Lately I've been noticing that the world has become a much more quiet place. I'm not trying to be a smart ass either; things just seemed to be harder than usual to hear. I scheduled an appointment with my audiologist to get my hearing aid, otherwise known as "The Babelfish" turned up louder.
My SSP picked me up and we drove to the appointment in his car. Laveau usually rides on the floor between my feet in the foot-space of the passenger seat. However when I ride with friends or my SSPs who don't mind, she rides in the back seat so she can look out the window. Laveau loves to rest her chin on the shoulder of the driver and look out the front window as we're driving down the road. I swear she is either evaluating the skills of the drivers. or she is learning to drive by watching. Either way, she loves watching over my driver's shoulders.
We pull up at the Audi's office, go inside and wait to get called back. Eventually my audi comes to get me and she has an audiologist in training with her. They fiddle around for a while and crank up the volume on ye old Babelfish. It is almost maxed out. Once it is maxed out, I'll have to get a more powerful babelfish. This used to be the most powerful one on the market but they are making one even more powerful now. I'm amazed at technology. I also needed to get my streamer fixed. A streamer is a small box I wear around my neck which can use bluetooth to connect my hearing aid to my iPod or computer. I broke mine so got a loner while mine is getting repaired. When the audi handed me the loner, she said "This one is white." I just kind of looked at her because I didn't know that the color was important. Apparently mine is black and she wanted me to know that this one was a different color, or something. The audiologist in training went to change my hearing aid battery; only she didn't tell me what she was doing. She just came over, took my hearing aid out of my ear and started messing around. I got a little grouchy about this because it is rude, especially when dealing with a deafblind person, to just start manipulating a person's body or objects on their body without first explaining what you are planning to do. Apparently they don't teach them this in audiology school so I had to tell her. It is common sense to me, but I guess people are just used to being able to see that they don't think about it.
After the volume on my hearing aid was increased, I was reminded once again of how noisy the world is. Not loud-- just noisy. Everything makes a sound. I don't know how hearing people stand all of the racket without the ability to just turn off their ears!
As we were driving down the road to the pharmacy, I kept looking around trying to figure out what all the noise was. I can still only hear out of one ear so although sounds are louder now, I still can't tell where they are coming from and it is very annoying. Also, everything makes noise! Cars, air conditioners, lawn mowers, people walking, and just lots of other sounds that I have forgotten about. It always takes me several days to adjust to all of the noise when I get my hearing aid turned up.
My loss is progressive and eventually a hearing aid won't benefit me at all. I didn't get a hearing test today but I'm profoundly deaf (it is the only way in which I am profound lol) and profound hearing loss is the highest grade there is, so I'm just becoming profounder and profounder (ok ok more and more profound) as the years progress.
After we left the audis, I went to the pharmacy and then rewarded myself with a trip to
<"Angelo Brocato's">
My SSP and I sat down to enjoy a cannoli with a cup of cafe au lait. It was amazing, as always! Then I got a quart of their lemon ice gelato to take home and share with Mr. Pawpower.
I think I'll spend the rest of the day with my hearing aid off and reading the newest Jean M. Auel book "The Land of Painted Caves."
ahhh, silence, ice-cream and books! This is the life.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
I'm Gonna Clear My Heaeaead! I'm Gonna Drink That Suuuun!
It's a beautiful day here in the big moldy. I spent it at home-- unable to work because I can't wear my hearing aid for extended amounts of time due to a chronic and raging ear infection. Well, I had an ASL lesson, but that was just down the road at the coffee shop. We sat outside during the lesson and then I went home and did not want to go inside. I got out the little end table, my iPhone, braille display, iPod and huge amplified headphones. I set everything up on my porch and Laveau and I set to having an afternoon out of doors.
I cranked up my iPod as high as it would go, and listened to my favorite Indigo Girls album. I read email, and Twitter, and blog posts, and played hang man all while humming quietly along with the music.
One of the biggest truths about deafness is that quiet becomes subjective. I learned this noble truth when Mr. Pawpower texted me to say that he could hear me singing, from inside, over the air conditioning and the hammering of the neighbors; he could hear me. I could not hear myself singing, and what I thought was a bit of quiet humming had become a neighborhood serenade. Oh well, at least it was good music, and Mr. Pawpower said that I hit all the notes and that I sounded better than the other people on our block who sing loudly. The problem is, most of said neighborhood singers participate in this hobby when they are intoxicated. So to say that my singing is better than that of an inebriate is a rather back-handed complement if ever there was one.
Now that I've succeeded in humiliating myself, I have come inside, only to realize that I have sun burned the holy hell out of my face. Being a red head really sucks sometimes.
I put Noxzema on my face only to have Mill'E-Max decide that Noxzema is the new flavor Du Jour. Now I have to hide my face like a fugitive to avoid being turned into the canine version of an otter pop.
I just can't win!
I cranked up my iPod as high as it would go, and listened to my favorite Indigo Girls album. I read email, and Twitter, and blog posts, and played hang man all while humming quietly along with the music.
One of the biggest truths about deafness is that quiet becomes subjective. I learned this noble truth when Mr. Pawpower texted me to say that he could hear me singing, from inside, over the air conditioning and the hammering of the neighbors; he could hear me. I could not hear myself singing, and what I thought was a bit of quiet humming had become a neighborhood serenade. Oh well, at least it was good music, and Mr. Pawpower said that I hit all the notes and that I sounded better than the other people on our block who sing loudly. The problem is, most of said neighborhood singers participate in this hobby when they are intoxicated. So to say that my singing is better than that of an inebriate is a rather back-handed complement if ever there was one.
Now that I've succeeded in humiliating myself, I have come inside, only to realize that I have sun burned the holy hell out of my face. Being a red head really sucks sometimes.
I put Noxzema on my face only to have Mill'E-Max decide that Noxzema is the new flavor Du Jour. Now I have to hide my face like a fugitive to avoid being turned into the canine version of an otter pop.
I just can't win!
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
I Want To Ride My Bicycle
This morning, my husband, Mr. Pawpower and I some how got into a conversation about our first bicycle experiences as children, and this inspired me to write about mine here.
I was born with
<"Optic Nerve Hypoplasia/Septo Optic Dysplasia">
This is a congenital brain malformation which can cause, among other things, blindness, and short stature because the pituitary gland is damaged and does not produce growth hormone. I stopped growing when I was around three or four years old and did not begin growing again until I started receiving human growth hormone injections at the age of eleven.
My parents always encourage and expected me to be just like everyone else. I played with my sighted sisters, and our sighted friends. I was basically an ordinary kid, with the exception of not being able to ride a bike because there wasn't one small enough for me.
Once I began growth hormone treatment, I started growing rapidly. Before long, I was tall enough to reach the pedals on my sisters bike.
I have always had especially crappy balance, and learning to ride a bike-- even with training wheels-- was quite a challenge. I had to focus on the bike, focus on my environment with my hearing and my very limited sight, and coordinate my arms and legs to move around objects in my path. After a while I got pretty good at the whole training wheels thing.
It was time for the moment of truth... The training wheels were removed and I spent many hours in the summer between sixth and seventh grade getting on the bike, pedaling a few feet, losing my balance, falling off the bike, getting up and repeating the entire process.
I will always remember the first time I actually rode for a period if time longer than a minute. The sun was just setting and my mom had called us girls in to get baths and get ready for bed. I begged for "just one last try."
I got on the bike, determined as hell that I was going to do it this time. I started off-- heading west, toward the setting sun. I focused on pedaling, keeping the handlebars straight, looking ahead, and keeping my balance. I wove around like an inebriate, but eventually I did it, I was riding the bike. I rode round and round and round our street, laughing my head off and so proud of myself. Unfortunately, I got distracted by the thrill of it all, lost my concentration, and hence, control of the bike. I flew ass over teakettle and landed in a heap in the road, tangled up with my sister's red bike, still laughing like a maniac.
I practiced riding the level streets at my mom's house. When I got good enough so I wasn't falling on my face every other time, I decided to take my new bike-riding skillz to my father's house to try it out on the streets there.
My father lived in a subdivision, at the very top of a pretty steep hill. I was confident that I could handle it-- after-all, two weeks had passed since I had last fallen off my bike at my mom's house.
I started off at the top of the hill, clutching the handlebars for dear life, and focusing on the street ahead. I pushed off and began pedaling. Because of the grade of the slope, my bike began picking up speed, rapidly. I got about half way down this very long hill when I made the startling realization that I was no longer in control of the bike-- gravity had taken over. I went faster and faster, the handlebars began swiveling back and forth and it was all I could do to maintain control of this mad beast of a bike. Unfortunately, in my effort to slow the bike down, I neglected to watch where I was going. This led to my face, meeting a mailbox at the bottom of the hill with a great deal of force. The mailbox stopped me in my tracks and I flew off the back of the bike which continued on for a few more feet before falling over like a wounded pony. It hurt, it hurt a very great deal. I do recall a substantial amount of blood being shed.
The neighbors were horrified; the little blind girl riding a bike! What were her parents thinking! I cleaned off the blood, retrieved my bike, and lined up at the top of the hill once again.
This glimpse into my childhood tells a lot about my character. Call it determination, call it stupidity or stubbornness, or just plain force of will. Whatever it is; I possess it in spades.
In december of that year, I turned thirteen. I sang in the school choir and we had a concert on my birthday. I remember going home once the concert was finished, expecting to enjoy a bit of birth day cake and some presents. My father told me to go into my room and change into my pj's first. I was rather surprised when the rest of my family followed me up stairs. I opened the door to find my very own bicycle assembled at the foot of the bed. It was a Huffy. It was the palest pink. It was one of the best birth day presents I think I have ever received. It was a lesson to me that if you work hard, get up when you fall, clean up the blood and continue pressing onward that you can make your dreams happen.
I was born with
<"Optic Nerve Hypoplasia/Septo Optic Dysplasia">
This is a congenital brain malformation which can cause, among other things, blindness, and short stature because the pituitary gland is damaged and does not produce growth hormone. I stopped growing when I was around three or four years old and did not begin growing again until I started receiving human growth hormone injections at the age of eleven.
My parents always encourage and expected me to be just like everyone else. I played with my sighted sisters, and our sighted friends. I was basically an ordinary kid, with the exception of not being able to ride a bike because there wasn't one small enough for me.
Once I began growth hormone treatment, I started growing rapidly. Before long, I was tall enough to reach the pedals on my sisters bike.
I have always had especially crappy balance, and learning to ride a bike-- even with training wheels-- was quite a challenge. I had to focus on the bike, focus on my environment with my hearing and my very limited sight, and coordinate my arms and legs to move around objects in my path. After a while I got pretty good at the whole training wheels thing.
It was time for the moment of truth... The training wheels were removed and I spent many hours in the summer between sixth and seventh grade getting on the bike, pedaling a few feet, losing my balance, falling off the bike, getting up and repeating the entire process.
I will always remember the first time I actually rode for a period if time longer than a minute. The sun was just setting and my mom had called us girls in to get baths and get ready for bed. I begged for "just one last try."
I got on the bike, determined as hell that I was going to do it this time. I started off-- heading west, toward the setting sun. I focused on pedaling, keeping the handlebars straight, looking ahead, and keeping my balance. I wove around like an inebriate, but eventually I did it, I was riding the bike. I rode round and round and round our street, laughing my head off and so proud of myself. Unfortunately, I got distracted by the thrill of it all, lost my concentration, and hence, control of the bike. I flew ass over teakettle and landed in a heap in the road, tangled up with my sister's red bike, still laughing like a maniac.
I practiced riding the level streets at my mom's house. When I got good enough so I wasn't falling on my face every other time, I decided to take my new bike-riding skillz to my father's house to try it out on the streets there.
My father lived in a subdivision, at the very top of a pretty steep hill. I was confident that I could handle it-- after-all, two weeks had passed since I had last fallen off my bike at my mom's house.
I started off at the top of the hill, clutching the handlebars for dear life, and focusing on the street ahead. I pushed off and began pedaling. Because of the grade of the slope, my bike began picking up speed, rapidly. I got about half way down this very long hill when I made the startling realization that I was no longer in control of the bike-- gravity had taken over. I went faster and faster, the handlebars began swiveling back and forth and it was all I could do to maintain control of this mad beast of a bike. Unfortunately, in my effort to slow the bike down, I neglected to watch where I was going. This led to my face, meeting a mailbox at the bottom of the hill with a great deal of force. The mailbox stopped me in my tracks and I flew off the back of the bike which continued on for a few more feet before falling over like a wounded pony. It hurt, it hurt a very great deal. I do recall a substantial amount of blood being shed.
The neighbors were horrified; the little blind girl riding a bike! What were her parents thinking! I cleaned off the blood, retrieved my bike, and lined up at the top of the hill once again.
This glimpse into my childhood tells a lot about my character. Call it determination, call it stupidity or stubbornness, or just plain force of will. Whatever it is; I possess it in spades.
In december of that year, I turned thirteen. I sang in the school choir and we had a concert on my birthday. I remember going home once the concert was finished, expecting to enjoy a bit of birth day cake and some presents. My father told me to go into my room and change into my pj's first. I was rather surprised when the rest of my family followed me up stairs. I opened the door to find my very own bicycle assembled at the foot of the bed. It was a Huffy. It was the palest pink. It was one of the best birth day presents I think I have ever received. It was a lesson to me that if you work hard, get up when you fall, clean up the blood and continue pressing onward that you can make your dreams happen.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
A Consecutive Kind Of Life
I just finished a book called "Of Such Small Differences" written by Joanne Greenberg. The story is told from the point of view of a Deafblind man in his mid-twenty's. It was written in the mid 1980's so it is not, from a technology standpoint, very relevant to now. All of the characters in the book appear to use
<"The Rochester Method">
with some ASL signs thrown in at times. I think the author of the book is hearing, so it isn't a "real life experience" of an actual Deafblind person; such as the books written by Helen Keller or Robert Smithdas. It's very obvious that the author did her research and for its time, the book is pretty accurate.
People ask me all the time, "What is it like to be deaf and blind?" and reading this book helped me to answer that question more fully, I think.
Hearing/seeing people have multi-tasking lives. Take one of my best friends for example. I've seen her in her kitchen, whipping up a marinade with one hand, while her other hand holds a phone. She is scrolling through her text messages while talking to her husband or kids. There is a TV on and in between stirring the marinade, reading texts, talking to her family, she manages to catch what is on the television and she laughs at a joke, or swears at yet another hopeless politician. This same friend gets into her car and drives. She is talking to a coworker on the hands-free phone, while taking notes and yet she manages to spot one of her kids squirting the other with a packet of ketchup she found on the floor. This is normal, this is everyday life for most people, all of this multitasking.
A deafblind life is a consecutive life. When I cook, I am cooking. I cannot take my phone into the kitchen because it is connected to my braille display which is very fragile, and if it breaks the repairs will take at least a month. It is vital to my independence for me to have a working braille display so I try very hard to keep it clean and that means keeping it out of the kitchen. If I need to write down a recipe, I write it in hardcopy braille on sheets made of thermoform which is a kind of plastic. This way if I spill on the page I can take a damp rag and clean it off with the braille being no worse for the experience.
When I am cooking, I am focused on cooking. I can't have a conversation with my hands because more than likely, my hands are buried to the wrist in ground meat or dough. Cooking, like everything for me, is a very tactile process. I can't hear tv, I can't hear music unless it is patched through the TCoil on my hearing aid, and through a neck loop to my iPod. I hate wearing my hearing aid at home so that means no music. Cooking time is for cooking.
When I'm done with cooking, I can then have a conversation with my husband, and then I might open up my computer and look at a website for the news, read my email, pay some bills.
When I'm done with my computer I put it down, move to the phone and braille display to check texts there. My friends who text find this very frustrating. When you are hearing/sighted, texting is instant. You get a text, and you pull your phone out of a pocket, quick tap out a message and put the phone back; moving back to the task you were just doing. My phone is an iPhone connected via bluetooth to a braille display. This setup is the size of a video cassette; remember those, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth? :) Its very size means that I can't just put it in my pocket. I can't briefly check messages and just move on to what I'm doing. If I'm in the other room, or even across the room from my phone I don't even know if I've gotten a text unless one of the dogs or my husband tells me. It takes longer for a deafblind person to have a text conversation unless I've decided to sit down and make texting my focus for that period of time.
When I walk places, I am paying attention to what is around me; the feel of the sidewalk, the positioning of the sun, the textures my arm encounters when I walk. These are all things which give me confirmation of my location. When I get to the street, I pick up my tactile mini-guide which has been hanging from a cord around my wrist. It is a small unit-- about the size of one of those containers of Airborne you buy at the drugstore. It vibrates when it detects obstacles in my path. The nearer the obstacle, the stronger and quicker the vibration. I use a tactile Mini-Guide to help me read traffic patterns so I know when it is safe to cross the road. When the cars are going in front of me, I will feel the slow-quick-slow, slow-quick-slow pattern of vibrations as the cars move by. When the cars to my side are going, I won't feel any change because my path is clear to cross.
When I'm walking, this is the time for me to listen to my iPod. I turn it off at street corners so I can focus on making a safe crossing, but otherwise, walking time is music time for me. It is very hard for me to have conversations either in ASL or spoken English while walking because if I'm going to sign while walking, it is best for me to go sighted guide with the person I'm chatting with. I don't like going sighted guide because I feel like I already give up too much control of my life to too many people. When I walk, I want to do it myself with my dog. Sometimes I will go sighted guide with people I trust a very great deal, usually at Jazzfest with my ASL interpreters, sometimes with my SSP if we need to talk and walk at the same time.
I can't really communicate in spoken English because I hate using my hearing aid on its regular setting when I'm on the street. I can only use amplification in one ear, as the other ear can't hear at all. This means that I don't hear in stereo. Hearing in stereo is what gives hearing people the ability to locate sounds, and use sounds to orient and navigate. Having the use of one ear means that I can hear sounds-- usually only the loud ones like noisy car engines or cars backfiring or police sirens. But because I have no ability to tell where the sound is located, all those loud sounds seem to be right on top of me. I feel like I'm about to be run over at any given moment. Because I am blind, I can't rely on my vision to tell me otherwise. The entire experience is terrifying and makes me cringe away involuntarily which just confuses the hell out of my dog who can't figure out what the problem is.
It is better for my nerves if I just set my hearing aid to TCoil, which blocks out all sounds except for what is coming through my neck loop from my iPod. I can walk and enjoy music while Laveau takes care of the hearing and the seeing. I still need to be oriented-- have an idea of where I am and where I'm going, but I don't need sight nor hearing to do those things.
I think my life would make most hearing/seeing people nuts. It would probably seem very methodical and slow, without enough stimulus. Then again maybe not. I find that living this way helps me to be present in the moment. I think that Buddhists call this mindfulness. For the most part-- deafblind people live very mindful lives.
<"The Rochester Method">
with some ASL signs thrown in at times. I think the author of the book is hearing, so it isn't a "real life experience" of an actual Deafblind person; such as the books written by Helen Keller or Robert Smithdas. It's very obvious that the author did her research and for its time, the book is pretty accurate.
People ask me all the time, "What is it like to be deaf and blind?" and reading this book helped me to answer that question more fully, I think.
Hearing/seeing people have multi-tasking lives. Take one of my best friends for example. I've seen her in her kitchen, whipping up a marinade with one hand, while her other hand holds a phone. She is scrolling through her text messages while talking to her husband or kids. There is a TV on and in between stirring the marinade, reading texts, talking to her family, she manages to catch what is on the television and she laughs at a joke, or swears at yet another hopeless politician. This same friend gets into her car and drives. She is talking to a coworker on the hands-free phone, while taking notes and yet she manages to spot one of her kids squirting the other with a packet of ketchup she found on the floor. This is normal, this is everyday life for most people, all of this multitasking.
A deafblind life is a consecutive life. When I cook, I am cooking. I cannot take my phone into the kitchen because it is connected to my braille display which is very fragile, and if it breaks the repairs will take at least a month. It is vital to my independence for me to have a working braille display so I try very hard to keep it clean and that means keeping it out of the kitchen. If I need to write down a recipe, I write it in hardcopy braille on sheets made of thermoform which is a kind of plastic. This way if I spill on the page I can take a damp rag and clean it off with the braille being no worse for the experience.
When I am cooking, I am focused on cooking. I can't have a conversation with my hands because more than likely, my hands are buried to the wrist in ground meat or dough. Cooking, like everything for me, is a very tactile process. I can't hear tv, I can't hear music unless it is patched through the TCoil on my hearing aid, and through a neck loop to my iPod. I hate wearing my hearing aid at home so that means no music. Cooking time is for cooking.
When I'm done with cooking, I can then have a conversation with my husband, and then I might open up my computer and look at a website for the news, read my email, pay some bills.
When I'm done with my computer I put it down, move to the phone and braille display to check texts there. My friends who text find this very frustrating. When you are hearing/sighted, texting is instant. You get a text, and you pull your phone out of a pocket, quick tap out a message and put the phone back; moving back to the task you were just doing. My phone is an iPhone connected via bluetooth to a braille display. This setup is the size of a video cassette; remember those, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth? :) Its very size means that I can't just put it in my pocket. I can't briefly check messages and just move on to what I'm doing. If I'm in the other room, or even across the room from my phone I don't even know if I've gotten a text unless one of the dogs or my husband tells me. It takes longer for a deafblind person to have a text conversation unless I've decided to sit down and make texting my focus for that period of time.
When I walk places, I am paying attention to what is around me; the feel of the sidewalk, the positioning of the sun, the textures my arm encounters when I walk. These are all things which give me confirmation of my location. When I get to the street, I pick up my tactile mini-guide which has been hanging from a cord around my wrist. It is a small unit-- about the size of one of those containers of Airborne you buy at the drugstore. It vibrates when it detects obstacles in my path. The nearer the obstacle, the stronger and quicker the vibration. I use a tactile Mini-Guide to help me read traffic patterns so I know when it is safe to cross the road. When the cars are going in front of me, I will feel the slow-quick-slow, slow-quick-slow pattern of vibrations as the cars move by. When the cars to my side are going, I won't feel any change because my path is clear to cross.
When I'm walking, this is the time for me to listen to my iPod. I turn it off at street corners so I can focus on making a safe crossing, but otherwise, walking time is music time for me. It is very hard for me to have conversations either in ASL or spoken English while walking because if I'm going to sign while walking, it is best for me to go sighted guide with the person I'm chatting with. I don't like going sighted guide because I feel like I already give up too much control of my life to too many people. When I walk, I want to do it myself with my dog. Sometimes I will go sighted guide with people I trust a very great deal, usually at Jazzfest with my ASL interpreters, sometimes with my SSP if we need to talk and walk at the same time.
I can't really communicate in spoken English because I hate using my hearing aid on its regular setting when I'm on the street. I can only use amplification in one ear, as the other ear can't hear at all. This means that I don't hear in stereo. Hearing in stereo is what gives hearing people the ability to locate sounds, and use sounds to orient and navigate. Having the use of one ear means that I can hear sounds-- usually only the loud ones like noisy car engines or cars backfiring or police sirens. But because I have no ability to tell where the sound is located, all those loud sounds seem to be right on top of me. I feel like I'm about to be run over at any given moment. Because I am blind, I can't rely on my vision to tell me otherwise. The entire experience is terrifying and makes me cringe away involuntarily which just confuses the hell out of my dog who can't figure out what the problem is.
It is better for my nerves if I just set my hearing aid to TCoil, which blocks out all sounds except for what is coming through my neck loop from my iPod. I can walk and enjoy music while Laveau takes care of the hearing and the seeing. I still need to be oriented-- have an idea of where I am and where I'm going, but I don't need sight nor hearing to do those things.
I think my life would make most hearing/seeing people nuts. It would probably seem very methodical and slow, without enough stimulus. Then again maybe not. I find that living this way helps me to be present in the moment. I think that Buddhists call this mindfulness. For the most part-- deafblind people live very mindful lives.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Kiss me, I'm Irish!
Saturday I went to the St. Patrick's day parade. This is one of my two favorite parades all year. My friends came to pick Laveau and I up about an hour before it started. We like to get good seats, find beverage (usually of the malted-grain variety) and scope out the men in kilts. Ok, truth be told; I like men in kilts-- my friend enjoys describing them to me. So we are both happy.
Only my friend's husband decided that he wanted to park in a more residential area and not in an area where all the action was taking place. So after setting up our camp chairs, my friend, Laveau and I headed out for beer and men in kilts, hopefully in equal measure.
We soon met up with some people who were friends with my friend and they offered us some beer. We stood around on the sidewalk and drank and talked. We eventually took off, beer in hand, to fulfill the other half of our mission; the finding of men in kilts.
Let me just stop and say here what a fabulous job Laveau did. She followed my friend, and wove me through crowds of people, children on their ladders, brass bands lining up for the parade and barricades. People called to her, patted her head as she walked by and she just ignored everything.
Eventually we got to the parade staging area and found some men in kilts, with bagpipes no less. There must be some obscure law of physics which states that that a man's sex appeal increases about a hundred-fold if he is wearing a kilt and playing a bagpipe. Or maybe I was a Scottish Highlander in a previous life. Either way, I think kilts and bagpipes should come back into style.
We needed more beer before the parade began, so it was off to a cafe for a bottle of Abita and a little sit down before we attempted the trek back up to where my friend's husband was sitting with our camp chairs.
We sat and chatted for a while, then took our beers and began walking the several blocks back to our spot.
We made it there in time for me to get Laveau settled between our two chairs and for me to get a good standing spot behind the barricade.
Then it started. Floats and marching clubs, and school children. People threw cabbages, carrots, candy, and mardi gras beads. Oh and underwear. I was given a pair of bright green bikini panties complete with shamrock. I immediately stuck them on Laveau's head because they would look much better on her than on me, that is for sure. Then I was gifted with a green lace garter which went on Laveau's neck, along with the shamrock beads. I also got lots of paper flowers and drunken smooches from the marchers, some of them even had kilts on. Do you see why I like this parade now?
Through it all, Laveau lay down and watched everything. She actually really enjoys watching parades.
When it was done, a loose dog came running up to her barking. I was nervous, but immediately dropped the harness handle and lengthened the leash. The other dog immediately calmed down and began greeting Laveau who greeted back with enthusiasm.
After that, we got in the car and headed home.
I still have to use the cabbage in my fridge.
Only my friend's husband decided that he wanted to park in a more residential area and not in an area where all the action was taking place. So after setting up our camp chairs, my friend, Laveau and I headed out for beer and men in kilts, hopefully in equal measure.
We soon met up with some people who were friends with my friend and they offered us some beer. We stood around on the sidewalk and drank and talked. We eventually took off, beer in hand, to fulfill the other half of our mission; the finding of men in kilts.
Let me just stop and say here what a fabulous job Laveau did. She followed my friend, and wove me through crowds of people, children on their ladders, brass bands lining up for the parade and barricades. People called to her, patted her head as she walked by and she just ignored everything.
Eventually we got to the parade staging area and found some men in kilts, with bagpipes no less. There must be some obscure law of physics which states that that a man's sex appeal increases about a hundred-fold if he is wearing a kilt and playing a bagpipe. Or maybe I was a Scottish Highlander in a previous life. Either way, I think kilts and bagpipes should come back into style.
We needed more beer before the parade began, so it was off to a cafe for a bottle of Abita and a little sit down before we attempted the trek back up to where my friend's husband was sitting with our camp chairs.
We sat and chatted for a while, then took our beers and began walking the several blocks back to our spot.
We made it there in time for me to get Laveau settled between our two chairs and for me to get a good standing spot behind the barricade.
Then it started. Floats and marching clubs, and school children. People threw cabbages, carrots, candy, and mardi gras beads. Oh and underwear. I was given a pair of bright green bikini panties complete with shamrock. I immediately stuck them on Laveau's head because they would look much better on her than on me, that is for sure. Then I was gifted with a green lace garter which went on Laveau's neck, along with the shamrock beads. I also got lots of paper flowers and drunken smooches from the marchers, some of them even had kilts on. Do you see why I like this parade now?
Through it all, Laveau lay down and watched everything. She actually really enjoys watching parades.
When it was done, a loose dog came running up to her barking. I was nervous, but immediately dropped the harness handle and lengthened the leash. The other dog immediately calmed down and began greeting Laveau who greeted back with enthusiasm.
After that, we got in the car and headed home.
I still have to use the cabbage in my fridge.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Is that a tennis ball in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?
It was a beautiful, sunny spring day here in the Big Moldy. The temperatures had finally risen to acceptable levels. By "Acceptable" I mean 70° F. It was a perfect dog park day. On Friday, I had requested an SSP for today in the hopes of a day just like this one.
Before I go any further, I should probably explain what an SSP does. An SSP, or Intervenor as they are called in Canada, is someone who works with a person who is deaf blind. The SSP communicates and describes items in the environment to the deafblind person in which ever method the deafblind person chooses, e.g. ASL, print on palm (POP), spoken English through an amplification system, etc. My SSP does things like, go to the grocery store with me and sign the store sale paper, and prices to me, and inform me of the different items available. Sometimes my SSP goes to vet appointments with me, and help read and fill out forms, describe what the vet is doing during an exam, and let me know if any aggressive or problematic dogs enter the waiting area before we see the vet..
Today was dog park day, and it was all about fun! The person who is my regular SSP is hearing. She is attending a local interpreter training program to become a certified American Sign Language interpreter. She couldn't come today as she was busy so I got a different SSP. The one I had today was Deaf, but sighted, and thankfully a dog lover! :)
I decided to take Bristol and Laveau. I made dog treats, loaded up my bag with towels, water for the dogs and people, and the all important tennis ball! Laveau is queen of the tennis ball and next to working, fetching the ball is her favorite activity and she would do it all day if she could.
We have an "Official Dog Park" but it's kind of far from my house. Instead we go to the levee along the Mississippi river which has been the kind of unofficial dog park for years, now.
We parked in the lot, unloaded the dogs and removed leashes. My SSP was a great describer of things and immediately told me that Laveau took off like a shot to visit with other dogs. Bristol, who is 13 and who takes life a bit more slowly, walked with us over the railroad tracks, across the bike path and up the levee to the top. by the time we reached the path on the top of the levee, we had thrown the tennis ball for Laveau at least! five times and she was in the process of getting her ya ya's out in grand style.
It is hard to use ASL tactually and walk at the same time. :) We would walk, then stop to talk and throw the ball, then walk some more, and rinse, repeat!
We saw some pretty brown, black and white Pitties, a big chocolate brown Mastiff, a rust Doberman, and some kind of skinny houndy-looking dog I couldn't identify and which my SSP didn't see to describe as he was throwing the ball for Laveau yet again. We walked the levee and went down to the other side where the dogs took a dip in the river. Then we walked through the woods, and back to the top of the levee. My SSP was really great at describing the scenery and other dogs.
We met some Labs on the way back, and someone was riding a big brown horse on the bike path which runs parallel to the levee.
We toweled off the dogs, loaded back up in the car, and headed home where the dogs got frozen knuckle bones and I had a nap! All that tennis-ball-throwing wore me out!
WAGS!
Before I go any further, I should probably explain what an SSP does. An SSP, or Intervenor as they are called in Canada, is someone who works with a person who is deaf blind. The SSP communicates and describes items in the environment to the deafblind person in which ever method the deafblind person chooses, e.g. ASL, print on palm (POP), spoken English through an amplification system, etc. My SSP does things like, go to the grocery store with me and sign the store sale paper, and prices to me, and inform me of the different items available. Sometimes my SSP goes to vet appointments with me, and help read and fill out forms, describe what the vet is doing during an exam, and let me know if any aggressive or problematic dogs enter the waiting area before we see the vet..
Today was dog park day, and it was all about fun! The person who is my regular SSP is hearing. She is attending a local interpreter training program to become a certified American Sign Language interpreter. She couldn't come today as she was busy so I got a different SSP. The one I had today was Deaf, but sighted, and thankfully a dog lover! :)
I decided to take Bristol and Laveau. I made dog treats, loaded up my bag with towels, water for the dogs and people, and the all important tennis ball! Laveau is queen of the tennis ball and next to working, fetching the ball is her favorite activity and she would do it all day if she could.
We have an "Official Dog Park" but it's kind of far from my house. Instead we go to the levee along the Mississippi river which has been the kind of unofficial dog park for years, now.
We parked in the lot, unloaded the dogs and removed leashes. My SSP was a great describer of things and immediately told me that Laveau took off like a shot to visit with other dogs. Bristol, who is 13 and who takes life a bit more slowly, walked with us over the railroad tracks, across the bike path and up the levee to the top. by the time we reached the path on the top of the levee, we had thrown the tennis ball for Laveau at least! five times and she was in the process of getting her ya ya's out in grand style.
It is hard to use ASL tactually and walk at the same time. :) We would walk, then stop to talk and throw the ball, then walk some more, and rinse, repeat!
We saw some pretty brown, black and white Pitties, a big chocolate brown Mastiff, a rust Doberman, and some kind of skinny houndy-looking dog I couldn't identify and which my SSP didn't see to describe as he was throwing the ball for Laveau yet again. We walked the levee and went down to the other side where the dogs took a dip in the river. Then we walked through the woods, and back to the top of the levee. My SSP was really great at describing the scenery and other dogs.
We met some Labs on the way back, and someone was riding a big brown horse on the bike path which runs parallel to the levee.
We toweled off the dogs, loaded back up in the car, and headed home where the dogs got frozen knuckle bones and I had a nap! All that tennis-ball-throwing wore me out!
WAGS!
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Hot Dog; Smart Dog!
Last night, Mr. Pawpower made groceries and some how, when we were putting everything away, we lost a package of hotdogs. We looked and looked but just assumed that they'd been put in the freezer with other meat for the dogs' meals. We didn't think much more about it-- having bigger metaphorical fish to fry.
This morning, Mister Pawpower needed Mill'E-Max's help bringing things from the fridge to the table for breakfast. He called her and she came to me first, but my hands were full so I told her to go to him. I thought this was strange. She went over to him, and plopped the missing package of hotdogs into his hand. They were mostly intact, with a little puncture from a canine when she was holding it. Our house is still cold enough (lack of central heat/air comes in handy) that they're fine.
I'll be making dog treats with them this afternoon. I guess I should have asked her to find them when I first noticed they were lost. Boy Mill'E-Max is sure a handy dog to have around! :)
WAGS!
This morning, Mister Pawpower needed Mill'E-Max's help bringing things from the fridge to the table for breakfast. He called her and she came to me first, but my hands were full so I told her to go to him. I thought this was strange. She went over to him, and plopped the missing package of hotdogs into his hand. They were mostly intact, with a little puncture from a canine when she was holding it. Our house is still cold enough (lack of central heat/air comes in handy) that they're fine.
I'll be making dog treats with them this afternoon. I guess I should have asked her to find them when I first noticed they were lost. Boy Mill'E-Max is sure a handy dog to have around! :)
WAGS!
Friday, February 4, 2011
There's a first time for everything!
Today I got my first tattoo. It was something I had planned for a very long time. It took a while to coordinate my schedule with that of my ASL interpreter and SSP. Finally! We found a date we could all live with. Then I went on the hunt for an artist. The first place I tried wouldn't accept relay calls from people who are deaf or hard of hearing, so that disqualified them. Eventually, I ended up choosing NOLA tattoo. I made a great choice!
I arrived around 12:30 and met my interpreter and another friend.
I handed the artist a rough sketch of what I wanted and he "made it pretty" while I sat and chatted with everyone. Then my interpreter read me the fifty-bazillion forms that I needed to sign which basically said that I don't have a blood clotting disorder and I am not on drugs or drunk and that I don't hold the tattoo company responsible should my leg fall off from the tattoo.
My tattoo artist was called Lad and he did a great job. He first traced the design on my leg and got it centered right. My interpreter and friends told me that it looked fabulous. After he got the design centered right, I handed Laveau off to my friends and I climbed up onto this padded table. The interpreter interpreted everything he said. He turned on the tattoo gun thing and started.
I was expecting it to be much more painful than it was. Everyone kept telling me how much it was going to hurt and other people kept expecting me to chicken out. It really didn't hurt bad at all. from 1 to 10, I'd say the pain was around a 2, sometimes a 2.5 or 3 if it was on the bone.
My tattoo took almost two hours. It was a lot of fun to lay there and chat with friends while he inked me up. My interpreter gave me regular progress reports on the status of the tattoo.
The design I chose was five paws walking up the side of my calf. In the center of each paw is a letter in braille. Each of the paws stands for each of my assistance dogs, and the first initial of each dog is inside each paw. I have a piiiiicture!
Sorry I don't know how to post it here but have a link to my
<"FlickR Page">
After the tattoo was finished, he put soap on it and that burned like all hell. Then he stuck a bandage on it and gave me care instructions.
Then my friends and I left for Sushi, and in my case, beer.
It was a super awesome experience and now I am addicted and have begun plotting my next piece!
Laveau was really good during the whole thing. She watched every move of the artist, and when my tattoo was complete and I got off the table, she ran up to me and wrapped her front paws around my neck in a huge hug. Poor dog was worried.
I arrived around 12:30 and met my interpreter and another friend.
I handed the artist a rough sketch of what I wanted and he "made it pretty" while I sat and chatted with everyone. Then my interpreter read me the fifty-bazillion forms that I needed to sign which basically said that I don't have a blood clotting disorder and I am not on drugs or drunk and that I don't hold the tattoo company responsible should my leg fall off from the tattoo.
My tattoo artist was called Lad and he did a great job. He first traced the design on my leg and got it centered right. My interpreter and friends told me that it looked fabulous. After he got the design centered right, I handed Laveau off to my friends and I climbed up onto this padded table. The interpreter interpreted everything he said. He turned on the tattoo gun thing and started.
I was expecting it to be much more painful than it was. Everyone kept telling me how much it was going to hurt and other people kept expecting me to chicken out. It really didn't hurt bad at all. from 1 to 10, I'd say the pain was around a 2, sometimes a 2.5 or 3 if it was on the bone.
My tattoo took almost two hours. It was a lot of fun to lay there and chat with friends while he inked me up. My interpreter gave me regular progress reports on the status of the tattoo.
The design I chose was five paws walking up the side of my calf. In the center of each paw is a letter in braille. Each of the paws stands for each of my assistance dogs, and the first initial of each dog is inside each paw. I have a piiiiicture!
Sorry I don't know how to post it here but have a link to my
<"FlickR Page">
After the tattoo was finished, he put soap on it and that burned like all hell. Then he stuck a bandage on it and gave me care instructions.
Then my friends and I left for Sushi, and in my case, beer.
It was a super awesome experience and now I am addicted and have begun plotting my next piece!
Laveau was really good during the whole thing. She watched every move of the artist, and when my tattoo was complete and I got off the table, she ran up to me and wrapped her front paws around my neck in a huge hug. Poor dog was worried.
Monday, January 31, 2011
In the Kitchen With Mill'E-Max and Me!
Life has been so crazy lately and for me, there is no better way to relax and decompress from the insanity than spending good quality time in the kitchen. Mill'E-Max is my canine kitchen helper. She assists with things such as throwing away trash, carrying things from the refrigerator to the table where I work, and picking up things that I drop. She makes the entire cooking experience go much more smoothly.
Yesterday and today were both long kitchen days. Yesterday I made chocolate peanut butter rice krispie treats and a huge salad. Today I made a crock pot lasagna and will make french bread to go with it.
I have an unusual kitchen situation in that I don't actually have a stove and oven. My house didn't come with one and I have not purchased one as yet. This requires much creativity on my part, but I don't mind as I enjoy finding different ways of doing things.
People have been asking me for the recipes of the lasagna and the rice krispie treats so I thought I'd post them to my blog. I'm different than most cooks in that I don't measure things very carefully. Well truth is, I don't own a single measuring cup. I'm very much a member of the "eye ball it and guess" school of cooking. I believe that in the kitchen that exactitude is over rated. I realize that the majority of folks don't do things this way so I've tried to give measurements for the recipes I post. I don't know how right they are, so if you make something and you feel like it needs a bit more of this, or not as much of the other, then by all means go with your gut! Taste liberally and don't be afraid to add your own unique touches to what you cook. I think of these recipes as more of a kind of guideline.
Exactitude is overrated!
Rox'E's Rice Krispie Treats
Ingredients:
4 cups mini marshmallows
10 oz dark chocolate chips
1/3 cup crunchy peanut butter
4-5 cups rice krispies
Method:
In microwave-safe bowl combine chocolate, marshmallows, and peanut butter. Mix well and cook on high for two minutes. Stop and stir, microwave for another minute if needed.
Dump rice krispies into bowl of chocolate mix and stir. Drop by spoonful on to wax paper and let sit to cool. You can also press into 9x13 pan, but I find that the wax paper thing works better because I can feel each cookie to make sure everything is mixed evenly.
Mama Mill'E-Max's Crock-pot Lasagna
Ok ok, Mill'E didn't cook this, but she helped out enough that I named it for her! and I did let her lick the spoon after everything was finished...
Ingredients:
1 lb italian sausage (I like the kind with lots of fennel!)
1-2 lbs ground beef
1 lb mozzarella cheese
1 small container ricotta cheese
1 large container small curd cottage cheese
1 onion
1 large or 2 small portobello mushrooms
1 package lasagna noodles) you need the kind that don't need to be boiled)
6 cups spaghetti sauce (either home made or store bought)
Method:
on the stove, or on a grill, cook the ground beef and sausage using seasonings of your choice. Drain and break up the meat.
Grate the mozzarella; reserving 1/3 of it in its own bowl.
In large bowl combine cottage cheese, ricotta and 2/3 of the grated mozzarella. Mix well.
Chop the onion and mushrooms and add them to the cheese mixture mixing well.
Add half of the spaghetti sauce to the meat and mix well.
Coat a 6.5 qt crock-pot with olive oil (I used basil infused olive oil)
Once pot is thoroughly oiled up, put down a layer of meat and sauce mix. Follow that with a layer of lasagna noodles. You may need to break the noodles to cover the entire area; this is fine to do. On top of the noodles, place a layer of the cheese and vegetable mix. Repeat the layering.
Once you do another layer of meat, pasta and cheese, use 1.5 cups of the reserved sauce, then do another layer of noodles. Use the remaining sauce to cover them. Then take the remaining 1/3 lb of mozzarella cheese and sprinkle on top.
Your crock-pot should be full but not over flowing. If you notice that you may have remaining mix, you can add that before doing the final layer of sauce and cheese.
Bake on high for 4-6 hours or on low for 7 hours.
We're having the lasagna with french bread brushed with basil infused olive oil and an herb mix of garlic, oregano, basil, chili, and red pepper as well as a light dusting of parmesan.
To go with it I made an iced tea which consists of a mix of green tea, lemon peal, peach leaves and melissa. It's very light and refreshing.
I am very satisfied with my morning's work, I even cleaned the kitchen so when it's time to make the bread everything is ready!
I wish I could cook like this every day!
Happy cooking, y'all!
Yesterday and today were both long kitchen days. Yesterday I made chocolate peanut butter rice krispie treats and a huge salad. Today I made a crock pot lasagna and will make french bread to go with it.
I have an unusual kitchen situation in that I don't actually have a stove and oven. My house didn't come with one and I have not purchased one as yet. This requires much creativity on my part, but I don't mind as I enjoy finding different ways of doing things.
People have been asking me for the recipes of the lasagna and the rice krispie treats so I thought I'd post them to my blog. I'm different than most cooks in that I don't measure things very carefully. Well truth is, I don't own a single measuring cup. I'm very much a member of the "eye ball it and guess" school of cooking. I believe that in the kitchen that exactitude is over rated. I realize that the majority of folks don't do things this way so I've tried to give measurements for the recipes I post. I don't know how right they are, so if you make something and you feel like it needs a bit more of this, or not as much of the other, then by all means go with your gut! Taste liberally and don't be afraid to add your own unique touches to what you cook. I think of these recipes as more of a kind of guideline.
Exactitude is overrated!
Rox'E's Rice Krispie Treats
Ingredients:
4 cups mini marshmallows
10 oz dark chocolate chips
1/3 cup crunchy peanut butter
4-5 cups rice krispies
Method:
In microwave-safe bowl combine chocolate, marshmallows, and peanut butter. Mix well and cook on high for two minutes. Stop and stir, microwave for another minute if needed.
Dump rice krispies into bowl of chocolate mix and stir. Drop by spoonful on to wax paper and let sit to cool. You can also press into 9x13 pan, but I find that the wax paper thing works better because I can feel each cookie to make sure everything is mixed evenly.
Mama Mill'E-Max's Crock-pot Lasagna
Ok ok, Mill'E didn't cook this, but she helped out enough that I named it for her! and I did let her lick the spoon after everything was finished...
Ingredients:
1 lb italian sausage (I like the kind with lots of fennel!)
1-2 lbs ground beef
1 lb mozzarella cheese
1 small container ricotta cheese
1 large container small curd cottage cheese
1 onion
1 large or 2 small portobello mushrooms
1 package lasagna noodles) you need the kind that don't need to be boiled)
6 cups spaghetti sauce (either home made or store bought)
Method:
on the stove, or on a grill, cook the ground beef and sausage using seasonings of your choice. Drain and break up the meat.
Grate the mozzarella; reserving 1/3 of it in its own bowl.
In large bowl combine cottage cheese, ricotta and 2/3 of the grated mozzarella. Mix well.
Chop the onion and mushrooms and add them to the cheese mixture mixing well.
Add half of the spaghetti sauce to the meat and mix well.
Coat a 6.5 qt crock-pot with olive oil (I used basil infused olive oil)
Once pot is thoroughly oiled up, put down a layer of meat and sauce mix. Follow that with a layer of lasagna noodles. You may need to break the noodles to cover the entire area; this is fine to do. On top of the noodles, place a layer of the cheese and vegetable mix. Repeat the layering.
Once you do another layer of meat, pasta and cheese, use 1.5 cups of the reserved sauce, then do another layer of noodles. Use the remaining sauce to cover them. Then take the remaining 1/3 lb of mozzarella cheese and sprinkle on top.
Your crock-pot should be full but not over flowing. If you notice that you may have remaining mix, you can add that before doing the final layer of sauce and cheese.
Bake on high for 4-6 hours or on low for 7 hours.
We're having the lasagna with french bread brushed with basil infused olive oil and an herb mix of garlic, oregano, basil, chili, and red pepper as well as a light dusting of parmesan.
To go with it I made an iced tea which consists of a mix of green tea, lemon peal, peach leaves and melissa. It's very light and refreshing.
I am very satisfied with my morning's work, I even cleaned the kitchen so when it's time to make the bread everything is ready!
I wish I could cook like this every day!
Happy cooking, y'all!
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.
Monday, January 17, 2011
I Chose To Do It My Way.
This post is for the Assistance Dog Blog Carnival. If you'd like to read other posts, you can go
<"here">
When I saw the information about the Assistance Dog Blog Carnival I was very eager to write a piece for it. There were so many topics to choose from, but finally I settled on writing about the choice to train my own guide dog. I am Deafblind, and many people have been very curious as to my reasons to choose to owner train.
When most people think of getting a guide dog, they imagine attending one of the several training programs scattered throughout the US. However, there is a small minority of people who go about it differently; we make the decision to train our own.
Under the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) a dog must be "individually trained to do work, or perform tasks which mitigate a disability." The law does not specify who trains the dog and there is no "certification" for a dog to be a "real guide dog."
There are many good reasons why most deaf-blind people choose to attend a training program. Most, if not all, guide dog training programs give the dog to the recipient at little or no charge, pay for your transportation to and from the campus, pay for your food and lodging while attending the program, and pay for the equipment you use--such as the harness and leash which a guide dog needs to wear in order to work effectively. Also, training a dog is hard, back-breaking work.
For many reasons, I chose to train my own dog. I am a clicker trainer and there are very few guide dog programs which use exclusively clicker training to train their dogs. I want to raise my dogs using the concepts of Natural Rearing. This means a fresh food diet, minimal vaccinations, using herbal medicine or homeopathy to treat most medical issues. To my knowledge, there are no such programs which meet these criteria and which will accept a Deafblind student who's method of communication is American Sign Language (ASL). To be honest, though I just love training dogs. Being a part of that process, starting from the ground up and building a team together. Problem-solving and learning from one another. Don't get me wrong; it's not all sunshine and roses and there are times when I honestly wonder if I'm cut out for the emotional roller coaster that is owner training. I think that to really enjoy it, to keep doing it over and over again, you need to have a soul-deep love of the work, even during the hard times.
I was born blind. However, when I was in my early twenties, I was diagnosed with a progressive inner ear disease. When I trained my first guide dog, I only had a mild to moderate loss. I didn't need to make many modifications in my training to account for my hearing loss. I used my senses of touch, smell and hearing to assist me in teaching my dog what she needed to know in order to keep us safe.
In August of 2005, the city of New Orleans, where I live, was devastated by Hurricane Katrina and the subsequent failure of the federal levee system. I had evacuated from the city before tragedy struck, and I remained in Memphis, Tennessee until March of 2006. After seven months of evacuation I was able to return home. In addition to dangerous sidewalks, and the inability to find an open grocery store, I faced another challenge. I had an unknown allergy to mold, and there was quite a bit of mold in New Orleans at this time. Within six weeks after my return home, I became profoundly deaf due to an allergic reaction to the mold.
In May of 2008, Gracy, my then current guide, made it very clear to me that she was ready to retire. I was faced with a major decision--to attend a program for my next dog, or to attempt to train a dog myself, this time without the ability to rely on my sense of hearing. After careful planning and a great deal of soul-searching, I made the choice to once again train my own assistance dog. I eventually found a suitable candidate--a young female Doberman mix whom I named Laveau.
Some of the tools I used to assist me in training my dog were an FM system and a Tactile Mini-Guide. An FM system is a set of two small boxes. One box--the transmitter--has a microphone on it, and the other box--the receiver--has a headphone jack into which I plugged my neck loop which moved the sound directly into my hearing aid.
I also used the Tactile Mini-Guide, which is a small device--about the size of an iPod. The device uses ultrasound--and detects objects in my path and vibrates accordingly. The Tactile Mini-Guide vibrates harder, the closer one gets to an object such as a car or trash container. The Tactile Mini-Guide will not detect steps or other changes in elevation.
When I first started training Laveau, my husband--who is blind but hearing--held the transmitter part of my FM system. He walked ahead of Laveau and me-- giving me a running commentary of the obstacles ahead of us. He read traffic patterns and told me when it was safe to cross. He did this so I could focus on Laveau's training and so I could be aware of problems we might encounter. Eventually, I began traveling familiar routs with Laveau alone--giving her the opportunity to make mistakes and to learn from them.
Once Laveau generalized the concepts of stopping at curbs and avoiding obstacles, we were ready for more independent travel. I began socializing her in public--first in places where pets were allowed. Eventually she began to accompany me to destinations where pets were not allowed. I started small, going into well-known stores during quiet times where the distraction would be low. Laveau was a quick learner, and soon it became business as usual for her to enter a coffee shop, slide under a table and ignore the people attempting to pet her, food on the ground, and other distractions while I conducted my business.
The task I worried most about was teaching the concept of intelligent disobedience. Intelligent disobedience simply means that if the dog deems it unsafe to continue forward, she will stop and prevent the handler from moving. Even if the handler cues the dog to continue forward, the dog will “intelligently disobey” this cue. This skill is needed most in traffic situations, when the handler is crossing roads. It is especially important that a guide dog for a deaf-blind person be very fluent in this skill.
I set up traffic situations with an experienced driver. She held my FM system's transmitter during our training so I could hear and understand her instructions. She would inform me ahead of time what she intended to do and I would make sure that the dog kept me safe. We practiced situations where she pulled up her car onto the sidewalk in front of me, backed her car out of driveways while I crossed them, ran a red light while I crossed a road, and drove in an unsafe and erratic fashion while I was navigating my surroundings.
Telling me beforehand what situations to try out also had the added benefit of letting me expect sudden movements from my dog so I would not mistake my dog's movements and think she was distracted. It took a great deal of hard work and persistence on both our parts; however I can say that Laveau is one of the best guide dogs I've ever had.
Laveau and I have taken several trips together; visiting family and friends in different states all over the country. We move together smoothly and with confidence. I feel like she can read my mind sometimes. I know I can trust her to keep me safe.
We have begun sound alert training. Now Laveau will alert me to sounds in my environment such as smoke alarms, people calling my name, and traffic coming up behind me.
I had a great many questions and reservations when I first began training Laveau, but almost three years into our journey together, I can say that she is truly my partner. I was very unsure if the decision to train my own dog was the right one. I didn't know many other deafblind people who had done it. It may not be right for everyone, but it was certainly the right choice for me.
<"here">
When I saw the information about the Assistance Dog Blog Carnival I was very eager to write a piece for it. There were so many topics to choose from, but finally I settled on writing about the choice to train my own guide dog. I am Deafblind, and many people have been very curious as to my reasons to choose to owner train.
When most people think of getting a guide dog, they imagine attending one of the several training programs scattered throughout the US. However, there is a small minority of people who go about it differently; we make the decision to train our own.
Under the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) a dog must be "individually trained to do work, or perform tasks which mitigate a disability." The law does not specify who trains the dog and there is no "certification" for a dog to be a "real guide dog."
There are many good reasons why most deaf-blind people choose to attend a training program. Most, if not all, guide dog training programs give the dog to the recipient at little or no charge, pay for your transportation to and from the campus, pay for your food and lodging while attending the program, and pay for the equipment you use--such as the harness and leash which a guide dog needs to wear in order to work effectively. Also, training a dog is hard, back-breaking work.
For many reasons, I chose to train my own dog. I am a clicker trainer and there are very few guide dog programs which use exclusively clicker training to train their dogs. I want to raise my dogs using the concepts of Natural Rearing. This means a fresh food diet, minimal vaccinations, using herbal medicine or homeopathy to treat most medical issues. To my knowledge, there are no such programs which meet these criteria and which will accept a Deafblind student who's method of communication is American Sign Language (ASL). To be honest, though I just love training dogs. Being a part of that process, starting from the ground up and building a team together. Problem-solving and learning from one another. Don't get me wrong; it's not all sunshine and roses and there are times when I honestly wonder if I'm cut out for the emotional roller coaster that is owner training. I think that to really enjoy it, to keep doing it over and over again, you need to have a soul-deep love of the work, even during the hard times.
I was born blind. However, when I was in my early twenties, I was diagnosed with a progressive inner ear disease. When I trained my first guide dog, I only had a mild to moderate loss. I didn't need to make many modifications in my training to account for my hearing loss. I used my senses of touch, smell and hearing to assist me in teaching my dog what she needed to know in order to keep us safe.
In August of 2005, the city of New Orleans, where I live, was devastated by Hurricane Katrina and the subsequent failure of the federal levee system. I had evacuated from the city before tragedy struck, and I remained in Memphis, Tennessee until March of 2006. After seven months of evacuation I was able to return home. In addition to dangerous sidewalks, and the inability to find an open grocery store, I faced another challenge. I had an unknown allergy to mold, and there was quite a bit of mold in New Orleans at this time. Within six weeks after my return home, I became profoundly deaf due to an allergic reaction to the mold.
In May of 2008, Gracy, my then current guide, made it very clear to me that she was ready to retire. I was faced with a major decision--to attend a program for my next dog, or to attempt to train a dog myself, this time without the ability to rely on my sense of hearing. After careful planning and a great deal of soul-searching, I made the choice to once again train my own assistance dog. I eventually found a suitable candidate--a young female Doberman mix whom I named Laveau.
Some of the tools I used to assist me in training my dog were an FM system and a Tactile Mini-Guide. An FM system is a set of two small boxes. One box--the transmitter--has a microphone on it, and the other box--the receiver--has a headphone jack into which I plugged my neck loop which moved the sound directly into my hearing aid.
I also used the Tactile Mini-Guide, which is a small device--about the size of an iPod. The device uses ultrasound--and detects objects in my path and vibrates accordingly. The Tactile Mini-Guide vibrates harder, the closer one gets to an object such as a car or trash container. The Tactile Mini-Guide will not detect steps or other changes in elevation.
When I first started training Laveau, my husband--who is blind but hearing--held the transmitter part of my FM system. He walked ahead of Laveau and me-- giving me a running commentary of the obstacles ahead of us. He read traffic patterns and told me when it was safe to cross. He did this so I could focus on Laveau's training and so I could be aware of problems we might encounter. Eventually, I began traveling familiar routs with Laveau alone--giving her the opportunity to make mistakes and to learn from them.
Once Laveau generalized the concepts of stopping at curbs and avoiding obstacles, we were ready for more independent travel. I began socializing her in public--first in places where pets were allowed. Eventually she began to accompany me to destinations where pets were not allowed. I started small, going into well-known stores during quiet times where the distraction would be low. Laveau was a quick learner, and soon it became business as usual for her to enter a coffee shop, slide under a table and ignore the people attempting to pet her, food on the ground, and other distractions while I conducted my business.
The task I worried most about was teaching the concept of intelligent disobedience. Intelligent disobedience simply means that if the dog deems it unsafe to continue forward, she will stop and prevent the handler from moving. Even if the handler cues the dog to continue forward, the dog will “intelligently disobey” this cue. This skill is needed most in traffic situations, when the handler is crossing roads. It is especially important that a guide dog for a deaf-blind person be very fluent in this skill.
I set up traffic situations with an experienced driver. She held my FM system's transmitter during our training so I could hear and understand her instructions. She would inform me ahead of time what she intended to do and I would make sure that the dog kept me safe. We practiced situations where she pulled up her car onto the sidewalk in front of me, backed her car out of driveways while I crossed them, ran a red light while I crossed a road, and drove in an unsafe and erratic fashion while I was navigating my surroundings.
Telling me beforehand what situations to try out also had the added benefit of letting me expect sudden movements from my dog so I would not mistake my dog's movements and think she was distracted. It took a great deal of hard work and persistence on both our parts; however I can say that Laveau is one of the best guide dogs I've ever had.
Laveau and I have taken several trips together; visiting family and friends in different states all over the country. We move together smoothly and with confidence. I feel like she can read my mind sometimes. I know I can trust her to keep me safe.
We have begun sound alert training. Now Laveau will alert me to sounds in my environment such as smoke alarms, people calling my name, and traffic coming up behind me.
I had a great many questions and reservations when I first began training Laveau, but almost three years into our journey together, I can say that she is truly my partner. I was very unsure if the decision to train my own dog was the right one. I didn't know many other deafblind people who had done it. It may not be right for everyone, but it was certainly the right choice for me.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Randomness
This has been such a very sad and horrible weekend for so many. All over the news are descriptions of shooting and killing and anger. Yet in my world there has been contentment and peace and productivity. Watching everything that has gone on outside has made me so grateful for my, at the moment at least, quiet life.
I am praying for everyone-- for the victims of all the shootings and their families, for the shooters themselves. I wonder what can make someone so full of hate that they could take another's life.
Yesterday I spent the morning out in the sun, with Bristol on the grooming table and brushes in my hands. I spent time with her in the simple act of reconnecting and enjoyment of our shared bond. I had my "Goddess playlist" on my iPod and was at peace. At that same time, in Arizona, a gunman opened fire and killed a bunch of people; one of them only nine years old. A new life just begun, and ended in senseless violence.
The outside world seems so big and full of pain sometimes. Yet all is quiet at home.
I am praying for everyone-- for the victims of all the shootings and their families, for the shooters themselves. I wonder what can make someone so full of hate that they could take another's life.
Yesterday I spent the morning out in the sun, with Bristol on the grooming table and brushes in my hands. I spent time with her in the simple act of reconnecting and enjoyment of our shared bond. I had my "Goddess playlist" on my iPod and was at peace. At that same time, in Arizona, a gunman opened fire and killed a bunch of people; one of them only nine years old. A new life just begun, and ended in senseless violence.
The outside world seems so big and full of pain sometimes. Yet all is quiet at home.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Best books of 2010 according to me!
Here is my list of top 15 reads of 2010. Overall, I read 181 books this year.
A "*" indicates that the book is part of a series.
There are two Jacqueline Carey books in this list but they are two very different books in two very different universes. If you've never read anything by her before, do! Her world building is amazing, however some of her content can be very adult, not to put too fine a point on it.
Christopher Moore is my new author for this year. He is a funny, funny man and I spent all year reading everything I could of his but I only listed my favorite book of his in this list but they are all really good, very irreverent and funny.
Also if you haven't read Harry Potter, I'll give it an honorable mention! Read it! Seriously. I reread the entire series twice this year and started a 3rd reread while in the hospital in Seattle. I'm continuing this reread by making Prisoner of Azkaban my 1st book of the new year! Read it!
Now with all that out of the way... here they are, top books of 2010 according to me, listed in no particular order!
* 1. Lamb; The Gospel According to Biff-- Christ's Childhood Pal by Christopher Moore
2. A Song for Arbonne by Guy Gavriel Kay
3. American Gods: A Novel by Neil Gaiman
* 4. Liquor by Poppy Z. Brite
5. Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
6. Push by Sapphire
7. Harvesting the Heart by Jodi Picoult
* 8. Naama's Curse by Jacqueline Carey
* 9. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson
* 10. Rashi's Daughters Book I: Joheved by Maggie Anton
* 11. Santa Olivia by Jacqueline Carey
12. A Woman Among Warlords by Malalai Joya
13. Deaf Like Me by James P. Spradley and Thomas S. Spradley
14. Rebirth of the Goddess; Finding Meaning in Feminist Spirituality by Carol P. Christ
15. Room by Emma Donoghue
A "*" indicates that the book is part of a series.
There are two Jacqueline Carey books in this list but they are two very different books in two very different universes. If you've never read anything by her before, do! Her world building is amazing, however some of her content can be very adult, not to put too fine a point on it.
Christopher Moore is my new author for this year. He is a funny, funny man and I spent all year reading everything I could of his but I only listed my favorite book of his in this list but they are all really good, very irreverent and funny.
Also if you haven't read Harry Potter, I'll give it an honorable mention! Read it! Seriously. I reread the entire series twice this year and started a 3rd reread while in the hospital in Seattle. I'm continuing this reread by making Prisoner of Azkaban my 1st book of the new year! Read it!
Now with all that out of the way... here they are, top books of 2010 according to me, listed in no particular order!
* 1. Lamb; The Gospel According to Biff-- Christ's Childhood Pal by Christopher Moore
2. A Song for Arbonne by Guy Gavriel Kay
3. American Gods: A Novel by Neil Gaiman
* 4. Liquor by Poppy Z. Brite
5. Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
6. Push by Sapphire
7. Harvesting the Heart by Jodi Picoult
* 8. Naama's Curse by Jacqueline Carey
* 9. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson
* 10. Rashi's Daughters Book I: Joheved by Maggie Anton
* 11. Santa Olivia by Jacqueline Carey
12. A Woman Among Warlords by Malalai Joya
13. Deaf Like Me by James P. Spradley and Thomas S. Spradley
14. Rebirth of the Goddess; Finding Meaning in Feminist Spirituality by Carol P. Christ
15. Room by Emma Donoghue
Friday, December 17, 2010
Never stand between a group of old ladies, and their justice!
I decided to do a little Giftmas shopping this afternoon. I hit all the stores I wanted, then had a break in the little coffee shop.
I was sitting there, sipping my java and reading email when a pack of old ladies entered the coffee shop, and took up residence at the table next to mine.
One of them had a little dog in her purse and it was really well behaved, I never would have known had Laveau not stared at it and made the group of women laugh by her interest.
After a while I'd done all the coffee-drinking and email-reading I wanted so I texted Bob and told him to call me a taxi.
I waited... and waited.... and waited.
I texted bob again, he called the cab company again, only to be told that the driver saw the dog and just drove away.
He read them the riot act over the phone and they sent another driver.
The new driver walked into the coffee shop and I asked him if he was the driver who was sent last time. He said no, and I told him the story of what had happened.
The second cab driver then starts spouting off at the mouth about how "We don't have to take animals if we don't want to!"
I've never seen a group of old ladies get riled up so quickly. I didn't even have to say a word; they started lecturing him about the law and quickly put him in his place. They let him have it with both barrels and honestly, I was trying very hard not to laugh.
I made it home and that driver now has a better education; given to him by ladies who were all at least! over 70 years old.
I've decided from now on,I'm just going to hire a pack of old women who come along with me and deal with access issues.
I was sitting there, sipping my java and reading email when a pack of old ladies entered the coffee shop, and took up residence at the table next to mine.
One of them had a little dog in her purse and it was really well behaved, I never would have known had Laveau not stared at it and made the group of women laugh by her interest.
After a while I'd done all the coffee-drinking and email-reading I wanted so I texted Bob and told him to call me a taxi.
I waited... and waited.... and waited.
I texted bob again, he called the cab company again, only to be told that the driver saw the dog and just drove away.
He read them the riot act over the phone and they sent another driver.
The new driver walked into the coffee shop and I asked him if he was the driver who was sent last time. He said no, and I told him the story of what had happened.
The second cab driver then starts spouting off at the mouth about how "We don't have to take animals if we don't want to!"
I've never seen a group of old ladies get riled up so quickly. I didn't even have to say a word; they started lecturing him about the law and quickly put him in his place. They let him have it with both barrels and honestly, I was trying very hard not to laugh.
I made it home and that driver now has a better education; given to him by ladies who were all at least! over 70 years old.
I've decided from now on,I'm just going to hire a pack of old women who come along with me and deal with access issues.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
John Q. Public, won't you stay outa my business?
Sometimes I think the biggest challenge I face as a deafblind person is dealing with the general public. Let's face it; when I walk into a public place, such as a coffee shop, I stick out like a sore thumb. I have an assistance dog, I have my braille PDA or braille magazine and if I'm with someone else, likely as not I'm conversing in American Sign Language. It's pretty common for folks to stare at me. I've gotten used to that. I don't like it, I feel like I'm always under a microscope, but that's just the way it is.
There are some people though that go beyond staring.
Take the weird lady who decided it was perfectly acceptable for her to take a photograph of my assistance dog while I was standing in line at a craft store. Her reasoning was that "my friend loves dogs."
So she starts talking to my dog and according to my SSP making kiss-kiss noises at Laveau. News-flash number one: It is never OK to distract an assistance dog. I don't care if it looks like the dog is working or not.
News-flash number two:
I'm not here to be photographed, to have my privacy violated, or to stand still so someone can make their friend happy by texting her a picture of me and my dog.
News-flash number three: my dog is not going to look at someone; even if they make kiss-kiss sounds. My dog is working and she's serious about her work as she should be. Her "job" does not include pausing so she can get her photo taken.
Then we get to the people who stare at me while I sign. Like I said above, staring is a fact of life for me. But when people come up to me and start spouting off about their love of signed languages and how "beautiful" they think it is; it's all I can do not to tell them that I was talking about serial homicide and it takes a real weirdo to think that's beautiful.
Also, I don't care if someone's great aunt was deaf. I don't care if you learned to sign the lyrics to "Silent Night" when you were in the third grade. I just don't care. I'm trying to live my life, just like the next guy, and hearing the life-stories of a bunch of people isn't really on my list of things to do®.
Then we get to the charming specimen I met yesterday in the Walmart parking-lot. I get out with my dog and he asks if she is for sale. He appears to be serious. Unfortunately, this is not the first weirdo who has asked if they can buy my dog. I inform him that he can't afford her and I'm on my way.
It is rare for me to have an outing where somebody doesn't over-share with me, ask me personal questions or otherwise invade my privacy, try to kick me out because of the dog, or otherwise disrupt my day.
If I had a choice, in my next life I would come back as some anonymous Joe. Someone so unremarkable and dull that I am passed by on the street without a second glance.
Until that happens, I keep my wits sharp, and my tongue sharper.
WAGS!
There are some people though that go beyond staring.
Take the weird lady who decided it was perfectly acceptable for her to take a photograph of my assistance dog while I was standing in line at a craft store. Her reasoning was that "my friend loves dogs."
So she starts talking to my dog and according to my SSP making kiss-kiss noises at Laveau. News-flash number one: It is never OK to distract an assistance dog. I don't care if it looks like the dog is working or not.
News-flash number two:
I'm not here to be photographed, to have my privacy violated, or to stand still so someone can make their friend happy by texting her a picture of me and my dog.
News-flash number three: my dog is not going to look at someone; even if they make kiss-kiss sounds. My dog is working and she's serious about her work as she should be. Her "job" does not include pausing so she can get her photo taken.
Then we get to the people who stare at me while I sign. Like I said above, staring is a fact of life for me. But when people come up to me and start spouting off about their love of signed languages and how "beautiful" they think it is; it's all I can do not to tell them that I was talking about serial homicide and it takes a real weirdo to think that's beautiful.
Also, I don't care if someone's great aunt was deaf. I don't care if you learned to sign the lyrics to "Silent Night" when you were in the third grade. I just don't care. I'm trying to live my life, just like the next guy, and hearing the life-stories of a bunch of people isn't really on my list of things to do®.
Then we get to the charming specimen I met yesterday in the Walmart parking-lot. I get out with my dog and he asks if she is for sale. He appears to be serious. Unfortunately, this is not the first weirdo who has asked if they can buy my dog. I inform him that he can't afford her and I'm on my way.
It is rare for me to have an outing where somebody doesn't over-share with me, ask me personal questions or otherwise invade my privacy, try to kick me out because of the dog, or otherwise disrupt my day.
If I had a choice, in my next life I would come back as some anonymous Joe. Someone so unremarkable and dull that I am passed by on the street without a second glance.
Until that happens, I keep my wits sharp, and my tongue sharper.
WAGS!
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.
Monday, November 8, 2010
It's been a while
I haven't posted here in more than a week. This is because last week sucked, not to put too fine a point on it.
I sprained my ankle and am now wearing this butt ugly brace thing on my foot which doesn't do much.
While all this was going on, Mill'E had to have her right ear stitched up and is now on antibiotics for the next week or so.
She'll get her stitches taken out next Monday.
I really hope things calm down for a while!
Last week was mostly taken up with doctor appointments for me, vet appointments for Mill'E, and the usual life type stuff.
Hopefully I will have more exciting and entertaining things to write about in future.
I sprained my ankle and am now wearing this butt ugly brace thing on my foot which doesn't do much.
While all this was going on, Mill'E had to have her right ear stitched up and is now on antibiotics for the next week or so.
She'll get her stitches taken out next Monday.
I really hope things calm down for a while!
Last week was mostly taken up with doctor appointments for me, vet appointments for Mill'E, and the usual life type stuff.
Hopefully I will have more exciting and entertaining things to write about in future.
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
For the Fab Four
I wrote this on January 7, 2008. This marked my tenth anniversary of being matched with my first guide dog, Rhoda. At the time this post was originally written, I was working Gracy, a border collie mix who has since retired and who is living with a friend across town, although she still visits frequently.
January 7, 2008
"And I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not; I will lead them in paths that they have not known: I will make darkness light before them, and
crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them."
Isaiah 42:16-- (KJV)
Ten years ago, January 7th 1998 was a day that changed my life forever. I was at the campus of Guide dogs for the blind in San Rafael California. Around 2 in the afternoon I was introduced to someone who would have one of the biggest impacts on me and on my future.
"The trainer told me that I'd be receiving a female yellow Labrador retriever, her name is Rhoda."
Rhoda, I thought. It sounds like the name of a Jewish house-wife with a fondness for pink furry bathrobes and big hair curlers.
No, not so much. She was wild. If I knew then, what I know now, I wouldn't have taken it nearly so personally that my guide was a complete spaz.
She was the bad dog of the class. All of those people who have been to a guide dog school know what I mean. She wouldn't lay still in lecture, she wouldn't heel by my side. At meals she was constantly diving for food, crawling around under the table and generally causing massive disturbance where ever she went.
Her guide work was horrible; she ran me into a parking meter on one of our first trips. This was hardly a dog to inspire my confidence.
Time passed, we went home. She broke away from me, ran across the road and treed a squirrel our first week home together.
She ate plants in the clothing store where I shopped. She peed at Catholic Mass.
I really tried everything the guide dog school told me to do and after a while things started to jell.
I lost my hearing for the first time. I was diagnosed with a brain tumor and was so ill from the medication to treat it.
She was there through everything. She was diagnosed with lymphoma when she was 3 and a half and died a year and a half almost to the day that we came home from guide dog school.
I wanted to die too; she had been my best friend through so much and after those first few turbulent months she turned into an amazing dog.
The last thing I asked of her before I set her free was to find me another dog. "Please find me a dog who will help me, who will lead me and love me and who will be patient with me because my heart is broken and I surely won't love them right away."
Six days later I met Bristol. She may have had her health problems but her guide work was flawless from the beginning. She loved me when I didn't love her; even when I didn't love myself.
She worked from July of 1999 until August of 2003 when degenerative joint disease shortened her working career.
Gracy and Mill'E were next each teaching me so much; each adding their own personalities to our work together.
They learned by watching Bristol. Sometimes I would come around a corner, and find the three, all laying or sitting in a circle. I can imagine Bristol giving lectures on appropriate public access behavior or the way you indicate a curb with the most amount of style and finesse.
All of them have changed me. Rhoda's illness and subsequent death, Bristol's chronic health struggles have both set me on the path to becoming a herbalist. The fallout after Mill'E's multiple dog attacks and Gracy's emo-border collie idiosyncratic way of learning forced me to adopt another way of training all together.
Rhoda taught me how to laugh, at myself, and at her. Bristol taught me what it means to truly break down all of the barriers in my heart and put complete trust in someone outside myself. Gracy has taught me, and continues to teach me patience, that and to put my shoes up on the dresser if I want to find them in the morning. Mill'E has taught me how to teach in a positive way and to lighten up, for crying out loud.
I would not be the same without them, and hope that I will never have to walk the path of life alone without a dog.
Ten years have come and gone so fast. I am excited to know what lessons and adventures the next ten will bring.
"And what is it to work with love?
It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.
It is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.
It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.
It is to charge all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit,
And to know that all the blessed dead are standing about you and watching.
Often have I heard you say, as if speaking in sleep, "he who works in marble, and finds the shape of his own soul in the stone, is a nobler than he who
ploughs the soil.
And he who seizes the rainbow to lay it on a cloth in the likeness of man, is more than he who makes the sandals for our feet."
But I say, not in sleep but in the over-wakefulness of noontide, that the wind speaks not more sweetly to the giant oaks than to the least of all the blades
of grass;
And he alone is great who turns the voice of the wind into a song made sweeter by his own loving.
Work is love made visible."
Taken from The Prophet
By Kahlil Gibran
January 7, 2008
"And I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not; I will lead them in paths that they have not known: I will make darkness light before them, and
crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them."
Isaiah 42:16-- (KJV)
Ten years ago, January 7th 1998 was a day that changed my life forever. I was at the campus of Guide dogs for the blind in San Rafael California. Around 2 in the afternoon I was introduced to someone who would have one of the biggest impacts on me and on my future.
"The trainer told me that I'd be receiving a female yellow Labrador retriever, her name is Rhoda."
Rhoda, I thought. It sounds like the name of a Jewish house-wife with a fondness for pink furry bathrobes and big hair curlers.
No, not so much. She was wild. If I knew then, what I know now, I wouldn't have taken it nearly so personally that my guide was a complete spaz.
She was the bad dog of the class. All of those people who have been to a guide dog school know what I mean. She wouldn't lay still in lecture, she wouldn't heel by my side. At meals she was constantly diving for food, crawling around under the table and generally causing massive disturbance where ever she went.
Her guide work was horrible; she ran me into a parking meter on one of our first trips. This was hardly a dog to inspire my confidence.
Time passed, we went home. She broke away from me, ran across the road and treed a squirrel our first week home together.
She ate plants in the clothing store where I shopped. She peed at Catholic Mass.
I really tried everything the guide dog school told me to do and after a while things started to jell.
I lost my hearing for the first time. I was diagnosed with a brain tumor and was so ill from the medication to treat it.
She was there through everything. She was diagnosed with lymphoma when she was 3 and a half and died a year and a half almost to the day that we came home from guide dog school.
I wanted to die too; she had been my best friend through so much and after those first few turbulent months she turned into an amazing dog.
The last thing I asked of her before I set her free was to find me another dog. "Please find me a dog who will help me, who will lead me and love me and who will be patient with me because my heart is broken and I surely won't love them right away."
Six days later I met Bristol. She may have had her health problems but her guide work was flawless from the beginning. She loved me when I didn't love her; even when I didn't love myself.
She worked from July of 1999 until August of 2003 when degenerative joint disease shortened her working career.
Gracy and Mill'E were next each teaching me so much; each adding their own personalities to our work together.
They learned by watching Bristol. Sometimes I would come around a corner, and find the three, all laying or sitting in a circle. I can imagine Bristol giving lectures on appropriate public access behavior or the way you indicate a curb with the most amount of style and finesse.
All of them have changed me. Rhoda's illness and subsequent death, Bristol's chronic health struggles have both set me on the path to becoming a herbalist. The fallout after Mill'E's multiple dog attacks and Gracy's emo-border collie idiosyncratic way of learning forced me to adopt another way of training all together.
Rhoda taught me how to laugh, at myself, and at her. Bristol taught me what it means to truly break down all of the barriers in my heart and put complete trust in someone outside myself. Gracy has taught me, and continues to teach me patience, that and to put my shoes up on the dresser if I want to find them in the morning. Mill'E has taught me how to teach in a positive way and to lighten up, for crying out loud.
I would not be the same without them, and hope that I will never have to walk the path of life alone without a dog.
Ten years have come and gone so fast. I am excited to know what lessons and adventures the next ten will bring.
"And what is it to work with love?
It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.
It is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.
It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.
It is to charge all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit,
And to know that all the blessed dead are standing about you and watching.
Often have I heard you say, as if speaking in sleep, "he who works in marble, and finds the shape of his own soul in the stone, is a nobler than he who
ploughs the soil.
And he who seizes the rainbow to lay it on a cloth in the likeness of man, is more than he who makes the sandals for our feet."
But I say, not in sleep but in the over-wakefulness of noontide, that the wind speaks not more sweetly to the giant oaks than to the least of all the blades
of grass;
And he alone is great who turns the voice of the wind into a song made sweeter by his own loving.
Work is love made visible."
Taken from The Prophet
By Kahlil Gibran
A Big Day for a Little Dog
This post was written almost two years ago, February 7, 2009. I wanted to post it here. It details some of Laveau's training to become a guide dog and explains her final traffic testing.
Almost eight months ago to the day, I walked out of a very high-kill animal shelter on the Westbank of New Orleans. I was accompanied by a tall black dog who was so thin that you could literally see almost every bone in her body She was a dog with no past-- the shelter workers said that she had been turned in as a stray. If all things went well, and the luck of the gods was with us, she would have an amazing future ahead of her.
I fell almost instantly in love with her. Who wouldn't have? We got to know one another. We worked together, played together, and trained together. We learned about one another and during these last eight months together we have built an incredible bond of mutual respect and reciprocal love.
She had her bad habits, as did I-- She had horrible house manners and I had gotten sloppy in some of my handling techniques. We both needed training. Through hard work and devotion on both our parts we have made it to this day.
Today Laveau and I did our final traffic testing.
On the streets around my home we set her up for the multiple situations which we are likely to encounter during our working career together.
A friend was the brave one to drive the car. She wore my FM system which is a small box with a microphone. I wear another small box which is connected to wireless headphones. With the use of assistive technology we were able to communicate with one another and orchestrate the plan.
We started out crossing a road. I gave Laveau the "forward" command and she refused to go and put her body in front of mine as the test car drove by. We did this several more times. We did it from either side-- sometimes with the car driving toward Laveau's side and sometimes with the car driving toward mine.
the car backed out of a vacant lot and Laveau pulled me out of the way. My friend surprised me by driving up on to the sidewalk. Laveau stopped immediately-- it was me (with the uncooperative vestibular system who took a couple seconds longer to do so).
We set her up in all situations. When we determined that she was solid in these skills, I turned to go home. While I was crossing the final street, my friend drove her car straight at me without any warning. Laveau put herself in front of me and yanked me back up on to the sidewalk where she then stood in front of me, blocking me from the car.
When we pick a candidate to try and train as an assistance dog, it is a big gamble. The dog may not work out. There may be any number of physical or behavioral problems which would make a dog unsuited to the work. If the dog is solid of nerve, devoted, inquisitive, hard working, loyal, and is in possession of a large amount of singleness of purpose, the dog becomes an assistance dog candidate. From assistance dog candidate the dog becomes an assistance dog in training. After many months of hard work and learning the dog *MAY* then become an assistance dog.
Laveau has been through much in the eight short months we've been together. When I got her, she already had proficiency with foundation behaviors-- those things that even any pet dog should know. Sit, down, stay, loose leash walking etc. Laveau picked up on the guiding skills very quickly. She began public access training and took to it like she'd been born walking down crowded mall corridors and navigating large business buildings with ease and confidence.
She made very few mistakes in the guide part of her training and she seem to have an instinctive need to watch out for me.
Today she proved how much she really can do. She proved to me that she is watchful, mindful and brave. She showed me in the most profound way that she would give her life to protect mine if that was required of her. She proved to me, beyond all shadow of a doubt that my life is safe in her paws.
Almost eight months ago to the day, I walked out of a very high-kill animal shelter on the Westbank of New Orleans. I was accompanied by a tall black dog who was so thin that you could literally see almost every bone in her body She was a dog with no past-- the shelter workers said that she had been turned in as a stray. If all things went well, and the luck of the gods was with us, she would have an amazing future ahead of her.
I fell almost instantly in love with her. Who wouldn't have? We got to know one another. We worked together, played together, and trained together. We learned about one another and during these last eight months together we have built an incredible bond of mutual respect and reciprocal love.
She had her bad habits, as did I-- She had horrible house manners and I had gotten sloppy in some of my handling techniques. We both needed training. Through hard work and devotion on both our parts we have made it to this day.
Today Laveau and I did our final traffic testing.
On the streets around my home we set her up for the multiple situations which we are likely to encounter during our working career together.
A friend was the brave one to drive the car. She wore my FM system which is a small box with a microphone. I wear another small box which is connected to wireless headphones. With the use of assistive technology we were able to communicate with one another and orchestrate the plan.
We started out crossing a road. I gave Laveau the "forward" command and she refused to go and put her body in front of mine as the test car drove by. We did this several more times. We did it from either side-- sometimes with the car driving toward Laveau's side and sometimes with the car driving toward mine.
the car backed out of a vacant lot and Laveau pulled me out of the way. My friend surprised me by driving up on to the sidewalk. Laveau stopped immediately-- it was me (with the uncooperative vestibular system who took a couple seconds longer to do so).
We set her up in all situations. When we determined that she was solid in these skills, I turned to go home. While I was crossing the final street, my friend drove her car straight at me without any warning. Laveau put herself in front of me and yanked me back up on to the sidewalk where she then stood in front of me, blocking me from the car.
When we pick a candidate to try and train as an assistance dog, it is a big gamble. The dog may not work out. There may be any number of physical or behavioral problems which would make a dog unsuited to the work. If the dog is solid of nerve, devoted, inquisitive, hard working, loyal, and is in possession of a large amount of singleness of purpose, the dog becomes an assistance dog candidate. From assistance dog candidate the dog becomes an assistance dog in training. After many months of hard work and learning the dog *MAY* then become an assistance dog.
Laveau has been through much in the eight short months we've been together. When I got her, she already had proficiency with foundation behaviors-- those things that even any pet dog should know. Sit, down, stay, loose leash walking etc. Laveau picked up on the guiding skills very quickly. She began public access training and took to it like she'd been born walking down crowded mall corridors and navigating large business buildings with ease and confidence.
She made very few mistakes in the guide part of her training and she seem to have an instinctive need to watch out for me.
Today she proved how much she really can do. She proved to me that she is watchful, mindful and brave. She showed me in the most profound way that she would give her life to protect mine if that was required of her. She proved to me, beyond all shadow of a doubt that my life is safe in her paws.
Canine Communications
Mr Pawpower and I took Bristol and Laveau with us when we went to get a coffee. I worked Laveau to the coffee shop, but worked Bristol home.
If dogs could talk...
Bristol stands next to me in harness. Her chest is puffed out, her head is held high, her tail is wagging.
Bristol: "I'm too sexy for my harness, too sexy for my harness, lalalalala!"
Me: "Bristol forward."
Bristol *starts walking forward, only it's more of a swish.*
Bristol: "I'm too sexy for my harness, too sexy for my harness, lalalala."
Laveau *turns her head on her long doberneck to watch Bristol.*
Laveau: "Oh my god, what the hell are you doing! You're going to get her killed; that crack in the sidewalk required you to come to a full and complete stop. You are doing a slap-dash job and maybe I need to show you how to do it right."
Bristol: "heheheheheh, I've been doing this for longer than you've been alive, you whippersnapper! Watch, my child, watch, and learn. I'm too sexy for my harness, too sexy for my harness, lalalala!"
Laveau: "OH MY GOD! she clicked the clicker for that other dog! This is my clicker! and she's feeding her my treats! and she's wearing my harness.... oh wait, she isn't, but I don't want her working in it! She's an imposture! She's old, put out to pasture! She's going to run that up curb..."
Bristol: "Ahhh, flawless halt on the up-curb. Front feet on curb, back feet in gutter! Totally textbook. I hope that tenderfoot is paying attention to my perfect example of guide work. I'm too sexy for my harness, too sexy for my harness lalalala!"
Laveau: "Now we cross the big street. Do you think the tall dude I'm guiding could make it across on his own? Because I don't want to let Grandma Moses take the boss across this road alone. She'll become road pizza, and then I'll be unemployed which is bad what with the economy, and all."
Bristol: "Look, that black dog is so impressed with my fabulousossity, that she is wrenching her neck around to watch my incredible moves. Not good as she really should be guiding the big dude, but who can blame her! I've got it goin on! I'm too sexy for my harness..."
Laveau: "The only way I can make this crossing is to watch the old dog do it. I'm keeping my eye on her. Who the hell does she think she is? The canine version of Jennifer Lopes? This isn't the red carpet at the Oscars!"
Bristol: "We've arrived at last! I am so impressive! We made it and it's all because I possess such incomparable guiding skills, and class, and beauty, and poise, and animal magnetism! Let's face it, I'm a goddess. That black dog wishes she could be half as amazing as I am, she has not been able to keep her worshipful gaze from me."
Laveau: "Oh my god! We've made it home, and the boss still has the normal number of arms and legs and heads and stuff. Watching out for her from afar, and guiding the dude was hard. I need some Chivas over ice, and a raise."
If dogs could talk...
Bristol stands next to me in harness. Her chest is puffed out, her head is held high, her tail is wagging.
Bristol: "I'm too sexy for my harness, too sexy for my harness, lalalalala!"
Me: "Bristol forward."
Bristol *starts walking forward, only it's more of a swish.*
Bristol: "I'm too sexy for my harness, too sexy for my harness, lalalala."
Laveau *turns her head on her long doberneck to watch Bristol.*
Laveau: "Oh my god, what the hell are you doing! You're going to get her killed; that crack in the sidewalk required you to come to a full and complete stop. You are doing a slap-dash job and maybe I need to show you how to do it right."
Bristol: "heheheheheh, I've been doing this for longer than you've been alive, you whippersnapper! Watch, my child, watch, and learn. I'm too sexy for my harness, too sexy for my harness, lalalala!"
Laveau: "OH MY GOD! she clicked the clicker for that other dog! This is my clicker! and she's feeding her my treats! and she's wearing my harness.... oh wait, she isn't, but I don't want her working in it! She's an imposture! She's old, put out to pasture! She's going to run that up curb..."
Bristol: "Ahhh, flawless halt on the up-curb. Front feet on curb, back feet in gutter! Totally textbook. I hope that tenderfoot is paying attention to my perfect example of guide work. I'm too sexy for my harness, too sexy for my harness lalalala!"
Laveau: "Now we cross the big street. Do you think the tall dude I'm guiding could make it across on his own? Because I don't want to let Grandma Moses take the boss across this road alone. She'll become road pizza, and then I'll be unemployed which is bad what with the economy, and all."
Bristol: "Look, that black dog is so impressed with my fabulousossity, that she is wrenching her neck around to watch my incredible moves. Not good as she really should be guiding the big dude, but who can blame her! I've got it goin on! I'm too sexy for my harness..."
Laveau: "The only way I can make this crossing is to watch the old dog do it. I'm keeping my eye on her. Who the hell does she think she is? The canine version of Jennifer Lopes? This isn't the red carpet at the Oscars!"
Bristol: "We've arrived at last! I am so impressive! We made it and it's all because I possess such incomparable guiding skills, and class, and beauty, and poise, and animal magnetism! Let's face it, I'm a goddess. That black dog wishes she could be half as amazing as I am, she has not been able to keep her worshipful gaze from me."
Laveau: "Oh my god! We've made it home, and the boss still has the normal number of arms and legs and heads and stuff. Watching out for her from afar, and guiding the dude was hard. I need some Chivas over ice, and a raise."
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!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)