[Critique Group 1] submission from Marcia

[Marcia Wick]

Two Good Eyes and Six Strong legs 

Marcia J. Wick, The Write Sisters

Copyright December 2016

Word Count:  1030

 

 

 

"Crack, thank you. Tree, okay, hop up! Find the curb, good job. Halt. Good
girl!"

 

Close your eyes and join us on a journey as my guide dog, Viviane, with her
two good eyes and four strong legs leads her two-legged handler along the
sidewalks and trails in our hometown. Imagine our adventure using your
mind's eye

 

"I know, I know you want to go for a walk but it's windy outside and I need
to put on extra layers. Now, where did I put my cell phone? Got it. Siri,
what's the current temperature?"

 

"Brrr! It's 24 degrees right now," Siri replies.

 

"Okay, Vivi. That means you get to wear an extra layer, too. Let's go
outside first so I can relieve you before putting your coat on." 

 

Click. The collar is on. Snap. The leash is secure. "Forward and left,
outside! Good job. Back inside and we can finish getting ready to go."

 

The water bottle and kibble bag are refreshed. I've got my warm Marmot hat
with the ear flaps pulled down. I secure my sunglasses, and zip my phone
into my coat pocket. Looks like we're ready to roll!

 

"Come, Vivi. Let's harness up. Good girl. Forward and right. Easy, easy, I
know, I know you are so excited. You've been waiting and waiting. Okay, find
the door. Good girl. Wait, let me close the door. Okay, forward and left.
Good job. Right. Hop up, oh, thank you. I forgot it was garbage day. Okay,
hop up." We swerve left off the sidewalk, avoiding the container, then hop
right back up onto the concrete. "Good girl!"

 

"Ah, the ditch, good girl, forward. Thank you, okay. A bush, thank you. And
a tree, good girl. Find the curb, good job! All quiet. Forward. Good girl,
you found the curb. Hop up and right. Okay, not today. No thank you,
forward, good girl. A crack, thank you. Okay, forward, find the curb. "All
quiet. "Okay. Easy, thank you. Forward, hop up.

 

"Hop up, Vivi. She refuses to move. "No? What is it?" I ask, probing ahead
with my free hand. "Ah, good girl," I praise, touching a mirror protruding
at face level from the mammoth truck parked to my right. 

 

"Okay, hop up." Vivi picks up the pace. Hitting her stride again, we pass a
house with a dog which once charged us. Thankfully, that dog is cooped up
inside today due to the high winds and low temperatures. 

 

"It's okay, no dogs today, Vivi. Okay, easy. Find the curb. Wait, wait," I
urge as she inches up to the uneven pavement. No curb cuts in this old
neighborhood.  I nudge the toe of my right foot to find the split in the
concrete that tripped me up once. She knows to be more careful at this one
now.

 

"Okay, I found it, forward," I command anticipating the eight-inch drop off
to the road. "Good girl, hop up," I say as Vivi navigates between the fire
hydrant to the left and a bush to the right, threading the needle. Vivi gets
paid properly along this block as she finds first the low-hanging tree
branch and a bushy bush on the right, the cracked and pitted driveway, and a
parked car encroaching the sidewalk. We zig and zag, working past the
obstacles, Vivi rewarded with a kibble at each impediment.

 

It's like a dance; follow the lead and trust your partner.

 

"Let's jump onto the trail today. Good girl, "left."

The strong winds make it difficult to hear traffic so we pause until I am
confident that no cars are approaching. "Okay, forward, good girl! Yes,
forward, find the trail, good girl. Okay. Oh, a bump, thank you. Forward.
No, leave it," I command as I feel Vivi's head take a hard turn to the left.
I do not hear a dog or person so suspect there might be a deer or two off
the trail's edge.

 

Cold days are my favorite. At full speed, I warm up and wonder if I put too
many layers on. We are alone on the trail without the worry of dodging
oncoming cyclists or encountering excitable dogs. 

 

Brittle leaves, like bits of tinkling glass, are tossed about. Lifted and
dropped, lifted again, adding a musical backdrop to our walk.

 

I count steps between kibbles, enjoying the long stretches, listening to
Vivi's paws pad, pad, pad. Letting my mind wander to thoughts of the
holidays approaching, parents aging, my grandson reading, and world
stability collapsing.

 

Vivi pulls me back into the moment. "What, hop up, oh, a bump, thank you.
Okay." I hear her steady breathing as she leads on, slowing to call my
attention to the change in elevation. "Okay, we are going down. Good girl."
She pauses again at the bottom of the gulley to alert me that we will now be
heading uphill. Anything for a kibble. When it levels out at the top, she
slows, looking hopeful, eyeing me to her right. "Not today," I urge since
there is nothing to throw me off balance here. She advances, disappointed.
Then, optimistic, she speeds up, spying the next best chance for a reward.
The trail curves right and she slows. "Hop up," I urge. She tries again at
the next turn in the road. "How about this one," she seems to ask with a
quick turn of her head. "No thank you, I don't need you to tell me the trail
turns when there is only one way to go and that's forward!" I am amused at
her attempts to trick me into a treat, but I am amazed when so much of the
time she deserves it. Just as I say, "No thank you" at the slight change in
direction, she advances another step and pauses, looking hopeful, "No thank
you," I urge, becoming annoyed. "Hop up," I demand. She inches forward and
manages another look toward me. Then I feel it, a mound of sand covering the
trail. She leads me slowly until we are back on firm ground. "What a good
girl you are! Thank you," I say feeding her one kibble, then two, then
three. 

 

"Jackpot!"

 

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