[Critique Group 1] Submission for 6-14-17

[DQ Noriega]

I didn't remember as well as you did Cleora, even though I made a note of
the date. Here is my Chapter 2. Of myn Loving Amber Eyes book. I didn't
write about the reason I convinced Maureen to room with me because I didn't
know how to handle the subject. One of the single instructors was making me
uncomfortable by his attentions. He frequently brought me my mail and
offered to read it to me. He mentioned that another instructor had married a
graduate. I talked it over with a girl who was a few years older than I and
she suggested the switch of roommates. Offering me hers. I am also unsure
about whether to change the names of the people in my class by name. What do
you guys think.

Chapter 2.

Making Friends

 

A remarkable thing happened to Tammy at sight of her harness.  Dog Blunder
turned from a wriggling bouncing wild thing into a serious focused super
dog.  I only needed to hold the harness by its back strap and an eager
muzzle thrust its way through the yoke in anticipation of the start of her
work day.  A strap with a loop at the end slipped between her front legs
through which I threaded a girth strap with a buckle hanging down on her
right side and attached that buckle to the free end of the strap hanging
down on her left.  She stood quietly during this process gently waving her
tail.  Tammy's movements in harness were decisive.  She made sharp turns,
quick stops and turned her head and shoulders to indicate doorways as if to
ask, "Is this what you want?"  When moving in a straight line, she
progressed rapidly, over taking and veering around other pedestrians.  We
had only four short weeks to learn how to communicate with each other.  She
had to become familiar with my height, the width of space to allow for me to
pass obstacles and the amount of roughness that I could sail over without
stumbling.  I had to learn to interpret her body motions and how she reacted
to traffic, overhanging branches, recognizable locations, other dogs, food
on the ground and so much more.  Those were just the obvious basics.  I also
had lessons in how to care for her needs.  I had to feed, groom and take her
out to relieve her on a set schedule.  I had to break through her sorrow at
losing her instructor's attention and make her believe that she could count
on me.  I had to develop trust in her judgment.  I needed to accept that I
could depend on her to keep me safe.

 

At first she ate very little.  She lit up whenever Mr. Boeke entered the
room, beating her tail joyously.  Then, when he made no acknowledgement of
her presence, her head dropped to her paws, her tail stilled its frantic
tattoo and a soft mournful sigh issued from the woeful shadow at my feet.
As we navigated the streets of the town, she glanced back at her instructor
before obeying my commands.  One day she was looking back and walked me into
a parking meter.  A sharp command was given me, "Correct your dog!" 

 

The necessity to give feedback to my guide was brought home to me several
times a day.  Praise was her reward for stopping at a curb, set of stairs,
tight spot, broken pavement or other obstacle that required me to take some
action.  It was my job to control her canine impulses to greet other dogs,
sniff interesting smells or forget for a moment that she was on duty.  As
the handler, I had to know where I was and where I wanted to go and the way
to get there.  I had to communicate this information to Tammy in a series of
right, left and forward, commands.  I had to regulate our speed by directing
her to quicken her pace with a hup-up or slow her down with a steady.  I had
to keep track of the number of blocks we had walked and when we needed to
change direction at the next corner.  I had to ask her to look for a
familiar door or intersecting walk by giving suggestive right or left
commands and praise praise   praise her, when she understood what   I needed
her to do.  Slowly, I began to master the techniques I needed to learn.  I
made fewer mistakes in interpreting the motions transmitted to me through
the handle of Tammy's harness.  We began to move with greater confidence and
grace.  Quiet commands and soft words of praise started to feel natural to
me.   Tammy's efforts to signal what her alert amber eyes saw became
increasingly easy to interpret.

 

Meals and shared activities in the lounges gave me ample opportunity to get
acquainted with the other students and their respective dog partners.
Except for two weeklong stints at a summer camp for blind children, I had
previously had only a very limited exposure to other blind people.  In my
public high school class of over four hundred graduates, I was the only
visually impaired senior.  Of the nine students enrolled in the program for
visually impaired students at Oxnard Union High School, only three were
totally blind.  Since the others were in lower classes I didn't have much
contact with them.  

 

My classmates at The Seeing Eye were from all walks of life.  There were two
gentlemen with doctorate degrees.  One of them was a college professor at
Fresno State College.  The other, Dr. Campo traveled all the way from Bogota
Columbia to attend class.  A former construction worker, who had dropped out
of high school, had gone back to school after losing his vision and had
achieved a law degree and become a judge.  He was especially delighted to
finally meet another member of the class.  Hamilton Jenkins, who lost his
sight as a result of injuries incurred in the professional boxing ring, had
been interviewed on a radio program   after he received his first Seeing Eye
Dog.  Hearing his story had inspired the future Judge Fuqua to apply for a
dog guide of his own.  With his new partner, he began his climb to success.
The two men had never met before returning to The Seeing Eye for successor
dogs brought them together in this class.  A shy sixteen year-old boy named
Irwin Hott was the youngest member of the group.  Some of the class were
returning graduates training with successor dogs, after the death or
retirement of their previous dog guides, while others had never even had a
pet dog.  All of them were glorying in the freedom of walking the streets of
a busy town and getting acquainted with their new companions.  The
excitement sparked like electricity.  Contagious laughter and energy filled
the very air.   

 

I acquired a roommate when I convinced one of my classmates to move in with
me.  Maureen Halfpenny was a shy quiet girl from Pennsylvania who had
attended a Catholic High School.  She had always worn school uniforms.
After we washed clothes in the basement laundry room, she appealed to me to
help figure out what to wear with what. Her unfamiliar wardrobe of new
summer clothes were bought specifically to attend training at The Seeing
Eye.  Her mother had carefully packed them with accessories pinned to each
outfit.  Being the eldest of five, I had often done the laundry for my
family.  I earned pocket money by ironing for neighbors.   I knew all of my
clothes by touch.  I made my best guesses for Maureen, assuming that denim
fabrics were probably blue or black.  Then we asked the nurse to play mirror
and confirm that Maureen wasn't wearing orange and purple or stripes and
polka dots together.   

 

There was a nurse available twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.  She
helped diabetics monitor their health and dealt with blisters and other
small injuries.  The school provided maid service and beautifully prepared
meals in a gracious dining room. There were braille and recorded books to
read, braille writers and typewriters to aid in writing letters, musical
instruments, televisions and an assortment of games to fill any leisure
time.  In many ways it was like a beautiful resort hotel that isolated its
guests from outside distractions so they might more fully concentrate on the
process of training with their new guide dogs.   

 

Maureen and I had lots of fun comparing notes on our misadventures on the
streets of Morristown. Maureen's dog was also donated to The Seeing Eye.
She was an adorable fluff-ball collie shepherd mix named Snookie. Maureen
found this name a hard one for her to deal with because Mr. Boeke often
addressed his students by their dog's names if he needed to get their
attention in a hurry.  So, if I heard a clear tenor voice ringing out
"Tammy! Stop!" I stopped.  Maureen hated having to respond to Snookie.  Mr.
Wright, a large gruff ex-marine had a comparable problem when he had to obey
commands directed to Mimi. 

 

Mr. Boeke was particularly fond of mixed breed dogs.  He felt they often
represented the best of their mixed ancestry.  He confided to me that he
wondered if my supposedly pure bred Labrador might have some shepherd in her
background.  She had a quirky trick of getting one ear up straight when
excited.  Her face seemed a little longer than most Labradors and her legs
and tail were long too.  

Betty Kibler, a young lady from Boston had a Dalmatian/Labrador cross -named
Dolly.  Dolly had been Tammy's kennel mate and that led to an unexpected
event in the dining room.  We were told to remove our harnesses from the
dogs before settling them under the tables. We had just been issued the
pristine new harnesses we would be taking home.  They were too stiff to be
comfortable for prolonged wearing if the dog wasn't actually guiding.  Both
Betty and I were first time handlers and didn't stop to think when we sat
across from each other about the wisdom of having these former playmates in
such close proximity.  Our dogs seemed to settle down.  Then I noticed a
little movement at my feet.  Unlike an experienced handler, I didn't stop my
conversation and enjoyment of the excellent meal before me.  The stealthy
movements under the table soon escalated and before we knew it, Dolly and
Tammy were recreating their kennel time game of chew and wrestle.  A large
black dog and a smaller spotted one were rolling over and over, tangled in
leashes, giving out play growls and sending more sedate dog guides
scrambling out of the way.  After order was restored, Betty and I were
instructed in how to back our dogs under the table and put one foot on the
leash a few inches from our dogs' collars.  In this way, subtle movement
that might indicate scavenging for dropped food or the chewing on another
dog's harness, leash or ears could be caught before World War III.
broke-out.

 

Another morning at breakfast, Tammy demonstrated that I didn't need to worry
about scavenging behavior from her.  I managed to flip a link sausage from
my breakfast plate on to the floor.  Tammy caught the morsel in mid air,
scrambled out from under the table and came briskly around my chair to sit
at my left side and hand it back to me.  Even the training staff was
startled.  This unlikely reaction definitely gave credence to Mr. Boeke's
suspicions concerning a mixed heritage for my girl.  Most Labradors are born
with a skin two sizes too large and it is their life-long ambition to fill
it up and smooth out all the folds in their glossy hides.

 

About the middle of the second week, Tammy began to own me as her girl.  She
became increasingly responsive to my voice and touch.  I found it easy to
love her mischievous energetic responsive nature.  It took her longer to
decide that it was better to have a girl of her own that she didn't have to
share with a string of other dogs in training.  She began to sleep quietly
on a tie-down chain beside my bed, and eat her meals.  Regular brushing made
her sleek coat shine.  Quiet times shared on the floor with her lovely head
resting trustingly in my lap, convinced her I was worth looking out for and
perhaps keeping.  She began to whine if I left the room or moved out of her
sight for even a moment.  She placed herself across the threshold of the
bathroom door when I showered, pressing her nose against the crack under the
closed door.  She wasn't taking any chances, of losing me, now that she had
decided I belonged to her alone.  

 

One of the things I learned was a set of obedience exercises to perform each
day to remind my dog who was in charge.  Dog guides have so much
responsibility and are taught to use intelligent disobedience.  They must
weigh a command to go forward if obeying would put their handler in danger.
There might be anything from an open manhole, to a speeding car that the
blind person they are guiding doesn't know is there.  A chain or a large
branch at a height to hit the handler in the face; might block their chosen
path.  A dog guide must think through the situation and make a choice to
refuse the unwise action or determine an alternative direction to lead the
blind person around the danger and get the team back proceeding in their
original direction of travel.  This independent thinking and initiative is
necessary, but must be tempered with respect for their human partner.  If a
dog decides he is in charge, a blind person may find that they can't pass a
place of business they sometimes patronize unless they stop in.  Or the
blind handler may be pulled off a curb when the parallel traffic surges even
when they have decided to turn left and go over a block before crossing.
Obedience exercises help the dog understand that the human is the boss when
she says no, leave it, or left. Tammy thoroughly enjoyed the obedience
exercises we performed.  She viewed these as a time to bounce joyfully
around to return the dropped glove or block of wood I tossed for her.  

 

There were so many lessons for us both there never seemed to be enough time
in the day.  At five thirty in the morning the trainers knocked on our doors
to bring the morning feed pans.  At nine or ten at night, we wearily settled
ourselves to sleep.  In between, Tammy and I were busy learning to love and
understand each other as we were exposed to increasingly complex
navigational challenges on the streets of Morristown.  

 

 

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