So this is my first Christmas without Christmas music. Ok, I should actually qualify that because I can still hear *some* music with my iPod and a device that hooks it up to my bluetooth hearing aid. But the funny thing about Christmas music-- at least for me-- was that its all-pervasiveness during the season is what really made it feel like the holiday.
I mean, how many people complain about that music in the grocery store, or the bathroom in the gas station, on the radio and in line at the post office. For a month, everywhere we go we are accompanied by St. Nick, Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer, and Frosty the Snow Man. Not to mention the Hippopotamus someone wants under their tree. It's a very quiet Christmas for me, and I really have to learn to appreciate the holidays in a new way.
I can smell evergreens when we walk toward the store. That smell immediately brings me back to my childhood, gathered around the tree with my sisters telling stories of each ornament we hung.
I love the smell of baking cookies, and cinnamon. The funny moving stuffed animal decorations, and the feeling of ribbon, garland and the hard cold metal ball of a bell in my hand.
When people express amazement that I have a real tree in my house, I smile. The tree is one of the few parts of the season which I can experience. I love the prickly branches, the scent of pine, and the tasks of every-day maintenance. And always there are the ornaments.
When I was a kid, my mother started giving me ornaments for the tree every year. When I moved out, I took the ornaments and hung them on many of my own trees. In August of 2005 they were lost, like so many things were, in the destruction brought on by hurricane Katrina and the failure of the federal levees.
Mister Pawpower and I had gone to Memphis and we had no ornaments. We decided to make our own and so we took a trip to a craft store for pipe cleaners, bulbs, buttons, and puff-paint.
We sat around our little table and created another chapter of our history. That was also the last Christmas I was able to hear any holiday music without amplification.
When we moved back here, we started collecting more ornaments. We still use the ones we made, because they remind me to persevere during the trying times. We have dog-statue ornaments, and many home-made ones from wonderful artist friends. We have funny ones shaped like Bigger (because he's a lot like Mill'E-Max), We have ones with big hearts (for Bristol), We have ones for Rudy, Gracy, and all the other dogs we have had in our lives. This year I believe we will have a striped ornament for our very special striped dog. As we decorate the tree, we tell the stories of how this particular bit of history came to us. So that by the time the tree is decorated, it is a story in its own right.
I have really been making an effort to find new ways to appreciate this time of year. However I can't seem to get away from the music! This morning, I was in Walmart with my SSP. I was surprised I could hear some kind of high pitched noise. I didn't know what it was and more and more, it sounded like someone moaning in pain, or a wounded farm animal. I asked my SSP if she could hear that moaning noise and she replied that that was not moaning, but that song "Angels We Have Heard on High." They were on the "glooooooooooooria" part, I guess. Only it didn't sound very glorious to me. We instead had a good laugh about barn yard animals singing Christmas music, because it really did sound like that! I've ruined Christmas music for her forever now!
Showing posts with label Rudy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rudy. Show all posts
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Bubba!
I have always loved this time of year, ever since I was a kid. One of my favorite fall activities is pumpkin carving. I remember making groceries with my Father. Come fall, we'd get out of the car, walk toward the store, and there they'd be; the heaps of orange pumpkins. Maybe I like pumpkins so much because that particular shade of orange is one which I can clearly see. We would go through the heaps of pumpkins, and each of us girls would pick out "the perfect" one.
Several hours later, we would cover the table with newspaper, and begin carving our pumpkins. My sisters were much better pumpkin artists than I was. I remember clearly, my father very patiently helping me to get it "just right." Come Halloween night, we'd put candles in our jack-o-lanterns and set them on our front porch.
Even now, when I'm supposedly a grown up, I still carve a pumpkin come Halloween. Well actually Mister Pawpower and I do it together. It started many years ago. Our first pumpkin was quite ugly. His eyes were narrow-set, and rather windswept. The nose was huge, the mouth rather lopsided. Once we had finished carving our first pumpkin, we went to put the top back on, only to discover that it was missing. We searched everywhere, and eventually began searching the dog's crates. Rule of paw at our house is that is something is missing, always check the crates. We found the top to our pumpkin, a bit the worse for wear, in Rudy's crate. Apparently he found the taste of pumpkin to be rather pleasant, and to that end, had taken a few nibbles from the edge. The top still fit, though. But it look like an in-bred hick had come out second-best with a shotgun. So we named our pumpkin Shotgun Bubba.
That started the tradition of naming all of our pumpkins Bubba. Usually with describers at the beginning of their names. Through the years, we've had Bad, Bad, LeRoy Brown Bubba, Shit-Eating-Grin Bubba, and Back-Alley, Blind-Justice Bubba, just to name a few.
This year was no different. On Saturday I went with my SSP to pick out this year's Bubba. She showed me these cool pumpkins that looked like the ones from Cinderella. And here I thought that the pumpkins in Cinderella just looked like regular, normal pumpkins. Just goes to show what I know. I decided to pick just a regular old traditional pumpkin. I found a round one with a jaunty stem, and paid for it. Today Mister Pawpower and I commenced to carving up our Bubba.
Now Mister Pawpower is very good at making straight lines and carving recognizable shapes. Me...? not so much, as my Father can attest. So despite Mister Pawpower's careful carving, I always end up making it look crazy, because I can't carve anything right to save my life.
This year's pumpkin is <"Cave-Man, Me No Have Dental Insurance Bubba."> The dental insurance part is because I kind of messed up on the teeth. The cave man part, because he is noticeably lacking in a forehead.
We celebrated the successful carving of our Bubba with a barbecue, and will roast the seeds to snack on for later.
The dogs, as always, took great delight in eating the guts of the pumpkin. Tomorrow our Bubba will go out on the porch and will frighten the entire neighborhood, I'm sure.
Several hours later, we would cover the table with newspaper, and begin carving our pumpkins. My sisters were much better pumpkin artists than I was. I remember clearly, my father very patiently helping me to get it "just right." Come Halloween night, we'd put candles in our jack-o-lanterns and set them on our front porch.
Even now, when I'm supposedly a grown up, I still carve a pumpkin come Halloween. Well actually Mister Pawpower and I do it together. It started many years ago. Our first pumpkin was quite ugly. His eyes were narrow-set, and rather windswept. The nose was huge, the mouth rather lopsided. Once we had finished carving our first pumpkin, we went to put the top back on, only to discover that it was missing. We searched everywhere, and eventually began searching the dog's crates. Rule of paw at our house is that is something is missing, always check the crates. We found the top to our pumpkin, a bit the worse for wear, in Rudy's crate. Apparently he found the taste of pumpkin to be rather pleasant, and to that end, had taken a few nibbles from the edge. The top still fit, though. But it look like an in-bred hick had come out second-best with a shotgun. So we named our pumpkin Shotgun Bubba.
That started the tradition of naming all of our pumpkins Bubba. Usually with describers at the beginning of their names. Through the years, we've had Bad, Bad, LeRoy Brown Bubba, Shit-Eating-Grin Bubba, and Back-Alley, Blind-Justice Bubba, just to name a few.
This year was no different. On Saturday I went with my SSP to pick out this year's Bubba. She showed me these cool pumpkins that looked like the ones from Cinderella. And here I thought that the pumpkins in Cinderella just looked like regular, normal pumpkins. Just goes to show what I know. I decided to pick just a regular old traditional pumpkin. I found a round one with a jaunty stem, and paid for it. Today Mister Pawpower and I commenced to carving up our Bubba.
Now Mister Pawpower is very good at making straight lines and carving recognizable shapes. Me...? not so much, as my Father can attest. So despite Mister Pawpower's careful carving, I always end up making it look crazy, because I can't carve anything right to save my life.
This year's pumpkin is <"Cave-Man, Me No Have Dental Insurance Bubba."> The dental insurance part is because I kind of messed up on the teeth. The cave man part, because he is noticeably lacking in a forehead.
We celebrated the successful carving of our Bubba with a barbecue, and will roast the seeds to snack on for later.
The dogs, as always, took great delight in eating the guts of the pumpkin. Tomorrow our Bubba will go out on the porch and will frighten the entire neighborhood, I'm sure.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
The Language of Loss
These last few weeks have been so very hard with Rudy being gone. But sometimes it seems it's the people I speak to the most who make it harder. I wanted to write this blog post, not as a rant, or a means of finger-pointing, but to explain to non-service dog handlers about how it feels after you lose your beloved partner.
If I had a dollar for every person who has asked "Have you guys found a replacement for Rudy yet?" I could retire to France with a dozen dogs. People seem to have no inkling what so ever that this question is offensive and hurtful. I understand the intent behind the question. The person wants to know if we have found a successor to train for Mister Pawpower.
A service dog is not an inanimate object that you can "replace" when it wears out or breaks. It is not that simple. The bond between a person with a disability and his/her SD is something unique and very special. It is different, much, much different than the love you feel for a pet. This dog has been with you more than anybody else has. This dog has stood between you and danger; frequently risking their own lives to ensure the handler's safety. These dogs are, for some, a lifeline to independence.
When an assistance dog partner looses their SD, whether to death or retirement, it is very difficult. The handler experiences a complex set of emotions; everything from sadness to anger, to guilt, to relief in some cases. Each person is different in the way they experience loss. Some folks, like me, find that they do better if they find an appropriate dog to work with as soon as possible. Some people go years between dogs. Some people only have one SD and then never have another because the loss was just too hard and horrible. They don't want to experience such grief again.
There is no "right" or "wrong" time to get a dog. People from the outside looking in, have absolutely no room to judge, nor to comment. It is normal to be curious about a person's feelings regarding another dog. But I'm asking you, please be very careful and aware of the language you use when asking about a possible next dog.
If the handler does decide to get another dog it is never, ever a "replacement." A dog isn't a pair of shoes or a computer. A dog is a life; special and one of a kind. A better way to phrase this question is:
"Are you interested in acquiring a successor dog?"
or:
"Have you thought of getting another dog, or are you not ready?
Acknowledge that the new dog is not the old, is not a "replacement." Also understand that the person might not even know if they want another dog, they may not even be ready to have this discussion yet.
This is ok, it is ok because the choice of acquiring a successor dog or not, is very personal. If the person answers your question, don't judge their answer. I know it's tempting to say something like:
"You might do better with another dog, it might help."
or:
"You may want to wait a while before getting another dog; maybe a dog isn't right for you any more."
It is nobody's place to judge, or to give advice, unless specifically asked by the handler to give it.
You may have experienced pet loss, and may think you are helping the person feel better by comparing your loss of Fluffy your favorite Chihuahua to the loss of the person's service dog. As I said above, pet loss is different than losing a service animal. Not harder, or easier; those aren't my value judgements to make. It is very different and comparing pet dog loss to service dog loss is like comparing apples to socks.
I need to be honest here and say that I'm very much struggling with feelings of anger right now every time someone uses the phrase "replace the dog." I am also frustrated because some of the people who use this phrase are close to me, and Laveau. They were also close to Mister Pawpower and Rudy. How, after seeing a service dog team work in partnership can they turn around and simply use a word like "replace?" It really hurts, and what's more it hurts Mister Pawpower which makes me even more upset because he is already hurting enough.
I would ask people to please think about what they say before they say it. A moment of forethought counts for more than an hour of apologies.
If I had a dollar for every person who has asked "Have you guys found a replacement for Rudy yet?" I could retire to France with a dozen dogs. People seem to have no inkling what so ever that this question is offensive and hurtful. I understand the intent behind the question. The person wants to know if we have found a successor to train for Mister Pawpower.
A service dog is not an inanimate object that you can "replace" when it wears out or breaks. It is not that simple. The bond between a person with a disability and his/her SD is something unique and very special. It is different, much, much different than the love you feel for a pet. This dog has been with you more than anybody else has. This dog has stood between you and danger; frequently risking their own lives to ensure the handler's safety. These dogs are, for some, a lifeline to independence.
When an assistance dog partner looses their SD, whether to death or retirement, it is very difficult. The handler experiences a complex set of emotions; everything from sadness to anger, to guilt, to relief in some cases. Each person is different in the way they experience loss. Some folks, like me, find that they do better if they find an appropriate dog to work with as soon as possible. Some people go years between dogs. Some people only have one SD and then never have another because the loss was just too hard and horrible. They don't want to experience such grief again.
There is no "right" or "wrong" time to get a dog. People from the outside looking in, have absolutely no room to judge, nor to comment. It is normal to be curious about a person's feelings regarding another dog. But I'm asking you, please be very careful and aware of the language you use when asking about a possible next dog.
If the handler does decide to get another dog it is never, ever a "replacement." A dog isn't a pair of shoes or a computer. A dog is a life; special and one of a kind. A better way to phrase this question is:
"Are you interested in acquiring a successor dog?"
or:
"Have you thought of getting another dog, or are you not ready?
Acknowledge that the new dog is not the old, is not a "replacement." Also understand that the person might not even know if they want another dog, they may not even be ready to have this discussion yet.
This is ok, it is ok because the choice of acquiring a successor dog or not, is very personal. If the person answers your question, don't judge their answer. I know it's tempting to say something like:
"You might do better with another dog, it might help."
or:
"You may want to wait a while before getting another dog; maybe a dog isn't right for you any more."
It is nobody's place to judge, or to give advice, unless specifically asked by the handler to give it.
You may have experienced pet loss, and may think you are helping the person feel better by comparing your loss of Fluffy your favorite Chihuahua to the loss of the person's service dog. As I said above, pet loss is different than losing a service animal. Not harder, or easier; those aren't my value judgements to make. It is very different and comparing pet dog loss to service dog loss is like comparing apples to socks.
I need to be honest here and say that I'm very much struggling with feelings of anger right now every time someone uses the phrase "replace the dog." I am also frustrated because some of the people who use this phrase are close to me, and Laveau. They were also close to Mister Pawpower and Rudy. How, after seeing a service dog team work in partnership can they turn around and simply use a word like "replace?" It really hurts, and what's more it hurts Mister Pawpower which makes me even more upset because he is already hurting enough.
I would ask people to please think about what they say before they say it. A moment of forethought counts for more than an hour of apologies.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
The State of the Pack
It has been a very hard and sad week. Also probably one of the longest weeks in recent history. We still miss Rudy every day. Our house seems so strange without him. On Thursday we got his ashes back and it was really sad.
The other dogs have had a really hard time, especially Mill'E-Max. She was with him when he died and she was very upset. So upset that she stopped doing hearing alerts in the home. I took her with me when I went to a doctor's appointment on Wednesday and she alerted then, but that has been all. She was also refusing to retrieve for the first couple of days but has now returned to her work as our "House Elf." I'm sure with time and some positive reinforcement, she'll begin alerting again as well.
There is some excitement on the horizon for Laveau and me, however. On June 17th, I'm leaving to attend the American Association of the Deafblind's symposium, which will be held in Ft. Mitchell, KY. I'm taking the train since my ears are too damaged to adjust to pressurized aircraft. The train will take about thirty-six hours each way.
On the leg of the trip going to Kentucky, we have a seven hour layover in Chicago. Yes, it's kind of ridiculous that I have to travel through Chicago to get from Louisiana to Kentucky, but efficiency has never been Amtrak's strong-suit. Returning to New Orleans, I have a Layover in Charlottesville VA.
I'm actually excited about these layovers because it means that I can meet internet friends who live in these cities, and because I always love going new places. We have a sleeper car from New Orleans to Chicago, but the rest of the time, we'll be in coach.
Ft. Mitchell KY. is right on the boarder and is very near Cincinnati, OH. I'm excited to see both cities. If you are in these areas and want to meet up, leave me a comment. Also if you are going to the symposium and want to get together, let me know and I can give my number for texting.
I've already started making lists of "must haves" and have gotten a new bait bag and some really tasty treats for Laveau to have on this trip. Now I just have to work out her food. Laveau eats a raw diet so this always takes some advanced planning. :)
I hope everyone is having a great Memorial Day Weekend!
The other dogs have had a really hard time, especially Mill'E-Max. She was with him when he died and she was very upset. So upset that she stopped doing hearing alerts in the home. I took her with me when I went to a doctor's appointment on Wednesday and she alerted then, but that has been all. She was also refusing to retrieve for the first couple of days but has now returned to her work as our "House Elf." I'm sure with time and some positive reinforcement, she'll begin alerting again as well.
There is some excitement on the horizon for Laveau and me, however. On June 17th, I'm leaving to attend the American Association of the Deafblind's symposium, which will be held in Ft. Mitchell, KY. I'm taking the train since my ears are too damaged to adjust to pressurized aircraft. The train will take about thirty-six hours each way.
On the leg of the trip going to Kentucky, we have a seven hour layover in Chicago. Yes, it's kind of ridiculous that I have to travel through Chicago to get from Louisiana to Kentucky, but efficiency has never been Amtrak's strong-suit. Returning to New Orleans, I have a Layover in Charlottesville VA.
I'm actually excited about these layovers because it means that I can meet internet friends who live in these cities, and because I always love going new places. We have a sleeper car from New Orleans to Chicago, but the rest of the time, we'll be in coach.
Ft. Mitchell KY. is right on the boarder and is very near Cincinnati, OH. I'm excited to see both cities. If you are in these areas and want to meet up, leave me a comment. Also if you are going to the symposium and want to get together, let me know and I can give my number for texting.
I've already started making lists of "must haves" and have gotten a new bait bag and some really tasty treats for Laveau to have on this trip. Now I just have to work out her food. Laveau eats a raw diet so this always takes some advanced planning. :)
I hope everyone is having a great Memorial Day Weekend!
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Doing the Math
In our house, everything comes in 4's, or in multiples thereof.
4 dogs
64 nails to clip
8 ears to clean and check
4 heads to count at bed time
4 cold noses prodding us toward the fridge for breakfast in the morning.
Treats and perfect bones and chewies all come in multiples of 4.
Flea and Heart-worm preventive do, too.
2 harnesses rest on the cupboard out in the front room.
4 crates are scattered throughout the house.
There are the 4 spots around the kitchen table, everyone has a place, and everyone in their place come meal time.
... and now it's not that way any more. We are suddenly counting in multiples of three. When you live your life in multiples of 4, multiples of 3 is so wrong and unnatural. I like 4, 4 is a good number. 4 means health and safety and family and that everyone is ok at home, with us, where they belong.
But now there are three. And three is a very small number, so much smaller than 4.
4 dogs
64 nails to clip
8 ears to clean and check
4 heads to count at bed time
4 cold noses prodding us toward the fridge for breakfast in the morning.
Treats and perfect bones and chewies all come in multiples of 4.
Flea and Heart-worm preventive do, too.
2 harnesses rest on the cupboard out in the front room.
4 crates are scattered throughout the house.
There are the 4 spots around the kitchen table, everyone has a place, and everyone in their place come meal time.
... and now it's not that way any more. We are suddenly counting in multiples of three. When you live your life in multiples of 4, multiples of 3 is so wrong and unnatural. I like 4, 4 is a good number. 4 means health and safety and family and that everyone is ok at home, with us, where they belong.
But now there are three. And three is a very small number, so much smaller than 4.
Friday, May 20, 2011
All About Rudy
I meant to write this post several days ago, but life got in the way. I'm writing it now because today I learned that life is short, and so fragile.
Rudy was found wandering in a strip mall parking lot. He was taken to an animal shelter where he lived for a month. In 2004, my husband, Mister Pawpower, was looking for a dog to train for his guide. We found Rudy on pet finder, and decided to meet him.
He was living in a small animal shelter on the north shore of the lake pontchartrain, and some very kind shelter volunteers brought him over so we could meet him.
I knew when I first saw him that he'd be a wonderful guide. The one thing about Rudy was that he was so full of life. He loved going, it didn't matter where, as long as he was going.
Training him was a very difficult job. Rudy loved to go, and he wanted to be the one who decided the destination. He loved looking down the perpendicular streets as he guided Mister Pawpower. It didn't matter how we traveled, as long as we were traveling.
He rode buses, streetcars, cars, trains, and airplanes. Getting the harness on him was always such a challenge because he'd get so excited he couldn't hold still. He loved it best when Mill'E-Max, or Laveau and I were traveling with Mister Pawpower and him. He had his favorite places, and while some of them, like Wendy's restaurant were logical, he also adored Walgreens. He could find any Walgreens anywhere. I've frequently said that Walgreens should hire Rudy as their spokesdog because he loved it there. He loved airports, and shopping malls, and the french quarter.
At home, he was a laid back dude; preferring to nap in a patch of sun on the floor or in his crate as opposed to chasing balls. His favorite treat was pizza, and whenever we would order out, he would wait patiently for Mister Pawpower to bring the box inside. Then he would give the pizza an "honor guard" all the way into the kitchen. He would start grumbling if we didn't share. He ignored every other type of food, but pizza was just too good for him to decline.
In June of last year, Rudy was diagnosed with hip dysplasia. He slowly, and very unwillingly began easing into a life of semi-retirement. Mister Pawpower works from home, so he was able to work Rudy on trips to the store, or the coffee shop.
Today Mister Pawpower was in the tub when Rudy came and hung his head over the side and began nudging to go outside. Mister Pawpower let him out, but when he called the dogs back inside, Rudy didn't come. In his younger days, Rudy was a bit of an escape artist. Thinking that he had had a relapse of judgement, Mister Pawpower began scouring the neighborhood for signs of Rudy. He couldn't find a trace of him.
He went into the back yard to try and locate the place in the fence where Rudy may have gotten out, and instead he found that Rudy had died while out in the yard.
It was very shocking and horrible. I got the call at work, and I called the vet to come while making my way home.
When I got out of my friend's car, I saw the vet tech standing there with Rudy's 85 pound body in his arms. I knew then that Rudy was gone. Rudy was the kind of dog who went places on his own four feet, or he didn't go at all. I've never seen him so still, and quiet in a person's arms before today. I ran up and touched him on the leg. I just couldn't believe he had gone.
When you live through a situation like this, all of the "what if's" crash down upon you with merciless force. What if I hadn't gone to work and stayed home and had found him in time to do CPR. And What if I had missed some kind of crucial signal that he was unwell.
Two days ago, Mister Pawpower and I harnessed up Rudy and Mill'E-Max for a jaunt to our local coffee shop. Rudy was just as thrilled as always to get up and go. He loved the coffee shop. He loved working and getting out there.
Our vet has examined him and has determined that he died of heart failure which is sadly, very common in larger breed dogs.
We are all at such a loss. He has left a huge gaping hole in our lives.
Go in Peace, Rudy Dude. You will always be remembered with love. May you run fast and free, and your road be ever-open.
Walk within You
By Nicolas Evans
If I be the first of us to die,
Let grief not blacken long your sky.
Be bold yet modest in your grieving.
There is a change but not a leaving.
For just as death is part of life,
The dead live on forever in the living.
And all the gathered riches of our journey,
The moments shared, the mysteries explored,
The steady layering of intimacy stored,
The things that made us laugh or weep or sing,
The joy of sunlit snow or first unfurling of the spring,
The wordless language of look and touch,
The knowing,
Each giving and each taking,
These are not flowers that fade,
Nor trees that fall and crumble,
Nor are they stone,
For even stone cannot the wind and rain withstand
And mighty mountain peaks in time reduce to sand.
What we were, we are.
What we had, we have.
A conjoined past imperishably present.
So when you walk the wood where once we walked together
And scan in vain the dappled bank beside you for my shadow,
Or pause where we always did upon the hill to gaze across the land,
And spotting something, reach by habit for my hand,
And finding none, feel sorrow start to steal upon you,
Be still.
Close your eyes.
Breathe.
Listen for my footfall in your heart.
I am not gone but merely walk within you.
Rudy was found wandering in a strip mall parking lot. He was taken to an animal shelter where he lived for a month. In 2004, my husband, Mister Pawpower, was looking for a dog to train for his guide. We found Rudy on pet finder, and decided to meet him.
He was living in a small animal shelter on the north shore of the lake pontchartrain, and some very kind shelter volunteers brought him over so we could meet him.
I knew when I first saw him that he'd be a wonderful guide. The one thing about Rudy was that he was so full of life. He loved going, it didn't matter where, as long as he was going.
Training him was a very difficult job. Rudy loved to go, and he wanted to be the one who decided the destination. He loved looking down the perpendicular streets as he guided Mister Pawpower. It didn't matter how we traveled, as long as we were traveling.
He rode buses, streetcars, cars, trains, and airplanes. Getting the harness on him was always such a challenge because he'd get so excited he couldn't hold still. He loved it best when Mill'E-Max, or Laveau and I were traveling with Mister Pawpower and him. He had his favorite places, and while some of them, like Wendy's restaurant were logical, he also adored Walgreens. He could find any Walgreens anywhere. I've frequently said that Walgreens should hire Rudy as their spokesdog because he loved it there. He loved airports, and shopping malls, and the french quarter.
At home, he was a laid back dude; preferring to nap in a patch of sun on the floor or in his crate as opposed to chasing balls. His favorite treat was pizza, and whenever we would order out, he would wait patiently for Mister Pawpower to bring the box inside. Then he would give the pizza an "honor guard" all the way into the kitchen. He would start grumbling if we didn't share. He ignored every other type of food, but pizza was just too good for him to decline.
In June of last year, Rudy was diagnosed with hip dysplasia. He slowly, and very unwillingly began easing into a life of semi-retirement. Mister Pawpower works from home, so he was able to work Rudy on trips to the store, or the coffee shop.
Today Mister Pawpower was in the tub when Rudy came and hung his head over the side and began nudging to go outside. Mister Pawpower let him out, but when he called the dogs back inside, Rudy didn't come. In his younger days, Rudy was a bit of an escape artist. Thinking that he had had a relapse of judgement, Mister Pawpower began scouring the neighborhood for signs of Rudy. He couldn't find a trace of him.
He went into the back yard to try and locate the place in the fence where Rudy may have gotten out, and instead he found that Rudy had died while out in the yard.
It was very shocking and horrible. I got the call at work, and I called the vet to come while making my way home.
When I got out of my friend's car, I saw the vet tech standing there with Rudy's 85 pound body in his arms. I knew then that Rudy was gone. Rudy was the kind of dog who went places on his own four feet, or he didn't go at all. I've never seen him so still, and quiet in a person's arms before today. I ran up and touched him on the leg. I just couldn't believe he had gone.
When you live through a situation like this, all of the "what if's" crash down upon you with merciless force. What if I hadn't gone to work and stayed home and had found him in time to do CPR. And What if I had missed some kind of crucial signal that he was unwell.
Two days ago, Mister Pawpower and I harnessed up Rudy and Mill'E-Max for a jaunt to our local coffee shop. Rudy was just as thrilled as always to get up and go. He loved the coffee shop. He loved working and getting out there.
Our vet has examined him and has determined that he died of heart failure which is sadly, very common in larger breed dogs.
We are all at such a loss. He has left a huge gaping hole in our lives.
Go in Peace, Rudy Dude. You will always be remembered with love. May you run fast and free, and your road be ever-open.
Walk within You
By Nicolas Evans
If I be the first of us to die,
Let grief not blacken long your sky.
Be bold yet modest in your grieving.
There is a change but not a leaving.
For just as death is part of life,
The dead live on forever in the living.
And all the gathered riches of our journey,
The moments shared, the mysteries explored,
The steady layering of intimacy stored,
The things that made us laugh or weep or sing,
The joy of sunlit snow or first unfurling of the spring,
The wordless language of look and touch,
The knowing,
Each giving and each taking,
These are not flowers that fade,
Nor trees that fall and crumble,
Nor are they stone,
For even stone cannot the wind and rain withstand
And mighty mountain peaks in time reduce to sand.
What we were, we are.
What we had, we have.
A conjoined past imperishably present.
So when you walk the wood where once we walked together
And scan in vain the dappled bank beside you for my shadow,
Or pause where we always did upon the hill to gaze across the land,
And spotting something, reach by habit for my hand,
And finding none, feel sorrow start to steal upon you,
Be still.
Close your eyes.
Breathe.
Listen for my footfall in your heart.
I am not gone but merely walk within you.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Vengeance is mine, sayeth Laveau
My guide dog Laveau is a pound puppy. Even the best and most wonderful pound puppies come with their share of baggage. This is why I so desperately wanted to obtain my next dog from a reputable breeder-- it was my hope I could get a really great dog with very few issues.
But life didn't work out that way and I ended up with a funny black Doberman mix from the pound. She left her pound experience behind largely no worse for the wear, except for ... "The Food Thing®"
She must have been starving when they found her. She lived at the pound for five weeks and when I adopted her, you never would have known she was getting regular meals at the pound; she was so skinny.
For the first two months I had her it seemed she did nothing but eat. I let her eat as much as she wanted and once she figured out that yes, this raw chicken is actually food, she realized that the whole prey animal thing was a really fabulous idea!
She ate and ate and ate. I had to watch her like a hawk in the house because if it was food, she would eat it.
We worked on the concept of "Doggie Zen." This means that if you want something (like food) you must ignore it.
She became very good at ignoring food, and after a while I built up trust that she would behave herself.
But sometimes... Sometimes she backslides!
Yesterday I needed to run some errands. I decided to take Mill'E-Max since she hadn't gone out in a few days and I knew that Laveau would have a full work day on Sunday.
I've now worked with Laveau enough that I feel safe leaving her free in the house when I'm gone. Usually she will take all of my dirty clothes out to the front room, make a nest, and snuggle down in it to watch the door and wait for me to return home. I don't care if she does this-- she doesn't damage my clothes and hey, we all have our little idiosyncrasies, right?
Mister Pawpower and I harnessed up the dogs, leaving Laveau and Bristol home alone.
Now, Laveau may be very well trained, but I'm no fool. I usually close the kitchen door when I go, and yesterday was no exception.
I didn't know that at some point Laveau had taught herself to open the door...
Do you see where this is going? Do You?
I was gone for maybe 90 minutes. I return and unharness the dogs. I noticed that Laveau didn't make the usual pile of clothes by the door and wondered about it. Nothing looked out of place. Clothes were still in the hamper, kitchen door was shut, everything seemed the same as when I had left.
Until I found the empty bag of cheese Chex Mix on my pillow.
While I was gone, Laveau opened the kitchen door, took the half-eaten bag of Chex mix off the table, carried it out of the kitchen, shut the door, climbed up on my pillow on my bed and finished said bag of Chex mix. If she had only managed to throw the bag in the garbage, I never would have known and would have just assumed that my husband, Mr. Pawpower, ate the last of the snack food.
I know it wasn't Bristol who did this. Not because Bristol is perfect-- (well she's almost perfect) but because Bristol can't get up on our high bed.
This just goes to show, you can train and work, but dogs will be dogs, and they're always going to have an Achilles heel! Apparently Laveau's is Cheese Chex Mix!
But life didn't work out that way and I ended up with a funny black Doberman mix from the pound. She left her pound experience behind largely no worse for the wear, except for ... "The Food Thing®"
She must have been starving when they found her. She lived at the pound for five weeks and when I adopted her, you never would have known she was getting regular meals at the pound; she was so skinny.
For the first two months I had her it seemed she did nothing but eat. I let her eat as much as she wanted and once she figured out that yes, this raw chicken is actually food, she realized that the whole prey animal thing was a really fabulous idea!
She ate and ate and ate. I had to watch her like a hawk in the house because if it was food, she would eat it.
We worked on the concept of "Doggie Zen." This means that if you want something (like food) you must ignore it.
She became very good at ignoring food, and after a while I built up trust that she would behave herself.
But sometimes... Sometimes she backslides!
Yesterday I needed to run some errands. I decided to take Mill'E-Max since she hadn't gone out in a few days and I knew that Laveau would have a full work day on Sunday.
I've now worked with Laveau enough that I feel safe leaving her free in the house when I'm gone. Usually she will take all of my dirty clothes out to the front room, make a nest, and snuggle down in it to watch the door and wait for me to return home. I don't care if she does this-- she doesn't damage my clothes and hey, we all have our little idiosyncrasies, right?
Mister Pawpower and I harnessed up the dogs, leaving Laveau and Bristol home alone.
Now, Laveau may be very well trained, but I'm no fool. I usually close the kitchen door when I go, and yesterday was no exception.
I didn't know that at some point Laveau had taught herself to open the door...
Do you see where this is going? Do You?
I was gone for maybe 90 minutes. I return and unharness the dogs. I noticed that Laveau didn't make the usual pile of clothes by the door and wondered about it. Nothing looked out of place. Clothes were still in the hamper, kitchen door was shut, everything seemed the same as when I had left.
Until I found the empty bag of cheese Chex Mix on my pillow.
While I was gone, Laveau opened the kitchen door, took the half-eaten bag of Chex mix off the table, carried it out of the kitchen, shut the door, climbed up on my pillow on my bed and finished said bag of Chex mix. If she had only managed to throw the bag in the garbage, I never would have known and would have just assumed that my husband, Mr. Pawpower, ate the last of the snack food.
I know it wasn't Bristol who did this. Not because Bristol is perfect-- (well she's almost perfect) but because Bristol can't get up on our high bed.
This just goes to show, you can train and work, but dogs will be dogs, and they're always going to have an Achilles heel! Apparently Laveau's is Cheese Chex Mix!
Monday, January 24, 2011
Brissy Makes a break!
It was a beautiful day for a walk. I have had a cold for the last week or so and by now I also had a raging case of cabin fever. Mister Pawpower and I decided to walk to the near by coffee shop and then to hit the mini-mart on our way back home. I harnessed up Mill'E-Max and he walked with Rudy. We shut the door and headed out, enjoying the warmer temperatures and the Monday sunshine.
I noticed that Mill'E-Max was walking kind of hesitantly; she didn't want to get me too close to Mr. Pawpower and his dog. I just brushed it off as her being extra careful. We made it about two blocks before Mr. Pawpower, who was in the lead, came to an abrupt halt.
He had felt something brushing against his right leg ever since he had set off, but every time he reached his hand down to try and find the mystery object, there was nothing there. Until he tripped over it. Well, it wasn't an *it*, it was a she. A very old, white-faced, furry, bossy, crafty *she*.
Bristol decided that she was not going to stay home; sometime between when I left and when we shut the door, she snuck out and very carefully walked with us to the coffee shop. She stayed by Mr. Pawpower's right side, until something on the sidewalk caught her attention. She was so wrapped up in investigating that she forgot to pay attention to us, and Rudy, Mr. Pawpower's dog, stopped to point her out to him.
We debated on running her back to the house, but lox and bagels with strong tea were whispering to me and we were only a half block away.
We decided to just let her tag along. I waited outside on the patio with Brissy and Mill'E-Max while Mr. Pawpower and Rudy went inside for the afore-mentioned goodies. We all sat outside, enjoying the morning and feeling bad for Laveau who was the only one left at home.
After we finished our breakfast, we walked to the market and once again, I waited while the boys went inside to complete the shopping.
I think all in all, Bristol is very satisfied with herself. She may be getting old, but the brain appears to be working overtime.
Crafty dog! Gonna make me as gray as she is.
I noticed that Mill'E-Max was walking kind of hesitantly; she didn't want to get me too close to Mr. Pawpower and his dog. I just brushed it off as her being extra careful. We made it about two blocks before Mr. Pawpower, who was in the lead, came to an abrupt halt.
He had felt something brushing against his right leg ever since he had set off, but every time he reached his hand down to try and find the mystery object, there was nothing there. Until he tripped over it. Well, it wasn't an *it*, it was a she. A very old, white-faced, furry, bossy, crafty *she*.
Bristol decided that she was not going to stay home; sometime between when I left and when we shut the door, she snuck out and very carefully walked with us to the coffee shop. She stayed by Mr. Pawpower's right side, until something on the sidewalk caught her attention. She was so wrapped up in investigating that she forgot to pay attention to us, and Rudy, Mr. Pawpower's dog, stopped to point her out to him.
We debated on running her back to the house, but lox and bagels with strong tea were whispering to me and we were only a half block away.
We decided to just let her tag along. I waited outside on the patio with Brissy and Mill'E-Max while Mr. Pawpower and Rudy went inside for the afore-mentioned goodies. We all sat outside, enjoying the morning and feeling bad for Laveau who was the only one left at home.
After we finished our breakfast, we walked to the market and once again, I waited while the boys went inside to complete the shopping.
I think all in all, Bristol is very satisfied with herself. She may be getting old, but the brain appears to be working overtime.
Crafty dog! Gonna make me as gray as she is.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
"Life breaks us all, but afterwards, many of us are strongest at the broken places."
I feel like that Ernest Hemingway quote sums up my life very well right now.
Here I sit, in my house with my family, all of whom are healthy, well fed and happy. I have a job with a regular income and although I'd probably be thought of as "working class poor" by many, I know that I'm really rich beyond all my expectations.
Five years ago, I had very few earthly possessions. I was exiled from my home and from many of the people I loved. Three months after that I lost all of my remaining hearing.
I've spent these last years fighting so hard to come back from all of that. I found a home, got my job back, fought for rehab services, fought to get ASL instruction, started attending ASL lessons, fought vertigo and so much in between.
I always knew I was blessed, but honestly, knowing something in your head, and feeling it in your heart are two totally different things.
Something has changed though, and I know I'm blessed. Even though Katrina and what happened after and the loss of every thing was so devastating, I can say that the experience also blessed me so much. Losing my hearing has totally change my life, but it has also blessed me and allowed me to grow in ways that I couldn't have imagined. Was it painful? Hell yes! But in the end, it was worth it. This year I went to Seabeck and had such an amazing opportunity, and met so many different people..
So what I'm trying to say in this TL;DR entry is that I'm grateful. Not just for the good stuff-- my family, my friends, all of you here in EljayLand. I'm also grateful for the not so good stuff. It is by going through the not so good stuff that I found the best thing of all.
Here I sit, in my house with my family, all of whom are healthy, well fed and happy. I have a job with a regular income and although I'd probably be thought of as "working class poor" by many, I know that I'm really rich beyond all my expectations.
Five years ago, I had very few earthly possessions. I was exiled from my home and from many of the people I loved. Three months after that I lost all of my remaining hearing.
I've spent these last years fighting so hard to come back from all of that. I found a home, got my job back, fought for rehab services, fought to get ASL instruction, started attending ASL lessons, fought vertigo and so much in between.
I always knew I was blessed, but honestly, knowing something in your head, and feeling it in your heart are two totally different things.
Something has changed though, and I know I'm blessed. Even though Katrina and what happened after and the loss of every thing was so devastating, I can say that the experience also blessed me so much. Losing my hearing has totally change my life, but it has also blessed me and allowed me to grow in ways that I couldn't have imagined. Was it painful? Hell yes! But in the end, it was worth it. This year I went to Seabeck and had such an amazing opportunity, and met so many different people..
So what I'm trying to say in this TL;DR entry is that I'm grateful. Not just for the good stuff-- my family, my friends, all of you here in EljayLand. I'm also grateful for the not so good stuff. It is by going through the not so good stuff that I found the best thing of all.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Simple Gifts:
Carving pumpkins,
pesto,
books
pumpkin lattes,
old dogs because they hold the past and are wise,
young dogs who are the future and who are waiting to discover the world,
middle-aged dogs who've are the now, and who can read the minds of their partners.
Long walks,
dancing in the front room,
being able to see the moon as it rises in full glory,
games that make you work your mind,
poetry,
sign rhymes,
satsumas,
rain,
the way the grass looks so very green after the rains have finished,
tea,
and lastly, the ability to learn new things.
pesto,
books
pumpkin lattes,
old dogs because they hold the past and are wise,
young dogs who are the future and who are waiting to discover the world,
middle-aged dogs who've are the now, and who can read the minds of their partners.
Long walks,
dancing in the front room,
being able to see the moon as it rises in full glory,
games that make you work your mind,
poetry,
sign rhymes,
satsumas,
rain,
the way the grass looks so very green after the rains have finished,
tea,
and lastly, the ability to learn new things.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
The Great Pumpkin Slasher!
It's that time of year again-- Halloween! I love Halloween, but I especially love it when I have someone with me who is a great describer of costumes. Halloween also has candy (always good in my book), and pumpkins! I love carving pumpkins.
It's tradition that Mr. Pawpower and I carve a pumpkin together every year. Mr. Pawpower has this awesome way of calculating space, making even shapes, and keeping everything uniform looking. To say that I do not have this skill is the understatement of the century. I am a horrible cutter. I can't make things even and matching and looking all pretty and whatnot. I don't know why but I can't. This doesn't stop me from carving a pumpkin, though.
So our first year together and we get this huge pumpkin to carve. Mr. Pawpower removes the top and sets it aside. We agree that I'd do the eyes (huge mistake) and that Mr. Pawpower would do the nose and mouth.
To say that my pumpkin had the gaze of a six-generations in-bred, backwater mutant from hell would be a kindness.
He was most definitely cross-eyed, and his eyes weren't even, and it was just terrible. Mr. Pawpower salvaged the rest of the pumpkin, sort of. Once you screw up the eyes, your entire pumpkin is shot since the eyes kinda set the tone for the whole piece, y'know?
So the pumpkin is carved. We look for the top to the pumpkin and no top. We look on the floor, we look in other rooms, and finally we checked the dog's crates because when things aren't as they should be, rule number one is check the crates because you'll find the reason therein.
So we go through all the dog's crates and Rudy who is Mr. Pawpower's guide dog, has the top to our pumpkin. Only he's chewed it-- sort of. There was a ragged edge of teeth marks in places. It was still salvageable so I slapped it on top of our pumpkin and he looked like a scary dude. I named him "Shotgun Bubba." The "shotgun" part was for the holes in the head.
All of our pumpkins have been called Bubba ever since. We're going to carve this year's Bubba some time this weekend.
Yesterday I went to a pumpkin carving party with a friend. These things are interesting because there's always going to be someone there who has a moral and ethical objection to a blindy wielding a knife.
I don't know what the hell these people think, exactly. Do they just think I wander through life, unable to use a knife, and every time I need something cut, or sliced, or chopped, I run and find some sighted Joe to do it for me? Really?
So yes, I do use knives. I use them daily, and still have the same number of appendages I was born with so I think I'm pretty safe, no?
Also, I teach other blind people to use knives if they come for daily living skills training. If the teacher herself doesn't know how to use knives, there is a problem.
But most people don't think this way and so there is always some blabber mouth asshole who has to tantrum about it for a while, and watch me like an especially interesting laboratory specimen waiting for me to either cut myself or someone else, or... something.
It happens every year, and I seem to disappoint them since nobody has died yet!
Happy pumpkin carving, y'all!
WAGS!
It's tradition that Mr. Pawpower and I carve a pumpkin together every year. Mr. Pawpower has this awesome way of calculating space, making even shapes, and keeping everything uniform looking. To say that I do not have this skill is the understatement of the century. I am a horrible cutter. I can't make things even and matching and looking all pretty and whatnot. I don't know why but I can't. This doesn't stop me from carving a pumpkin, though.
So our first year together and we get this huge pumpkin to carve. Mr. Pawpower removes the top and sets it aside. We agree that I'd do the eyes (huge mistake) and that Mr. Pawpower would do the nose and mouth.
To say that my pumpkin had the gaze of a six-generations in-bred, backwater mutant from hell would be a kindness.
He was most definitely cross-eyed, and his eyes weren't even, and it was just terrible. Mr. Pawpower salvaged the rest of the pumpkin, sort of. Once you screw up the eyes, your entire pumpkin is shot since the eyes kinda set the tone for the whole piece, y'know?
So the pumpkin is carved. We look for the top to the pumpkin and no top. We look on the floor, we look in other rooms, and finally we checked the dog's crates because when things aren't as they should be, rule number one is check the crates because you'll find the reason therein.
So we go through all the dog's crates and Rudy who is Mr. Pawpower's guide dog, has the top to our pumpkin. Only he's chewed it-- sort of. There was a ragged edge of teeth marks in places. It was still salvageable so I slapped it on top of our pumpkin and he looked like a scary dude. I named him "Shotgun Bubba." The "shotgun" part was for the holes in the head.
All of our pumpkins have been called Bubba ever since. We're going to carve this year's Bubba some time this weekend.
Yesterday I went to a pumpkin carving party with a friend. These things are interesting because there's always going to be someone there who has a moral and ethical objection to a blindy wielding a knife.
I don't know what the hell these people think, exactly. Do they just think I wander through life, unable to use a knife, and every time I need something cut, or sliced, or chopped, I run and find some sighted Joe to do it for me? Really?
So yes, I do use knives. I use them daily, and still have the same number of appendages I was born with so I think I'm pretty safe, no?
Also, I teach other blind people to use knives if they come for daily living skills training. If the teacher herself doesn't know how to use knives, there is a problem.
But most people don't think this way and so there is always some blabber mouth asshole who has to tantrum about it for a while, and watch me like an especially interesting laboratory specimen waiting for me to either cut myself or someone else, or... something.
It happens every year, and I seem to disappoint them since nobody has died yet!
Happy pumpkin carving, y'all!
WAGS!
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Walkin' in New Orleans
The weather has finally become more civilized (most of the time). This means that I can resume my evening walks with the Pack. Mr. Pawpower took Rudy, his guide dog, and Bristol, my almost thirteen-year-young retired goddess. I had Mill'E-Max and Laveau.
Getting the right dog in the harness was a workout all on its own. Both Mill'E and Laveau love the harness, and they both want to wear it. I keep threatening to make them a harness like oxen have so they can work in tandem. Mill'E lucked out today and got to work. This meant that Laveau had to walk on the right and leave the guiding to Mill'E-Max. Laveau is not good at giving up the control. She is much like me in this respect. She is the dog version of the backseat driver; always wanting to take over because she knows she can do it better.
We went about ten blocks, then came home and drank a beer on the front porch. It's nice to be able to have cooler evenings again! Thursday I'm getting our pumpkin for carving. blindies with knives making pumpkin art. It's always fun. This year I'm going to try and get a picture of our masterpiece!
WAGS!
Getting the right dog in the harness was a workout all on its own. Both Mill'E and Laveau love the harness, and they both want to wear it. I keep threatening to make them a harness like oxen have so they can work in tandem. Mill'E lucked out today and got to work. This meant that Laveau had to walk on the right and leave the guiding to Mill'E-Max. Laveau is not good at giving up the control. She is much like me in this respect. She is the dog version of the backseat driver; always wanting to take over because she knows she can do it better.
We went about ten blocks, then came home and drank a beer on the front porch. It's nice to be able to have cooler evenings again! Thursday I'm getting our pumpkin for carving. blindies with knives making pumpkin art. It's always fun. This year I'm going to try and get a picture of our masterpiece!
WAGS!
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Ya Gotta Start Somewhere, I Guess
Hi,
This is my very first post in my very new public blog.
I guess I should start this thing by explaining who I am.
I live in New Orleans and am married to Mr. Pawpower and together we own
<"Pawpower Creations">
We have many dogs, and they are always doing crazy things. I'm Deafblind. This means that I can't see or hear very well. I can still see and hear a small bit, but more often than not, using my residual sight or hearing tends to land me in hot water. My husband, Mr. Pawpower is blind, but hearing. Our dogs are either retired or working assistance dogs. We have three golden retrievers, and one Doberman mix, three females and one male, and no the Doberman isn't a male! This is like, one of those logic puzzles.
Bristol is almost thirteen years old. She is retired and is, herself, losing her vision and has lost most of her hearing.
Mill'E-Max is the brains of the outfit. She also has a wicked sense of humor. Don't let people tell you that dogs don't have senses of humor because I know differently. Mill'E-Max used to be my guide, hearing and service dog, however she has some joint issues so has to limit her guide work. Instead, she mainly does in-house chores such as retrieving dropped objects, alerting me to sounds in my environment, Bringing objects from one person to another, and retrieving my beer from the fridge, and no, she doesn't drink it!
Rudy is my husband's guide dog. He's seven? He's the only guy and is bossed around shamelessly by his female counterparts. He drools a lot, and likes to take up lots of floor space on airplane flights.
Laveau is my guide dog, she's three and is the Doberman, something-something mix. She was named for Marie Laveau and that's another story within itself.
I'm learning ASL. Teaching a person who's been blind since birth a visual/spacial language is kind of an exercise in patience. Well, patience and humility. I'm kind of starting to like humble pie. I have a great teacher and our lessons are always full of laughable moments. Usually at my expense, but I don't mind!
I like to cook. I have a thing against using recipes. I usually just make shit up as I go along.
I'm a qualified Herbalist, and make Aroma Therapy Products. In my Medical Herbalism work, I deal mostly with dogs, and sometimes cats. They don't complain as much as people.
I'm about to sit my qualifying exam to become a Certified Canine Massage Therapist. I have lots of willing volunteers to practice on, let me tell you.
I do have a grown-up day job. I teach Braille to blind and deafblind adults. Since I love to promote literacy, and since I think Braille is beautiful, and since I love to read, this is a great job for me. I love my clients!
As mentioned above, I love to read. I use my Braille Note, which is a small PDA with pins that pop up or lay flat to form braille letters. All of my books are in electronic format, and are loaded on the Braille Note. I take it everywhere.
I also love technology. I have a Macbook and an iPhone which I love. I hook my iPhone to my Braille Note via bluetooth and the information which appears on my iPhone screen now pops up in braille on my Braille Note.
I'll stop blabbing now, and will begin backdating some entries I have written previously but never got around to posting.
WAGS!
This is my very first post in my very new public blog.
I guess I should start this thing by explaining who I am.
I live in New Orleans and am married to Mr. Pawpower and together we own
<"Pawpower Creations">
We have many dogs, and they are always doing crazy things. I'm Deafblind. This means that I can't see or hear very well. I can still see and hear a small bit, but more often than not, using my residual sight or hearing tends to land me in hot water. My husband, Mr. Pawpower is blind, but hearing. Our dogs are either retired or working assistance dogs. We have three golden retrievers, and one Doberman mix, three females and one male, and no the Doberman isn't a male! This is like, one of those logic puzzles.
Bristol is almost thirteen years old. She is retired and is, herself, losing her vision and has lost most of her hearing.
Mill'E-Max is the brains of the outfit. She also has a wicked sense of humor. Don't let people tell you that dogs don't have senses of humor because I know differently. Mill'E-Max used to be my guide, hearing and service dog, however she has some joint issues so has to limit her guide work. Instead, she mainly does in-house chores such as retrieving dropped objects, alerting me to sounds in my environment, Bringing objects from one person to another, and retrieving my beer from the fridge, and no, she doesn't drink it!
Rudy is my husband's guide dog. He's seven? He's the only guy and is bossed around shamelessly by his female counterparts. He drools a lot, and likes to take up lots of floor space on airplane flights.
Laveau is my guide dog, she's three and is the Doberman, something-something mix. She was named for Marie Laveau and that's another story within itself.
I'm learning ASL. Teaching a person who's been blind since birth a visual/spacial language is kind of an exercise in patience. Well, patience and humility. I'm kind of starting to like humble pie. I have a great teacher and our lessons are always full of laughable moments. Usually at my expense, but I don't mind!
I like to cook. I have a thing against using recipes. I usually just make shit up as I go along.
I'm a qualified Herbalist, and make Aroma Therapy Products. In my Medical Herbalism work, I deal mostly with dogs, and sometimes cats. They don't complain as much as people.
I'm about to sit my qualifying exam to become a Certified Canine Massage Therapist. I have lots of willing volunteers to practice on, let me tell you.
I do have a grown-up day job. I teach Braille to blind and deafblind adults. Since I love to promote literacy, and since I think Braille is beautiful, and since I love to read, this is a great job for me. I love my clients!
As mentioned above, I love to read. I use my Braille Note, which is a small PDA with pins that pop up or lay flat to form braille letters. All of my books are in electronic format, and are loaded on the Braille Note. I take it everywhere.
I also love technology. I have a Macbook and an iPhone which I love. I hook my iPhone to my Braille Note via bluetooth and the information which appears on my iPhone screen now pops up in braille on my Braille Note.
I'll stop blabbing now, and will begin backdating some entries I have written previously but never got around to posting.
WAGS!
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