[Critique Group 1] September's Chapter

[Deanna Noriega]

This may seem misnumbered, but I added the essay about my dislike of using a
cane entitled, Doggone befor Teddy's chapter, so had to shift the numbers
down to make them come out. If you want to read that additional essay, it
was published in the first anthology we published, so I can send it if you
want to read it for entertainment. Chapter 21

Phoebe

 

Phoebe was my third guide dog.  I was able to arrange to leave Angelyn with
my in-laws in Phoenix and fly on to The Seeing Eye in March of 1979. It
would had to be then, or put off getting a guide dog for another couple of
years. I was expecting our second child in August. 

 

Phoebe was a large black Labrador retriever.  She took her work very
seriously.  She refused to engage in anything so undignified as play.  If I
threw a ball for her, she looked down her long nose in disgust.  Her
expression clearly stated "I don't chase balls! I'm a guide dog!"  No matter
when we started a route in training, she was determined to finish first.
She earned the name of Phoebe-the-flash from my classmates.  Her work style
was to weave in-and-out without pausing.  Once, we seemed to be doing a lot
of that swivel motion as we went down a block in Morristown.  When we
reached the corner, she stopped at the down curb. She began rearing up and
down joyously.  My trainer caught up and I asked what she was doing!  He
laughed and said, "I think she is saying yahoo! Yahoo! yahoo!"  He
continued, "She just worked a phenomenal block.  She skirted a painter on a
ladder, an open man hole, and a drunk on crutches and she is so proud of
herself."  I was four months pregnant   It was March and the Morristown
streets were icy.  My instructor had not been Phoebe's trainer. This happens
when an instructor borrows a dog from another instructor's string because it
is a better match than any of the dogs in his own string. He also has the
option of drawing from dogs who have completed guide dog training but
weren't matched in previous classes. Dogs who are held back to become
breeders are kept up to speed and may also go back into the pool of dogs
waiting for a match. If none of these dogs seem right for a student once
they arrive in class, or the first match in class isn't working out, a dog
just completing training may be used.   

 

My instructor was a little concerned about my safety, since I was in my
first trimester of my pregnancy. I nearly gave him a heart attack, when I
stepped off a curb, my feet went out from under me and I did a belly-flop,
slid out into the street and almost under a city bus!  As I scrambled up my
horrified instructor rushed to assist.  "Are you hurt?" he gasped.  

"No," I replied, "But the light is about to change and we'd better run for
it or we risk being flattened by that bus."  

Phoebe was unique because after being leash corrected for sniffing a pigeon,
she did traffic checks to allow those famous Morristown pigeons,  unsniffed
of course, to pass by, before proceeding.  

 

            Five months later, Phoebe rose from her rug to touch my cheek
with a concerned cold nose each time I felt a labor pain.  She learned to
guide me while I towed a stroller behind me, while I carried an infant in a
front pack.  The tougher the assignment, the faster she wagged her tail.  I
remember her joy when she guided me through a Japanese garden full of
winding paths and little bridges. She was up for any aedventure.

 

Phoebe worked for only four years. At a reception, a man stepped back on her
paw. He shattered a claw on her rightfront paw. It became infected and
despite all the soaking, wrapping and anti-biotics, wouldn't heal. My vet
was forced to remove the toe. The infection continued and the vet sent
samples to the university. They reported she had developed bone cancer in
two more of her toes.  When her foreleg had to be amputated to save her from
the ravages of the cancer, I felt there was no choice.  We didn't have the
money to pay for the surgery she needed.  She had been a wonderful
courageous friend. At home, she  walked with the affected paw raised.  She
continued walking on her painful paw whenever she was in harness.  I threw
myself into finding Phoebe a good retirement home and made arrangements to
make payments on the vet bills. I talked to everyone about needing to retire
her. The mother of a child in my Angelyn's preschool class had wanted a dog
for her three young boys. She thought a large dog would be the best choice
for rough active boys. She dreaded having to housebreak a puppy. Although my
girl would have continued to guide despite the pain until she was too sick
to work, she deserved a chance at a happy career change and comfortable
retirement. To date, this was my hardest retirement to go through. I dropped
off her food dishes and rug at her new home on the morning I took her in for
the surgery. I brought her there straight from her release from the vet's
office. She was swathed in bandages and groggy with pain medications. I
accepted a cup of coffee and spent time explaining how to take care of her
to her new family. It was painful to leave because she kept staggering from
her rug to lie with her head on my foot. I stayed away for several months.
Finally, I attended a birthday party for one of the boys at a city park.
Phoebe ran to place her head on my lap and vocalized for several minutes
with her broad head in my lap. She seemed to be trying to tell me about her
adventures since we had last been together.

The family told me about how she won at a neighborhood pet dog event. She
had worn sunglasses and a bikini and had done basic obedience things like
sit, lie down and stay on command. She had kept the youngest child from
leaving the front yard, and she stood guard between a scissor salesman and
the children when he came into the yard. 

 

When the party came to an end, I picked up the harness for my new guide dog
and Phoebe thrust her head through the yoke, offering to take up her role as
guide dog, even on three legs. Of course this wasn't possible. She walked
beside me back to where our car was parked next to her new family's truck.
She stood there looking back and forth until one of her boys called to her.
She ran to jump into the truck. She was thirteen-years old when her family
moved out of state and we lost track of each other. During those seven years
of retirement, she worked to be a good nanny for three active boys, learned
to eat lobster thermidor and sleep on beds. 

Phoebe taught me that any task undertaken and accomplished well is a thing
to celebrate. She helped me to learn to put my dog's needs ahead of my own
and to look until I found the best solution to retire my guide dogs.

 

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