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Owner and Guide Dog Take Rewarding Path

By Deborah Kendrick

“So, how long did it take you to pick this one out?” a neighbor once asked upon seeing me for the first time with my newest guide dog. The image it conjured up makes me laugh years — and dogs — later.

The process it suggests is something akin to buying a new car. You need a new dog, so you go to the lot, look over dozens of models, test-drive a few and make a deal. Of course, the misconceptions regarding the formula that results in a dog-human relationship that is at times almost magical by no means begin or end with that one.

No, my dog can’t read. And no, he wouldn’t have a clue what to do next if I whispered in his floppy little ear a wish to go to the library or supermarket. Our being together is the result of a top-notch breeding program, months of precise training, careful interviews and an intense training period for both of us. When we traveled, for the first time, from Guide Dogs for the Blind in San Rafael, Calif., to my home in Cincinnati, Ohio, we had just begun.

(Guide Dogs for the Blind was founded in 1942 to train dogs for returning World War II veterans. In addition to the San Rafael campus, a second Guide Dogs location has been in operation in Boring, Ore., since 1995.)

In late December, my beloved golden retriever, Joni, suddenly became ill and was immediately retired. That meant a myriad of abrupt life changes for me. First, the wake-up call that life is short rang loud and clear, as it so often does when faced with the loss of a loved one. It also meant that all traveling — and there was plenty in the next few months — required that I use my long white cane and, on the home front, find others to care for Joni in my absence. Finally, it involved making a new application to the school and preparing to be away from my regular life for three weeks as soon as I could get a class date.

Concerning the cane, let’s lay to rest another set of misconceptions about blind people and mobility. There’s the misguided conclusion that a guide dog is only for rare individuals, those who are ultrasmart, ultrafit and with absolutely no eyesight. Then there’s the other end of the misinformation spectrum: the notion that dogs are the choice of blind people who can’t find their own way out of the proverbial paper bag.

Both extremes are silly. Whether people use a cane or guide dog for mobility has nothing to do with how smart they are, how old they are, how much residual vision they have or how much money they have. It is a lifestyle choice — period. To travel competently with either method requires a solid foundation in orientation and mobility techniques, such as learning to make mental maps of the cities, buildings and streets where you plan to walk, and learning to use all other cues available to navigate the environment: sounds, smells, textures and remaining vision, if there is any. The same skills apply to either method of mobility.

A dog, of course, requires a lot more maintenance than a cane. Feeding, grooming, relieving and veterinary care are all part of the package, whereas a cane just needs a new tip every now and then. Typically, people find that they walk much more quickly and with less concentration when traveling with a guide dog. And there’s the added advantage of a lovable constant companion to make you laugh when it’s time to play!

Before receiving his first dog, a student is required to live at the school for four weeks. With subsequent dogs, students have the option of a shortened two- or three-week course.

I had two days to settle into the Guide Dogs campus, get acclimated to the schedule, get to know my classmates, take practice walks with my instructors and participate in class discussions reviewing next steps when I finally was introduced to my new dog, Tuscan. The 63-pound male is a golden cross (his mother was a golden retriever, his father a yellow lab). The day Tuscan and I were introduced, he was 21 months old. Like each of my guide dogs, he was young but had already enjoyed a rich life. At the age of 8 weeks, he had left the Guide Dogs campus and went to live with the woman who volunteered to be his puppy raiser.

Dot Byers is retired and had already raised three puppies for the school. In her single year with Tuscan, she taught him basic obedience commands (heel, sit, down, stay, come) and, more important, helped shape his personality. Tuscan is playful, talkative, responsive, smart and affectionate and has beautiful manners. He can be completely calm and wildly energetic when each is appropriate.

Byers met regularly with her local puppy-raising club, whose members go on outings together and generally participate in activities that help prepare their 1-year charges for their future lives as guide dogs. Because no one at that point knows who that future human partner will be, exposure to as many kinds of activities and public settings as possible is part of the puppy’s first year, as is noting his reaction to various stimuli. Some dogs, for example, indicate early that they are highly distracted by other dogs or food or people. (In Tuscan’s case, the only serious distraction is anything that looks like it might be a dog toy!)

After a year, the dog is returned to the school, spayed or neutered, and lives on the Guide Dogs campus for the next five or so months. That’s about how long it takes an instructor to teach the dog to wear a harness; stop at curbs; go forward, left or right as instructed; pause for stairs; clear adequate space around all obstacles for both dog and human; and generally aim to please and guide as directed.

When Tuscan and I met, he already knew the routine – the choreography, you might say – of guide work, but he had never “danced” with me. Similarly, because I have had previous guides, I knew the commands and the logic behind them but not his personal body language for executing those commands and giving me information.

The remainder of my three weeks on campus (and that of all my classmates) was spent focusing on developing this new team into a real partnership. Our schedules began at 6:30 a.m. with the first feeding and ended at 9 p.m. with the last visit to the relieving circle.

Our work was done mostly in the small downtown area of San Rafael, where we experienced working as a team and learning how to travel safely together. We made mental maps and followed routes, and we practiced crossing streets and going in and out of businesses – all the things anyone might do in real life. Some days we went to San Francisco, performing the same skills in the much more frenetic environment of Embarcadero or Fisherman’s Wharf. Our days were filled with exposure to as many components of the environment as possible: buses, trains, escalators, elevators, revolving doors, simple intersections, complex intersections, office buildings and shopping malls. We even took a trip to Muir Woods.

After receiving our dogs, we worked them every morning and afternoon. On four or five occasions we went on “night routes” to give both students and dogs alike a different experience. (For students with residual vision, this was especially important, as they frequently see differently in daylight or darkened environments. But, even for students with no vision, the sound and feel of traffic and the environment take on a unique nighttime quality.)

As anyone who has raised children can attest, consistency and routine are paramount – as it is with raising dogs. I was testing Tuscan in our early weeks together, exercising extra caution till I felt confident that he would really stop at the top of the stairs to show them to me, go directly across the street when I commanded him to or make a left-hand turn when directed that would include guiding me around the concrete planter or light pole.

He was testing me too. Could he veer out into the intersection if he felt like it? Could he stop to sniff a puddle or person or ignore the requirement to stop for a curb? Or would I correct him for such deviations from proper behavior as his previous handlers had done? Much of what makes the guide dog team successful is having both parties pay attention, while staying vigilant and consistent. If he brushed my arm into a tree or light pole, I stopped to show him the error and instruct him to guide me past that piece of turf again. Conversely, if he executed a particularly difficult turn (such as having to guide me around obstacles on the sidewalk or pedestrians before resuming the line of direction I wanted), I praised him effusively and gave him a treat.

At the end of the training course, a graduation ceremony is held. Puppy raisers are invited and almost always attend. When the student’s name is called, the puppy raiser comes forward and presents the dog to the graduate. It may sound a little corny, but everybody cries.

As I write this, it has been only five weeks since I brought Tuscan home. For the first six months or so, I will keep him on a leash with me or in some designated spot (I have one in my kitchen, office and bedroom), where he is confined. By that time – and probably sooner in his case – the routine will be so firmly established and behavior so predictable that he will be free to run and play at will whenever he is not harnessed. Guide dogs only wear the harness when guiding out in public. At home (or, for most people, at work), the harness comes off, signaling to the dog that he can rest or play as directed.

As for play, the dog gets lots of it. Each dog is different, but in Tuscan’s case, play is mandatory. He’s young and has boundless energy, so walking a total of a few miles a day isn’t adequate to burn it all off.

In short, the magic works because I feed and love my dog. My dog loves me back and is eager to please. If I give him the right commands, he has a set of skills accompanying them that result in my feeling that I can zip down busy streets, through airports and shopping malls as competently as any other pedestrian. As with driving a car, I’m in charge of the map and the directions, but if I push the right buttons and direct him accurately, he’ll get me there in comfort and style.

Is a dog right for you? Guide Dogs for the Blind is one of about 10 schools in America that trains dogs to guide those who are blind and visually impaired. A person who is visually impaired with a good basis in orientation and mobility skills and the physical stamina to walk about three miles a day can apply. Guide Dogs and other schools also work with people with a variety of accompanying disabilities (including wheelchair users who are blind and those with hearing impairments, mobility difficulties and neurological disorders). For more information, visit www.guidedogs.com or call 800-295-4050.

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Deborah Kendrick is an award-winning writer, editor and poet. Currently, she works as a newspaper columnist and as senior features editor for AccessWorld.

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