Whitney and Beth (and Hanni), Safe and Sound

Beth and Whit have settled into a routine up at the Vermont Studio Center.

Hi all — it’s still Mike here. Beth’s taking this work retreat seriously, staying offline as much as she can — but the short of it is, all is well. That staph infection that put a scare into us has passed, thanks to some attentive and caring folks up in Johnson, Vt. at the Vermont Studio Center, and to the the good people at Copley Hospital.Beth spent two nights at Copley, and so did Whitney — which presented a little bit of a logistical challenge when it came to taking Whitney out for “park time.” Well, the hospital staff rose to the occasion. They took Whitney out and played with her while Beth stayed attached to IV pole. And Beth and her publisher — Francine Poppo-Rich at Blue Marlin Publications — thanked them by shipping copies of “Hanni & Beth, Safe and Sound” to all the caring people who helped Beth and Whitney.

One of them — Penny Hester — took care of Whitney for an hour and a half while Beth was in the MRI tube (they were checking to be sure the infection had not spread to muscle and joint tissue). Penny is a speech/language pathologist. After she received her copy of the book, she wrote Beth a very thoughtful note — turns out Penny has a therapy dog that helps with some of her patients:

Dear Beth,

You have no idea how much it meant to me to receive your book. I used it with a patient the next day who had no idea of what being “blind” meant. With limited words he would close his eyes and point to the book-“no see Beau.” Beau is my pet therapy dog and Hanni looks very much like my Beau, in the beautifully illustrated pictures of  your book. Thank you for giving me an opportunity to open his world to a new concept.

That Hanni. Even in retirement, she’s winning friends. So is Whitney — though she’s doing it a little differently…Penny sums up Whitney’s goofball personality pretty well:

I found your sweet, clowning companion an absolute joy. She was hysterical playing with Beau’s squeaky toys. She would push her nose against the toy until it would squeak and then jump back a bit and yip.  I loved spending time with her and I was honored to be entrusted with her. When you instructed me about not letting her off her leash — it brought chills up my spine to imagine you having to worry about that when others provide her with “park time.”

Well, Beth says that thanks to Penny and all the good folks out there, she didn’t have to worry at all.

Off Leash with Bark Magazine

Yesterday the editors at Bark Magazine invited me to be a guest on Off Leash, their weekly open-thread real-time chat. I pretended I knew what an open thread real-time chat is and said yes.

They’ve been doing this weekly open thread thing for a while, I guess, but are making one tweak. They want to start inviting special guests to each open thread, and they decided to use me as their “test run” yesterday:

We’ll feature a regular Bark contributor, so readers can drill down on specific topics, such as training, behavior, rescue, activism, animal law and more. Other times, we’ll invite folks we admire to join the conversation.

I’ve never done instant messaging, but I’m guessing my experience yesterday afternoon was kind of what IM is like. Bark fans would comment or ask questions to the thread, and I’d answer in real time. An example from yesterday’s Off Leash thread:

Submitted by Jennifer B on April 27, 2011.
Beth, I’m not blind but I know several people that will be due to degenerative diseases of the eye. How hard was it to learn to trust your dog? I’ve worked as a care aide and done sensitivity training as if I were blind and it is hard to trust a human, that’s why I’m asking. How long did it take you to really put yourself in her paws?
• reply
Submitted by Beth Finke on April 27, 2011.
With my very first Seeing Eye dog I think it took me about a year to trust her. The second dog it only took me three months. I have been with Harper, my third dog, for four months now and find I don’t trust him *completely* yet, but I think that’s b/c I am living in a very busy city now — Chicago — and traffic is more difficult here. So actually, I guess I *do* trust Harper, just don’t trust the traffic!
• reply
Submitted by Lizzi on April 27, 2011.
I’d be interested to hear some more about your challenges in living in Chicago with a guide dog, as I live in Chicago and have a BIL with a guide dog.
And I agree, you should definitely NOT trust the traffic in Chicago. Especially cab drivers. Maybe they should teach guide dogs to recognize cabs and refuse to cross in front of them (only half joking here!).

Sometimes he thinks he's a lap dog.

The timing for this little threading experiment was perfect for me – the Seeing Eye sent out an instructor Monday to give me some techniques to try with Harper. We’ve been at it all week, and after making some progress yesterday afternoon we decided to take a break. While Harper snored at my feet, I “mingled” online.

In exchange for all this, Bark will place an ad for my children’s book Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound in an upcoming issue. Bark had me write a guest post for their blog Wednesday, too. It’s about what it takes to be a guide dog instructor, a timely topic since Harper and I have spent so much time this past week with the visiting instructor. More on all that in a future post. Now that my open thread real-time mingling is over, I think I’ll join Harper in snoreland. Zzzzzzzzz…

Don’t ask, don’t tell

That's me at Kipling. But is it Hanni or Harper?

Last year when I called the Seeing Eye to tell them I’d be returning to train with a new dog, I told them I wanted one who looked just like Hanni. They laughed, and I laughed along with them. But I was only half-joking.

Ever since Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound came out in 2007, I’ve been enjoying traveling to schools and libraries with Hanni to talk with kids who’d enjoyed reading the book. Wouldn’t these kids be disappointed if I arrived without the star? I figured maybe, just maybe, if my new Seeing Eye dog even looked a teeny-tiny bit like Hanni, the kids would never know the difference.

When we apply for a dog, the Seeing Eye listens politely to our preferences—“I love German Shepherds” or “I’d really like another male” – but they make no promises. When it comes to matching us with our dogs, other more important qualities take priority. Harper was the dog in the November/December 2010 class who best matched my strength, size, walking speed, energy level, lifestyle and personality.

And lucky for me, Harper looks a lot like Hanni.

Harper and I took a train to Deerfield last Thursday to visit Kipling Elementary School. When Linda, the nice mom who met us at the train, opened her car door, she said, “Hanni can sit back here.” I didn’t tell her it wasn’t Hanni. The minute we walked into Kipling’s media center a chorus of second-graders squealed in delight. “There’s Hanni!” How could I disappoint them? I kept my mouth shut.

During my speech to the Kipling second-graders, I constantly referred to the dog at my feet as “my Seeing Eye dog.” I explained the three rules to keep in mind if you happen to see a guide dog with a harness on: don’t pet the dog, don’t feed the dog, and don’t call out the dog’s name.

“Those things can distract a Seeing Eye dog,” I told them. “It’d be like if someone nudged you or kept calling your name wile you were working on your spelling words at school. You wouldn’t be able to concentrate on your work.”

I suggested we come up with a fake name for my Seeing Eye dog. “We’re going to be around here for a while, and you might want to say hello if you see us in the hallway,” I said, explaining that iff they use my Seeing Eye dog’s fake name to say hello, the dog wouldn’ notice. “My Seeing Eye dog will think you’re talking to someone else!”

I asked the kids what their principal’s name was. Being the polite children they are, they gave me their principal’s formal name. “Does anyone know Mrs. Mosley’s first name?” A sweet little voice rang out. “I do! It’s Adrienne.”

Adrienne. A huge smile crossed my face. That could be Adrian, right? A girl’s name, or a boy’s name. “How about we call my Seeing Eye dog ‘Adrian’ today?” The kids ate it up.

During the Q&A part of the session, a student asked if Adrienne sleeps with me. It was a good question – it gave me a chance to explain that Seeing Eye dogs are not allowed on furniture. “Seeing Eye dogs usually sleep as close as they can to their owner,” I said. “Adrian lies right next to my bed. If I get up for a glass of water in the night I have to be careful so I don’t step on my dog.” Students asked whether Adrienne likes other dogs, does Adrienne ever slip on the ice, can Adrienne go on escalators. They wanted to know a lot about Adrian, but really, most of their questions had more to do with blindness: how do you shop, how do you eat, how do you cook.

“Can you use a cell phone?” one girl asked. I told her that most cell phones have a dot on the number five. “That helps me dial,” I said. The phone I use now is just a regular cell phone. It doesn’t talk or anything, so I have to memorize the phone numbers I use. “Did you ever lose a number?” another girl asked. She sounded very concerned. And somehow, even though I’d been lying about the Seeing Eye dog at my feet for this entire session, I couldn’t lie to this girl about my cell phone. “Yes,” I said. “Lots of times.” This gave me a chance to talk about the iPhone I am hoping to get soon. I sensed them creeping closer and closer to Adrian and me as I answered questions. They were intrigued.

The hour flew by, and we left the room to a chorus of cheers and goodbyes to Adrienne. We pulled it off, I thought. But on the way back to the train station with Linda my pride turned to horror. Harper had enjoyed a big bowl of water while we were at Kipling. He would have to pee before we got on the train.

I tried to distract Linda while Harper did his duty, asking her questions about her family, a recent wedding they’d been to, that sort of thing. I’m not sure if she was looking at me or at Harper as we talked, but she did get quiet all of a sudden.

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.

Here’s to hanni, and to a good book review, too

Cheers to Hanni for keeping us Safe & Sound.

Every couple of weeks, Hanni and I take the train from Chicago to Elmhurst and enjoy a glass of wine (or two!) with Flo and my sister Cheryl. Whoever opened that cute little wine bar right across the street from the Elmhurst train station sure knew what they were doing! The three of us try to pick a date that marks a special occasion in the family. Last month we met on my sister Marilee’s birthday, and today marked Cheryl’s daughter and son-in-law’s tenth anniversary.

You might remember my post about visiting Caren and Mark and their two girls in Minnesota last March. Now you can see them here in a “Fighting Childhood Obesity” news clip on Minnesota TV –they’re all superstars!

But back to our wine date. After toasting Caren and Mark’s anniversary, we toasted a review of Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound that came out in New Jersey’s Recorder newspapers today. The timing is perfect: Hanni and I fly to Newark Saturday for a three-day book tour. From the review:

This excellent book should be available in every school and public library.

I’ll toast to that! But wait, there’s more:

The colorful drawings are intriguing, and they show Hanni’s intelligent personality. Hanni talks about how she must disobey Beth’s commands in case she sees dangerous obstacles that Beth can’t see. Seeing Eye dogs can even navigate their companions safely in busy cities and traffic.

Hanni has been doing her fair share of that lately (navigating me through city traffic, that is). She walked me to the downtown Chicago commuter train station to catch the 3:40 to Elmhurst this afternoon, and now she’s sleeping at my feet for the ride back to the Loop.

It is such a gift to have a dog I can count on to get me wherever I want to go, and whenever I feel like getting there. Thanks to Hanni, I felt confident about taking the train out to Elmhurst to meet my sister and mom this afternoon.

Even young children will be able to understand this material about how independent blind people can be. Hanni takes Beth to meetings, concerts, shopping and ball games. She rides on airplanes at Beth’s feet, as other service dogs can also do.

Which reminds me. I’d better get packing for New Jersey. Cheers to the writer who wrote this wonderful review of our book. And most of all, cheers to Hanni.