[Critique Group 1] November Submission

[Deanna Noriega]

Chapter 23.

Red-neck Trucker Dog

 

Gentry was my fifth dog.  He was 95 pounds, fast, strong and had no respect
for women.  He was also my best traffic dog.  His speed and agility proved
priceless when he needed to spin me into a hundred and eighty degree turn
and back on to the curb to avoid being run down by a Winnebago or logging
truck.  He could easily walk the five miles from our home out along a county
road with no side walks.  When we arrived in the vicinity, he still had so
much energy that he pretended not to see the turn into my restaurant and
tried to sail on by hoping for another five miles of jogging. I called him
my red-neck trucker dog because he always thought he knew best.  If I
decided to go left at a corner and he thought we should go right, he needed
convincing.  After several firm commands to turn in the direction I chose,
he would move off slowly grumbling argumentatively under his breath.  The
translation was clear, "The damned woman is all turned around!  The bank is
over there!  Women just have no sense of direction!

When she figures out she has made a mistake, we'll just have to turn-around
and go back!" When we arrived at my destination, he would huff at me as if
to say: "why didn't you tell me you wanted to go to J.C. Penneys!" When
waiting at a street crossing, he would surge forward when the light changed
and the parallel traffic began to move. I had to be firm about waiting for
my command before entering the street. If we were walking past a familiar
shop that I sometimes entered, he tried to drag me over and insist we go in.


 

Gentry had a softer side as well.  His favorite toys were soft plush animals
or a sock doll I made for him.  He also loved kittens.  He drove our family
cats crazy trying to pick them up and carry them around.  He ended up with a
scratched nose more than once when he poked his large black Labrador face
into the exposed belly of a sleeping cat.  It never discouraged his belief
that all cats were adorable. Eventually he adopted a black kitten that
someone dropped off on our driveway.  They often slept together.  The kitten
curled between Gentry's large front paws serving as a pillow for his big
buddy's broad bear-like muzzle.

 

Gentry also loved babies and small children. All it took to completely break
his focus was a toddler crying out, "Goggy!" He would totally forget he
responsibility to me as my guide and start wriggling and wagging madly. He
would agree, "Yup! That's what I am! I'm a goggy!"

 

He frightened a young mother in a department store when he noticed she was
carrying an infant. He stood on his hind legs to get a better look wagging
excitedly. He didn't touch either mother or child, just did his best to tell
me, "Look! It's a baby!"   

 

Gentry had a particularly delecate stomach, but a sincere belief that food
of any kind was for eating. Keeping him from scavenging or eating anything
that presented itself was something I had to work on. Having him in my life
taught me to dog proof and pay attention to changes in our routines.
Holidays, travel, or not giving him enough work could all throw his
digestion off. I wrote the following essay and poem to share some of what I
learned with other dog handlers during the time I worked this complex
partner.

                                Gentry's Lament

                    By Gentry, a black Labrador retriever, 

Gentry"s Lament,

By Gentry, a            graduate of The Seeing Eye inc.  




                 With editorial assistance from DeAnna Noriega




 

Christmas is such a confusing time,

All the everyday rules seem to change.

A tree is not for the kitty to climb,

Or where to leave your mark, it's strange.

 

Master covers it up with lights on a cord,

In which it is easy to tangle your paws.

And she spends more money than she can afford.

But woe to the dog who breaks any laws.

 

Don't chase the kitty up into the tree!

Don't help yourself to the snacks on the table!

Even a ball is not what it should be,

And you must rush around as long as you're able.

 

Hurry everywhere with no time for stopping.

There are so many people that you don't know,

And master spends all her time shopping.

Or she packs for a trip--will you get to go?

 

If you love your dog then take my advice.

Make time for a game or a pat on the head.

A new toy or dog treat would also be nice.

Your dog loves you best, when all has been said.

 

He doesn't ask much for all that he gives,

His friendship, his caring, his joy in his work.

Taking care of you is for what he lives

So, remember his needs, and don't be a jerk!

(Okay, so its doggerel at its worst, but what do you expect from an over
worked Labrador retriever guide dog?)

 

     Seriously though, there a few things you should do to make the holidays
easier on us guide dogs.  Dog proof your holiday decorations.  Poinsettias
and the berries off mistletoe are poisonous to small children and us curious
canines.  Gifts under the tree that give off strong odors; such as
chocolates, fruitcakes or boxes from Hickory Farms, can be a terrible
temptation to those of us who live for our noses.




     The holidays can also mean disruptions to familiar schedules.  This can
lead to the disturbance of bodily functions.  Be sure to offer frequent
opportunities for your dog to relieve himself.  Try to avoid changes in his
diet by bringing along or having someone purchase his accustomed food in
advance of your visit.  When spending long hours in transit, remove your
dog's harness for comfort and try for seating with adequate room beneath
seats for your dog to relax in.  A dog biscuit or chew might also make up
for missed meal times and make anxiety during land ins and takeoffs easier
for your dog.     Your dog is likely to be overstimulated by the attentions
of holiday guests.  Give him a chance to spend time with you alone.  Be sure
to maintain obedience exercises and grooming rituals.  This will reassure
him and keep him clean and well mannered despite the excitement around him.
Also, make time for play, this will relieve his tension and give him a
chance to burn off steam.  Don't forget lots of praise and reassurance when
things get tough in new surroundings.  If you must correct your dog firmly,
follow the correction with a simple command for which you can lavish him
with praise.  This helps to soothe his feelings at the same time showing him
that he is a good dog, and that the undesired behavior is the problem.  

     If you must leave your dog in an unfamiliar environment, be sure to
leave his care provider with veterinary information.  Leave him with a few
familiar things from home, such as a favorite rug, toys and food dishes.  An
old sweater or other piece of your clothing with your scent on it can
sometimes keep your dog from feeling abandoned among strangers. Remember
your dog needs just a little more care and attention  during stressful
situations.   Wherever you go, and whatever you do, have a happy holiday
season!  

 

Gentry and I traveled many miles on Greyhound Buses and planes as I became
more active in The American Council of the Blind and accepted a
gubernatorial appointment on the Oregon State Library Board of Trustees.  He
did his best work when in unfamiliar areas.  He was easily bored when we
were traveling predictable routes.  Boredom led to impulsive actions.  For
example, he jumped into an oily water filled drainage ditch because he was
hot on the long walk to work.  He also jumped up onto a drugstore counter to
see where the chirping of a canary behind the counter was coming from.
Although his exuberance and strength were a challenge to control, he had
terrific initiative in problem solving.  One day I wanted to go to a meeting
held in a room at the library.  The front and side entrances were locked and
of course if there was a sign posted anywhere, it wasn't accessible to me.
After we had circled the library twice with Gentry showing me locked doors,
I gave up and started back to my restaurant.  A block away, Gentry suddenly
pulled me up the steps of a house.  He spotted some people through a picture
window and decided I needed help.  Before I could turn him back to the
street, the gentleman of the house came out to ask if I needed anything.
After I explained that my dog thought I was lost because I was unable to
find an entrance to attend a meeting at the library, the gentleman showed us
where a back staircase led to an open door.  

 

Gentry loved to travel.  He dived under airline seats and curled up so
tightly, that an airline stewardess once asked me if I wanted my bag put
into the overhead storage locker.  She mistook the handle of his harness for
the handle of a rolling suitcase.  When Gentry was nearly ten, he
accompanied Curtis and me on a Caribbean cruise to celebrate our
twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. He got to leave his mark on seven
different islands.   

 

When Gentry began to limp on cold mornings and had trouble coming awake and
alert after being down at rest, I knew it was time to start the process of
looking for a retirement placement.  He worked ten years.  My husband had
decided to move from Oregon to Colorado. Our eldest daughter had chosen a
college in Grand Junction Colorado. Two of my uncles, two of my brothers, my
mother and several nieces and nephews lived there. Our youngest daughter was
also interested in attending a university in Fort Collins that had three
different tracks of equine management. Having two daughters in college would
mean a lot of out-of-state fees. My mother was experiencing health problems
and as eldest daughter, I wanted to be able to help her deal with things.
Gentry was a country dog. I thought moving from a rural setting to a large
urban one was a lot to expect of an eleven and a half year old dog.

 

  Although his exuberance and strength were a challenge to handle throughout
our time together, he was a wonderful guide.  I couldn't just work him when
I knew he was in pain even though he would have continued to guide until he
dropped-dead in harness of old age. 

 

Scottie, my best friend at college,  and I had kept in touch over the years.
She and her husband and son now lived on the family farm.  Her mother had
recently lost a sweet yellow labrador I had found for her as a companion.
Mom Hagedorn still lived alone in her house on the farm.  Scottie helped me
convince her that Gentry would be a great security guard with his large size
and deep authoritative bark.  His house manners were excellent and he
enjoyed children so Scottie's son Jonathon joined the effort to convince
grandma that they needed to adopt this big fellow.  He died at fourteen.  I
saw him several times during his retirement and was glad he was having a
good time in a warmer climate with a child to play with and other dogs to
dominate.  It seemed to me, that it was only fair to give him those three
years of rest after the ten years he had given me.  

 

Before his death, he achieved two more of his life goals.  One day while
walking along the canal near her home in California, Scottie and Gentry
spotted a bunny out on a spit of land made where the canal made a turn. He
finally caught a rabbit. He proudly brought it and dropped it at Scottie's
feet. He didn't even mind when it proceeded to make its escape. He was just
proud of having caught it. I sent him a plush bunny for Christmas to mark
the event. He also gained a good deal of weight.   I had insisted he remain
below the hundred pound limit because people often mistook his squared off
head, broad muzzle and muscular chest as those of a rotweiler.  I knew that
not even a pinch collar and gentle-leader head collar would be enough to
counter balance his determination and large body mass if he weighed much
more. I suspect Labradors are always hoping to fill out more of the wrinkles
in their oversized hides. They never think they have had enough to eat.
Gentry taught me to accept others for themselves.  No one is perfect, but if
we can learn to focus on the good qualities in their natures, we can live
with those that aren't to our liking. I wrote this poem when I had to attend
a conference after his retirement and before I was given a class date.

 

A Letter To Gentry In His Retirement

 

I am here, X.

I know where I want to go.

The directions I have

Tell me to proceed south.

There is no sun on my face,

No friendly trees festooned with moss on their north sides.

Only this hotel lobby,

With myriad radiating corridors.

No way to guess--which direction to turn.

Decorative planters and urns full of sand,

Spring out to block my path,

As I trail the walls in search of doors.

I grope the panels seeking elusive braille signage.

Guide dogs sweep past me,

And I cross canes with someone going the other way.

I am tempted to challenge--en garde.

I miss you so much, my dear old man.

You who have walked by my side,

Guiding my steps for nine of your eleven years.

You have been my protector, my champion,

My friend, my loyal guide dog.

I am here, X.

But where have they moved there--too?

  

 

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