[Critique Group 1] Fwd: January submission

[tuchyner5 at aol.com]

-----Original Message-----
From: Deanna Noriega <dqnoriega at gmail.com>
To: tuchyner5 <tuchyner5 at aol.com>
Sent: Fri, Jan 11, 2019 3:18 pm
Subject: January submission

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Hello, I think this was too long and got hung up in my outbox. Let’s see if cutting it in half helps

  

Griffin

Griffin was my sixth canine partner.  He was a lovely sensitive male German shepherd Dog.  Although Tammy had been half German Shepherd, she looked most like a black Labrador. Griffin’s temperament was closer to hers. I wrote this poem about transitioning from my large, alpha Gentry to my smaller graceful Shepherd boy.

  

Different

  

His stride was confident and decisive,

His movements forceful.

You are gentle and sometimes hesitant.

He was powerfully built and dense with muscle.

You are almost delicate,

Beautiful instead of handsome.

His head was wide,

Framed by long silken ears.

Yours is narrow with ears that speak your thoughts.

His coat was sleek gleaming midnight.

Yours is two toned.

No longer can I rely on black skirts and slacks to remain looking neat.

He always thought he knew best where we were going.

You cock your head asking,

“Is this right?”

So many ways you are not the same.

When we crossed the street,

And you paused in anxious thought.

I said “Forward, and you inched ahead,

Pressing your lovely face and slender shoulders in to a bush,

Providing me clearance past a pole,

And then you leapt joyfully in to the air!

Spun to place your paws on my shoulders

And kissed my cheek.

I knew then, that in the ways that really matter,

You are the same.

Little shepherd, his Labrador paw prints are large for your small feet to fill.

But I know you can do it.

For in your heart, you are just the same.

You’ll love and protect me as did he.

And guide my steps over the smoothest path you can find.

  

Griffin required a cheerleader to perform at his best.  His pride in his work boosted by a lot of attention and praise enabled me to travel to Mexico twice, Hawaii twice, to visit the Caribbean and to represent various affiliates of the American Council of the Blind in legislative seminars in Washington D.C.  He believed that he was a seventy-five pound lap dog. I will place here a story I wrote from Griffin’s perspective for his puppy-raiser. I have always tried to send at least one letter to each of the raisers of my dogs to thank them for the love and early training they have given my dogs. Griffin’s raiser was a young boy, the youngest of six children. He tried hard to tell me about his puppy. That is why I thought he might like to hear from Griffin himself about his life as a guide dog.

WHERE OH WHERE DID YOUR LITTLE DOG GO?

(The story of a traveling dog)

By Griffin (a Male German Shepherd Dog, 

graduate of The Seeing Eye Inc.) 

  

                In late October of 1998, , I met a lady I wasn’t too sure I would like.  I had grown up as a boy’s puppy. He taught me not to chew up stuff that didn’t belong to me, to stay off furniture and to be a good boy.   Then I learned to love a man who taught me how to work as a  dog guide.  Oh, the lady had a soft voice.  She sat on the floor to cuddle and comfort me when I  whimpered for my trainer, whose voice I heard in the hall.  She even coaxed me to play with toys she had brought in her luggage before the trainers issued other dogs  their toys.  She stroked my pointy ears and told me I was a good boy, but I wasn’t too sure if I wanted to be responsible for taking care of this female human, who didn’t seem to know about steps, poles and cars unless I told her where they were.  Being a guide dog looked awfully hard to me , when you got down to It--for real.

                

                By the second week of working with my new friend, I had decided she was all right.  I didn’t have to share her with other dogs like I did my trainer.  She was all mine.  The day I watched another dog make a mistake and get corrected and then led my lady carefully around the obstacle, I got so excited, I jumped in the air, put my paws on my person’s shoulders and kissed her face.  She laughed and gave me a hug and we were off on a journey together as blind woman and dog guide, a team!  We were two against the world, united by trust and affection.

  

                One day we went to New York City.  I expertly guided my lady through the bustling crowds. There were so many people, carts, even someone in a wheelchair that I had to work really hard.   I stopped at each street corner and reached across her body to touch my nose on her right hand to ask, “Did I do okay?” While we waited for the right time to go across the street, she stroked my head and I knew I was doing just right.  We rode the subway and I found her a seat, even when I had to make someone move to secure one.  It was a busy and a little scary day.  Another time, we went for a walk in the woods.  I had never guided anyone on a trail before, but it wasn’t hard at all.  By this time, I knew just how to signal when to step up or down and how big a difference in the path my lady could handle without tripping.  I was so proud when I heard my trainer say how well I did.  The trainer said that the new team just flowed over the ground together.

  

                Finally, the day came when we went to the airport to leave for my new home.  I didn’t like the plane ride much.  I was nervous about the noise, smells and tight spaces.  I wanted to stretch out and lie flat on my stomach with my tail out behind and take up about six feet of floor space.  I didn’t see why I should fit under an airline seat or not standup to see who was walking by in the aisle.  I was sure glad when we got off the plane.  But then, we got on another and it started all over again!  No fun as far as I was concerned.  Little did I suspect that I would learn to take travel in my stride.

  

                After we got home, I met a lot of other family and friends.  I tried to get the kitties that lived in our house to play with my Kong toy with me.  They just couldn’t seem to get it!  It took a while for us all to settle in together.  Although a Kong wasn’t their thing--go figure, the kitties eventually played chase games and came over to butt heads against me and lie down with me.  Other people in the family discovered I liked to chase sparkles or flashes of light around the floor and wrestle.  I had a lot of learning to do about new places my lady wanted to go too, such as  the twenty-minute walk to the bus stop.  

  

                At the end of the month, we went on a long car trip to Los Vegas.  I guided my lady in and out of restaurants and hotels.  I even took her in to one where people dressed up as aliens walked around. They didn’t fool me, cause they still smelled like people!   The best fun was in a place called Cesar’s palace.  There was a huge aquarium wall and for a moment, I forgot to guide and jumped up on a bench to flatten my face against the glass to watch the fish.  My lady scolded me gently but I knew she wasn’t very mad because she said that my trainer had forgotten to teach me about catfish distractions. 

  

                The next spring, I found myself aboard a plane again going to Cancun Mexico.  I got to see and iguana and wondered what it would be like to play chase with one.  But I didn’t try, because I knew that chase games were not allowed when my harness was on and I had work to do.  Being a perro guia, (Spanish for dog guide) was an important job.  Whether I was guiding my mistress onto a bus, or through a market full of vendors, I kept my mind on keeping her safe.  We went in to restaurants, shops, and hotels, walked along beaches, around fountains and pools and enjoyed the sunshine and interesting sounds and scents. 

  

                By the next fall, I had been to a national convention of The American Council of the Blind, where I saw a lot of dog guides working.  I had also taken a trip to Hawaii. On that trip I finally learned why my lady wanted me tucked up neatly.  I had gotten backed up under the seat ahead of her but insisted on stretching out with my paws and head on the rail under her seat.  When the plane made a steep climb leaving Los Angeles, I slid over the bar and out in to the row behind where my owner sat. I surprised the two teenaged girls sitting there.  The presence of my tail had startled the man sitting in the row ahead of her too. By the time we made a return flight though, I was beginning to be an old hand at air travel.  I knew just how to wriggle under the seat ahead of my lady and position myself so she could brace me with her feet.  There, I relaxed and snoozed until we reached our destination. 

  

                Each trip brought new experiences and I began to look forward to going to the airport.  I watched carefully as my dog bag was packed with my travel bed mat, food, favorite toys and grooming brushes.  By age five, I had visited Washington D.C. twice, guiding my lady as she visited her Congressional representatives and attended meetings.  I had gone to Mexico once more and stayed on three different islands in the Caribbean, where I heard a French name for dog guide.  I had taken her all by myself to another ACB Convention, where I got to see my trainer.  That was fun, but I pretended not to see him because I was showing my lady the door she had asked me to find.  So I didn’t even turn my head but kept looking at the door to prove to her I was her dog one hundred percent.  

  

I had learned how to travel on boats, trains and buses as well as planes.  I had learned to love my work as I guided my lady to business meetings, doctor’ and dentist appointments, to the bank, across town, to church, to school so she could take computer classes, or talk to children, to shop in malls, to movie theaters, and to work.  No matter where she wanted to go, I had learned how to get her there safely, and together we could travel and explore this wonderful world.  A young boy had taught me manners and given me love.  A man had taught me to think and to shoulder responsibility for the safety of a blind person.  Finally, I had been matched with a lady who loved my clownish behavior, praised my intelligence, beauty and needed my protection and my care.  Each day, I drop my toys to run eagerly forward to thrust my head in to my harness.  We work together to form a partnership based on affection and mutual respect.   Thanks to my puppy raiser, my trainer, and my own hard work, I know I have the best of all possible jobs.  I am a  Seeing Eye dog.

  

Griffin was nearly as timid as was Teddy.  He truly wanted to please and tried hard to understand what I wanted.  On our first trip to Washington D.C. I was faced with a mountain of luggage in which my bag was stacked.  I needed to meet my ride out front and there wasn't anyone around to lend me a hand.  I exclaimed, "How will I ever find my bag!"  Griffin stepped to my right and laid his head across a small familiar rolling suitcase.  I had never taught him to locate my possessions, but he did understand the word find paired with things like an elevator, stairs, chair etc.  He drew the conclusion I wanted him to find something and my suitcase containing his rug and toys was the only thing that seemed likely to him.  Sometimes, Griffin got overwhelmed by the difficulties of finding our way in new and strange locales.  When his confidence began to wane, I found he could be reassured if I sang to him as we walked.  If you happened to cross the capitol mall in Washington D.C.

During one of our visits, and spotted a lady chanting Army cadence:

  

I don't know! 

But I've been Told!  

Getting lost can sure grow old!

Pick ‘em up and lay ‘em down.

Come on Griffin, go to town! 

  

It was probably me and my Griffin dog, trying to visit the two senators and 8 members of the house of  Representatives from Colorado.

  

Griffin also helped me through another life transition. I would have had a difficult time adjusting to no longer having any children in our home in Colorado. Our youngest daughter decided not to go to college. She insisted on marrying her high school sweetheart shortly after she turned eighteen. Having Griffin to nurture and shape into a star dog helped me to weather the inevitable stresses of empty nest syndrome.

  

Curtis and I opened a fair trade gift shop in the historical district of Colorado Springs known as Old Colorado City. It kept us busy and gave us a good excuse to travel. Eventually we were selling had-crafted items from over 35 countries. Although we never made much money, we enjoyed the work and the feeling of contributing to third world economics. We explored the available technology such as bar code scanners, programs to keep inventory and ordering that operated with screen-reading talking programs. I took classes to become more computer savvy. I was able to get some writing done and published. 

Not since working with Tammy had my teamwork been so effortless. I wrote the following poem on a sixteen block walk from my fair trade shop to my dentist’s office.

Dancers

We are cloud dancers,

You lead and I follow.

Our steps synchronized

Our bodies swaying to the same rhythm.

  

Swept along in the current of the jet stream.

Floating lightly on the swell of an updraft,

Swooping into a glide down the slope of a down draft.

Side slipping around a gaggle of migrating geese.

Pausing a few beats to let a thunderhead rumble past.

  

Through fog and mist through falling snow we whirl,

Our movements in perfect unison.

Where your paws lead, 

My feet follow.

What does it matter,

If only we two hear the music.

We move together as one being.

We are Cloud dancers, you and I. 

  

  
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