with Andy, and he has his hands full with all the luggage.  In that kind of situation, I can just have Pat follow Andy.   It will make things easier when we fly to Phoenix next month, and also when I do my Hawaii trip next October with a bunch of girlfriends.  

We worked on navigating through crowds (Pat does well keeping me from bumping into people but I had to make him re-work our way around a few poles and wall edges that he ran me into.)  Also, proper behavior and position when I sit down to eat.   Steve got me  a cup of tea, and we sat down at one of the food court tables.   Pat does a good job of making himself small and sticking very close to me.   (Trace never was very good at that — he sprawls out and covers as much territory as possible.)

And we did escalators.  Or escapators, as Arthur Weasley would call them.   They can be dangerous because it’s easy for a dog’s paws to get caught in the metal grooves and grids as the stairs slide flat for entry and exit.  I’d just as soon not use them, and a lot of guide dog users choose not to.  But it’s not always easy to find alternative steps and elevators, especially in airports.  I am happy to report that Pat is expert at escapators.  

We also worked on going in and out of stores.  Well, just one store, because I really hate malls and just wanted to get out of there sooner than later.   But I have been looking for a good pair of MaryJane walking shoes, so I told Steve I wanted to hit The Walking Company.   “So Steve, do you know what MaryJanes are?” 

“Uh ... no idea.”

Somehow I wasn’t surprised that a former Marine would have no idea what MaryJanes are.  But the clerk did, of course, and I tried on a pair.   Pat did a good job walking me around the store and getting me back to the bench.   The shoes were nice but just a tad bit too loose.  If I’m going to pay upwards of two hundred bucks for a nice pair of MaryJanes,  I want them to fit better.  So I told the clerk I’d come back next month when he has more of a selection, and told Pat to “Forward, find the way out.”

He took me straight to daylight, but it was a window, not a door.  It was a tricky hairpin left-right-right series of turns before we got out of there.   

And that was enough for me.  I was getting a headache from the echoing mall cacophony and I felt lousy and severely sleep-deprived to boot.   I’m not sure Pat got much sleep either through all my coughing jags last night.  This has been my worst day.  Andy said his fifth day was his worst too, so I’m hoping tomorrow I turn the corner into the land of the healthy living again.   Steve is probably doomed — this flu thing is hitting everybody — but still, while we were in the car I kept my handkerchief over my nose and mouth.   Almost certainly a useless gesture, but I think Steve appreciated it anyway.    

We stopped for lunch at Fox and Goose, a Sacramento institution that’s been around for fifty years or so.  Steve got one of the waiters to take our picture on our way out, so finally there’s a photo of me, Pat, and our trainer Steve on my Facebook page.   I probably look about as good as I feel but Pat and Steve are both handsome dudes so it’s a nice photo anyway.  

And then I came home, fed and parked Trace, gave Pat some water and took him out for his busy time (“parking” and “busy time” are the Leader Dogs and Guide Dog Foundation words for the same thing).   Then I took a nice hot bath, put Pat in his crate, and crawled into bed.   When I woke up at Pat’s feeding time, I found Trace sleeping on the floor between Pat’s crate and my bed.  Cute.

 Tomorrow it’s supposed to rain more, just not as heavy as today.  We’re going to take an Amtrak ride, probably just to Vacaville and back, get in some more fist-targeting at my doctor’s building, and hit the pet store.  I need a bin for Pat’s food, and I want to find some toys he likes.  He’s totally disinterested in the Nylabone GDF gave me for him.   The weather will dry out by Wednesday, so we’ll be able to get some more outdoor work in for the last three days of the week.   I’ll take Pat to my Wednesday morning Embarcadero Lions Club meeting, and to my Thursday night weight management group meeting.

The original plan was to train through Saturday.  But Steve got word today that GDF needs him to fly up to Seattle and pick up an injured service dog and bring it back to GDF in New York.   So we plan to put a full day in on Friday, and he’ll catch a late-morning flight out on Saturday.   

Lots more to write about but it will have to wait until tomorrow.  I’m going back to bed.

​A really, REALLY good day with Pat.  He’s been rewarded with dinner and an affectionate rub-down, and Andy’s gone out to bring me home some won-ton soup for my own well-earned dinner.  As soon as I give Pat his final “busy-busy” time at eight, it’s into the crate for him and into the bathtub and then bed for me.  I ache all over and I’m keeping the ibuprofen and tissue makers in business, but I’m glad we worked as hard as we did today.  Tomorrow it’s going to rain and we should get in as much outdoor work in easy weather as possible.

I was wiped out after our morning workout  on the short around-the-neighborhood route we did the first day.  But I was also proud of myself for holding on to the baseball for the whole route, in spite of my wobblies.  And even prouder of the way Pat accommodated my wobblies.  He’s really good about slowing down just enough but not too much when I’m unsteady as well as for any significant elevation changes, tight spaces and obstacles, and with a little encouragement from me, he gets right back into the brisker pace I prefer for the smooth straight-aways.   We’re honing our communication with each other and starting to develop our style.

And again,  Pat didn’t blow a single curb, not even an up-curb, which most dogs run right through at least once in a while.  (Down-curbs are the curbs you step down from, into the crosswalk.  Up-curbs are the ones on the other side of the street, where you step up and back onto the sidewalk.  Down-curbs are more dangerous — run through them and you’re not only liable to trip and fall on your face, but you may run right into traffic too.  Up-curbs are easy to run through because after making it across, both dog and human just want to get out of the street and get going.)

I took a nap after that good morning workout, and didn’t wake up until Steve came back around two-fifteen.  I wasn’t happy with Andy, because I'd asked him to wake me at two o'clock.  “You were coughing too much,” Andy said.  “You needed more sleep.”   So I had to argue with both Andy and Steve to do another workout. 

“OK, let’s just do a half-route, then,” Steve finally suggested.  “Let’s go down to Vic’s and have Andy pick us up for the trip home.”

We made it down to Vic’s, and on the way I successfully used the clicker to fist-target Pat to the walk button pole at the street light at Vallejo and Riverside (much easier for Pat than the other light we worked on yesterday, probably because this walk button pole was significantly set back from the sidewalk and closer to the curb and crosswalk than the other one).  Then I fist-targeted him to the door at Vic’s when we got there (no pesty yip-yappy ground huggers around today).   Pat got nice big rewards for each target.

I was surprised and impressed when Pat remembered the crosswalk on Riverside we used yesterday, even though he’s used it only once before.  And we came up to it from the opposite direction.  He started to turn me right to the curb and crosswalk when we came up to it, and Steve had me give Pat a gentle nudge  and a “Hup-up!  Forward!” to keep  him going straight and assure him that no, I don’t want to do that turn.  Steve was impressed with Pat’s memory, too.  Pat seems to have the kind of memory and problem-solving aptitude April had.  Trace, on the other hand, is the kind of dog who trains well and does just what he is trained to do, period.  This is good.  He was reliable that way.  For example, Trace totally kept me safe guiding me around obstacles and through my wobblies, but he wasn’t as flexible the way Pat is about gauging the severity of both the obstacle and my wobbly of the moment together, and he wasn’t comfortable picking up his pace again the way Pat is.  

It’s hard not to compare the three dogs, but that’s not necessarily bad.  It’s more a way of cataloguing and organizing all the experience I’ve had with my previous dogs and using that background knowledge to understand what is going on now with my present dog, as well as appreciate how each dog is unique with its own personality.  I wonder if any parent with more than one child does the same thing.

It was such a successful run down to Vic’s, that after a cup of coffee there, I felt recharged enough to work the route back home, too.   I was a little wobbly at the end but Pat and I are hitting our groove and all in all it was a nice smooth workout.  Steve said Pat and I are one of the best matches he’s seen, and that the workout was excellent.   “You should maybe get sick more often,” he joked.

No thank you!  But who knows.  Maybe it has been good that I’ve had to slow down a bit, and consequently I paid more attention to Pat while we’re working.  Maybe the shorter workouts, and the extra focus I’ve had to put in to maximizing what I get out of them in spite of feeling lousy, has been a good thing after all.  I’m still headed for bath and bed early,  and shooting for feeling better a lot sooner than later.

SHORT SHOTS 
(and answers to questions):

Pat and the cats:  
This morning, with Andy’s help,  we had another session with Patches.   I was proud of both her and Pat.   I had to give Pat a few corrections, but not one single high-collar.  And when Andy let Patches go, she actually walked — calmly — right in front of Pat and me,  instead of dashing off in the opposite direction.  That surprised all of us.  I still wouldn’t want Pat off leash around the cats, but he’s definitely improving, and what’s more, Patches is getting to the point where she’ll tolerate his presence as long as he keeps his distance.  Bella’s skittish so it will take longer for her.

Yip-yappy ground huggers and worse:
Yip-yappy ground huggers are generally just pesty and irritating.  But a snarling out-of-control big German shepherd is another thing, and there is one of those in my neighborhood.   Apparently it belongs to a little old lady (even older than me, that is) who walks it around the neighborhood and is barely able to hang on while it barks and lunges after other dogs.  I haven’t seen this pair yet, but Steve saw them on our first day and again today on our morning workout.   A vicious dog attack will ruin a good guide dog faster than anything.   Steve says when he sees them again, he’s going to talk to the lady and ask her to please take her dog inside or otherwise get out of our way if she ever sees me out with Pat.  He also said we may need to bring in the local animal control folks. 

Training dogs with food:
One of my Leader Dog friends tells me that when she got her guide dog from there a couple years ago, Leader Dogs taught her to use food rewards with her dog the same way Guide Dog Foundation is teaching me with Pat.  So the movement toward using food to train the dogs does, indeed, appear to be universal among guide dog schools these days.

Leash and tie-down:  
The leash is leather, about 6 feet long, with hardware that allows it to be doubled over (folded in half) so that the working length is about 3 feet.  When the dog is in harness,  it’s held between the middle and index fingers of the left hand holding the harness handle, with the end dangling toward the right, and within easy quick reach of the right hand.   You use your right hand to grab the leash for leash corrections and occasional “Hup-up!” cues.  When walking the dog, as opposed to working the dog, the left hand drops the harness handle and picks up the leash.

The leash is designed to keep the dog within arm’s  reach of your body.   So when you’re keeping the dog on-leash, the short length minimizes getting tangled up with the furniture and all that, but tangles still happen every now and then.  

Tie-down cords are steel cable and impervious to chewing.   Some dogs are notorious leather-chewers, but Pat doesn’t seem to be one of them.  Or maybe he’s had it trained out of him by now, since he’s 3 years old.  Anyway, the tie-down cords are looped through a metal eye installed in the wall, around the leg of the bed, dining room table or other heavy piece of furniture, or around the leg of my breakfast nook table.  When I want to fix something in the kitchen, or just leave Pat alone for a few minutes, I loop his leash through the tie-down loop.  From there he can watch me in the kitchen.  The first night I had Pat, before we got his crate, I put him on tie-down at the end of my bed at night (until I let him up on the bed, that is).

Keeping the dog on leash:
When I say I’m keeping Pat on leash 24/7, that is exactly what I mean.  Unless Pat’s on tie-down or in his crate,  I’m hanging on to his leash.  Sometimes, if I’m sitting, I’ll simply loop the leash around my leg, or sit on it.  This constant close proximity is part of the intense bonding process.   If I need to get up and put something in the trash can, Pat goes with me to the trash can.  And if I need to use that other can, he goes with me there, too, and I put him in Down-Stay position while I do my business.  

Keeping the dog on leash is also part of the obedience training.  Because Pat’s on leash all the time, I know what he’s doing.  If he gets into the little trash can that’s under the breakfast nook table where I’m typing, for example, I am in a position to issue an immediate correction.  Same if he lunges at the cats.   Because he’s on leash all the time, we’re doing the “Heel!”  “Walk!”  “Sit!”  and “Down!” commands as a matter of course several times a day.

Oh, yeah … remember that up-curb he kept taking me to the right of?
The one yesterday where instead of taking me straight across within the crosswalk, he kept veering off to the right and I had to work him a little to the left to get back into my line of travel.

He aced it today.  :-)

And no, Steve and I never did figure out what was going on there yesterday.