Labor of love

When Harper gets it right, I make sure he knows it.

One thing The Seeing Eye urges graduates to do when we get home is keep our new dogs attached to us. Literally. 24/7. So picture me now, working at my computer. Harper is at my feet, his leash looped around my ankle. Any time I decide to head to the kitchen to warm up my coffee, I wake Harper up. “Harper, heel.” Harper walks at my side to the microwave. “Good boy, Harper.” When we get to the microwave, I give him another command. “Harper, sit!” Harper sits. “Good boy, Harper!” I want him to stay there while the coffee warms up. “Harper, rest.” He does. “Good boy, Harper. Good boy!

Twenty years ago I managed all that while our son Gus was little and living with us. From Long Time, No See:

Take my first morning home with Pandora. I failed to level off the dry oatmeal before putting it in the cereal bowl and it overflowed in the microwave. I shifted between the sink and microwave to clean it up, all the while with Pandora’s leash wrapped around my wrist, per Seeing Eye instructions for our first weeks together.

I succeeded on my second try, and used Pandora to guide me to Gus. Then I carried him to his highchair and wrapped Pandora’s leash around my ankle — I needed both hands to feed Gus. I needed four hands, really. Pandora kept slinking under Gus’ highchair to clean up all he dropped, and she needed correcting. And so on.

When it finally was my turn to eat I punched the button on my talking clock. It was already 10:30! I hadn’t even had a cup of coffee yet.

 

Anyone who knows me knows how important my morning coffee is. And anyone who has read Long Time, No See (or has been at a presentation where I read from my memoir) knows what made the coffee I finally brewed that morning so memorable!

Understanding the method behind the 24/7 attachment madness makes it easier to execute. Praise is really what it’s all about for Seeing Eye dogs, and having them at the end of the leash all the time gives us plenty of chances to tell them how great they are. If Harper sits when I tell him, I praise him. When he heals, lies down, rests on command, he is praised. On the other hand, if Harper misbehaves (sniffs inside a garbage can, nibbles at crumbs on the kitchen floor) I can catch him in the act. We can’t see our Seeing Eye dogs, but if they are only a leash away while they’re being naughty, we can correct them.

All of this transfers to our work outside, too. I praise, and often pet, Harper anytime he stops at a curb, or at the top of the stairs to the subway. If he messes up, I correct him and give him a chance to do it right. And if he succeeds the second time, guess what? He gets praised!

Let’s say we’re walking outside and Harper runs past a curb. That’s when I step into my role as teacher. I give him a correction, either verbally or with the leash, then show him where he made his mistake.

Next, I bring him back to the curb, tell him to sit, tap the curb with my foot and praise him. “Good boy, Harper! Here’s where you stop. Good boy!” We take a few steps backwards then, maybe two dog lengths, and we re-work the approach to the curb. Harper almost always, always gets it right the second time. And when he does? I praise the bejeezus out of him. “Good boy, Harper! Attaboy!” I rub him up. His tail wags. “Good boy, Harper. Good boy!” Harper eats it up, and he rarely misses that curb again.

The Seeing Eye recommends we keep our dogs on leash for at least two weeks, and today marks my two-week anniversary at home with Harper. Giving him more free time has given me more time to think. That quote from Long Time, No See? It made me realize something. In a way, that was Pandora’s book. She sat at my feet as I used my first talking computer to write and revise the manuscript. She went for walks with me when I needed to clear my head. She led me to meetings with the publisher after the contract was signed. Hanni and Beth: Safe & sound is Hanni’s book, of course.

Harper and I may not be attached at the hip anymore, but the work continues. I look at our first months together as a ten-year investment in Harper, and in our work as a team. Working with Harper has motivated me to make a New Year’s resolution. I’m getting to work on my third book. With any luck, it’ll be just like working with Harper. A labor of love.

An ice bag, a cup of bouillon, lots of love and we’re fine

That's me and my first Seeing Eye dog, Pandora. If you look closely you'll see the leash looped around my wrist.

I fell. Outside. With Harper. Last night. My feet slipped out from under me.

Hello, sidewalk. Meet the back of my head. Thud.

First thought: Am I conscious?

Second thought:Where’s Harper?

*****

In addition to holding a harness, Seeing Eye dog users also attach a leash to our dogs, then loop the other end around our wrists. The leash is necessary for giving our dogs corrections — this snippet from the “Control and Discipline” lecture I heard while training with Harper a few weeks back:

Some dogs, like some humans, will allow themselves to be temporarily distracted by things which seem interesting to them but are not desirable when it comes to walking or getting through traffic. During training we attempt to educate your dog to control these instincts, but it is virtually impossible to eliminate them.

Some instincts are helpful in relation to guide work. Examples:

• the homing instinct. Harper is very good at retracing his steps and finding known destinations, like the door to our apartment building.
• the pack instinct. This instills Harper’s desire to please the master, in this case …me!

Unfortunately, most dog instincts are detrimental to good guide work. Trainers at the Seeing Eye drummed it into us that we have to work very, very hard to control our dogs desire to chase, scavenge, sniff, protect, and socialize. Back to the lecture notes:

If the distraction is unusually interesting, it may be necessary to accompany the verbal reprimand with a more effective means of regaining the dog’s attention. In such instances, following the reprimand with a jerk on the leash will draw the dog’s attention away from the distracting influence and bring it back to the work at hand. The strength of the leash correction depends upon the type of distraction, as well as your own strength, and the nature of your individual dog.

I’ve appreciated having that leash at hand in order to correct Harper some since we got home (Harper is very interested in some of the other dogs in our neighborhood!) but the leash did another, far more important, job for the two of us last night.

I’d fallen on a sidewalk that edges Harrison, a very, very busy street. After getting my head together, I felt for the leash. There it was, looped around my wrist. Just the way Seeing Eye trainers taught us. And there was Harper, wagging his tail at the other end.

“Harper, come!” He came right to my side. I lay there a long while, petting Harper, devising a way to get horizontal again.

When I finally stood up, a man called out in a beautiful Jamaican accent from across the street. “Ma’am. You oh kay?”I was near tears, but managed to hold them back long enough to answer. My head hurt, but I was all right. And so was Harper. “We’re only a half-block from home,” I told him. Somehow, having a complete stranger worry about me on Christmas Eve like that gave me faith. I knew we’d make it home.

*****

Thursday, the day before my fall, was my birthday. Friends and family mailed cards, bought me drinks, emailed notes, donated to causes in my name, shipped packages, left phone messages, wrote, sent and sang songs to remember my less-than-convenient birthday. Thank you, thank you, thank you. After all these many, many years, you continue making   me feel it’s worthwhile  picking myself up after a fall.

Faithful friends who are dear to us

Sometimes he thinks he's a lap dog.

Before we left the Seeing Eye last week (Wow! Have we been home a week already?) our instructor read me Harper’s “puppy profile.”. Each person who volunteers to raise a puppy for the Seeing Eye is asked to write up a little report. You know, to let us in on what our dogs lives were like before we met them. Here’s an excerpt:

Harper was attending classes at my university (including attending the graduation!), going on buses and trains, attending other club meetings, university equestrian team shows with 20+ horses, a trip to the airport — going on a plane but not taking off, emergency vehicles, malls, stores, fairs, the beach (his favorite), on a boat, in pools, overnight charity events, elementary school presentations, a retirement/recovery home, soccer, football, and hockey games.

Whew! Harper is one well-traveled dog – he did all that even before he was a year-and-a-half old! And yes, you read that right: he was raised on a college campus: he’s a Rutgers grad! An article on the Rutgers University Seeing Eye Puppy Raising Club web site describes these generous students who volunteer their time to raise puppies for us.

To truly stop and spend a few moments observing the volunteers of the Rutgers University Seeing Eye Puppy Raising Club, you’re struck too by their obvious affection for and commitment to their charges – cute, adorable puppies with names like Elroy, Yankee, Harper, and Oz.

Did you read that? The article mentions Harper! What a sweet little puppy he must have been – imagine the attention he got on campus! College students at Rutgers have been providing a welcoming home for Seeing Eye puppies since the year 2000, when the Rutgers chapter of the puppy raising program began. After leaving the Seeing Eye breeding station, seven- or eight-week old German Shepherds, Golden Retrievers, Labrador Retrievers, and crosses of these breeds are placed with puppy raisers until they are 16 to 18 months old. Raisers train the puppies in basic obedience, house manners, how to walk on a leash, and expose the dogs to real-life situations they might encounter once placed with a blind person like me.

But back to Harper’s puppy profile. His puppy raiser said Harper loves squeaky toys, so we knew to give him some of those when he came home to Chicago with me. She also said that he loves being talked to in a sing-song voice, so just imagine how much I sing to him now! My favorite part of Harper’s puppy profile:

He is the coolest dog I’ve ever had. His personality is a great combination of independence and affection.

Amen to that. THANK YOU, Harper’s puppy raiser. And thanks to all the other wonderful, generous volunteer puppy raisers out there. You are our heroes.

We’ll just have to muddle through somehow

 

My brother-in-law Lon is just itching to use the homemade gift he got last Christmas–a
pine cone backscratcher.

I am the youngest of seven, and I have 16 nieces and nephews. Eleven of those nieces and nephews have children of their own. One of my nieces has two grandchildren already! As Mike likes to say, “It’s not a family. It’s a nation!”

Buying Christmas gifts for this brood is out of the question. So we pick names instead. But here’s the rub: you have to make a gift for the person you choose.

Today is the day we all gather to open our homemade presents, and it will also be the day Harper meets my extended family. To prepare, I just re-listened to the audio file of the “Going Home” lecture we heard in class earlier this week. An excerpt: There are additional challenges when major holidays occur right after you arrive home. Instead of having some time to quietly acclimate your dog to its new situation, you are thrown into activities and parties that go along with certain holidays. If you have just arrived home, it might be advisable to skip some of your usual activities for this year. If there are things that you feel you must attend, look for ways to take the pressure off your dog- going sighted guide or settling in one spot to allow other people to come see you might be two ways to ease the pressure on your new dog.

So that’s the plan. Mike, Harper and I will arrive late to the party, after everyone has eaten. I’ll find a seat, plant myself there, keep Harper at my feet, stay for the opening of the homemade gifts and then head right back home. I mean, c’mon. Homemade Christmas is an event I feel I must attend! It’s always such fun to, hmm, what verb do I want here? It’s always fun to experience the gifts everyone comes up with each year.

In years past, babies pressed handprints into clay wall hangings, cousins stuffed homemade pillows for gifts, pine cones collected in back yards were magically transformed into Christmas ornaments –and back-scratchers! I get compliments on the earrings my niece Jennifer made me whenever I wear them, and every night I cuddle on the couch under an afghan my sister Cheryl crocheted.

Some family members get into a groove – one brother-in law is a hunter, so every year he has his catch made into a deerhide wallet, or a deerhide make-up bag, or deerhide gloves. Mike Knezovich has gotten into the habit of making beer for the lucky family member he picks. My brother Doug, a jazz trombonist, always writes a song for the person he chooses. I was the lucky one in 2008 – you can hear Doug performing “Beth, Betha, Best” with his band by clicking the “play” arrow/button below. You’ll hear a little musician talk before the song begins, so be patient, and have yourself a merry little Christmas…now!

Following my leader

I’ve always known my husband is a great writer. Now you all know that, too! A gargantuan thank you to Mike Knezovich for keeping the Safe & Sound blog going while I was away. He did such a tremendous job that now I have some big shoes to fill. Thank goodness for photos of cute dogs, if my writing is a little lacking no one will notice!

Harper and I, followed by weekend visitors, on a leisurely walk at The Seeing Eye.

My 18 days training with Harper at the Seeing Eye were go, go, go. The highlights:

• Hearing his name for the first time. We weren’t told our dogs names until we were introduced. It was love at first sound. I love his name.
• Taking off on our first walk down a sidewalk together. My smile was so broad, and the temperatures so cold, I thought my face might crack. Moments later, walking through space so quickly and efficiently, I was warm. Inside and out.
• Manhattan. New York City is so stimulating, all the people rushing about, a wonderful energy in the air. Following Harper as he threaded his way through the sea of legs was a joy ride.

Days start early at the Seeing Eye. Every morning at 5:30 a.m. an instructor would play a song over the intercom, then make an announcement like this:

Good morning, everybody. Time to get up. Its 27 degrees outside, so bundle up. We’ll be coming around with bowls of food for your dog. Feed them, give them two cups of water and then head outside for park time. 

In my twenties I might have rebelled against being told what to do every day, how to dress, what to do when and where. Decades later, I found it surprisingly seductive. Decisions were made for me. I was told when to have Harper guide me to the dining hall for meals, when to meet in the lobby for a ride to downtown Morristown, where to go on routes, how to hold the harness, what to say to my new dog. I didn’t have to think. And there was no time to keep up with the news.

Bliss.

Last Monday night I confessed to one of my captors, I mean, trainers, that I was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. I didn’t want to leave.

The very next day, 24 hours before Harper would be leading me to my seat on an airplane bound for Chicago, Harper and I were asked to do two surprise solo routes. Instructors took us to downtown Morristown, told me how many blocks they wanted me to go forward, then take a left, cross a street, go three blocks, take a right, cross a street. The instructor would stay silent, behind us. Harper followed my every command. We were a team. I was ready. I wanted to come home.

And now, here we are. I don’t think Harper has ever seen snow before! In addition to judging traffic at each intersection, he has to negotiate us safely around the pile of snow left by plows at each curb. At the first snowbank, I feel the harness dart just a little bit left and right in my hand. Harper is moving his head back and forth, figuring out the best option. Go left of the snow, or right? Then an aggressive pull. He found his opening. I follow.

It is absolutely thrilling to walk with Harper, and I catch myself laughing out loud during our trips. His exuberance is contagious. It’s not all fun and games, though. This is Chicago, after all.

Bounding down the sidewalk on our very first walk around the block, Harper stops suddenly. I do the same. A milli-second later I hear the “beep, beep, beep” of a truck backing into an alley. Harper saw it coming before I heard what was happening. “Good boy, Harper! Good boy!”

Seeing Eye trainers have to teach dogs how to judge when a car changes from a car that can be trusted to a car that cannot be trusted. When Harper is guiding me along a city sidewalk, he has to trust the traffic traveling on the streets around us. If he didn’t trust those cars, he’d be afraid of them And wouldn’t walk along the sidewalk.

The Seeing Eye asks dogs not to trust any vehicle moving towards them that is less than 20 feet away. They can’t ask dogs to be wary of anything farther  away than 20 feet, because there are a lot of vehicles farther than 20 feet away that the dogs have to trust. A car pulling into a parking lot half a block ahead, for example. Harper has to trust that car. Otherwise we’d be stopping all the time!

Twenty feet is not very far. A car traveling 30 mph covers 20 feet in one-half of one second. In one-half a second, a dog that is paying attention (Harper), and a human who is paying attention (me), can avoid getting hit by a truck backing into an alley.

Harper brings me to the next corner, “Harper, right!” I command. We spin right. “Good boy, Harper,” I say. “We’re almost home!” We’re Clipping along at a good trot when Harper suddenly skids to a stop. Again. I stop, too, following his lead. Again. This time, it’s a car bolting out of a parking garage. “Attaboy, Harper! Good boy, Harper! Good boy!”

Seeing Eye dogs are taught traffic work right from the beginning of their training process. At first they’re taught to avoid cars just like they’re taught to avoid other obstacles – garbage cans, trees, light poles, stuff like that. Then staff drivers come after the dog. They teach the dogs to run away from a car or back away from a car. And they teach the dogs to stop at a variety of distances from a moving car. After enough practice, the dog’s fear and concern about moving vehicles turns into confidence and awareness.

And thanks to Harper, and all the many, many, many people who have put their hearts and minds together to train Seeing eye dogs like him for the past 80+ years, any fears or concerns I had about facing traffic with a new dog are also turning into awareness. And confidence. Attaboy, Harper.

The best antidepressants

That's Beth and her classmate Carlos and his beautiful Golden retriever at Rockefeller Plaza. So New York's nice, but Beth and Harper need to come back to Sweet Home Chicago.

So Monday night I got home and there was no impossibly frantic tail-wagging and jumping up on the hind legs. And I felt, for the first time since Beth left for Morristown, alone.

It was a particular kind of aloneness that I’ve felt before. Like the weeks on end I spent in Urbana while Beth was in the hospital in Chicago after eye surgeries. Or the night of the day that Gus was born. He was delivered by C-Section, squawked, and then proceeded to try to die right in front of my eyes. That night, with Beth doped up in her hospital room and Gus in the neonatal ICU with a 50-50 chance of surviving the night (by the doctor’s estimate), I came home, sat on the couch, and the first thing I saw was a tower of disposable diapers we’d built. Our friends had given them to us as a shower present. Now that was lonely.

Back then I tried the stiff upper lip routine. I’d conjure up a voice that would say, “Don’t feel sorry for yourself.” Now, I hear a little voice — it sounds a lot like Woody Allen’s — that says, “Go ahead. Feel sorry for yourself. If you don’t do it, who will?” So I do and it passes quickly. Takes a lot less energy than fighting the urge.

But I’m still sad. Times like these, some people suggest thinking of all those folks who are less fortunate. I get the count-your-blessings part of that. But it’s never worked for me. In times of misery, knowing that others are even more miserable doesn’t perk me up. Then there’s the “Welcome to Holland” thing. If you don’t know about it, a parent of a child with a disability wrote an essay by that title. The central idea is, say you always wanted to go to Italy. You book the trip, you get on the plane, but somehow, you land in Holland. You’re disappointed that it’s not Italy, but you learn to appreciate all the things about Holland that you never knew you would. I get that, too. But you know, what if sometimes you feel like you landed in freaking Siberia?

I wish we’d landed in Italy. I wish Gus had grown up to play a mean shortstop and become a Rhodes Scholar. I wish Beth could see. I wish she didn’t need a Seeing Eye dog.

Over the years I’ve learned just to go with feeling bad for awhile. And, most important, I’ve learned I’m not alone unless I want to be. After the drive home from dropping off Hanni in Urbana, I had dinner at Kate and Joe’s. They’d invited me knowing I might be a little down. (For the record, we ate Italian food.) These past two weeks with Hanni, our friend and fellow White Sox fan Lora walked Hanni while I was at work.  Lora would tell me stories about their walks each evening. Ira — a friend of Beth’s from college days and now my friend, too — visited with his wife Debbie and delivered a new dog bed for Harper last week, just like they did for Hanni years ago. They also lavished attention on Hanni. I met our friends Rick — who is visually impaired — and his wife Rhona (who isn’t) for coffee yesterday at their invitation. Beth’s 94-year-old mother called last night to make sure I was OK.

In the past I might have resisted having company at a time like this, thinking I was supposed to fight the good fight myself. I might also have turned down Beth’s request to fill in for her here on the blog.

Not anymore. My thanks to all our friends and family, you’ve made a rough time a lot less so. And thanks to all of you blog readers who’ve been reading and commenting and following our little transition. It’s been great having you along for the ride.

Beth and Hanni are back Wednesday, so with any luck at all, the next post will be Beth’s.

Sweet Home Urbana

There's the Harpster. He and Beth will be back in Sweet Home Chicago Wednesday.

So, the latest news from New Jersey is that Beth and Harper had a great time in Manhattan. Apparently Harper had already been to the city three or four times during his training and was unfazed by the throngs at the Port Authority; then he led Beth on a walk in Central Park, and had no problem threading himself and Beth through the holiday crowds on the sidewalks. Also, Beth had another friend visit at school today, and that means more Harper photos, one which I’ll post here.

But enough about Beth. Have I told you about me lately? I just got back from dropping Hanni off with Steven and Nancy at her new home in Urbana. I left last night after work, thinking I’d lucked out with weather. It was warmer than it’s been in awhile, and no snow or rain. Except with the warmth came a thick fog from the downstate snow cover, and visibility was next to nil for some stretches. But it’s not what you’d call a challenging drive (can you say straight and flat?), and I have driven that trip — literally — hundreds of times.

I was raised in a Chicago suburb, but Champaign-Urbana feels like my home town. That’s where I really grew up. I went to college there at the University of Illinois. I met Beth there. Most of my friends — to this day — are connected in some way to my time in C-U. Gus was born there. My big sister Kris — who has helped me stay relatively sane through the years –  lives there with her husband Ed, and Kris’s handsome son Aaron lives there with his photographer wife Joanna and their three kids, who are the cutest kids on earth.

That's nephew Aaron and Joanna with the brood at the Champaign County Fair. If you say they're not the best-looking kids on earth, you're in big trouble.

The university is at the center of life in C-U, and why not: It’s full of whip-smart people doing remarkable things. People like the late physicist John Bardeen — a two-time Nobel Laureate (once for the transistor, once for the theory of superconductivity). Writers like Richard Powers and our wonderful friend Jean Thompson — if you haven’t read her, you should. And you’re looking at this blog thanks to the University of Illinois — where Mosaic, the first graphical Web browser, was developed. Let’s just say the U of I is one of the grandest of the grand land-grant institutions in the land.

That's Nancy and you know who.

Some of the best people in town don’t have a thing to do with university life. Two of them are our friends Steven and Nancy. Steven’s the head of a local arts group, and Nancy’s a nurse practitioner. They live in a sweet place on the edge of town in Urbana, and we’ve visited and stayed there — with Hanni — several times over the past few years.

All of which is why, despite my growing sense of dread over the days leading up to last night, delivering Hanni to her new home was not a sad ordeal. OK, OK, I almost broke down into mush while packing her squeak toys, food, doggie bed, and other paraphernalia. But driving south felt like I was driving her home.

When we got to Steven and Nancy’s house, Hanni got excited and pulled me to their front door. When it opened, I unhooked her leash and she pranced around like she owned the place. I brought her stuff in from the car and Hanni watched intently as I ceremonially handed the big bag of dog food to Steven, and she followed him as he stowed it away. Next, he placed her ratty old dog bed next to an easy chair. By now, Hanni was on her back having her belly scratched by Nancy. Minutes later, Hanni was lying in her bed, surrounded by squeak toys while the three of us humans enjoyed libations.

When it was time for bed, Steven took Hanni out for her last constitutional. Back in the house, he gave her her goodnight treat. I headed for bed, and so did Hanni — she followed Steven and Nancy and slept in their room. As if it had always been that way.

The night before — on her last night in Chicago — I took Hanni for a long walk. Only instead of heading south to the park, I took her into the teeth of downtown. On her old routes with Beth. At Madison Street, she stopped, looked at me, and pulled me west, toward the Ogilvie train station that she and Beth have been to countless times. On the way home, as we passed Sears Tower (yeah, I know it’s Willis Tower, but I’m not doin’ it), she pulled me to the entrance door. That’s where Beth goes for office meetings once a week. I scratched her head and we went along on our way.

As we neared home, we stopped with a huddle of others, all bundled up on a snowy Chicago evening, on their way home from work. As we waited for the light to change, a

So I guess Hanni's going to adjust to life with Steven and Nancy.

woman in front of me bent down, looked Hanni in the face and said, “You are one beautiful city dog.”

That woman was absolutely right, but not anymore. Now Hanni’s one beautiful Urbana dog.

So you want to train with a Seeing Eye Dog…

The dogs work hard even before they meet their human companions. Here, a trainer teaches a dog how to lead around common obstacles.

Every day I get dispatches from Beth that stress the highlights. But I asked her to outline a whole, typical day for me.

Whew. The dogs do wonderful things, but it ain’t magic. It’s tons of hard work that will continue back home. Here’s Beth’s account of her latest day of training:

• 5:30 a.m.  Music comes through intercoms to wake us up. Today it was Randy Newman’s “You’ve Got a Friend in Me.” One morning it was “Baby its Cold Outside.” Every day, a different song to wake us up.
• 5:35  Put bell on Harper’s collar.
• 5:40  Trainer came to each door with a bowl of food; Harper must stay in his assigned place by our bedpost as we answer the door. The bell on his collar gives him away if he moves off his place, and he has to go back. He can’t have his food until he stays in his place.
• 5:45  Harper inhaled his food, then I healed him to the bathroom (heal as in walk with leash, but no harness), measured out two cups of water, he drinks what he wants, and I empty out any water he didn’t drink. He only gets water when I give it to him, part of the “bonding,” he better follow my commands and keep me safe so that he can have water!
• 5:47  Dressed up warm then out to the courtyard for “park time” – 17 blind people with their dogs circling around them, all of us urging our dog to empty. Trainers are with us and call out to let us know when we’ve had success: “#1 for Dilbert!” and Dilbert’s owner whoops it up to encourage him to always go on command. “Harry has a #2!” And his owner squeals with delight. Today was a red letter day, Harper did his #1 AND #2 fairly quickly, and once they do both you can have them lead you back into the building (and warmth!) using the “inside!” command.
• 6:00  Back to our room brought empty bowl to nearest lounge and set it in the sink for workers to pick up, made myself a cup of tea to bring back to the room (we’ve all been told to use lids).
• 6:15  Shower.
• 6:30 Harper led me to nurse’s office; he sat quietly under a chair while nurse checked my blood sugar level, I took appropriate insulin
• 6:45 Announcement over intercom “first floor ladies, head down to the dining room” or “men from upstairs, start heading to breakfast.” We all parade down to the dining room, our dogs leading the way.
• 7:00 Each student has an assigned seat in the dining room, we give dogs a series of commands to go “left” “forward” or “right” to get to our seat and praise them when they achieve their goal.
• 7:15   Breakfast. The dining room is lovely, white tablecloths and all. Waiters and waitresses come to get our orders so the dogs will know how to act in restaurant
• 8:00  Off in vans to training center in downtown Morristown.
• 8:15  Today was our “solo” route. We’ve been practicing a route around Morristown for the past couple days. The route includes T-intersections, four-way stoplights, a two-way stop sign, talking walk signals, left turns, two right turns. During the solo the trainer is still behind us, but quite a distance behind us. He doesn’t give us any clues as to where we are at or what lies ahead; we do it on our own. Today’s route included a barricade across the sidewalk that forced us into the street, a dog distracting us and a traffic check, all provided by the Seeing Eye. In addition to the distractions the Seeing Eye “planted” there were natural distractions, too — ours included a fire truck and ambulance whizzing by us at an intersection. Harper did great. The walk was actually a lot of fun.
• 9:30  Caught shuttle from the training center back to the Seeing Eye school
• 9:50  Down to nurse’s office for blood sugar test. I don’t always test my blood sugar this often, but the schedule here is so different than at home it’sgood to have it checked to make sure.
• 10:00  Tea time. This is optional, but I usually go. Another opportunity for Harper to learn to sit quietly under a table, plus get to meet other Seeing Eye staff.
• 10:35  Announcement over intercom told us to give dogs two cups of water again, empty out any water they didn’t drink and then take them to park time.
• 11:15  Down to nurse’s office for blood test
• 11:30  Made my way with Harper to the grand piano in the Eustis Lounge — it’s a Yamaha and sounds beautifully bright. Played the piano until they called lunch.
• Noon  Lunch
• 12:45  Took Harper for an additional park time, always a good idea to give them an extra chance to park before you go out and work. Don’t want them to have to empty while en route.
• 1:00 p.m.  Van ride with fellow student down to training center in downtown Morristown.
• 1:15  Our trainer gave us directions to go to a drug store, very tight aisles, and any time dogs ran us into anything, we had to give them a correction. Harper ran me into a display of some sort, had to do it over. Second time was the charm, he avoided it.
• 1:30  Our trainer directed us to department store, and we learned how to get off and on escalators.
• 1:45  Our trainer directed us to local city park where we worked on squirrel and bird and rabbit distractions.
• 2:30  Shuttle bus back to living quarters.
• 2:45  Groomed Harper.
• 3:00  Nurses office for blood test.
• 3:15  Downstairs to do laundry, they have Braille labels on the washers and dryers so we know “small” or medium” loads, that sort of thing.
• 4:15 Went through our daily obedience ritual: heal, come, sit, down. Rest. “Good dog, Harper!”
• 4:35  Put bell on Harper’s collar.
• 4:40  Trainer came to each door with a bowl of food. Same drill as the morning: Harper had to stay in his place by our bedpost as I answered the door. The bell on his collar gives him away if he moves off his place, and in face he did and he had to go back. Second time was the charm. He stayed at his place, and he got his food.
• 4:45  Harper inhaled his food, then I healed him to bathroom, measured out two cups of water, he drinks what he wants, I empty out any water he didn’t drink.
• 4:47  Dressed up warm and out to courtyard for “park time.”
• 5:15  Call for dinner.
• 6:30 Upstairs to common lounge for class lecture Tonight’s was by a Seeing Eye veterinarian on keeping our dogs healthy. There’s a lecture on a different topic every night. Having to go upstairs for these lectures teaches our dogs to negotiate stairways. We also go down a flight of stairs for park time, plus downstairs for grooming and laundry purposes.
• 7:30  Free time: Played with Harper, playtime is encouraged to keep up the bonding. Plus, it’s fun!
• 8:00  Announcement over intercom: Give each dog one cup of water, dress warm and out for park time.
• 8:15  See nurse for one last blood sugar and for check of legs and feet (for diabetics only, can’t see our own feet and have to be careful we didn’t get blisters or anything like that with all the walking).
• 8:30  Put Harper on chain near foot of the bed. Harper usually falls asleep right away, and I’m never far behind him.

Tomorrow, we head for Manhattan. You know, like Woody Allen’s Manhattan. I’m serious. All of us who live in big cities are encouraged to take this trip to learn how to go through turnstiles, ride a subway and work through crowds. So I guess if Harper and I can make it there, we can make it anywhere.

Harper and I better rest up.
Zzzzzz.

Meet Harper the Hunk

That's the new guy. He's colored a lot like Hanni, brown ears and all.

So last weekend a friend from New Jersey came to visit Beth at the Seeing Eye. A couple years ago Beth attended the American Library Association’s national conference. She wrote about it back then — she was there to accept the Henry S. Bergh Children’s Book Award from the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA). The Bergh ceremony was held in conjunction with the convention.

As you well know, Beth tends to meet new people easily. At the convention, she met Stephanie Burke and her aunt, Maria Apone. Stephanie is the head of a library in North Arlington, New Jersey, and Maria is a teacher in Fairview, NJ. Beth eventually appeared at Stephanie’s library and Maria’s school, and they’ve all been friends ever since. Fast forward to last weekend: Maria came to Morristown to see Beth and meet Harper.

During the visit Maria was good enough to snap some great shots of Harper and Beth. Turns out photography used to be a pretty serious hobby for Maria — this Jersey Girl even had a shot of Bruce Springsteen published in The Village Voice. In these shots, though, Harper’s the boss.

Here are Harper the Hunk of Burnin’ Love’s statistics:

61 lbs.
Birthday: 12/13/2010
Age: He’ll be two on December 13
Turn-ons: Nylabones
Turnoffs: Not being able to find Nylabones

Here are a couple more:

Awww.

Even has Hanni's nose. He looks like he's all paws.

Mean streets

Well, Hanni and I have made it through a week. So have Harper and Beth. But it sure seems like it’s been longer.

Ain't no messin' around on the streets of Chicago.

Out in New Jersey, Beth’s learning more about Harper. He likes to chew on his Nylabone. A lot. For those who don’t know what a Nylabone is, it’s this synthetic bone-like toy that’s designed not to break off into pieces that could choke a dog. And they’re very tough. Apparently Harper’s already just about rounded off the big knuckle on the end of the bone. And I can hear him — while on the phone — gnawing on it.

The best news out of Morristown is that Harper is great at traffic checks. A traffic check goes like this: Beth and Harper go out to work on stuff for the day with their trainer. In addition to whatever they’re drilling on that day, other instructors are out and about in cars. They intentionally cut in front of Beth and Harper to simulate the very real and insane behavior of texting, distracted drivers.

And Harper has done exactly the right thing several times now. If there is one thing I’d want Harper to be good at, that’s it. Here in Chicago, it’s a must.

He stops for cars but apparently, he likes walking fast so much he sometimes doesn’t stop for curbs and crossings when there’s no cross traffic. Which requires a correction. Which brings me to Beth.

It’s been clear to us since Beth’s first time at the school that the time at the Seeing Eye is as much or more about training the humans as it is training the dogs. The dogs have had the bulk of their training. The humans are learning, in essence, how to be dog trainers, and to keep the dogs doing right. When Beth checks in with me, she usually mentions some basic technique that she’d forgotten or that had gone rusty since her last time there. Like how to hold the harness. There’s a natural tendency — which can be exacerbated by a dog walking slower as she ages — to want to guide the dog, and to push. But you have to hold the harness loosely and let the dog feel a sensation of pulling and leading. The dog has to count on that.

The whole thing — as people who have had dogs or kids well understand — is consistency. So, a warning for all of you who might run into Beth and Harper when they return: Beth’s going to be intensely focused, perhaps less friendly than she usually is for awhile, and she’s going to have to stay on top of her and Harper’s game for a good long while.

I hope you’ll remember it isn’t personal. It’s just necessary for Harper and Beth to be safe and sound.