Guide Dog Training Day 2: Paula Arrives

Yesterday was the day that our dogs arrived. The morning started early with a good breakfast, some lessons in "house obedience" and foot positioning for harness work and after lunch the beasties arrived.
House obedience consisted of teaching us how to work with our dogs through doors and proper behavior in public spaces. We worked on telling the dogs to sit when entering and exiting doors and having them tuck in for meals. Foot positions were taught outside in the tennis court and is important when working with your dog in harness.
There are two positions so obviously named position 1 and position 2. Position 1 is the stance you take when your dog has stopped at a curb. You are standing at their shoulder. Position 2 is the stance you take when about to set off. You put your right foot back, leaving your left foot closest to the dog's shoulder to prevent the dog turning its body across yours. This basically guarantees no sniffing and hopefully a straight line of travel. We practised other foot positions that are necessary when turning at corners Etc. This was all new for me as I've never had to do a lot of foot work before. The reasoning, to me, is sound for the foot positions and so I don't mind doing them.
We were issued our equipment which consisted of grooming tools (Zoom Groom, slicker brush and comb), harness, working half check collar, bell (to know where your dog is), whistle (for recall and feeding), leash, Kong and Nylabone. The whistle was new to me as well as the concept of a "working" and "play" collar.
My previous dogs only had one collar which they wore all of the time. I bought my own bells to put on them so I knew where they were during free runs. So although that is new with regards to a guide dog organisation providing them, it wasn't a foreign concept to me. As for the whistle I actually think it's a great idea.
When feeding your dog you are to place your dog in a down stay somewhere in the room. You then put their food between your feet and blow the whistle, indicating to them that they can eat. The whistle is also used during free runs for recall. By using this technique during meals, you are reinforcing recall as the dog knows that the whistle means food at their handler's feet. It was pretty cute when I blew the whistle last night and Paula came running from her bed and dove into her food bowl at my feet.
We had a great lunch of soup and sandwiches and I tried Scotch Broth for the first time. It is not what I expected. To me broth is a thin liquid so I assumed the soup would be a thin liquid void of anything chunky. Scotch broth is the farthest thing from "broth." It is quite hardy and I was incredibly full.
After lunch our trainer went off to collect our dogs from their borders' houses. This is new for me  as my previous dogs were in kennels on site. Most of this organisation has their dogs in training living in people's homes to make the transition from training to a working dog as easy as possible. The other student said I could get my dog first because it was my first UK dog. I thought that was sweet.
Around 2.40 a knock came on my door and I opened it to admit the trainer and a very excited Paula. Her name is Paula, but it may change to Nala some time in the future. I went and sat in my chair and Paula leaped on to the bed, tail wagging. She got a sharp reprimand for this and she was quickly back on the floor with all four paws. She tried a repeat performance once the trainer left, but a sharp "no" had her springing to the floor in no time. She's a cheeky little, or not so little, thing.
The trainer left us alone for about 25 minutes so we could get to know each other. Paula spent much of that time standing by the front door crying. I've never had a dog react this way and it was almost harder than when Jetta stood staring at the door for an hour without moving. I sat patiently with her though and only pet her when she stopped whining. Every once in a while she would tap my face with her nose and eventually she lay down by my legs and rolled over for a brief belly rub. It was these short breaks from the whining that told me that we could make this work.
When she finally settled, the trainer returned to take us for a short stroll around the hotel to do house obedience for real. That went well and I was very impressed with her responsiveness. She had to be reminded to "wait" quite a bit as she likes to rush a bit, but her enthusiasm is infectious.
We had another short lecture on feeding and at some point we relieved the dogs. The day was sort of a blur and I just know that every time the trainer left us Paula would resume her crying. It got to the point where she would at least be interested in her bone when we got back inside our room, but even today she cries when he leaves us.
We took our dogs to dinner with us which sometimes doesn't happen on the first day. Both were very well behaved. Paula also relieved both times I took her out which is a relief since sometimes dogs won't go for someone new. She refused to poop until this morning, but pee was what we were worried about.
Paula was born on May 28, 2011, the same day Mr. K and I had our wedding. She weighs a wapping 30 kilograms and eats more than the male Labradoodle. She's also heavier than he is which is probably normal since the Poodle in him would make him lighter.
I was a bit concerned about bed time as she seemed to be having troubles settling. We had our last relief, or spend as they call it here, time around 9, but the other dog didn't go out until 9.30. That meant when she heard the trainer in the hall, it was another while before she settled down again. That is another difference between the two programs I have been through.
Previously, all dogs went out at the same time and also on a particular schedule. Since there are only two of us, we can decide what times to take our dogs out at. I think there are pros and cons to both, but in a bigger class like the ones I attended before, simultaneous relief times are probably the best way to go. With just having two of us we can tailor the times to our own schedules. There is some uniformity in the mornings and around bed time, but we don't go out at the same time. It also allows the dogs to do their business without being distracted by the other dog.
Also, in my previous guide dog training experiences, we used "tie downs" when we didn't have our dogs with us. Not to mention, dogs were always on leash, glued to your side. It was said to help with the bonding process and also to keep them from doing bad things. Here, the dogs do not stay on leash once in our rooms and do not have a tie down area. That means they are free to roam when you are gone or when you are sleeping. I was a bit worried about this at first, but once Paula fell asleep last night, she was out-no tie down needed. The other student said her dog got up to have a good sniff around at some point last night, but eventually got back in his bed. I think the tie downs prevent such things, but at the same time, doing it this way gives the dogs more responsibility and begins the trust bond early. I think since the dogs come to us from homes, this approach is appropriate whereas the dogs coming straight from training kennels may initially need that structure.
I think it was a very successful first day. The whining was a bit difficult to deal with at first, but we're working through it. I had planned to write all of yesterday's events out last night before bed, but it was a good but exhausting day and I just fell into bed and slept soundly; once Paula settled of course. Today, thus far, has been another eventful day. So, come back later or perhaps tomorrow for another update. :)

A Little More About my Girl

Am I that predictable? Those of you who guessed, guessed right. :)
You are right. My new dog is a Golden Retriever Labrador cross. Apparently, according to one of the trainers, these dogs are used nearly twice as more as any of the other breeds. Flat Coated Retrievers, German Shepherd Dogs, Labradors and Golden Retrievers are also used, but a few years ago the Golden/Lab crosses were used about 45 percent of the time. They've also started using Golden Retriever German Shepherd Dog crosses with some success, but I think this is in the beginning stages. I had hoped for one of these, but since I've already waited six months, I am quite happy with my Golden/Lab cross.
So, what else can I tell you about her?
It's actually hard because I really don't know much. I keep forgetting to ask her age, but we've estimated somewhere between 18 and 20 months. I'll have that confirmed next week. I'm not entirely sure how much she weighs, but surprisingly she's almost as big as Roscoe. That was slightly shocking for me since the majority of dogs I see here, males and females, aren't nearly as big as Glacier or Roscoe. Sure, there are some exceptions like this giant of a German Shepherd named Flint that we see out on our walks, but on a whole, the dogs are smaller. So, when I got to check her out, I was pleasantly surprised at her size. She's definitely bigger than Jetta. The trainer described her as medium sized and I would say that is pretty accurate.
She's yellow of course, having been bred from two very yellow breeds. She's got kind of highlighting like a Golden Retriever would, but isn't nearly as light as Glacier. To me, she feels like a crossed dog, but to just the average person, she would just look like a Labrador. She's just a bit thicker and her fur a wee bit longer, but she's definitely not feathery like a Golden. At some point during training, I'll attempt to post a picture. The problem is that with blogger's new interface posting photos/links/everything else that is not a regular post is nearly impossible.
Other than her name, that is all I really know. I know she likes to work and is a bit excitable, but very easy to re-focus. Apparently she alert barks at doorbells, so I'll have to stay on her about that. She seems to be quite playful and personable which is nice as well.
So, what about her name?
Well, about that.
I'm in the process of seeing if I can change it for a multitude of reasons; the most important being that I have a family member with the same name. It's weird just thinking of her with this name, I can't imagine what it would be like to work with her with it. It's just not a dog name. So, until I get that all sorted, I'll keep that to myself for now. However, I'll tell you the two names I was thinking of switching it to and you guys can either guess what her name really is or tell me which one you like better. That or you can do both. :)
Her potential names are:
Nala (from the Lion King)
and
Petra (which means rock and is also the capital of Jordan).
Can you guess which one I chose?

Explanation of the Evil Stick

Having been matched with my potential new guide dog, the excitement of being rid of the white cane is rising. If I'm being totally honest, I don't really use it as much as I should and thus my independence has suffered quite a bit since Glacier's retirement. Well, my independence sort of suffered a bit even when he was working because I was nervous to go out and work with him, but I was definitely getting out on my own more than I am now. Is my aversion to the white cane a good thing? Of course not and I know my new guide dog trainer was slightly horrified when I told him I was terrible with it and have hardly used it since being matched with Jetta in 2002, but I was just being honest. Not to mention, even though I don't use the cane, I am pretty comfortable in areas that I am familiar with and could give a sighted person directions if necessary. It's not the directions that confuse me or walking a straight line. It's not even the strange feeling like I'm floating out in space when using the cane. It's just that the cane is so slow and I get it stuck in everything. I've had this discussion with quite a few people, Mr. K being one of them, and he assures me it's because I'm using it wrong. I believe him.
When Mr. K takes the cane out he hardly ever hits objects and despite it gut checking him because the sidewalk is uneven, he really doesn't have the problems with it that I do. There's probably a myriad of factors that contribute to his success as a cane user and I am not, one of them being that I just hate the thing and can't seem to bring myself to learn to use it properly. I thought that when Glacier retired I'd get lessons and become at least an average cane user instead of a less than horrible cane user, but the instructors are so over booked that I couldn't even get on the waiting list. So, I remained horrible. The funny thing is I can get around better without the cane than with it. For example, I can walk Hermione and Otis both down to the relieving area without the cane just fine, but if I take the cane I run in to everything and get caught on the pavement. Sometimes when I'm feeling particularly ambitious and I know the cycling trail is going to be quiet, I walk the dogs-off leash-without the cane. I can walk a fairly straight line and just check the edge of the grass with my foot every once in a while to make sure I'm still along the side. If I didn't have to worry about strange objects and other pedestrians blocking my path, I could probably walk the streets without a cane, but put one in my hand and I'm all over the place. I don't know if it's because I'm deaf in the ear on the side  that I carry the cane and it makes me unbalanced or what it is, but I run into everything. Maybe it's entirely in my head. That is very possible.
When I attended a school for the blind for three years, I spent the last two years there running about the campus caneless. I used pavement/floor changes, the sounds of buildings and so many other cues to know where to go. Once you've been in a particular place long enough your body also becomes accustomed to turning at certain spots. The fancy technical term for it is "time distance estimation." I used it the other day when showing the guide dog trainer where I'd be relieving my new dog.
It was the day I told him that my cane skills were terrible. We walked from my flat, him guiding me, and me telling him where to turn or where to go straight. When we approached the relieving area I told him to turn right. He asked me how I knew that was the spot and I explained that the ground changed as well as my time distance estimation being honed for that area since I walk the dogs there multiple times a day. I don't really know how to explain time distance estimation, but it is probably the equivalent of a sighted person walking from their bedroom to the bathroom in the middle of the night and not turning on a light. You know how to get to the toilet without falling down the stairs or taking a wrong turn. Your body just takes you there. However, if someone leaves a toy in the middle of the hall or a door ajar that normally isn't open, you trip over the toy or run into the door. These things get in the way of your time distance estimation. I think this is where the cane and I start clashing.
Because my cane wielding skills aren't great and I therefore get caught on cracks in the sidewalk, garbage bins, poles and whatever else may be sort of in my path, my time distance estimation gets interrupted. When I walk with a guide dog, that isn't disrupted. Ideally, we move smoothly and a particular speed is maintained. These fluid and uninterrupted movements allow me to feel more confident in my time distance estimation. I think that is why walking around without a cane on the cycling path and down to the dogs' relieving spot is more comfortable for me. I can just get there without the constant jolting and extra arm movement that the cane use requires. The only problem with this, or perhaps not the only problem but one of the greater ones, is that people don't know I can't see.
I can't tell you how long it took for people who I see regularly on the cycling path to realise I was blind. Some of them I told just to reduce some of the confusion and others eventually saw me using the white cane on longer walks with the dogs or walking sighted guide with a friend. My lack of identifier is problematic though in the instances when I don't see a person on a regular basis and I accidentally step into their path instead of moving out of it as intended. Once, I accidentally body checked someone in to a railing that runs along the top of the cycling trail because we both went the same direction. I think if I had had a cane at least they would have known to be more aware of which way I was going and then if I had still managed to body check them into the railing, they'd understand that I wasn't just a jerk.
So really, is the cane an evil stick?
Certainly not.
It functions well for a lot of blind people who have mastered the skill of walking with it.
Would it have made my life easier in the last six months if I had had lessons and learned to use it competently?
Of course.
And yet, knowing all of this, I chose only to use it when absolutely necessary and then only in very, very familiar areas. To me, it is still the evil stick and I will always prefer a guide dog over it. That is why I can't wait until I go into training with my new dog.
However, I have learned something in these last six months.
1. I can get better with the cane if I actually try. The first times I took it out on the trail with the dogs off leash, I hardly went anywhere because of how often it got stuck. I really don't have that problem anymore.
2. I really should learn to use it. No more explanation needed. I will just need an incredibly patient teacher.
That said, bring on the guide dog training class.

The End of the Story

So, do you remember me saying that it was the demise of me becoming a foster parent? I wasn't joking. I don't think we'll ever get to foster for that rescue again, but I learned some very valuable lessons.
When Flick arrived I felt very overwhelmed. There were a lot of things that seemed to go wrong, or at least were a miscommunication between myself and the rescue, and I think these elements and several others lead to high stress levels for everyone involved; including the rescue volunteers.
I had been under the impression that when Flick arrived she would have everything she needed. I was told she came with bowls, collar/lead, muzzle, crate, coat  and food. When she arrived the only things she had  were her collar/lead, her muzzle which was too big-and apparently we wouldn't have even gotten that if her trainer hadn't given the woman who picked her up one-and a crate that had one door rusted shut. I was handed her leash and the woman said she'd come up and see how everyone got along. When we had chatted on the phone the day before she had asked if she could come up with her new foster dog and I said of course, thinking that we'd all sit down and have a chat about fostering and what that particular rescue expected. No one had done this with me yet and the only things I knew about Greyhounds was what I had read online. I thought she'd come in and give me a quick break down of the breed and allow me to ask any questions, but that is not what happened.
Flick, the volunteer and I went up to my flat to introduce Flick to the resident dogs. Hermione was the only one  out and about at the time as I didn't want Flick to be overwhelmed by dogs and also because Hermione was our greatest concern with regards to Flick's chase instinct.
As I suspected, Hermione wasn't a fan, but that didn't really surprise me. Hermione is, as I've said before, a "B" with an itch and can take some time to warm up to other dogs. She's fine with humans and will launch herself into their laps, but she will hang back and observe other dogs until she knows what they are like. She doesn't bark or growl and isn't rude, she just doesn't get super excited. I figured the two of them would figure it out eventually once Hermione realised that Flick wouldn't hurt her. The only problem was that when they first met, Flick excitedly went to sniff Hermione and whacked the already sore and drugged Hermione with the basket muzzle. If you have ever been hit by one of those, you will know they do not feel good. Hermione let out this horrible noise-I think it was more drama than anything-and removed herself from the room. She disappeared into her crate for the remainder of the day. Mr. K came out at that moment with Otis, whom Flick couldn't care less about, and Roscoe came too. I began to get concerned when Roscoe gave her the cold shoulder since Roscoe is our friendliest guy out of the bunch. He loves to play with other dogs, but I thought it was maybe because she was a different breed that he hasn't seen much and she was wearing the basket muzzle.
After Flick accidentally whacked Hermione, the volunteer was quick to high tail it to the door. I think she was in our flat for a total of five minutes and just showed herself to the door. I had so many questions and the first meeting of everyone had not gone quite as well as I'd hoped, but my opportunity to ask questions/raise concerns was walking out the door. As I stood there tongue tied and surprised at her sudden departure, I told Mr. K that I was confused because there wasn't any food for Flick and the woman had told me that Flick hadn't eaten that day. Mr. K told me to go down and ask her about food and so I did.
I was told, shouted from across the street, that we were to turn in receipts for Flick's food. I didn't have a problem with this method, but that is not what we were originally told and we didn't have any food for her right at that moment. We didn't have bowls either or a jacket. It's October in Scotland: Greyhounds need coats even if only for evening or early morning walks. I had so many more questions, and was also concerned as to how I was supposed to keep Flick warm when out relieving and walking, but the woman was basically in her car closing the door, so I went back upstairs.
Upon my arrival back upstairs, Mr. K was none too pleased about this new arrangement. I can't blame him. As I said before, it's not that we minded, it's just that we had been told something different and we were completely unprepared for our new arrival. We also found out quickly that she had not been relieved before she was handed over as she nearly went on the floor, but a quick "Flick no" cut that short. Thankfully, she is house trained and went instantly when she was taken outside.
There was a lot of stress in our house and so I decided to take Flick for a walk. We went for a good two hours, stopping in a local park to people watch. I introduced her to other dogs, but that was slow going because I think people were nervous of her due to the muzzle. After our walk, I came home to a still very stressed out Mr. K and a Hermione still hiding in her crate. I sat on the floor in front of her crate and talked to her, petting her and encouraging her to come out. I kept Flick nearby on leash and petted her too, trying to get the two girls used to each other. Hermione did eventually come out, only for dinner, and went right back in her crate. We tried putting Flick in her crate and having the household dogs wander about her, but Hermione still wouldn't come out and Flick made such a racket we were worried our neighbours would call the police. I didn't know what to do and so tried calling the woman who was supposed to be my contact for anything fostering related, but she would only text and sent me to voice mail when I called her.
I was tired, stressed and frustrated and knew that wasn't a good combination for any of the dogs, never mind the humans. I needed help and I wasn't getting any. So, I called the woman who had dropped Flick off in the first place and talked to her. She gave a few suggestions for getting the girls used to one another and just said to give it some time. I began to realise that I was not equipped to give Flick what she needed.
I spent the rest of the day attempting to help Flick to settle in and show our dogs that she meant them no harm. Mr. K was still not convinced and when Flick lunged at Hermione that was the last straw for him. Not being able to see, I wasn't sure if the lunge was a "let's play" or a "I'm going to eat you" lunge. Mr. K had been holding on to the leash at the time and I was sitting on the floor playing with Hermione. When we received a phone call from another person-apparently she was in charge of transport, but I didn't find that out until the next day-I told her what was going on. She suggested she come over and see if she couldn't help the two settle in together, but I think Mr. K was at his wit's end. I was feeling very stressed as well.
There aren't many things I will openly admit I cannot do as a blind person, but fostering dogs with potentially high and unpredictable prey drive, may be one of them. I felt on edge, waiting for Flick to go after Hermione, or even Otis, again. I thought I could do it, but I couldn't. I love Greyhounds and think they are gorgeous and loving creatures, in fact I had quickly fallen in love with Flick, but I think our household is not set up to accommodate the needs of a   raw Greyhound. That admission does not come easily for me, but there it is.
When the third person called us back, I said we'd keep Flick over night, but that she needed to have a new home the next day. It was one of the hardest conversations I've had. It wasn't Flick's fault. She actually was a really great house guest: she was perfectly house trained, which was a relief.
That night was a long and trying one. We were awakened by one dog or another almost every hour. Roscoe was the only one  who slept soundly I think. At five AM I finally took the two girls out into the living room in order to let Mr. K get some uninterrupted sleep. I sat on the couch, snuggling both dogs and thought that maybe we could do this, but then when Hermione tried to give Flick kisses and Flick growled at her, I went back the other way again. What finally made me feel as though I had made the right decision for everyone was when Flick actually lunged/growled/barked at Hermione when Hermione was just standing on the floor looking up at Flick who was laying on the couch. If I hadn't had the leash taut, Flick may have injured Hermione.
With all of that in mind, I think Flick is a great dog. When she went after Hermione, her self correction made her realise that she had done something bad. She instantly flipped over and started whacking me with her paws as if to say,"Oh no! I got carried away!" She was perfectly house trained, took treats gently, walked nicely on the leash and was a huge cuddle bug. She also had the benefit of being absolutely gorgeous. Flick was a brindle Greyhound, with her markings being larger so that she actually was marked like a tiger. Her coat was actually quite healthy and shiny. She did have a shoulder injury, from what I could tell, but I think that would heal in time. I have absolutely no doubts that she will get adopted very quickly.
Mr. K and I had a chat after she left and we both agreed that if we had been in a different situation-bigger flat, Hermione not healing from surgery, Otis being full grown or at least house trained-we would have kept her as a pet. Instead of wearing the "I failed as a fosterer because I had to give my dog back in 24 hours" t-shirt, we'd be wearing the "I failed as a fosterer because my foster dog is now living permanently in my home" t-shirt.
So what have I learned from this?
I've learned that it is okay to say no and that sometimes it could possibly solve a lot of heart break in the long run. I've learned, that despite what I think, I cannot possibly do everything or save everyone. Fostering may be something we will only be able to do  a long ways into the future when we really don't have any pet dogs, or at least not new puppies. Or, perhaps, fostering is not something I will ever be able to do due to my life's circumstances, but that there are other ways for me to help.
Despite all of this, I have no hard feelings towards the rescue. I think I just talked to too many people who probably assumed the person before them had given me the "welcome to the fostering Greyhounds  club" speech. A lot of what went wrong was also my fault and i take full responsibility for that. They are holding an online auction in the upcoming month and I've offered to make a hand tied fleece blanket and a Halloween themed doggie goodie basket. I know I can handle that at least.
Where do I go from here?
Up. LOL
Hermione is going to be a year in a few months and I am thinking I may enter her into some beginner agility classes. She is crazy good at jumping/running/turning/going through/over things and actually enjoys it. So, I'm going to work with her on her basic obedience in order to get it a bit more reliable and then see in January if we can't get involved in some sort of agility club.

Just Say No!

Somewhere between finding Otis on Friday and going to pick him up on Sunday, the Greyhound rescue phoned me to say that they had found a Hound. Apparently Flick had done well with her introduction to small, bouncy dogs and the rescue thought she'd be great in our home. I panicked. I didn't know what to say.
Here Mr. K and I were off to buy new things for a new puppy and the rescue was telling me that we could be foster parents. Actually, we were buying new things for Hermione and new puppy would inherit her old things until he outgrew the teething stage, but that is neither here nor there. I was so torn.
I have wanted to foster for so long and just have never done it because I was afraid of how my guide dogs would have reacted. Foster dogs would take attention away from a working dog and I did not want to adversely effect my working relationship with either of my now retired dogs. Yet, we were bringing home a new little dude and Hermione and Hamish were going in on Tuesday to be spayed and neutered. All of that on top of a foster dog would be lot. Not to mention, all of my class work that I needed to get done.
I had the brains to ask the woman if I could call her back, but all brains flew out of my head once I hung up the phone and excitedly told Mr. K about Flick. We were literally walking to the pet store and so I think we both weren't thinking straight or really paying attention. He knew how excited I was about this whole fostering thing and so he said that if I wanted to do it that I could say yes.
And so, I said yes.
The next couple of days passed in a blur. Sunday we were traveling all day, meeting and picking up Otis. Monday was spent settling in and also going to class and Tuesday started early with Hermione and Hamish going to the vet for 8.30 AM. My day continued on from there with a quick breakfast and then I hopped the bus to make a meeting dedicated to accessibility issues on campus and within my courses, which, by the way, went very well. The head of my program is amazing, but that is a whole other story. Two hours later it was time for a quick lunch, two hours of class, break and then two more hours of class. By the time I got back home, I was absolutely exhausted and ready to sink on to the couch with a cup of tea and  cuddle my poor  baby girl.
The problem was, somewhere in all of that, I took two phone calls from Mr. K and returned another to the Greyhound rescue, confirming that dropping Flick off the next day was fine. The phone calls weren't the problem, agreeing to take on a "raw" dog from a kennel the day after having a crazy day and only 24 hours after Hermione was spayed was the problem. I was so excited to meet Flick and so frazzled from the overload of information that I had gotten that day, that all sense flew out of my head...again.
"Drop her off between 1 and 2? Of course. That is perfect."
And so began my demise as a foster parent.

Welcome Flick

We got the news today that our first foster Greyhound will be coming to live with us by the week's end. If you haven't already guessed by the title of this post, her name is Flick. She is a young, small, Brindle girl who had previously lived in her trainer's home. So, she should be house trained. Most X-racers never get home comforts or even see the inside of homes. So, the fact that she lived in home is slightly amazing and a bonus for us with regards to house training.
Apparently, she's sweet, bouncy and loving. They don't know much more about her because, as the foster co-ordinator said on the phone, it's up to the fosterers to tell them more about the dog  in order to get the Hounds re-homed.
Flick was small dog tested earlier this week and was non-reactive to three or four small, bouncing dogs. She did react to cats though, so I either have to stay away from them completely or try to teach her that cats are friends, not food. I don't know anyone with cats and I'm not sure strangers will allow me to use their cats as training tools. So, Flick may stay a "non-cat" kind of girl. However, I do know a few flats that have cats hanging around outside . That means, Flick and I may be going for a walk past those flats, muzzle on and a pocket full of cookies.
To be honest, I had thought that we basically weren't going to be able to foster because of Hermione being classified as a "small fuzzy" and the nature of Greyhounds to chase "small fuzzies," but the sanctuary really worked hard to find us a dog to foster. I really want to give this little girl a good chance of finding her forever home. So, I am going to do everything I can to help her learn all about the world of being a pet as opposed to a racing, working dog. With all of our crazy adventures in our life/home, I am hoping to be able to teach her to be a well rounded girl who will fit into nearly any good home.
Since that is all the sanctuary was able to tell me about Flick, I'll leave it at that for now, but will definitely fill you in once she has arrived. I have other exciting news, but I'll tell you about him tomorrow. ;)

Guide Dog Replacement Update

It has just been over one month since I retired Glacier and it is finally today that I've been put on the waiting list. Originally, I had been under the impression that I was put on the waiting list to get a new guide dog as soon as Glacier retired, but I was quite wrong. So, the three months to a year of waiting starts today. As I am sure you are all aware, this does not make me very happy. However, a guide dog trainer-the one we've been dealing with since we moved here-assessed me today and although I do not feel much better about the very long wait, I am feeling much better about the process.
The application process for this particular guide dog school is much different than that of Leader Dogs for the Blind, the school where I got both of my previous guide dogs. I think, in a way, each program has its pros and cons, but that in the long run, I will benefit greatly from the Guide Dog Organisation's approach. Sure, I have to wait much longer, but the success of the match is much higher.
When I applied for my previous guides, I did not spend any time with the trainers before hand. The interview process wasn't very vigorous either; with me just having to have a videotaped walk to get Jetta and not even having to do that to get Glacier. All the trainers had to go on was the answers I had filled out on an  application that didn't even address lifestyle, what sort of worker I needed Etc.
My assessment today was much more in-depth and that made me feel more confident in getting a good match. Also, having been involved with the trainer for a year instills confidence.
We chatted for almost two hours about my lifestyle, what characteristics I'd like in a dog, if I preferred girl/boy or breed of dog and many other important things that I think will make this matching process so much better.
We did an empty harness walk, which is similar to the "Juno" walk you do the second day you arrive at LDB. This walk is used to determine voice inflection and walking speed. This particular walk was also used to determine my ability to follow directional changes, posture, stride and my preference for how strongly the dog pulls on the harness.
We covered some other important aspects of a working dog suited to me, such as, willingness to work, adaptability and a few other characteristics. We discussed the various environments I would be taking my dog into and whether or not I ever left my dog at home. We even talked about what sorts of transportation I would take on a regular basis. Again, it all made me feel excited and confident about deciding to go with the UK organisation instead of flying back to North America.
The trainer reiterated that he couldn't guarantee a time frame, but that he'd rather me go two months more without a dog, struggling to get around, than get a dog quickly and spend the next four to eight years struggling with my working relationship. I've already been there done that. I do not want to do that again. I had to agree with him. He also said that he wanted to give me a dog that was brilliant when I got him/her, but was that much better at our six month check-up because I worked with the dog. I took this as a compliment and ensured him that he wouldn't be disappointed.
So now that all of the paperwork is done, all I can do is start my waiting game over again; a game I thought I had started a month ago. Sometimes there are necessary evils in life and waiting for the right working partner is just one of those. It stinks being reliant on others because my cane skills are so terrible, but once I meet and am matched with my new dog, it will be all worth it.

A Little Favor?

Hello to all of the dogs and cats out there who somehow manage to get their paws on their humans' plastic moneys.
I am here to ask you afavor...
I have been, and it's been for a while, thinking about opening an online store with all kinds of great things for you...the dogs and cats. There are a  few human things too, but mostly for the important beings in the household. I have recently discovered a retailer that has some really cool stuff and was wondering if, you have some time, could you  go internet browsing on the site and look at all of the fantastic things for sale?
Then, I would appreciate it if you could email me at:
glaciers DOT goodies AT gmail DOT com
and let me know what a few of your favourite things are. I.E., things that you would buy on a regular basis. And then, in a different list, the things that you absolutely love, but would buy as a very special treat to yourself. I  also want to know about a few products that you would absolutely not buy and why.
Ssshhhhh...don't tell the humans. They may get protective of their plastic moneys.
Anyway, thanks in advanced for your help.
Happy browsing.

The shop can be found
here.

The Evil Stick

Glacier has been officially retired for ten days now and although I wasn't working him much before his retirement, I had not been out with a white cane in nearly ten years. Up until now, I haven't had the need to go anywhere that would require me to venture out on my own, or perhaps more accurately, I avoided things that required me to venture out on my own, but Sunday morning I was scheduled to go for a run with a local running group and I didn't want to start missing practices just because I was terrified to leave my flat without a dog or sighted guide.
So, I mentally steeled myself as I left my flat, giving myself a pep talk and convincing myself that this was a necessary evil. I reminded myself that this was the first walk without a dog I'd done on my own in a very long time and that there was a lot of room for improvement. Knowing that I can always improve upon something is very encouraging to me and so I gritted my teeth and stepped out my front door; wanting very badly to turn around, go back inside and text my guide runner to say that I wasn't coming.
Two things kept my feet moving though: 1. Finding guide runners has been extremely difficult. If I start blowing them off, especially in this early stage, it is highly possible they will think I'm not serious/interested and will move on.
and
2. fear has never stopped me from doing anything before, why should it now?
For those people who are not optically challenged, I'm not sure how to explain the difference between working with a dog and a cane. For those of you who have used either one of the other or both, you may be able to relate. But for those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, let me try to clarify a bit.
Guide dogs are impressive creatures who, at the end of the day, are still dogs. It is important to know that I do not say to my dog, "dog, go to the store" or "dog, take me to the gym." That is not how things work. If I am setting out, I need to know where I'm going in order to give the dog cues where to turn, which streets to cross and what doors to find. The dogs do the work of making sure I avoid obstacles, line up straight with curbs and get me across the street from one curb to another. In using a dog for the last ten years, I have lost some of the skill of walking directly from one curb to another without drifting one direction or another and this is where my mistake came from.
I set out at a slow pace, thinking that if I hurried I would be more likely to make mistakes. I also left with a lot of time to spare to account for any mistakes and for my much slower pace. As I walked along my street, my confidence began to rise and I started to relax a bit. I began to talk myself into the fact that I could definitely do this; I had to do this.
As I neared the end of my street, I quickly realised that something was wrong. The traffic noise was in the wrong spot and I could hear cars driving over cobble stones. Somehow, somewhere I had drifted down a side street. If I had gone where I should have, there would be no cobble stones and the cars' noise should have been coming from my right. I began to feel the first  flutters of panic begin to rise in my stomach. I took a few deep breaths and turned back around. If worst came to worst, I'd just have to back track. The problem was, at that particular moment, I didn't know where I had gone wrong. As I turned myself around, an older gentleman approached me and asked if I needed help. I must have looked completely freaked out because as I explained where I needed to go, he said he'd just walk me to that crossing. As he guided me along, we began to chat and I explained that this was my first walk without my guide dog. A sudden and surprising throat tightening made me stop as I felt the tears well up.
I missed Glacier. I missed working with a dog who wanted to work. I was more terrified than I had allowed myself to believe.
The gentleman got me to the crossing and I let him chat on, trying to calm my frayed nerves. I was closer to home than to the gym, maybe I should just go home?
My stubborn pride would not let me and the thought of potentially losing a guide runner. It was to be our first run together and I didn't want her thinking I was flakey.
He joked that his wife would think he had run off as he guided me across one more crossing. He teased me that I should have picked a route that was just a straight line and his good natured humour released some of the tension I was feeling. I thanked him and promised him that I would be fine from there on in. My voice sounded confident, but I didn't believe myself. At least he did and he went back the way he had come, ensuring that I was facing the right direction first.
I carried on, making one crossing easily, but completely freezing at the second. There are tactile bumps at the corners to indicate where to cross and for some reason, I had it in my head that they were shaped like a square and I was looking for the central spot in order to align myself with the curb across the street. I quickly found out that they are more cone shaped and until I figured that out, I felt the panic returning. I stood for what felt like an eternity on one corner debating if I was supposed to cross there or not. I even thought about going home, but there was just as much likelihood that I'd get lost on the way home as there was if I finished my journey. So, I went forward.
I crossed a few more streets, but because I was so frazzled I forgot to count the streets and ended up passing the entrance to the gym. I walked a bit past it and found a wide open area. It was possible that I had passed that open area with the dog and not known it, but my commonsense told me that it may be  the parking lot for the gym. So, back I went and was relieved to find I had made  the right decision as I walked down the sidewalk to the gym's entrance.
Eventually, I found the gym door and went in to find my guide waiting for me. I was just so relieved to have finally arrived that I could have just sat down and not gone on the run at all. I checked the time as we passed through the security gate and was shocked to discover that it had taken me a half an hour to walk to a place that should have taken less than fifteen minutes. Good thing I had given myself the extra time: at least I had made it in time to go for the run after all.
The physical activity of pushing myself over the 5 kilometre distance helped to unwind my nerves, but upon returning to the gym, I began to get worried about the trip home. I know I'm not helping myself at all and I'm sure things will get easier, but independent travel  with a cane is absolute torture for me: it is terrifying. I give props to those blind and low vision people out there who choose the cane over the dog. Of course each mode of transportation has its pros and cons, but for me personally, the cane is definitely not what I would choose.
Luckily for me, my guide runner offered to walk me home and to continue to do so until a dog can be found for me. I really appreciate her help and I will probably take her up on it, but at the same time, I also need to get used to using a cane and I also need to get better at it. Starting at the end of September I am going to have to navigate a university campus on my own with a cane and the quicker I get over my fears, the better off I will be when the time comes to go back to school. That said, my instinct is to light the cane on fire and throw it as far away from me as possible. Judging on how I did on Sunday, I might be better off without it. Then again, I'd then risk ploughing into obstacles, people and traffic.
So for now, I suppose I must accept my fate and somehow conquer the evil stick.

Staying Busy

I've never been one to sit still for long. Most of you probably already know that by now, but the last week has been particularly busy. I think it's a good thing with Glacier moving out last Friday and all. Everything's been so busy with university preparations, moving into the new flat, running practices, parties and working through Tenie's bucket list, I've managed to keep myself from feeling too sorry for myself. Admittedly, Monday I took the afternoon to stay curled up in bed, having a mini pity party, but after that time, I kicked my own butt into gear; way too much to be done to be wasted on pouting for a whole day. Besides, there's only so much lying around Hermione's going to let me get away with.
Tenie also came to stay with us from Tuesday until today because she was allowing her other flat mate's friends to stay in her room while they visited. Her stay  was great and having her around helped pull me out of my funk. Roscoe, who was definitely missing his Glacier, seemed to perk up as well. We did some more flat organising, hanging paintings Mr. K has painted and getting things into their permanent places. We spent a few late nights curled up on the couch watching TV shows and painting toes. I am so glad that I got to have that little bit of time with her before she has to leave.
Tenie found out a few weeks ago that she will not be getting the scholarship she was relying on in order to write her PhD. She had been accepted into the program, but she needed the funding to afford the insane international tuition fees. So, unfortunately, she will have to go home for a year as her post-study visa has expired and she won't be able to study without that financial support. She has started laying the foundations for a return plan for next September, and although I am going to mis her like crazy, I know everything works out the way it should. She'll be back!
Anyway, with her looming departure moving ever closer, she's made an Edinburgh bucket list. So, we're going to work through it before she leaves. Today we managed to strike two items from the list; the first being a complete fluke.
Last night we had a flat warming party and had several friends over for drinks and munchies. It was deemed a "mad hatters" theme and pretty much everyone showed up wearing hats. We had a few girls in what we like to call "old man hats," a princess crown (which the wearer felt suited her quite well), an Indiana Jones hat (we had over five archaeologists at the party, someone had to come with an Indiana Jones hat), Robinhood head wear and much much more. I had told my friends I wanted a wizard's hat and was pleasantly surprised when a few friends showed up baring my hat of choice. We had great food and in total loss on how to keep the drinks cold, I suggested we get ice and dump everything into the bath tub. Definitely a throw back to university house parties, but what are you going to do?
UK fridges are tiny and so there was no way we were going to fit all of the drinks into our fridge. I don't think a bottle of wine would even fit in there on its own. So, the bath tub and ice it was.
 The night ran late and a few someones had a bit too much to drink. I had stayed mostly away from the alcohol as I'm trying to stay healthy for training and drinking dehydrates a person drastically. Due to this prior event, today  we chose to take a cab into the down town city centre in order to avoid motion sickness from the bus. Since the Fringe, a huge nearly month long festival, is going on, we had to wait quite a while for our cab to arrive. We were about to throw in the towel when it showed up and it happened to be a taxi painted like the Scottish flag. Tenie has wanted to ride in one of those cabs since she moved here four years ago and this afternoon we were able to scratch it off her "to do" list.
We had the cab take us as close to the castle as possible and we spent the rest of the afternoon exploring Edinburgh castle. I was impressed by the history of the grounds and was amazed at how dark some of it was. We got to see a military wedding taking place, which was complete with piper leading the procession away. We viewed the crown jewels and I got to read about them on some braille plaques that were posted. Some people were so surprised by me reading the braille that they stopped to take photos.
I wonder if they knew that I didn't come with the castle?
Roscoe was with us of course and he worked like a champ. He maneuvered Mr. K easily around other castle viewers and made sure Mr. K was safe on the uneven terrain of the volcanic rock that the castle is built on. If ever I was to show someone what a guide dog is supposed to do I would have used Roscoe's work this afternoon as an example. He was focused, which was amazing in and of itself because of all of the people and food around that must have been so tempting.
Of course this whole outing wasn't just work for Roscoe. He stopped at one point to nibble on some grass growing by one of the walls while we took photos. I guess he wanted his part of royalty too. At another point we stopped to take more photos and he started sniffing about and we were slightly concerned that he was going to do his business, but he was just being nosy.
Roscoe, don't you know that you can't poop in a castle?
The royal fun didn't end there for Roscoe. We stumbled upon a woman dressed in period costume who was going around crowning everyone. She crowned me, Tenie and Carmen and then it was Roscoe's turn. We had to try twice, but she finally managed to lower the crown onto his head. I am sure Roscoe will be expecting us to call him "your royal highness" for the rest of his life.
It was a really great afternoon that was finished off with me eating half my body weight in hamburger. Ever since I've started running on a consistent schedule, I can't seem to satiate my appetite. Mr. K pointed out that I yelled "because I'm hungry" at him twice in a three hour period. I think it'll be back to carrying around bananas and granola bars for me.
As for Tenie's bucket list, we have a few more things to do: going to the museum, seeing Brave in theatres in Scotland and going through the entire art gallery just to name a few. We have approximately two weeks to get all of these things done, but I have full confidence that her bucket list will be complete when she boards her plane at the end of the month.

The Waiting Game

It's been about four days since Glacier moved out. He took a few of his favourite toys with him and since then has been given some pretty cool new ones. One of his new favourites is a plush frog with a squeaky tennis ball inside.  From all accounts, Glacier is one happy guy and that makes this whole ordeal so much easier. Of course I miss him and our home is just that much more quieter minus the big Yellow Fellow, but the updates I've received are fantastic.
Glacier is having a great time going to the beach and digging in the sand. His new Dad even buried a bag with a treat in it for him to dig up; something he obviously could not do as a working dog. He's been to his local pub and has figured out quite quickly that the pub owner is the "biscuit lady." In the mornings, the door is left open so he can wander in and out of the house to the garden and he has been going into the office with his new dad. He even went toy shopping at lunch yesterday and played a game of "Monkey in the Middle" to help him to learn how to fetch. Things could not be better for Mr. G and I couldn't be happier. He is getting everything he deserves that I would not have been able to give him.
So, where does that leave me?
Well, life's not dull, that's for sure. It never is. My long distance running training is starting to come together, which if you're interested, you can find updates on my other blog.  Hermione keeps me busy, of course, and Hamish has improved his escape artist skills. Not to mention, we also got Hamish a wife named Lola. She is a Lionhead Lop and is absolutely gorgeous. The two are currently residing in separate cages because we do not want any little escape artists running about. Hamish is scheduled for neutering on Monday and then the two can move in together.
Roscoe is doing well, but he definitely is missing Glacier. He looks for him whenever people come over and once when I let him off leash to have a run, he took off into the forest to who knows where; probably looking for Glacier. He's a bit more clingy than normal and certainly seems a little out of sorts. However, having Hermione to play with has helped I think and we've tried to keep him busy with working and off leash runs. We were concerned that Glacier's departure would impact Roscoe's working, but everything seems to be okay for now.
As for me and getting around, I'm honestly going a bit stir crazy. For the most part, I have to rely on others-Tenie and Mr. K mostly-to get me around and I hate it. I hate asking them to take me and I hate having to fit my schedule to everyone else's; which only seems polite since they are doing me a favor. I have used a dog for ten years and it feels so very strange not having one with me. I have a White cane on order so that I can start getting myself around with that, but I am not a confident cane traveler and that makes me a bit nervous. I'll have to get over that quickly though because I have absolutely no idea when a new dog will be found for me.
Unlike most North American guide dog programs-not all, but most-the guide dog organisation in the UK does not bring a client in for training until a match is found for that person. In some of the North American programs, you arrive at the campus with the instructors only knowing what you've written on your application about yourself and match a dog to you as best they can from the string of dogs they have already trained. Here, that is not the case.
When I contacted my guide dog representative to ask if he had an average estimated waiting time, he basically told me that there wasn't one. He said that I would be brought in  once a dog was found and that based on my high standard of handling skills, the process would not be rushed. He wants to ensure I get a dog I can work with for a very long time. I very much appreciate his dedication to his job, but I wish I had some sort of idea. Am I going to be waiting for a month? Two months? A year?
I'm starting university in the fall and not having a dog to work with on campus makes me very nervous. Will I  go through my entire university year guide dogless?
I don't mind waiting. In fact, I prefer that this is a solid match and that I don't have to go through the same struggles I had with Glacier and even with Jetta, but having absolutely no clue how long it will be is difficult.
I guess now all I can do is wait and hope that the right dog comes up sooner than later, or that I get better at using a cane very quickly. Otherwise, who knows how long I will be reliant on others to get to where I want to go. This last option definitely does not work for me. So, with fingers crossed, I settle in to play the waiting game and to also get better at using a cane.

A Strange Birthday Present

Yesterday was my birthday and it just so happened to be the day I gave Glacier to his new home. We had our last walk, heading over to the grocery store to pick up some food for my birthday dinner. I met Tenie there and we let Glacier run part of the way home on the cycling path. He was very happy to be running and our little outing just finalised things in my mind. He was much more interested in sniffing all things delicious in the store and was incredibly distracted by people. I wouldn't say it was a  beautiful walk, ending our working relationship on a high note, but I'm glad it wasn't.
If it had, I think I would have started second guessing my decision. Glacier isn't an older dog retiring due to age and so I wouldn't expect anything but what I've been getting from him for the last month.
Today, we're having "high tea" as part of my birthday celebration and the cafe we are going to is dog friendly. I think Glacier's new person is going to bring him along, apparently after Glacier's had a run at the ocean.
I couldn't be happier for him.
So, although retiring a dog is sad and surrendering your dog on your birthday might not be ideal, I actually think it was a kind of birthday gift. I got to see how happy Glacier's new person is and how excited Glacier was to go with him. Sure, I was a bit sad and our flat seemed a little empty this morning, but knowing that he's going to have the best retirement I could have hoped for him is definitely a great birthday present.
***
With all of this Glacier stuff going on, I haven't really been updating about the rest of the household. I have plans on remedying that in the next couple of days.

Mr. G and His Great Move

So, it's official: Mr. G will be moving in to another home. I have spoken with the guide dog organisation and they have strongly suggested that I re-home him in order to give my new working relationship the best chance to succeed. It took me a while to accept this option. I had actually seriously contemplated going back to being a White Cane user, but I have worked with dogs for nearly ten years now and going back to a cane just makes me cringe. However, I was willing to do it so that Glacier could stay with us.
The only thing is that, since Glacier is so young, I'd be using a cane for at least another six or seven years. I'm not entirely sure I could do it for that long. With being completely blind and deaf in one ear a guide dog acts as an extra safety net for me when out traveling. So, with my safety in mind and Glacier's bet interest, I have decided to re-home him.
Fortunately, he will be moving in with a friend That means, we'll get to see him and also get regular updates. Glacier and Roscoe can also have play dates. I am going to miss him like crazy of course, but I think it's the best for everyone.
Glacier has always wanted to be an only dog I think and he'll be the centre of attention where he's going. My friend is able to take Glacier to work quite often and he works outside, so Glacier will get to romp freely. Also, my friend is excited to take Glacier to pubs, leash free runs in the surrounding woods and he has a fenced in backyard. It really is ideal.
I've also seen the two interact and they seem to be best buds already
In the mean time, Glacier is retired, but I am waiting for a new dog and going crazy. Glacier definitely doesn't want to work anymore and putting the harness on him is just dangerous and, to me, slightly cruel. He tries to sniff everything and everyone and doesn't seem to know how to walk in a straight line any longer. He'd much rather be
racing around  and being a goof than guiding me. I still work him every morning on the cycling path outside our flat, but for the most part, he's become a pet. He's spending tonight and last night at Tenie's flat for another sleep over. He seems quite contented there; going for walks in the park and lying on the couch watching TV with the girls.
So, although it's been a very difficult decision, I'm actually very excited for Glacier to move in with our friend. I know he'll have a lot of adventures in front of him and ones that he will be able to enjoy.

Where We're At

The last couple of days have been slightly difficult; a bit of an emotional roller coaster really. One minute I'm good with the decision I've made and another I want to take it back, but I know it's for the best. He's the same old inconsistent Glacier and so, I know it is what we both need. He's such a cuddle bug, all curled up next to me right now and I am going to miss him terribly. We've thrown around a few options for where he will go, including keeping him, but staying with us has definitely been crossed off the list.
I had originally thought that if I got a group of guide runners together, that he could be my running buddy. He could stay home with Hermione when we went out and she wouldn't feel left out and alone.  I had also thought that I'd get him back into Rally Obedience and enroll him as a therapy dog. All great ideas except that with me going back to school, Mr. K in school, getting a new working dog, I don't think Glacier would get the attention he needs and deserves. He really needs to go to a home where he is the centre of attention and he can be doted on. That's all he really wants, I think. So, unfortunately, staying with us has been scratched off the list. I say that, but there will be times between now and getting the new dog where I will try to work it out in my head how we can keep him even though I know that is not a realistic or responsible choice.
I've had a few friends offer to take him and it's something I'm seriously considering. If he went to live with this friend, he'd be close and we'd get to see him. Plus, get very regular updates. He'd also be able to have play dates with Roscoe, which I think both boys would really like. In the last week or so, Roscoe and Hermione have really started bonding and that makes me think that Roscoe will be a bit better off with Glacier leaving than he would have been. However, it'd be great if the two boys could still see  one another and play.
The guide Dog  rep that came to visit said that he would help us find a home for him and that perhaps Glacier could be a companion dog for a child with a intellectual disability. I think he'd be great at being a companion dog and would love it. So, if my friend doesn't work out, I would be okay with this option. Apparently you can request that you stay in contact with the new  owners and that he stays in the area where you are living. I think I will do this because I am just not okay with completely letting him go without me knowing where he is and how he's doing. Obviously, I won't interfere with his bonding to his new family or let our relationship interfere with my new dog,  but knowing how much I still miss Jetta tells me that letting him go without any contact would drive me insane.
So, really, am I okay? For the most part. I have my moments where I need to cry or run 4 kilometres on the treadmill to get my frustrations out, but every time we work somewhere, I know I'm making the right decision. It is so obvious he'd rather be off exploring and adventuring instead of getting me from point A to point B and I'm glad that I just finally know that now. He's a great dog and I am going to miss his little quirks so much, but again, making the right decision for everyone usually isn't the easiest or the most ideal. I am just going to take it a day at a time and enjoy the time that we have left to work together.
Thank you to everyone for their encouraging comments. You guys have made this so much easier, knowing that I have support all around the world. It's kind of incredible don't you think?

Tough Decisions

I wasn't really sure I was ready to write about this. I thought that maybe I'd leave it over the weekend, but sharing seems to make it more real and also seems to help me grieve in a sort of way.
I have decided to retire Glacier.
There, I said it.
After years of struggling, going back for retraining, adjusting my handling practices and my in home behaviors, I have come to the conclusion that Glacier would rather be a pet. This decision was made so much harder because when he felt like working, he was spot on and excited about his work, but when he didn't feel like working, he was not good. The inconsistencies confused me for so long that I just kept working him.
I would look at walks that we had where he did great and try to replicate that in other walks, but no matter what I did, he always surprised me. I usually didn't know which Glacier I was getting until half way through our adventure out. He's always been firing on about 60 percent, and after retraining or if we were going somewhere new and exciting, he'd run on about 80 percent, but it never lasted. We've always had problems, right from day one, but I loved him so much that I wanted to give him every opportunity, but after he walked out into three intersections last week, I had enough. His laid back attitude about things was putting both of us in danger.
There is so much I want to say about him, but don't really know how or what to say. The guide dog rep summed it up yesterday when he said that somewhere deep in Glacier's psyche, he just wants to be a goofy guy with no responsibilities. Lately, the happiest I've seen him is when he's out just being a dog, rolling in the grass or running on the beach, or even just heeling by my side like a pet; with no responsibilities. He doesn't "smile" when we get ready to go out, I think it is a drudgery for him.
I feel horrible; like I failed him somehow. I couldn't be what he needed to be a successful guide dog. The guide dog rep made me feel a bit better by saying to Mr. K that I'm such a good handler that I make Glacier look better than he is, but I still feel as though I failed him.
What i really want, is to keep him and give him the retirement he wants and deserves. I want him to be a dog and I want to be the one who gives him that, but I don't think we can keep him. I really, really want to and after retiring Jetta, I had sworn that I wouldn't give up another retired dog, but I'm not sure we are equipped to keep him right now. However, I have some time yet as I will work him until the Guide Dog Association finds me a match and so who knows what will happen in that time. I've had a few friends say they would like him and if that means he gets to stay close and still play with Roscoe on occasion, then maybe we'll do that.
Whatever happens in the next few months, I am trying to grieve for our working relationship now, so that when my new partner comes along, I'll be ready to give that relationship all it deserves. For now, I will keep on as I am and hope that we can find some way for Glacier to stay with us or at least close by. I have learned so much from him and hope that I have given back to him half of what he has given to me. I don't think he should have ever been placed as a guide dog, perhaps a wheelchair assistance or Autism assistance, but definitely not a guide dog; there is just way too much responsibility involved in being someone else's eyes for him. He's such a beautiful dog, inside and out-I know, how cliche-that it is going to be so hard to let him go.
Anyway, it seems as though I am just stringing together disjointed thoughts, so I will leave it at that for now.

Greyhound Groupie

Yesterday Carmen and I headed out to a Greyhound rescue located about a 45 minute bus ride away. I had arranged this meeting back on Thursday with the notion that I may volunteer for the rescue and gain more knowledge of the breed. I have always thought Greyhounds were a really amazing breed and also thought that perhaps a retired X-racer would do well as a therapy dog. Racing Greyhounds is still huge in the UK and there are so many Hounds needing homes. The conversation I had had on Thursday with the man who ran the rescue seemed quite successful. We discussed the Greyhound a bit and rambled on at length about raw feeding. I felt good and excited about our Sunday meeting, but was thoroughly disappointed upon arrival.
First of all, when we first arrived, the man I had spoken to was insanely busy. I understood as it was a UK walk to raise awareness for Greyhounds and there had been nearly a hundred people in the walk that morning. However, what made me worry was just how unfriendly everyone was. They seemed to know we were outsiders and clung to each other in little groups, avoiding us and only giving one worded answers when we asked questions. I was kind of surprised because we had encountered a woman when we were walking in who had a rescue Greyhound who had no problems stopping to chat with us and allowing us to interact with her Hound. The Greyhound was wearing a basket muzzle and she asked us not to be turned off by that. She went on to explain that her dog could be snappy if there were too many dogs around, but that the Hounds were really sweet, good-natured dogs.
I wasn't turned off at all. The fact that the woman knew her dog enough and took measures to keep everyone safe, made me respect her. Sometimes when dogs are rescued there are just some things that can't be changed. So, you work with what you've got and be responsible about it.
Once we finally tracked the man down who rant the rescue, he didn't even remember me. That hit a nerve as we had chatted for at least twenty minutes-conversing about our dogs, the rescue and as  I said before, raw feeding. Did I mention that we chatted about my three dogs? This is an important point.
 I sort of brushed his short memory off as it was a busy day, but part of me wondered how many North American women he spoke to on a weekly basis.
After he recognised me, he offered to go get a dog for me to get to know. He seemed bent on me adopting a dog, but I had explained to him on the phone and there on the spot that I was not in a position to adopt right now. I was there to discuss volunteer opportunities and to get to know the breed in order to make an informed decision in the future about whether or not a Greyhound was for our family. I was very explicit that it would be the very far future as I was starting Graduate school in the fall and that we already had three dogs. I don't think he was listening because off he went anyway. I decided to let him go as I thought it would be good to at least handle a Greyhound for a short while.
As soon as he left, his wife swooped in and that is when I really started feeling unwelcome and unwanted. Somehow it came out in my very short conversation with her that I had three other dogs. I think she may have overheard me telling her husband before he disappeared into the kennels as well, but it seemed to be a point she was digging for. I don't know why she made it seem like I was hiding something because I definitely had discussed it quite openly before. I think I was explaining that I had a lot of dog experience, but none with Greyhounds and that was why I was there. She immediately cut me off sharply saying,
"Greyhounds can't live with other dogs! They only like Greyhounds."
At that moment her husband returned, but I was taken aback. There is no way that every Greyhound in the world only likes Greyhounds. Sure, in rescue, it may be a special dog that you have to wait for, but when you are rescuing often you have to wait for what you are looking for, and, considering my current life position, I am more than willing to wait. Besides, if a dog is young enough, often they can be retrained. I didn't have time to respond because her husband thrust the leash of a tall Black Hound into my hand.
"This is Stumpy," he told me "and he's the only dog that I have right now that may be able to live with other dogs."
"May?" How does he not know? Shouldn't he test his dogs before re-homing them?
I was speechless. Had these people not been listening to me at all?
To be honest, Stumpy was a delight and if I had been actually looking for a dog, I may have considered bringing him home, but as I was not, I tried not to get to know him too much. His unassuming nature and sweet little kisses may have won out over logic.
Stumpy had a healing leg that had been broken when he was racing. I was told that he was not ready to go home just yet  as his leg wasn't fully healed. We stood talking about Stumpy for a while longer and a few more odd things were said.
At one point the man asked me how I walked my dogs. A completely legitimate question, I thought, as I am blind and most people can't wrap their brains around  how I do it. I explained my method and that I use a waist leash for the bigger dogs. Again, I don't think he was listening because half way through my explanation he said something about my physique that I didn't quite catch as I was still explaining how I walk my dogs. All I know is that he was not happy with my physique because after I managed to stop talking mid-sentence, I caught something about me being too fit to own a Greyhound and then the next thing he said was something about the Greyhound being able to drag me if he wanted to.
So, which was it? Was I too fit or too small to hold on to a Hound? He couldn't seem to make up his mind. Also quite presuming  on his part since he doesn't know me nor could he tell if I could hold on to a Greyhound or not. I'm just confused as how someone can be too fit and not strong enough all at the same time. I think part of what was happening was that they were panicking because I was blind. I hadn't told them on purpose, based on my past experience with rescues, and they were not convinced that I could take care of a dog as a blind person.
Just as abruptly as he had brought Stumpy out, the man said he'd take him back and asked us if we wanted tea. I said I was fine, having had enough already, but he mentioned coffee and Carmen said she'd like a cup. I amended my thoughts, thinking that perhaps he was going to sit down and chat with us about Greyhounds over a cup of coffee. He lead us into the kennels, which I was not impressed by at all, and pointed to the hot water, instant coffee, sugar and spoon and told Carmen to make her own. Then, he disappeared. I was floored. Perhaps I'm from a different planet, but when you have guests, usually you make their coffee for them. You may ask them how much sugar or what not, but you do not plunk things down on a table and leave.
The kennels kind of reflected his personality. There were two dogs to a horse stall and the outside runs were concrete with rusting bars on the fences. Originally, when I had thought to go out there, I had researched the rescue online and read the profiles of each dog up for adoption. There had only been five, which I thought a bit odd, but I figured that they were just a small rescue. When we walked into the kennels and there were at least six more dogs that I had not read about I became even ore confused.
He told us that they were puppies, about 12 months old, and pieces of the puzzle started falling into place.
On the dogs' profiles it talked of some having siblings that had been adopted from that rescue as well as dogs "returning home" from the track. Upon seeing the puppies, I realised that this man raced Greyhounds and then re-homed his own racers under the name of the UK wide rescue organisation. I was appalled. Here was a man and his family claiming to help Greyhounds, while they were really only helping themselves. Maybe others will think I'm over reacting, but in a country where it is over populated by X-racing Greyhounds, why would you breed more to race when you are supposed to be helping those who can't find a home?
We sat and Carmen had her coffee, but the man didn't sit down and chat any further with us. I sat and petted a little female named Susie who was wearing a cone of shame due to a scratched cornea and prayed Carmen would chug her beverage. The man sat down at one point and gave us leaflets about the UK wide organisation and one about Greyhounds in general, but that was about the extent of his interaction. He seemed shocked when I shook his hand as I left. Perhaps this form of courtesy is foreign to him as he is  incredibly rude.
I don't know what it is, but it seems like the MAJORITY, not everyone, who works with animals whether they are a trainer or run a rescue, have no people skills. They want their animals adopted, but they are so confrontational that no one wants to deal with them. Not to mention, a lot of assumptions seem to be made without any concrete facts. I don't think Mr. K and I would ever be able to adopt a dog because-at least the ones I have spoken to-,do not think blind people can look after animals. I had one woman from a rescue tell me that flat out when we had originally thought of adopting a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel as opposed to buying a puppy.
So, what did I learn from this little trip?
1. I think Greyhounds are amazing and would make a fantastic addition to our family in the very far future. (Most important point).
2. Everything that was regurgitated to me by the rescue owners I had found on the internet and therefore I wasted a whole afternoon and six quid just trying to get Carmen and I out there.
3. Rescuing may not be an option for Mr. K and I due to people's uneducated opinions.
4. If I ever run a rescue, I will ensure all of my staff have had lessons in basic people and communication skills and that discrimination is wrong.
5.. I need to stop trying to volunteer with animal related professions because most people working with the least judgmental creatures on the planet, they themselves are incredibly judgmental; and often wrong. (This last statement is a broad generalization and I know that, but I'm pissed and sick of running into these road blocks everywhere I turn).

On Tops of the World!

Herro everyone! Hermione heres. The mama has been hogging the 'puter thingy and so, I haves not been ables to type to you fur a very very very very long time.
Hmmmm, "hogging." Isn't thats a funny word? What's a hogs anyways?
I'm heres today to tells you a story. Wells, I ams always heres to tell you a story. I guess, it's mores to tells you about an argument the Mama and I had and hows I am right and hers is wrong. Hers still hasn't accepted this very very very simple truth; that I ams rights and hers is wrong. Hers really needs to get with the program.
Just yesterday the Mama was eating hers supper and I thoughts I should haves some. I had already had my supper, buts sharing is very impawtant and so the Mama should really shares hers stuff with me. Hers doesn't see it that way, buts I'm working on hers. The Mama sits on our couch to eats suppers because our home is small and the Daddy's 'puter stuff is alls over the kitchen table. Him does not have a desk because there just isn't the room.
At first, I tried to sit beside hers and carefully sneaks my way on to her cap, um, flap...lap. Hers said,
"hermione, no. Off."
I hates those two words. no  "" and "off" are not words that should be used when the Mama is talking to me. I ams just saying.
So, because I am a good girl, I got off of the Mama's cap and went and sat at the end of the couch. I just couldn't understands why the Mama wouldn't shares with me. Sharing is only the nice thingy to do. So, I gots to thinking, maybe the Mama was confused and forgots how to share. I tried a new plan of aback...attack.
I went back to the Mama and gots in her cap again, buts kept my nose to myself. I thoughts that if hers saw that I was a sweet, nice girl that hers would remember to share, but I couldn't sit like that fur very long. The smells of hers fishes and green beans was too much for my little pupppee senses. So, I accidentally leaned towards hers plate and hers said,
"Hermione, no. Off."
I did what I was tolds, buts oh hows I wanted some fishes and beans. So, I went to my thinking spots again and started thinking. That's when it struck me: the coffee table was in front of the Mama, maybe ifI could sees her better, she'd want to share. So, I hopped down from the couch and put my plan into action.
It was a bit difficult at firsts, since I haves never done this befores. I puts my front arms up on the coffee table because I am tall enough to do that nows, buts did it very very very very quietly. The Mama can't sees me, buts her can sure hears me. I hads to be very very very carefuls because my shiny bone tag makes a lot of noise when it hits thingies. Once my arms were in place, I pushed with my feets and tried leaping, buts I am a small puppee and only five months old, so I just couldn't makes it. The fishes smelled so good and I wanted to try the beans, so I did not give ups. The mama says that when hers was little her teachers used to say,
"if at first you don't succeed, try try again." Good device...rice...erm, advice Mama.
Ands "try, try agains," is exactly what I did.
With my arms on the top and my feets pushing from the bottom I gots high enough to gets my feets on the second shelf. I was so excited, I hopped a little mores and suddenlys I was on the coffee table. I marched myself-well, marched as much as I coulds in a very small space-to the middle of the table and showed the Mama my best "sit stay" ever.
See, Mama? Our training is working!
I stared straight at hers in my perfect "sit stay" and waited fur hers to share with me. I had worked hard. I deserved a reward, rights?
The Mama noticed me and covered her mouths with hers hand and squeaked,
"what are you doing?"
Hers was trying not to laugh. I knows it!
Then, hers three favourite words came out: "Hermione, no. Off."
"Buts, Mama! I worked so hard. I thoughts of this plan all on my own ands I'm sitting!"
Hers waited and I got off. Hers told me I was a good girl in her happy voice, buts hers was still not forthcoming with hers stinking fishes.
After I went off to plays with my Roscoe brother, hers told the Daddy what had happened and they both were snorting and squeaking and shaking like crazy hu Man and Hu Woman.
I haven't done it agains, buts it's a great trick ands I will remember to use it one of these days when I needs to impress someone. Maybe they will be mores impressed than the Mama and the Daddy and they'll hands overs some stinking fishes.
Nows that you knows the story, you can sees that I am rights! Rights? Sharing is a nice thingy to do and if you works hard, you should be rewarded. The Mama says that I haves my princesses...principupils...principles? Principles right, buts that I still don't gets fishes.
What's that all abouts, Mama?!

Puppy Play Dates

Last week was Hermione's five month birthday. I can't believe how fast the time has gone by and how much she's grown. She used to be this little thing that looked like a wind-up toy and now she's all legs and floppy Spaniel ears. She's a sweetie, despite her house training problems. Her sit is reliable and she will down if you have a food or toy reward. She's even started playing fetch in the house with me. She's even gotten pretty strong on the leash for a small breed. My only concern, besides the potty training wich I think will come with time, is her reaction to strange dogs. She's great with Glacier and Roscoe. In fact, she plays tug of war with the big boys and Roscoe likes to play a "keep away" game of sorts with her, but with unknown dogs she is skiddish and sometimes barks; very not cool.
I know it's been because of her lack of exposure to different dogs. No matter how hard I've tried, finding other dogs or puppies for Hermione to meet and/or play with has proven very difficult as a blind person. I had one dog trainer offer to have us come to her puppy class, but twice she's stood us up. I've left comments on UK forums, hoping that there are people in my area wanting to have play dates, but so far no luck. When I go to the park, we are walking and so it's harder for us to find other dogs. I can't see to know if the dogs are walking or socializing and often I don't know they are there until they have passed.
Both Glacier and Hermione's body language tells me that another dog is approaching and I have started attempting to engage the owner and dog in order to assist Hermione with her uncertainty. I think that is all it is because when the dog is far away she is very excited and when the dog starts leaving, she gets all excited and wants to follow it. If we stand still long enough, she starts to get over her uncertainty and will come out from behind me to sniff the other dog and to allow the other dog to sniff her. If the dog is incredibly exuberant, she's having none of it. Yesterday we met three different dogs I was able to have her meet, but it seems to be the luck of the draw because today we haven't run into any.
I also think part of the block comes from Glacier being a working dog and people actually respecting him. It's great, but I'm not sure how to be out with both dogs and have people approach us. I've thought about using a White Cane to walk Hermione, so all my attention can be on her, but that brings up a whole bunch more social restrictions. Somehow though, I have to remedy this because I do not want her uncertainty to turn into dog aggression or fear. She's fantastic with people and we really want her to be a therapy dog. She can't be if she is cranky with other furry ones.
So, for now, I'll continue going out in public spaces where there should be other dogs and hope we can't create a few connections. Carmen said she'll help find other dogs this week-much easier when you can see them coming- but I know that this sort of thing isn't exactly her cup of tea and I'd need to do this more than once. Also, I know I'm far away from most of you, but if anyone knows of anyone in Edinburgh who may want to have play dates, let me know. :) Every little bit helps.

The Puke Problem Persists

Apparently the sign Mr. K put up  had no effect, nor having to trudge through the puke because it's still there. It makes me cringe just thinking about it, and the smell! Oh, the smell. I am so glad Mr. K covered it over with garbage bags, but when you get close it smells awful. I am also more sore than I originally thought; sort of like a minor case of whiplash, which wouldn't surprise me. I also think I bruised the side of my butt. Sitting is not comfortable! The worst part is, there doesn't seem to be anything we can do to get it cleaned up.
The way buildings are set up in the UK is very different from North America. All of the flats in this building, except ours, are owned outright by the people living in them, so there isn't a landlord or super intendant. That means, there is no way of forcing him to clean it up.
My next line of thought was to contact the Edinburgh Council as they have a helpline for noisy neighbours. I thought that perhaps it would apply to all disturbances, but apparently not. I was told that all they could do would be to tell him to clean it up with some warm water. I said that I would like it if they would do that and the girl said that she would let Public Health know and they would get back to me as soon as possible. That was over an hour ago and I still haven't heard anything. She also told me that Public Health would probably say the same thing because the communal stairway is the responsibility of the combined tenants to keep clean.
So, if you have a tenant who refuses to clean up his/her vomit that is covering an entire landing and a few steps, there is nothing you can do, but politely ask him/her to clean it up?
What if someone slipped in it and was injured?
Really?
Someone said that it's a good thing that I wasn't pregnant or an elderly person. I couldn't agree more. I am pretty flexible and healthy and I think I mostly bounced.
What if I had broken something? What if, God forbid, I landed on Hermione and she was injured?
Someone said I could call the police and report him for "anti-social" behavior, but I don't know if there is a time limit on that. He puked on Sunday morning. So does that mean, in order to charge him, would we have had to call the cops when he was vomiting? Or, can I still call the cops and report him because the vomit is still there and it is a safety hazard? I will probably call the police and find out.
I just don't understand. This country is obsessed with health and  safety, to the point where it is ridiculous, but they don't have a way to deal with an issue like this? An issue that  is not only a slipping/falling/breaking bones hazard but also a health risk? I don't really know what else to say but "grrrrrrr!"

Now That's Dedication

I've had a few things vying for my writing attention this morning, but ever since I took seven steps out my front door, I had something else to write about. Yes, exactly seven  steps.
Why seven steps?
Because that is how many it is down the first flight of stairs in our communal hallway to get outside, but let me start at the beginning.
This morning Hermione woke me up, as usual, by squawking from her crate. Today, her anxious squeaks came at around 7:30, which isn't too bad and I rolled out of bed to bring her for her first "potty" break of the day. I muddled through the preparations to take her out still half asleep as I had gone to bed a bit later  than normal. I managed to struggle into a pair of pants; dropped her leash twice, but finally got it clipped to her collar; and then headed out the door. Did I mention I was half asleep? If I hadn't been, perhaps the little accident that happened next could have been avoided. Then again, perhaps not because if I would have been awake, I would have been moving at a much faster pace and things could have been much more disastrous.
Yesterday was a  big "football" (AKA soccer) game here in Scotland and everyone started drinking early. Okay, maybe not everyone because we definitely weren't involved in the celebrations, but practically everyone. The pubs were over flowing and Tenie said she heard people off to the pub at 9:00 AM. So, it was no surprise to Mr. K and I that a few of our neighbours were slightly intoxicated. The only thing is that one of our neighbours is frequently intoxicated. Most weekends, there is a night where he passes out in the stairwell and usually ends up urinating. It is normally cleaned up early in the morning and I never would have known if Mr. K wasn't a night owl. This particular neighbour also will spit on the stairs, but again, it is usually quickly cleaned up. Apparently yesterday's festivities were too much for him because he, according to Mr. K, came home around 2 or 3 AM and planted himself out in the communal hallway and proceeded to puke. Do you see where I'm going with this?
So, this morning, half asleep and unsuspecting little me, is carrying Hermione down the stairs to go out to pee and when my right foot hit the second to last step in the first flight of stairs, I slipped and went down on my right elbow. Thankfully, somehow, I managed to keep a hold of Hermione and she landed on top of me. I had no idea what had happened until I tried to stand back up and felt squishing/sliming/watery grossness under my feet. There was so much of it that my feet kept sliding out from underneath me and if I hadn't had a good hold of the bannister, I would have fallen back down. The worst part was the smell. I nearly cried. There I stood, puppy clutched in my arms, my elbow throbbing and someone else's cold, stinky   vomit soaking through my running shoe on to my barefoot and dripping down my leg. The whole right side of my leg was covered and it had also soaked through to my skin. The elbow of my coat was covered and I only knew that because I reached to check my elbow to make sure it wasn't broken and consequently stuck my hand into it. All I could do was stand there in disbelief. This was something that happened in movies or books, not in real life.
At first, I turned around to take Hermione back up to our flat, but all I could hear was the dog trainer voice screaming in the back of my mind about consistency. So, I trudged down the other forty something stairs and outside to let her relieve. To be honest, I only got through her going pee. I could smell the vomit and definitely could feel it and I was starting to freak out. I tried to stay patient and positive singing, "go potty, Hermione. Get busy little miss," but my patience were slipping and the second rule to dog training is positivity. The sun was shining and Hermione was more interested in sniffing the various objects the drunk people had left behind from the night before and I was still covered in puke. So, I scooped her up, in my non-vomit covered arm, and made my way back inside. I stripped everything off and threw it into the washing machine and threw my shoes into the garbage. Thankfully, they had been an old pair that I had just replaced and since the vomit had soaked through the mesh on the sides of the shoe, there really was no salvaging them. I then went and woke up Mr. K to share my traumatic experience.
I can laugh about it now, mostly anyway, but I definitely was not laughing as I relayed the events to Mr. K. When I get angry, I become very quiet and it's a sort of deep, quiet bubbling rage. He got out of bed and wrote a note that he taped up. It read something like:
Whoever vomited in the stairs, please clean it up. I have covered it up with garbage bags, but my wife, who is blind, slipped in it and fell down the stairs.
He originally was going to go over and knock on the door to tell the man to clean up his mess, but he was afraid he would "smash him into the ground like a tent pole." So, he decided the note was a better option; especially since he does not want to be deported.
I'm not sure I've ever experienced something so disgusting before, and believe me, I've experienced some pretty gross things. I've had a dog have diarrhea on my lap; cleaned up a drunk friend after a night of too much fun; had a seagull poop on my bare  leg from the sky Etc. This definitely takes the prize for "most disgusting." I'm sorry to be graphic, but when there is a lake of vomit covering an entire stairway landing, that is gross.
Mr. K and I have vowed that if he is ever out in that stairway again, drunk of course, we'll be calling the police. Sure, it was gross, but I'm so lucky that I didn't break anything or hurt Hermione. The stairs are these old, cement stairs, worn away from use for a very long time. They are so worn, there is a groove in the middle of each stair where people walked up and down them. We walk on the outside to avoid this very smooth, rounded, slightly treacherous area. As much as I'm griping about getting plastered in puke, things could have been much worse. That said, I was still covered in vomit and somehow I still managed to take my puppy out to potty; at least to get her peeing done.
Now, that is dedication. Don't you think?
Not to mention, that man drank so much that he was able to make a puke lake. That in and of itself is dedication as well. Perhaps not healthy dedication, but dedication nevertheless.