Almost Perfect

By Fred
Cheryl and I were watching a TV show called Community last night, and it introduced a new character who is supposed to be the "perfect guy." Like all perfect guys, his purpose in life is mostly to annoy other guys. This guy happens to be a doctor, good-looking (with big hair, of course), young, good-natured, etc. We see him first as he enters a classroom with a big smile. And what is the first thing out of his mouth?

Sorry I'm late. I train seeing-eye dogs and today was graduation day. I couldn't leave before shaking each one of their little paws.

And all of the girls in class said "Ahhhh".

Interesting that some television writers got together and decided that being a guide-dog trainer was the ultimate perfect thing to be.

Coincidentally I took Berkeley to work with me yesterday. I almost always work from home but once or twice a year I venture out to see a client. And even before seeing the show, I realised that taking Berkeley with me to see the client, while a good experience for her, might also help put me in a more favorable light and help gloss over the various defects in my character and appearance. Being a consultant is often like being an unloved and unwanted step-child, so I need all the help I can get.

But I had a full agenda: 4 meetings back-to-back, 6 hours total, plus a 90-minute drive both ways. I wasn't sure how Berkeley would do. When she's at school with Cheryl, she's often on the move and surrounded by kids. The corporate world is not so much fun.

For 4 hours she was perfect. We took a tour of the facility, and I might as well have been walking with the Queen of England, with adoring fans on all sides. Amazing. But in the afternoon session, someone asked a question that required me to leave Berkeley for a minute. So I tied her leash to the conference table and walked away. She let out one little whine, then another, then another, each one louder. No! I said firmly. A woman in the room said, with a little girl sad voice, "Oh, come on, she's been so good all day." So Berkeley escalated to a bark. All eyes were on me.

Knowing Berkeley, and knowing how Cheryl has been struggling with this same problem at school, I realized that she would not back down. I knew that she would bark for the next 10 days straight if necessary, 24 hours a day, until I gave in and walked back to her. So I did. I gave her a little correction (very little), and then took her back with me.

Except for this one incident (something we'll be working on at home) she was just perfect.

Spooky

By Fred
Last night's meeting took place out in the country, or so it seemed, under some giant live oak trees and in a nice big yard, so big that no neighbors could be seen, and no street lights interrupted the darkness beyond. These folks have a beautiful Florida home with a wrap-around porch and plants everywhere.

All of the dogs were on pretty good behavior--maybe they were afraid that some cougar or bear or vampire might jump out from the darkness any second. Berkeley, in particular, stayed close and stared out from between my legs. She squinted and strained to see into the side yard all through the meeting. (What a baby.)


Jennifer suggested that Berkeley seemed a little fearful of the dark and that she would probably benefit from more walks at night, so Cheryl and I plan to take her, though it's hard to find anything resembling actual nighttime near our house, with street lights on every corner.

When we lived in Arizona we could walk out our door to see a million stars. We'd walk our dogs into the desert and hear the coyotes laughing--boy, that really would spook Berkeley; she hates the sound of barking when it comes from a distance.

The meeting ended well and safe. Berkeley was an angel, but aren't we all when the nighttime gets too close?

St. Pete Market

Last week at obedience class John had mentioned that Dodger was very distracted by all the non-SEGD dogs at the Sarasota market. Jennifer suggested maybe a trip to the St. Pete market was in order. John emailed us and asked if we were still interested, so we set up a meeting spot for Saturday.



Here we are by the musician stand. You can see the nuttiness of the market in the background. There were dogs everywhere! Talk about distraction city. It was a huge distraction for our pups. Plus the crowd was very big. We listened to the music for a bit, which the pups didn't seem to mind (open space for them, I think they liked it). Then we decided to move to a less crowded spot for a sit down.



We got all three dogs in a down-under under the table very easily as the table was pretty big. Unfortunately, the table was in some serious shade and we all became very shivery fairly quickly and abandoned our table to walk some more.



Since it was after 11, we decided it was close enough to lunch to find a restaurant and eat. So we headed down to beach drive. Along the way we stopped and did a little obedience (a few doggie pushups).

It was fascinating to watch how people reacted to the dogs. At one point Stephanie was bent over Princess trying to put her coat back on and only taking up her half of the sidewalk. Along comes this old woman with a sack of St. Pete Market purchases and a very sour look on her face for Stephanie and Princess and the fact that they didn't move completely onto the grass. Mind you, there was more than enough room to pass by on the side. So she sweeps past and knocks into Stephanie. Sweet. Really sweet. But that was countered by the elderly couple who had us all stop so they could take a photo of the three dogs. The elderly gent loves taking dog photos on their mornings out. Then they both started asking us questions about the dogs and the program, which we were able to answer and we had a lovely conversation.

It was also rather cute that when we went past a table of diners on Beach Drive I heard them say, "Those are Southeastern Guide Dog Puppies! Look! There!" I didn't turnaround. I was smiling too hard.

Start Your Morning Off with a Bang!

It's all my fault. I blame my own clumsiness. You see, grace has never been my strong suit, I have the unique ability to stumble in a pair of flats. In fact, when I was a child in ballet class, they had to rechoreograph the final routine because I couldn't do the pirouettes. Yep, I was one of the tall flowers in the back swaying...next to two other very sullen flowers who could spin and who shot daggers at me. Me, I was just happy not to be in front and not to have to try to look at one spot and turn my body without falling.

So, getting into the car holding a large cup of coffee and milk (cold to lukewarm, I'm not much of a hot coffee drinker) and then jostling myself so that I spill almost ALL of it ON HRH was not much a stretch for me.

"Oh CRAP!" A soaked black head looked up at me with puzzled black button eyes. "What is this stuff that you have tossed on me? It smells rather tasty. In fact, I'm going to drink some of it. " A crazed glint appeared on that little foxy face and I was worried. I now have a coffee with chicory addicted royal personage who can't start her morning without a shot of the brown stuff. So my morning ride starts with fending HRH off the latte.

You can get a feel for how much she likes it by her dreaming of heaven expression and her closed eyes and licking her lips to get every drop.


But she's in for a rude awakening on Tuesday morning! Big cup with a big lid! Take that Nosy Nora. No more stealing my coffee.

I may be clumsy, but I can buy a cup with a lid.

Indestructible Bone

Turns out, Her Royal Highness Berkeley has the best teeth on the planet. They are made of solid diamonds and can chew through a block of wood in seconds flat. In fact, in a race between HRH and the dreaded Formosan termite HRH might win if the goal were to chew up an expensive dog toy that marketed itself as indestructible.

If the package said triple seamed and made from extinct weatherproof sloths who died from sleep and old age, never from a cut, tear or stab wound, then it took ten seconds longer for her to rip through it.

At the last puppy meeting we were told to look for Nylabones, but I was thinking about the greenies and easy chews that she had easily demolished. No, no, they said. There are others. Much harder. Tougher bones.

These bones are not at MY Petsmart. So I went to another. There they were. Big fat bones. HARD, INDESTRUCTIBLE BONES. Hmm, yeah. I had been told that before.

We would see.

This video was taken in the library. We learned to never let her chew this bone in the library because

1. It makes a hell of a racket when she flings it around and it hits the metal shelves!

2. She cries or growls when it doesn't fall apart like she wants it to

3. The hopping, dancing and butt jumping is extremely destracting to the children and to me and really funny and we don't do our work and end up taking video and laughing at her, which is bad, very bad.

It should be quiet in the library. Bad HRH. Bad Librarian. 8-)

Courage from Friends

Thursday morning. In Clearwater it was dark, stormy and filled with driving rain. AT 5:25 am I hurried down the stairs with two dogs who had to pee urgently. We ran to the French doors.

I had them sit and opened the doors. The sound of rain pouring off the awning filled the family room and there was a booming crack of thunder. Her Royal Highness jerked her head up to me as if to say, "How rude. Loud noises in the morning."

"Forward." Everyone piled out onto the porch. I stayed on the porch. Willow ran off into the inky darkness and HRH, with only a tiny look backwards, followed her. Then about then seconds later, a wet black seal appears at the side of the patio in the bushes (HRH soaking wet), and starts to pee.

"Good busy busy!" I say to encourage her going to the bathroom in the pouring rain. Just in the middle of her pee there is a major lightening flash. HRH stutters and I can see that she is thinking "PEE FASTER!!!" For in 2 seconds she is finished and on the porch waiting to be let in the house. Willow comes back a few seconds later.

After breakfast, HRH usually has to go again immediately (royalty doesn't put off unpleasant tasks evidently). So she goes over to the door and sits. I let her out and she steps onto the porch and stares into the dark rain and listens to the thunder with just a little shiver. She looks back at me and turns around. She has decided that poo can wait. Then Willow races through the open door and disappears into the rain and the black night. HRH looks at me. Her spine stiffens. She turns around and runs after Willow.

About ten seconds later, a black wet seal appears at the side of the porch and does a little circle to poo. In the middle of the poo a terrific clap of thunder occurs (right over our house)! "POO FASTER!!!!"

Dogs and Snails

By Fred
I've been sick with a sinus infection for over a week now, and everything is in slow motion--or rather I'm in slow motion and everything else seems in a blur, including Berkeley's rapid-fire waggy tail.

Coincidentally Cheryl gave me a really nice book, The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating, for Christmas, written by a woman who is very ill and spends most of her day at home in bed. One day the woman's nurse brought in a plant from the garden to put by her bed, and the plant had a snail attached to it. In her condition the sick woman found great comfort in watching the snail moving at such a calm pace, so she made a pet of her snail, feeding it mushrooms and learning all she could about snails, which turn out to be pretty smart creatures. When they find a new food, for example, snails will take only a single bite and then will go away and wait for day to see how the food agrees with them. Snails see and smell from their little antennae, waving them in all directions when a new scent is in the air.

So, yesterday Berkeley was pretty frustrated with my slow-motion self. No long walk in the neighborhood, sorry. No trip to the store. I watched her play in the back yard for a while. Suddenly she stopped and held her head up high, sniffing the breeze intently, stretching out her neck to the limit. What is going through her head, I wondered. I was reminded of the snail wiggling it antennae wildly over a mushroom.

In the snail book there's a quote from Helen Keller, who wrote:

Touch sensations are permanent and definite. Odors deviate and are fugitive, changing in shades, degrees, and location. There is something else in odor which gives me a sense of distance. I should call it horizon--the line where odor and fancy meet at the farthest limit of scent.

I like the part about "odor and fancy" meeting.

No surprise that Helen Keller was very fond of dogs, was always with dogs, though apparently she never used one as a guide dog, at least not in the way they are used today. I'm not sure how she felt about snails.

"What did you smell out there," I asked Berkeley when she came back inside. She looked at me and just laughed, like I could possibly understand.