So a girl and a Great Dane walk into a bar…..
Sounds like the setup for a great joke right? Well, as you can see a girl and a Great Dane walk into many places. We walked in here and we walk into bars (though rarely), theaters, shopping centers, restaurants, hospitals and just about anywhere you can think of. In fact, I only am able to walk into these places because of my Great Dane. She’s a Service Dog and she’s trained as a balance and mobility dog.
People seem to find it surprising that a Great Dane is a Service Dog. People are also surprised to hear that she’s a balance dog. Many people have never heard of such a thing. Guide dogs yes, but a balance dog? If I have sunglasses on, many people seem to assume I’m blind. They offer well intentioned guidance as to things in my way they believe I can’t see, inform me of curbs I’m approaching. The look on their faces when I load Willow in the back of my Explorer, get in the driver’s seat and begin to drive off is priceless. I often wonder how many of them think Willow is somehow giving me driving directions from the rear. Talk about the ultimate back seat driver! One woof for right, two for left.
This speaks however, to the issue of service dogs and people’s perceptions of what service dogs look like and do. It also speaks to how the disabled are perceived to some extent.
Service dogs come in all shapes and sizes, they are trained to perform all manner of work or tasks to help mitigate a person’s disability. There are dogs trained for people living with PTSD, seizure disorder, hearing alert dogs for the hearing impaired, dogs trained to retrieve items and help with doors and other tasks for those living in wheelchairs, the list goes on.
The amazing gift of a service dog is life changing. It enables you as a disabled person to regain so much of your independence. You have a partner unlike any partner you have or will ever have. With you 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, this partner is solely dedicated to your wellbeing and you to theirs.
My story of receiving a Service Dog began with the diagnosis of MS. I’d actually been told I had it years before with my first attack of optic neuritis. Being the ultimate queen of denial I simply said no. Actually, just said no. Life went on. Then, as things have a way of doing, MS decided it wasn’t taking my no for an answer and I basically crashed, had another attack of optic neuritis as well as some other rather unpleasant symptoms and I found myself at the MS center agreeing that yes, I have MS and yes, it might be time to start treating it. That was about as far as the queen of denial was willing to go. As my balance issues worsened and I developed a foot drop, I adamantly refused to use a cane. Sure I was falling, sure I was getting hurt but, I WAS NOT going to use a cane. I DID NOT need a cane. I so loved my life on my island of denial. I wasn’t leaving. After all, I was queen of that island and it’s good to be queen. Eventually my not so subtle neurologist asked me why I was so opposed to the cane adding “are you concerned that people will think there’s something wrong with you? Because right now they probably just think you’re drunk.” Point taken. As an aside, this is an example of a physician who’s not only clinically brilliant but, knows her patient and how best to communicate with them. After I stopped laughing, I did go and get a walking stick. Which she also suggested as it didn’t look like a typical cane. Again, pretty smart.
So I got my walking stick complete with a LED light on top. I decided if I fell and couldn’t get up, I could flash Morse code SOS with the light. While it did help somewhat, (the cane not the light) what I found is I still fell and if the cane was on my left and I was falling right, not only did it just go over with me, it had the potential to take out innocent bystanders on my way down. It also wasn’t very helpful in getting back up.
Meanwhile, one of my best friends who is a veterinarian had been telling me about these amazing Service Dogs that are trained as balance dogs. It was a great idea because of their size they are simply built for the job. Even better, the agency was basically in our backyard. She had a client with MS that had one and it was incredible. Back to the queen of denial, I said yes, I thought it was an amazing idea but, I’m not that bad yet. You basically need to slow walk me to an epiphany. Over the course of about a year or so she kept bringing it up and I kept brushing it off. Me? A service dog? That would mean I was disabled! It didn’t matter to my brain that I WAS permanently disabled, somehow this would be that final nail so to speak. Every time she would bring it up, offer her client as a resource, I would resist and move on. One day while walking all our dogs in the woods, I have retrievers as well, I took a good tumble down a hill. It literally was the scene from the Princess Bride. I’m rolling down the hill and she’s yelling after me “they make a dog for this!” I lay yelling expletives up the hill. I did take her up on her offer to speak to her client and gather information. I loved the idea but I kept thinking I’m not there yet. Until one day. We all have our breaking points. It wasn’t the black eye I got falling into the water bottles in the kitchen or the whack to the jaw falling UP the stairs. NO. For me it was the morning I stood up admiring my brand new mini blinds and immediately began to fall into them and out the open window of my second floor bedroom. I reached to stop my fall and in doing so went through the blinds breaking them including the thick bottom piece. I was so angry that I had to replace the new blinds and not just one but both so the dye lots matched, that I immediately drove to the agency that trained balance and mobility dogs. The entire ride I was crying. I’d reached my breaking point. I knew by making this drive I was admitting I needed help that yes, I WAS disabled and YES I was that bad. Those damn blinds. Yet, when I arrived and almost poured out of the car, I was greeted by a lovely woman named Earlene. The first thing I say? “I don’t think I really need a dog yet but, I thought I should come look around.” By the time Earlene was done showing me around she said, “I think you should submit your application, now.” You think? I believe that day I was actually sporting the black eye from the water bottle incident.
I began volunteering at the agency, I was stellar at doing laundry and while waiting to be matched with a dog began to find other things happening. I was now in an environment where falling and wobbling was okay. In fact, it was almost the norm. I found I began to feel differently about the changes I’d been living with and found my denial started to fall away. Yes, it’s still good to be queen but I began to realize this was going to be okay. That turned out to be an understatement. Enter Willow or as she is formally known, Wilamena M. Pants.
That life changing day came when the woman  who runs the agency  approached me and said they had a dog they’d been considering for me. It was Willow. She cautioned me as there were a couple potential issues. Willow had HOD as a puppy and in fact had almost been put down she was so ill. She was fine now but, some vet’s think HOD can return until dogs are full grown. Danes can grow until 2-3 years of age. She wanted me to do my homework and speak to my friend who was the vet. She had actually seen Willow on a visit to the farm and loved her. There was also a potential issue of her being nervous. Because of the HOD she didn’t receive as much training early on and she had seemed nervous at times when out with the trainers so this might be an issue. She might be a “fabulous failure.” I said okay, let me look into it and her and I’ll let you know. I spoke to my friend. As a vet, she had no concerns. I then went into Willow’s pen. She promptly jumped up looked me square in the eyes jumped down and assumed the brace position as if she was saying “I can do this, let’s go.” My decision was made. I told her  I wanted to try it. The next step was out in public, in harness. We went to the mall with the trainers and I put her in the vest and told her to walk on. She did. I kept waiting for her to get nervous or react to something. Finally I asked the trainers “what is it that makes her nervous?” They both looked at me and said “this is not the same dog we’ve been working with.” The decision was made. SHE had picked ME. We continued to train for a number of weeks and then the big day.
Willow comes home! That first day alone with your service dog is like your first day with your first infant. You’re excited and scared to death. Your life just changed forever. Will I screw her up? Am I doing this right? Is she happy? Does she have enough beds? Toys? The right food? And I’ve owned and trained dogs for 30 years yet this was different. Everything you do for the first time alone with them can be terrifying. However, it’s also amazing. I found out that I had actually stopped doing so very many things in my life because I was afraid of falling. I had almost become a recluse and didn’t realize it. Now with Willow by my side I could go anywhere and do anything I used to do and I did. She quite literally gave me my life back. A life I didn’t even realize I had lost because it had slipped away so gradually while I was enjoying life as the queen on that island of denial. I often say “my life will never be the same as it was before MS but because of Willow, in some ways it’s better.”
As you bond with your service dog and you “learn” each other, amazing things happen. One thing you come to realize is this is a bond like no other in your life. You will never have a spouse, friend, parent or anyone quite frankly that you will share this type of bond with. You are with your Service Dog 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and 365 days a year. You will never pee alone again. You rely on them for your daily living and they ARE there. They don’t question, they come, tail wagging just happy to be able to be your partner. Service Dogs LOVE to work. They love their jobs. They love you and you them. It’s the ultimate mutual admiration society.
People looking in however, well they many times have a hard time understanding the role of a Service Dog. The distinction between them and a pet. These misperceptions can run the gambit from “oh, how awful that the dog has to work” to “it’s just a pet in a vest.” Neither of these are correct. Service Dogs are in fact, held to much higher standards in terms of training and behavior. They have to be. Under the ADA they have public access. They need to be safe and behave properly in public. Also, in order for them to be able to do their jobs, they must be focused, unfazed by crowds, stress, noise, etc. Their job is to focus on their handler and their needs. Period. As their handler’s and partners, we have a responsibility to ensure that we do not allow anyone to interfere with their training and their wellbeing. This extends from the people who seemingly cannot read the DO NOT PET patches plastered all over the vest to the well-meaning friends who think that just because she looks like a pet it’s okay if she is fed a treat off the floor. NO! When for the 100th time you’re having the discussion WHY a Service Dog can NEVER pick up food off the floor or a table you simply want to just bang your head or hers onto the table. WHY can’t she just have this or that? Because it may cause diarrhea! A Service Dog with diarrhea means I can’t leave the house! And then I’m usually called a bitch for denying my “DOG” something. Well, yes she’s a dog. But, she’s a Service Dog. She’s NOT a pet! It’s COMPLETELY different! I’m her handler and I’m the one, the only one who decides what she can and cannot do or have. I am responsible for ensuring her behavior is of the standard that meets with public access guidelines and I am also responsible for ensuring that she is able to focus on her job with little or no distractions. That means less stress for HER! I do this because she is responsible for my wellbeing and ability to live my life as normally as possible with her at my side. She is my most loved and respected partner. No she is NOT a pet but, what pet had a brand new Ford Explorer bought just for her complete with custom Tempupedic bed in the entire back? What pet travels daily with enough emergency food, bedding, water, toys, etc to live for a week? What pet sleeps every night glued to their owners side on a very expensive king size bed. Okay, some. What pet has their owner carry a yoga mat everywhere so they never have to lay on a hard floor? No, she is not a pet. She is a Service Dog, she is a partner and she is loved beyond measure.
But here’s the one really remarkable thing I still ponder. When I go out with Willow, you would sometimes think I just stepped out the door with a Kardashian. It’s shocking at times. There we’ll be, minding our own business shopping, at the theatre or doing whatever and out of the corner of my eye I’ll see people taking pictures of us. Occasionally people will ask permission but often it’s just surreptitiously done. I really don’t understand this. I would never just take pictures of someone or their child. I can’t imagine anyone taking a picture of someone’s “really cool” wheelchair” without asking. And I’ve often thought if I was a person with PTSD this might have the potential for a trigger especially if flash is involved. People need to understand that while yes, she’s a beautiful dog no, it’s not okay to just take pictures of her or any service dog without permission. They have a job to do and it’s not modeling.
So in closing I’d like to ask that if you encounter a service dog team in public feel free to smile in appreciation, even “beautiful dog” is acceptable and appreciated. But please, do not stop to pet the dog, speak to the dog, call the dog, make “kissy” noises or in any other way distract the dog. They’re working. Service dogs take their job seriously, they have to, their handler’s lives depend on them.

Oh, and please don’t take their pictures without permission.

I’m not blind and I’m not a Kardashian…..