Freedom Service Dogs
(of Englewood, Colorado)
My First Week of Training
by: Dooley and Olivette Turbeville
These summer months were the first that Freedom Service Dogs enjoyed at their new location. My 3.5 hour journey to Colorado led me to the unassuming whitewashed building nestled in an industrial complex. Across the street amidst this cityscape was an equally unexpected oasis - a landscaped nature park with walking paths intertwining a large reflecting pond. I imagined the dog I had yet to meet, training in this remarkably odd serenity.
___________
Monday:
This is it... I'd waited a long time for this day. I'd meet my prospective ‘partner’ for the first time, and engage in my first week of training. Only days earlier, I had a glimpse of the pup that would be "my blind date". You think I'm joking? I knew this was no business venture. This would be an affair of the heart - and I'd not been in love with anyone but my boys for a long-long time. What in the world was I thinking? How would a slobbery dog replace the camaraderie of my grown children that I adored more than life? [Whose idea was this anyway?!? Oh yeah... my boys.
They felt certain this was a perfect solution for their adventurous and adoring momma.] What on earth had I agreed too...?
I parked the van and offloaded myself, overwhelmed by a flood of jitters. In front of me in an airy kennel, lounging in sunshine, was the dog I'd seen only days before by way of a cell phone camera. A big yellow retriever with a sad looking face and saggy jowls.
What the hell was I thinking? I hate pet hair on business clothes. I carry a sticky lint roller with me everywhere. How in the world was I going to put up with slobber? [Oh my god. had I made a huge mistake? Someone get me the hell out of there! Noooo. That's not the plan girl - you can DO this... your boys have never steered you wrong. This is a good idea. Stop whining and get on with it. The worst that can happen is that YOU might fail obedience school.] IF you knew me.... you'd understand this is not entirely out of the question. The thought made me smile as it had so often in preceding months – me, reveling in my internal vaudeville.
I rolled to the kennel to greet the big hound. He stood wiggling ever-so-slightly as I offered him my hand and squeaked out a good morning welcome - then he promptly turned away. Great. I'm shunned. "Perhaps I should just chew thru my own jugular and save this poor dog further stress?” I mused. Taking the hint, I spun my chair around and headed toward the main building, looking for familiar welcoming humans, and s'more designer coffee to amp my jitters.
The morning was spent at a round table meeting teaching us the finer aspects of partnering with a service animal. Shortly after lunch we relocated to a training area and were finally face to face with canines. It was hard to discern who was more nervous - the dogs, or us newbie clients? The dogs milled impatiently with their backs toward these new wheelchairs - instead straining to connect with their familiar trainers for direction.
When my dog's trainer stepped around the corner he lit up and wagged his tail with the full force of an undulating body... his ears and face peeled back in greeting. This was WONDERFUL!!! This was the first animation I'd glimpsed in this pooch. He was utterly devoted to his handler and I was a mere speed-bump in his path to being by her side. Impressive to see, but made me feel all the more like an odd intruder. [No worry... I could manage this smidgen of injustice, this was great!] I found emotion in this dog I could appeal too.
Our first command was the most obvious. "Watch". As in "look at me - up here - watch my eyes". [An unnatural canine behavior toward any stranger.] We were instructed to tap the corner of our eyes - while holding a high value treat. I couldn't even 'buy' a glance, and he was less than interested in facing me. I gently blew the scent of liver over his head and cooed at him quietly while other clients chirped their dog’s names loudly over each others echo. I ran my fingernails along his back making him shiver and turn toward me for the earned treat. (One movement down... a million to go.)
I snagged another chunk of dry liver and banged it between my eyes. [I'm crackin' up 'cuz this was freakin' hilarious... I was pointing at my head with a chunk of liver! I figured if this dog didn't eat my face or chew thru my jugular right then - he prolly never would. Fair assumption maybe?] I love my own vaudeville...
I bought several glances in my direction... if not exactly in my eyes. ~ But, close eNuff ~ Big celebrations and a treat bonanza followed. Then I snagged two direct glimpses in a row! This was immensely rewarding for me and earned him a neck massage and hotdog tidbit. (I had a nifty assortment of treats tucked in my training pouch.)
I noticed he'd positioned himself closer to my chair as we awaited instruction, and laid against my wheels. I kicked off a moccasin and wiggled my toes in his fur which caused him to flip over on his back in a curled puppy pose. Engrossed in kneaded his belly and neck with my toes I completely missed the next instruction from trainers. Whups... this is how humans fail obedience school, eh?
We moved thru our next commands... sit, down and up with my dog demonstrating greater talent than I. It was all I could do to coordinate the words, the treat and the clicker simultaneously! [And, I wasn’t even moving.]
Our training session was over as suddenly as it'd started, and we were invited out to the dogs’ playground for a round of tennis ball tossing - to 'unwind'. Unwind? I learned that my dog went out of his ever-lovin' mind over a tennis ball! Not a little... a LOT This dog got cranked UP! I also discovered he was partial to washing the fuzzy orb in a bucket of water and liked to deliver it soaking wet!
Holy Mackerel... what a slobberfest. But the day was certainly over and I didn't seem to mind my clothing doused in slobbery water. Go figure? [It should've been my first clue... but I still had reservations.]
I've failed to mention his name thus far, and for good reason. They called him Doc. DOC? [eeeeek] There'd have to be million names to a call service dog besides: doc, doctor, nurse, therapist, shrink, crutches, and/or hospice! I couldn't bear spending a decade calling to a dog named DOC. [The idea was even ickier than pet hair and slobber! ]
So what if his broken tail was docked short after he was rescued (to alleviate a life of pain and abscess). My body wasn't intact either. And of course the things we can't control shouldn't define us! So I figured the best solution was "I would not call him Doc and he wouldn’t call me gimp”. [That seemed only fair.]
But, nothing in my "dog-name repertoire" fit this critter.
<*scratched my head, searching…?>
_________
Tuesday:
Again I disembarked from my van directly across from my pup. And again he was outstretched, basking in morning sun. But this day he greeted me with a bit of enthusiasm... and didn't turn away! We talked for a few minutes while he mouthed my fingers before I had to run to class.
I wanted to be 'training-right-now' that morning, and could barely contain myself until we paused for lunch. As a matter of fact I skipped lunch and made a dash for his kennel. I was soon busted by his trainer who thought I should concern myself with nourishment instead. "Well maybe, but then again... a week spent here costs a fortune, and every second counts!" I pleaded. How could I possibly spare this lunch hour - when I could invest it with my pup and wait to eat later? [ Again... this is exactly how a human flunks obedience school.]
Patti proved to be a gracious soul who relinquished that coveted lunch hour and set my dog free - placing his leash in my hand. I had 45 minutes in the parking lot to interest him in playing look at me, as we rolled in slow loops and figure-eights practicing take-a-walk.
Patti is the senior trainer and Director of Dog Operations at FSD, and she's a remarkable talent. My son commented after spending a few hours with her, "She commands such presence in a room, even he felt inclined to listen carefully and behave!" I had the impression she was an out-doorsey woman that you'd imagine running into backpacking on the Appalachian Trail.
The remainder of afternoon was delightful. I barely noticed other clients - but watched all dogs intently. I stared at 'Doc' relaxing with his hind quarters splayed for ventilation. And he reminded me of something....? Ah HA!!! He resembled a dually pickup truck with oversize rear fenders. Dooley! His name was Dooley!!
When Patti came back around she thought the similarity between "D" names would transition nicely. I was thrilled! [Being a genuine old hillbilly myself ('cuz my kin seem to be) and owning a dog named Doo... well, it just fit.]
Before I knew it Patti taped his new name on a harness and I was tickled pink. Well, red actually... his harness and my face. We'd been out in the sun all afternoon and I was getting mighty shiny. We ended training waaaay too soon for my liking, although the gang was showing signs of wear. People scattered instead of gathering in the playground, and dogs disappeared as quickly in their kennels.
I beseeched Patti for a few extra minutes hoping Dooley and I could wind-down with a fun stroll along the nature trail across the street. Apparently that was more difficult than one might expect... not to mention => I was a newbie. But, she agreed to let us traipse around close behind the facility on an alternate path - and gave us about 20 minutes to stretch.
We rolled off the property and the first thing that struck me was how narrow sidewalks were with a huge dog along side! [Wow... I'd need to seriously adjust my perception of "space"!] I also thought he'd need to gallop if I motored at 'high-speed'. Amazingly, No! I ran full throttle and he simply compensated with a longer stride. (He seemed to be getting bigger by the minute.)
He paid relatively little mind to me, but appeared to enjoy dragging me along - and it was interesting watching him move and nose the air and bushes. I tried to roll in sync but there was considerable bobbing-and-weaving between us. And at the end of that day I realized how hard it was on my bones to be tethered to an 85lb dog!
___________
Wednesday:
I woke early, excitedly anticipating the arrival of one of my sons. He would drive hours to share a few moments of this training experience with me, as we do with nearly every other aspect of our lives.
As I awaited my youngun’s arrival, the day raced by with Dooley and me clicking-and-treating our way thru new commands. The dogs were obviously far ahead of us clumsy handlers. It was plain that WE were in school that week... not so much the dogs. WE had to learn human tasks => drive our wheelchairs, and run a joystick, grip a leash, maneuver alongside tender paws, remember commands, hold smelly treats, click within seconds of a completed tasks, and deliver a morsel to the dog without getting fingers gnashed. [MAN, that was way more difficult than I could've imagined!] It was apparent I had a gobs to learn before I'd be a good working partner.
In hindsight, this day was a big mile marker. Something resonated with this Lab and me. I'd become unwittingly amenable to having a slobber towel handy.. and even though my hands were covered in grime, I found it hilarious... "Be Damned My Dress!"... and, wiped treat-goo and 'boogers' on it with glee. [???]
My son arrived later than expected not long before training ended. I'd asked Patti if there was any way I could steal my dog away for the evening? Mind you, I'm no novice to big dogs - but I'm spankin'-new to clicker training - service dogs - and obedience school!!! [Back-in-the-day I was foreman on a Texas ranch that included a breeding barn full of registered Rott's and a half dozen others who patrolled the property. "But that was then, and this was now." which naturally didn't go unnoticed by Patti.]
She'd eyed my son and his interaction with me and Dooley - and calculated benefits against risks. (Dooley had yanked his leash from my hand the day before as we failed to negotiate the playground gate.) The potential for trouble was honestly a serious concern. What if the big ‘ol coot knocked me for a loop with a bump? What if he lunged at a spooked bird and yanked his leash from my tired grip again? My son would have to save both of us. And, Patti decided Zak was competent to do so without calamity. So, she granted our escape - under the caveat that "we didn’t take Dooley into pubic places other than the Hotel" (which I'd reserved as a SD room and the desk was aware and happy to host us while training). Fair enough, we had a chaperone! The girls packed an overnight bag of kibble, and we three vanished from the premises without further ado.
I entered the Hampton feeling like royalty, although the dog and I were smeared with sweat, parking lot grime and dried liver drool. Not so pretty, eh?. Dooley and I clumsily entered the room without my son's assistance - and he watched in amusement at the obvious difficulty I had managing half dozen tasks with two sweaty hands. As the door closed behind I hooked a left into the bathroom with my grubby pooch. Zak hollered to see if I needed help or anything... but I was already peeling off filthy clothes and Dooley's harness. After all... there was a king size bed with a white duvet comforter in the room! This left me few other options than Bath Time!
Earlier I’d snagged a tiny container of peanut butter from the hotel pantry in anticipation of this moment, and smeared it low on the wall of the shower. Dooley beat me into the stall as I carefully placed towels on the bath bench and floor for traction and turned on the shower. Yummmmm.... I dunno which of us liked being CLEAN better. Dooley was thrilled with the water and peanut butter - and I reveled in warm suds. He made happy grunting noises with his head on my knee while a wet wash cloth cleaned his face and ears. He held perfectly still and let me lift every leg to rub him dry before he stepped out to shake. I was shocked how easy that was! He wiggled and panted; licking water off my legs before I could dry myself. This was one happy dog!!!
| Sorry, no photo available! |
Starving but clean, we left the hotel looking all the more elegant. I'd dressed Dooley in a Ruff-Wear coat to shield his wet chest from cold wind as he dried – and Zak and I donned coats too with the evening wind so nippy and brisk. We walked a few blocks to Rox's Restaurant where I'd been dining all week. I sat outside with Doo while Zak went in to order carryout... then decided to cruise by some trees and bushes to inspire a quick piddle before returning to the hotel. I felt giddy having Dooley out in the 'real' world with me. It was honestly as thrilling as a blind date!
We got back to the hotel and Doo crashed at our feet while we ate, without alerting to our dinner. Good dog! I was flabbergasted at his remarkable manners! He never once jumped on the bed or danced around wildly or made any noise whatsoever. He simply passed out - poor tired pup. Zak and I ate and followed suit, falling into the cushy king bed. LONG day!
Dooley woke long enough to see where we 'went' and longingly eyeballed at an empty spot between us. I invited him up wondering if he even would? He carefully placed one paw at a time on the bed and gently hauled himself up and GI crawled over to me, fell onto my arm and snored loudly in nanoseconds. Zak and I felt like littermates as we zzzzzzzz'd together with tiny corners of the king coverlet pulled over our heads.
I hardly remember how long it’s been since I'd slept with two guys. [Oh wait... that's prolly too much information isn't it? Never mind.] What I meant to say was, it is fandamntastic sleeping with two guys!!! Yeah buddy. How easy to please are we? Mighty damn easy lemmetellya. We woke and watched a few minutes of television until Dooley rustled. I couldn’t believe his face and mine shared the same pillow and I didn’t wake up in a pool-of-drool! Wait a minute, he was on my pillow??? ! [Isn’t love grand?]
Now I wasn’t sure when this pup usually pee’d... but it seemed like a good time to check, so we toss on our coats and headed outside. The wind had settled considerably after dark and the street lights seemed all the more glittery in the eyes of my son and this beautiful dog. The three of us strolled around the walkway behind the hotel, still working to move in tandem. My arm felt worse-for-wear after several days at the end of Dooley’s leash and Zak noticed immediately. He wrapped me snuggly in his warmer jacket and confiscated Dooley's leash (it was a good excuse anyway).
Dooley detected the swap and proceeded to heal beside Zak as if he were a longtime trainer. I was astounded at the difference in his gate and attention "upwards". There was a distinct difference in Dooley walking with a biped instead of a powerchair. I began reciting everything I'd learned in the previous days... and everything I remembered reading about clicker-training. Zak nabbed a handful of treats and the clicker moments before Dooley earned a reward for simply peeing. The two of them were just gorgeous working together and I kicked myself for not grabbing the camera, but I couldn't tear myself away to fetch it.
We walked and paused periodically to ask for and reward the few behaviors I'd learned thus far. It was an incredible learning experience for me to see the two of them functioning so smoothly. I realized how discombobulated and clumsy I'd been - managing a zillion things at once: driving my chair, handling treats, the clicker, joystick, maneuvering a dog and scrambling commands. Dooley was crisp and prompt and showed his enthusiasm for the jaunt with curled smiling lips, muzzle and ears uplifted, and a light footed gate that showed he was totally into this nighttime exploration and his snazzy jacket. But soon our loop took us back to the hotel and much needed slumber.
______________
Thursday:
Zak left early to drive hours back to work, and Dooley and I scrambled to get ourselves ready and to the facility on time. I super-underestimated how long it'd take to get my crap together along with a dog, so we were a good 20 minutes late. The morning class zipped by quickly (blah, blah, blah) and I was back in front of my pup. Patti mentioned a zillion times that Dooley and I both looked exhausted.... and reiterated frequently that I had a tired pup on the end of the leash!!! She was not wrong....
I didn't expect for a moment that she'd let me out of her sight with him a second night. But at the end of the day I couldn't contain myself. "Can he go with me again?" I winced a little and remember seeming pitiful... but, I don't actually remember groveling and begging outright (I'm sure I did). Surprisingly she agreed. But she made me swear we wouldn't "work" anymore that night. “Just lounge around and REST, no long walks, no shit, no foolin'.” Of course that wasn’t actually a direct quote, but certainly her intent. Woo Hooo!!! I was totally into the "resting" concept. I could barely move without pharmaceutical support at this point. So off to the hotel we went for some well deserved R&R!!!
Now I'm sure anyone reading will strongly suspect that I'm exaggerating for flourish... but I swear... that tired dog lumbered off the van ramp and realized we were back at the hotel and perked right up like a kid in Disneyland! He absolutely danced down the sidewalk into the lobby - hooked a 'right' around the pillar, and bee-lined straight for "our room".
I can't say he dragged me to our door, but he was definitely in the lead! This was Not a Tired Dog anymore! Dooley's meal was handed over to quell his rumbling belly immediately; and I was thrilled he was sharing his enthusiastic character at last.
We'd washed the days dirt off again (i.e. black sooty industrial grime) and I'd fumbled around dressing my wiggly pup in his backpack. I figured he could carry a carton of milk from the gas station on the way back from our daily trip to the restaurant. Voila! He knew we were going "OUT" and he could hardly be still! I thought we looked purdy slick and told him so in detail as he tilted his head - really listening!
We headed into the evening sun as we rolled to my now-favorite restaurant (Rox) for carry-out. The Manager spied me outside the door and flung it open proclaiming me "his 'favorite customer". [I can't tell you how much fun I'd had at this place. Every day I arrived during happy hour, and their mixologist worked diligently to make folks very Happy!!!] I explained to the manager that Dooley's boss (Patti) said he wasn't allowed in public yet, since he and I were still in training... and thanked him for the wonderful welcome. I said "I'd be happy with take out" about the same time he stepped outside. "But, you're my favorite customer."
He leaned down talking directly to Dooley, "I respect that compleeeetely, but this is my place... can't you come inside if I invite you?" Dooley didn't answer, and it wasn't a question I'd had time to consider. [What if Dooley farts? What if he sniffed at food as we passed by? Or alerted to someone ? What if - what if – what-what?] <*nervous*> Oh jeez... I didn't know there was gonna be a quiz...
I was exceedingly aware how easy it could be to establish a bad habit, or get tangled in a spooky/nervous situation and scare a dog. And I didn't want a scuffle with 'Dooley's boss' either. But, it just felt like one of those opportunities ya don't refuse. Yet another chance for us to train in real life... which was why we were together in the first place. "Ya never know 'till you try" - so, I agreed provided I could dash outside in a hurry and have the remainder of my dinner tossed out behind me if things weren't just perfect. Our host proclaimed that an excellent plan, so I unclipped and stuffed Doo's backpack in mine (wanting him tidy and small) and led him to the double doors.
(Now mind you... it'd been a task for me to manage my chair while holding a door AND guiding a dog - even though Dooley had become better at 'waiting' until he was released to enter. However, that night I got it very right...slow-and-smooth. Even under scrutiny of a raptly engaged crowd watching us navigate the double-doors alone. I was purdy pleased and Dooley honored me again with his exceptional manner and style! [Kewl, my boy has style!]
Once inside, I snugged him close on a short lead with my hand just inches from his neck and a pinky finger tucked in his harness; and we were ushered thru dense seating. We were delivered to an inside table without event (since the patio tables were full) and, I prayed silently to the dog-gods that Doo wouldn't fart or turn his head toward anything or anyone since we landed deeper inside the restaurant than I'd expected. My remarkable pup didn't flinch and settled immediately causing me to launch into a dizzying whispered conversation about what an amazing dog he was.
Our waiter was happy to click a couple photos of 'the lovely couple'... and somehow it wasn’t embarrassing to hear him utter those words.
He'd taken a long leak and dump on the way back to the hotel, assuring me we didn’t have to go outside anytime soon. So our agenda consisted entirely of zzzzzz's... however, I had time to reach out and snap one more shot before passing out in the dim light of TV.
We’d slept hard about 8-9 hours before I woke to the realization that we both probably needed to pee urgently, and the sun was barely rising. I hadn’t packed a robe and there was no time to dress, so I wrapped a spare blanket in the closet around me like a cocoon and we rolled/raced outside. Silly me didn't think to pee first, but I was sitting and that made holding it much easier - but I was pretty anxious for him to HURRY. The command to pee is: “Outside Hurry!” And I’d never been more insistent than that moment. Dooley graciously obliged at warp speed and earned a cluster of hotdog bits and a wild-party of praise and nose kisses. (I couldn't reach outside the covers to find the clicker.) Following Mission Accomplished we had a few hours left before wakeup-call and breakfast. So we crawled back to bed... the epitome of heaven for both of us these past days... no telling who snored first? [To my detriment, I'd been an insomniac for years - but the trainers noted I was sleeping like a baby with Dooley!.]
____________
Friday:
Another morning class began, and although I was engaged and seemed comfortable I was suddenly overwhelmed with autonomic hyper-dysreflexia (sp?) and looking sweaty, pale and nauseous. I fixed everything about 'me' that I could think of and stretched out in the lobby in an overstuffed chair. The moment passed as quickly as it started so I assumed that a week of sitting in my ancient powerchair without benefit of my newest Quantum 6000 with its cushy cushion was the plaguing problem. I called my other son in Boulder who'd already planned to spend the afternoon shooting Hi-Def video of us, and asked him to bring a thick pillow asap.
Patti insisted I not miss lunch THAT day since I was lookin' purdy puny. My eldest son Branden arrived with a giant pillow and thankfully saved my butt, literally and figuratively. Dooley apparently made the most of a morning nap. And, I finished the day in exhaustion - but, didn't wanna stop regardless. Without thought I kept my hand moving on his back and neck the majority of the day - which meant he was at my side constantly unless sprawled against my chair during lulls. I noticed we moved more gracefully in tandem, and Dooley checked-in with me (looked at my eyes and face) more often. We'd developed the beginnings of teamwork in just a couple days, and everyone noticed. Patti didn't quibble about our last outing together asking "if Dooley was spending another night".
"No shower tonight, no matter how dirty and slobbery ya’ll are!” the girls nagged. (I wasn't allowed to wash the black sooty grime off my pup in deference to good skin care.) So, they rinsed a dab of filth off him.. and made me promised to mop him down with only a damp towel. So, we escaped the compound with yet another overnight sack of kibble - this time remembering to ask for a tennis ball, a chew toy, and a ragged-but-clean dog towel.
Dooley ate his evening meal while I threw myself in the shower hoping to restore life to my tired body. Back to my favorite restaurant we went for happy hour and fine dining. Ahhhh, happy hour never felt so good! We were early enough to snag a table outside on the patio so Dooley had gobs of room to stretch and snooze in a warm mountain breeze. (("Fart away my boy, you're down wind now!"))
After a delightfully relaxing dinner we wandered back to the hotel. Dooley, as he'd becomed accustomed, bounced lightly on his toes thru the hotel's lobby happy as a clam to be 'back'. Although the fluffy king bed was 'calling to me'... Branden and Dooley still had energy to play! So, Branden dashed out to my van and pulled out the kewlest toy EVER, yet one that’d been given little regard from the dogs on the playground. An automatic tennis ball launcher! The dogs (especially Dooley) gave it little notice when introduced days earlier. They expected people to chuck their ball - and had no idea that the PhhhFT sound meant a ball was being LAUNCHED! Not a single dog even looked up when a ball was flung from the contraption. So this was an experiment to see what Dooley thought of it now.
He quickly caught on that the 'thing' was pitching balls for him, but he insisted on dropping 'em into my hand upon his return. So I held my hand over the red bucket for a few retrieves, and then began moving my hand as he dropped the ball - dumping it into the bucket instead. My puzzled pooch scrambled to snatch it from the greedy bucket before it'd disappear in the auger tunnel!
PhhhFT... PhhhFT... PhhhFT and Dooley finally realized the contraption was under his control when he dumped the ball into the basket. A few minutes later he was shoving the ball with his nose down the spiral auger so it'd launch Faster! He was comical and ecstatic flying through the air!
He gurgled and wiggled with every fiber of his body playing with his delightful gizmo until it barely chucked the ball as batteries croaked. Huge success with my big dog's tennis party! And, another quick walk so Doo could take a leak while my son loaded the van with extraneous belongings to make checkout easier in the morning. We sent Branden off to his house with hugs and kisses and rolled inside to keel over one last night.
Sometime in the wee dark hours when it was time to wee, I bundled up cocoon style again and rolled past the front desk. My thumb was throbbing and looking bright red from a week of poking treats in my dogs face, his teeth gliding over tender skin. Although he had developed a fairly soft mouth taking the treats gently, the repeated motion left my thumb feeling... well.... dog bit, of sorts. On our way back in I displayed my throbbing thumb to the ladies at the night desk who scrambled to find ointment and a band-aid. All the while they were giggling at the incongruence of a woman in a wheelchair whining about a sore thumb! We enjoyed a brief but giddy chat before Doo and I headed back to our room.
But, on the way I lost my grip on one of those tiny foil packets. There it lay in the hallway too far for me to risk reaching as tired as I felt and entombed in a blanket. I didn't want to leave it, and nearly turned to get the ladies at front desk to 'help'. But Dooley looked at the packet and me and back at the packet. So, I asked him to get it for me and he picked it up and put it directly in my hand. I didn’t even have the commands right, but he knew I wanted it and he nabbed it for me! I was so thrilled I nearly squealed out loud - but, went nuts cooing and ruffling the ears of my furry assistant instead - completely forgetting to click or treat the moment. [Wow, he was already becoming an assistant I mused in disbelief.] I remembered to pay my pup a tasty morsel - albeit after the fact. He knew, and I knew that he knew - we were a team - a “working team"! THAT astounding realization was in its own right gut-wrenching and made me puddle up as we rolled back to the room… snot running down my lip.
| PHOTO OF SNOT NOT AVAILABLE |
Not wanting to sully his stellar feat with tears, I bandaged my finger and we quietly played catch with a soft toy for a few minutes before going back to sleep. I held him close until his snoring assured me he slept peacefully. My last thoughts were that I didn’t want to leave this hound until one of us abandoned the planet.
Morning came too quickly. These were the last hours with my boy; I couldn't imagine how the week went so fast. I ate breakfast slowly with my pooch under my toes, enjoying the morning view, counting the minutes. Check-out was surprising when the staff gathered to tell us how wonderful we were as guests, and as a 'couple'. I cried and Dooley wiggled as all hands were on him. He proved himself a delightfully behaved ambassador, and a stellar companion that I was loathed to leave.
We packed the van and headed to the compound for the last time. I cried all the way as quietly as I could so he wouldn't alert to my sniffling. But this morning he wasn't satisfied to lay behind the driver’s seat glued to my wheelchair. He wedged himself between the front seats and parked his head by my foot with my skirt ruffling in the wind over his muzzle... his nose against my heel as I drove.
Although it reminded me to buy a canine seatbelt asap - I was glad to feel him breathing against my skin. It'd be way too long before I could again revel in his company.
I couldn't miss my big yellow hound more if I tried... and this writing makes me squall remembering every hour at the hotel. Because, although training days were stellar and I remembered every moment and command... it was nights spent together that will be burned in my soul.
My pup has more to learn, as do I... and before long I'll race 3.5 hrs to greet him in our next phase of training. I learned more than sit and stay while I was in obedience school. And I managed to scrape by this week thanks entirely to my talented partner "Doo".
All my love to his magnificent handler, trainer and friend, Patti. xx0x0xx
