Donna’s Blog

The Night Walk

April 27, 2018 By Donna Mack

It’s Monday—St. Patty’s Day—and I’m not wearing green because there’s nothing green in my wardrobe. Who cares! My classmates don’t have a clue. ?

My brain fog has lifted, after some much-needed R&R—and it shows. The morning route goes smoothly, with no directional cues from Larissa, my instructor. On our return, Wella chooses to sniff a telephone pole, rather than showing it to me. She blows past a sloped area where she typically slows down, to “show” me the change in grade, for safety’s sake. Larissa is easing up on giving me information. Today, I’m providing correction independently without prompting or cues from her. Although today’s return route feels a bit longer than normal, completion carries with it a huge sense of satisfaction and accomplishment.

Tuesday’s schedule is packed! I manage to squeeze in a few minutes at the school’s gift shop between morning lesson and lunch. The gift shop is staffed by volunteers, so has very limited hours of operation.

“What’s your dog’s name?” asks the kind older gentleman behind the counter. When I answer, he goes on to say that Wella was one of the dogs he had bathed on Sunday in preparation for our Monday “Dog Day”/start of class. My heart swells with gratitude.

SO much cute dog merchandise—SO little time! The staff and my classmates prove invaluable in helping me pare-down my selections. I come out with extra supplies for Wella—including an LED light that attaches to her harness for night travel—just perfect for our one-and-only night lesson this evening. I’m looking for some sort of gift to give her puppy raisers, whom I hope to meet at graduation. I locate a cute, silver-tone picture frame with engraved paw prints and the school’s logo at the bottom. I decide to include Wella’s and my first pic together from “Dog Day.” Hope they like it.

It’s almost time for our night lesson. I don my windbreaker and florescent pink reflective armbands, then attach the LED light to Wella’s harness before guiding her head through the opening and fastening the chest strap. Along with the rest of the class, we make our way outside and into one of the SUVs waiting to transport us downtown.

The main difference I notice in this lesson is the absence of background noise—so much so that when I encounter people on the street in conversation, they sound waaaay louder than in the daytime. Wella seems a bit more cautious—not sure if it’s because of the lighting conditions, or she picks up on my mood. She appears extra focused and attentive, but still very calm.

Not far into our route, Kelly, the class supervisor pops out from behind some bushes.

“Is that that cute little Wella dog?” he says in a sort of shrill, creepy voice. Wella blows past him like he doesn’t even exist. What a good girl!

Near the end of the route, we pass a truckload of barking dogs. While initially a little curious, I feel Wella begin to tense up ever so slightly. “Good dog,” I say applaudingly, and continue to encourage both her excellent focus and desire to get past this gang of snarling, angry-sounding mutts as quickly as possible.

A safe distance away, dropping to one knee, I stop to extend some extra calming appreciation and love to my precious little companion in light of the very undeserved and unfriendly greeting she has just experienced. Larissa praises me for my attention to Wella’s needs. Our night lesson is concluded. We head back to campus and call it a day.

Working For The Weekend

December 1, 2015 By Donna Mack

It’s Saturday, March 15. Once again, we’re headed for the downtown coffee shop. When we get to the corner of 5th and E, we discover a parade going on. Wella does a magnificent job, weaving me through crowds of people and avoiding any kind of mishap with such incredible ease. She does a great job of staying focused through the crowds. I find that if I proactively reassure her before we reach a potential distraction, she tends to stay more focused.

A fire truck passes—sirens blaring. I have Wella sit, while I stroke her ears, head and neck to keep her calm as we wait for the noise to subside before resuming our route.

We arrive at the coffee shop. Kelley again meets us and is most complimentary of our handling of the route. I require very little prompting on the return.

It’s Sunday—our only day off during the entire program! I drag myself out of bed at 7:00, throw on a pair of shoes and jeans, and take Wella outside to relieve, then return to my room to feed her breakfast. I slip off my shoes and jeans and return to bed for another couple hours of much-needed sleep.

Because this is “doggie boot camp” with only one day off, and eleven days of highly intensive training, the housekeeping staff treat us like absolute gold. On Sunday, they provide continental breakfast until 10:00, then begin serving made-to-order breakfast/brunch around 10:30.

I crawl out of bed for the second time around 10:00, shower, dress, and Wella and I make our way to the dining room for my custom omelet and seasonal fruit.

After brunch, Stephen, Michelle, Sharon and I spend a few hours at the mall, doing some shopping, and rounding out the afternoon with a trip to BJ’s Brewhouse, to enjoy appetizers and an assortment of beverages. The time away is most welcome…but I find myself missing my sweet Wella girl. (Outside of class time, we are not allowed to leave campus with our dogs prior to graduation.)

Back on campus, they’re offering an optional T-Touch therapeutic massage class to show us the basics of canine massage. Wella enjoys it so much that she’s snoring by the end of the hour.

Because we are training with the dogs for several hours per day, and because handlers experience a great deal of tension from the amount of shoulder movement that is required in guidework, the school has arranged for a massage therapist to be available for hire. He works at the students’ expense) on Sunday evening, for 30 or 60 minute sessions, where he uses therapeutic massage to help alleviate muscular tensions and strain of the human halves of each team

Oh my gosh! What an experience! This guy finds tension in the tiniest of muscles I never realized I had (or used). I’m now completely relaxed. I wish he didn’t have other appointments after mine…I just know I could fall asleep right here if he’d just give me three more minutes. This has got to be the best massage I’ve had to date.

Following my massage, I’m able to polish off the evening with an extra-therapeutic fifteen minutes in the hot tub. Sharon and I enjoy conversation over a cup of hot tea, and snuggle time with our dogs before calling it a night.

Tiny Tremendous Victories

November 7, 2015 By Donna Mack

Today is Thursday, and things are starting to gel. We complete our morning route—and I actually remember it in its entirety for the first time in the three days we’ve been working here. I typically learn routes extremely quickly, but there has been SO much to focus on for the past few days, that knowing how many blocks in a particular direction and where and which way to turn have proven too much for my poor overworked brain. We walk in tandem for the bulk of the morning, and it feels as if we’ve turned a very important corner—no pun intended—in our training.

When we arrive at campus for lunch, Michelle mentions not feeling well, so she stays in for the afternoon session. Although I hate that she feels ill, I am grateful to have the extra time to work one-on-one with Larissa.

Larissa brings a grooming kit, and talks me through the process of grooming Wella for the first time. Wella appears to enjoy it. Her raisers have trained her well, because she’s quite tolerant of having her teeth brushed, and is particularly fond of the poultry-flavored toothpaste.

For the entire time we’ve been walking in harness, Larissa has prodded me to generously and consistently provide Wella with verbal praise and encouragement. Just like my ability to memorize routes, things are finally beginning to click and this, too, is starting to occur naturally. Our afternoon route goes very smoothly as well, and I feel my frustration beginning to subside.

The three of us return to the lounge. As we approach the entry, Larissa moves ahead and positions herself between us and the front door and does her best to distract Wella by creating a ruckus and saying things like: “Oh, puppy, puppy, puppy! What a cute doggie! Oh, Doggie, come here!”

Because I remain calm and anticipate Wella’s temptation, encouraging her all the while, keeping her focus on the positive feedback I give—and because this level of investment is now starting to pay off for both of us—Wella is able to blow right by Larissa, as if she didn’t even exist. What a tiny, tremendous victory! It feels like we’re a team…and she’s truly my dog, now!

It’s now Friday. What a great day! Our morning routes go smoothly, but not mistake-free. I blank a couple of times, not knowing exactly how to properly correct her or not communicating as accurately in the moment as I’d like… but we work our way through. Kelley, our class supervisor, pops in a few times during my route, attempting to distract Wella. He doesn’t succeed. He meets us at our destination—a coffee shop—and is most complimentary of my handling of Wella, saying he would’ve never pegged me as a newbie. What a vote of confidence!

On campus, Larissa works with me to teach Wella how to locate a chair in the dining room. Hopefully the lesson will kick in and Wella will guide me safely and smoothly to a chair when dinner is served in an hour.

Approaching Overload

November 5, 2015 By Donna Mack

To say that dogs are a common sight on the downtown San Rafael streets is a bit of an understatement. It’s a pet-friendly place, for sure…but it’s more than that. Our class’s six new guide dog teams are practicing routes downtown. As I soon discover, trainers from the school also come here to walk under blindfold with the younger dogs who are preparing to be guides. Though this is my first time to walk these streets, it is certainly not Wella’s.

The environment is perfect for learning. There are ample opportunities for distraction, including multiple invitations by other dogs to socialize, or otherwise lose focus…But my little girl handles it all like a pro. She briefly entertains the potential for distraction once or twice. All I have to do is to cue her with the leash, or give her the command to resume pace, and she is immediately back on track, resuming both her pace and line of travel. Wella leads me around various tables, occasional bicyclists, several groups of people, and many sets of stairs—all without my knowledge—until Larissa makes me aware of them, pointing out what tremendous judgment it takes on Wella’s part to appropriately negotiate such situations, navigating us safely around and through them. What a smart little girl!

It’s now Tuesday, and a much hotter day. I’m not sure what is up—maybe we’re both just overly tired, but Wella and I have a tougher time staying in-sync this morning. I feel so overwhelmed and frustrated by the fact that I sometimes don’t know when to use what commands. I know I (all too often) say the wrong thing. It has to be confusing for Wella…It’s certainly frustrating for me.

Mid-morning, I get to feeling unworthy and think: “She’s such a sweet, smart little dog. She deserves a handler that knows what the hell she is doing! She certainly deserves someone who is more consistent than I’m capable of being right now. What a precious dog! I hope I can be that person for her someday.”

It’s almost lunchtime. It’s been a long, disconnected morning, but Wella and I are finally in-sync with one another, walking in tandem as one unit. Despite the morning chaos, we emerge as a team!

In the afternoon lecture, we discuss the process of re-working problems.

During the afternoon work session, the instructors have set up various types of distractions for the dogs—some of which they pass, and some of which they don’t. This affords me the opportunity to observe Wella’s level of attentiveness to each task with which she is presented. I then have the responsibility of evaluating any missed step or inattentiveness on her part, bringing the error to her attention, following up with the appropriate form of correction, and finally re-working the error—affording Wella some redemption by allowing her the chance to correct her approach—a timely lesson for both of us.

As we load the dogs into the van for our return to campus, Larissa comments that Wella wags each time I touch her. Despite my shortcomings as a handler, I touch her, and she wags. What a capacity for love! What welcome news at the end of this long, “beating” of a day!

Teaming Up

October 28, 2015 By Donna Mack

I tap the screen on my phone to silence my unwelcome and all-too-early-sounding alarm. Opening my eyes I discover I’m being watched by the most joyful little black face, gazing lovingly at me-she’s the perfect height to rest her chin on my bed, while peering just over its edge.

As I roll to the edge of my bed, an excited Wella greets me with kisses and wags—her back half in constant motion, hopping around as she did when we first met yesterday—as if there were springs on the bottoms of her feet.

“Well, good morning, sweet girl. Did you sleep okay? It’s so nice to wake up to all this love! How about if I throw on a pair of jeans and we go outside to do your business?”

Wella does her business and eats breakfast. I shower quickly, get dressed, and the two of us head for the dining room.

After breakfast, Wella and I begin our first day of class as a team. For the morning session, we students walk around campus, with our dogs in “heel” position, practicing our commands, hand gestures and footwork, honing our proficiency in preparation for traveling as teams in harness.

Larissa comes to my room a few minutes prior to the afternoon session to deliver Wella’s harness. She stays to talk me through the process of putting her in harness—explaining the importance of holding onto the leather belly strap that dangles from the harness, taking care to ensure it doesn’t bump Wella’s face or eyes as I gently lift her chin with one hand to guide her head through the leather chest opening. Larissa talks me through the process of ensuring the belly strap is on the appropriate setting and cautions against catching fur in the buckle.

This afternoon, we’re going to downtown San Rafael to work on routes. Wella leading me through the downtown streets for the very first time is an absolutely magical experience! It feels like we’re flying. All I can think is: “Oh my gosh! I’m being led…by a DOG—an amazingly brilliant dog! I can’t believe we’re going SO fast!”

Being led by a guide dog is quite different from walking with a white cane. As a cane traveler, I have the freedom to stop spontaneously at will during my walk to assess my surroundings. When using a guide dog, the intention to stop must be communicated in advance to the dog.

I catch myself easily falling behind as my head is swimming with new information: I try to remember the commands I currently need, as well as to anticipate which ones the upcoming route will demand; to constantly be aware of my body positioning—to not fall so far behind as to step on Wella’s back feet—but not be so far forward to prevent her from going forward or inhibit my ability to pick up on her movements; to mentally keep track of which of the various forms of correction would prove most appropriate should the need arise.

Sensing my frustration, Larissa gently explains that dogs are always very much in the moment…And to be an effective handler, I would benefit from calming my thoughts and learning to be right there in the moment with Wella.

Wella

October 6, 2015 By Donna Mack

While Wella’s nap continues, I make a FaceTime call to my husband (Steve) and son (Jordan) to catch up on the day’s events and introduce them to my traveling companion and our newest family member. Wella wakes up and stretches during our conversation. I can tell they’re happy for me, but so wish my phone’s camera could do her adorable personality justice. We hang up, so I can FaceTime Lindsey for her to meet Wella as well.

Larissa returns to my room around 4:30, to ensure I keep Wella on her feeding and relieving schedule. She watches me measure kibble for accuracy and to ensure I add the appropriate temperature and amount of warm water to her food to aid in Wella’s digestion.

We step outside, past the patio to the relief area, where she talks me through the process of relieving my dog: lengthening the leash; walking Wella in a circle around me to my right and telling her to do her business. When she stops, I calmly and carefully place my hand on her back to determine if it’s angled or arched.

An angled back indicates urination, so I do nothing. If the dog’s back is arched, I cautiously point my left toes toward her bum, wait for her to finish and start to walk again. I then command her to “sit” a few steps away. Carefully following the direction of my left foot, I then approach the evidence with a “bagged” hand, and scoop it up. There is a bag receptacle on the far side of the planter separating my patio from my neighbor’s to the left. Relief areas are hosed down and sanitized by staff after each relieving session.

Each dog accompanies its handler to the dining room for meals. For now (because we are not proficient as teams in harness) each dog walks on a short leash at its handler’s left side, in the “heel” position. Because the GDB facilities house clients who can’t see, there are no obstacles or protruding objects as a general rule, so it’s safe for us to move around the dormitory in this fashion.

To foster a sense of reliance within each guide dog team, we are instructed not to interact with one another’s dogs, and the dogs are not to interact with each other. Likewise, staff is discouraged from interacting with the dogs. The instructors interact directly with the animals only when absolutely necessary. For the most part, they instruct us on what commands, rewards or corrections to give in specific situations to elicit the response we desire from our new partners.

With the oiled leather braid of her leash in my left hand and feeling the occasional brush of her soft, shiny black coat against my corresponding leg, Wella and I escape to our patio after dinner. There we meet Carrie, the afternoon nurse, who has agreed to use my phone to take Wella’s and my first picture together. Carrie moves a chair, allowing me to sit in front of the planter, providing a background of orange flowers in tasteful contrast with my purple shirt. Wella lays at my feet. I post the pic to Facebook with the caption: “Everybody, meet Wella: 54-1/2 lb., 21” tall.”

After our photoshoot and an enjoyable conversation with Carrie, we retreat to our room. I review the reading assignment via MP3, as I sit beside Wella on the floor, winding down by stroking her belly and back. It’s been a wonderful, eventful day for which I’m most grateful. I suspect we’ll both sleep well tonight.

Wella

September 19, 2015 By Donna Mack

Lindsey and I conclude our conversation; I lay my phone on the nightstand, hit the restroom and return to my perch on the edge of the bed. There’s a knock on my door. Finally! I get to meet my new partner!

I open the door all the way, take a couple of steps back, and drop to my knees, so that Wella and I are closer to the same level.

“Here she comes,” says Larissa, who is accompanied by one of the other staffers who has agreed to video our meeting for me. The staffer hands off the leash to Larissa, who then removes it once my door is shut.

Wella bounces into the room and begins to sniff around excitedly.

“She’s checking things out,” Larissa says.

“Come here, pretty girl. Can I check you out?” I ask. “What a happy girl,” I say, as the wagging of Wella’s tail causes it to thump repeatedly against the wall.

“She’s a beautiful dog,” says Larissa. “She has a beautiful soft, shiny black coat, and chocolate eyes.”

I run my hands over the sweet, excited dog, and am amazed by the softness of her coat—It’s like satin—especially her ears, which are the softest part.

“Oh, she likes you,” Larissa comments, as Wella checks me out with her cute little nose, panting excitedly. Wella ecstatically moves around me in a sequence of quick little hops on all-fours—jumping for joy—as if she had springs on the bottoms of her feet. I can tell she might have been a “jumper-onner,” if she weren’t so meticulously trained. Out of nowhere, she surprises me with an enthusiastic kiss on the nose. We all laugh.

“Would you like to put the leash on her?”

“I’d be honored.”

Larissa hands me the leash. Still kneeling, I attach it to the O-ring on Wella’s collar, and shorten the lead.

As Wella continues to wag, I notice that not only her tail, but her entire back half is in motion. I just LOVE seeing such joyful spirit in a dog.

“You’re a wagger! I wanted a wagger!”

“Well, she’s your dog now.”

I rise to my feet, as Wella moves forward, anticipating Larissa’s exit.

“I know you want to go with them, but it’s time for you to stay with Me now,” I assure her.

They exit the room, and I take a seat on the floor, beside my bed and Wella’s fleece sleeping mat. She lies down on the mat, and I begin stroking her black satin coat. Almost immediately, this precious dog is on her back— allowing me the privilege of her trust. I begin rubbing her belly, and she falls fast asleep within a couple of minutes.

I continue the belly rub for quite some time, speaking softly to her all the while. I thank her for being the dog that will change my life, and wonder aloud about the many adventures we’ll share on our journey together. Wella—what an answer to prayer you are! What a perfect dog! You are everything I hoped you’d be.

DOG DAY!

September 18, 2015 By Donna Mack

The tables buzz with excited lunchtime chatter. Mindful of the time, I finish my meal, return to my room, freshen-up, brush my teeth and excitedly head for the library. We’ve been directed to meet the instructors there at 1:00 PM where we’ll learn a little about our individual dogs prior to receiving them mid-afternoon.

We each take a seat around a long table. I choose a middle spot, across from the instructors. We quickly go over the feeding, watering and relieving schedules…

Now, for the moment we’ve been waiting for as a class. The instructors begin in alphabetical order—Thank God I’m an “A”!

Suddenly, my mouth goes dry, my heart rate quickens, and I feel my palms beginning to sweat…What if they match me with a male dog? I’ve never had a male dog before…Can I trust that this match will work, even if I’m not paired with the dog I think I want? I remind myself to breathe, and that the folks here are professionals who have been matching people to dogs for a very long time.

Larissa begins: “Donna, you’ll be getting Wella.”

Time stands completely still, allowing me to take in her name.

“Wella,” I say to myself, and softly repeat it aloud, “Wella”—I love her “W-name”. Larissa was right—I wouldn’t have guessed it in a million years.

Time begins to move again and Larissa continues the introductory info: “Female black lab, 54-1/2 lb., 21” tall.” I got just what I asked for—a small, female black lab with a great name!
Larissa concludes with Wella’s date of birth, and the names of her parents.

One by one we’re given the same introductory info about each dog: Kimi receives a yellow lab named Galena; Michelle, a black lab/golden cross named Nikki; Stephen is paired with black lab, Murray; Bonnie, with yellow lab Glenn; and Sharon with black lab, Christopher. One by one, I observe the same response as each dog’s name is announced:Each new handler pauses for a second, as if to take it all in, then as if on cue, every last one of us repeats our new canine partner’s name aloud (at least once)—typically with a thoughtful comment like: “Hmm, I like that!”

Class is dismissed. We return to our rooms where we wait (impatiently) for the instructors to individually present us with our dogs.

I lie back on my bed and stare at the ceiling. I’m imagining Wella and what she must be like.So far, all the physical characteristics and the name are exactly what I’d hoped for. What kind of personality will she have? Will she like me?

I can tell this is going to take a while. I need to distract myself from the stagnant time, so decide to phone my daughter, Lindsey, who is currently apartment-bound recuperating from a fractured foot. My entire family has been most supportive of my efforts toward getting a dog, but Lindsey is the most demonstrative by far.

We catch up a bit. She apprises me of her latest mobility progress. I fill her in on the adventures of the previous day’s flight, and give her a FaceTime tour of my room.

(To Be Continued.)

DOG DAY

July 21, 2015 By Donna Mack

I’m up, ready to greet the day…and my dog. I roll over, grab my phone, open FaceBook and post:

“Does anybody know what day it is???”
“IT’S DOG DAY!!!”

I shower, put on a pair of jeans and my favorite purple t-shirt, and make my way to breakfast. As I walk rhythmically down the hall—the tapping of my cane announcing each corresponding step, I can’t help but smile to myself, remembering that this is my last morning (for a very long time) to be responsible for just Me.

We report to group lectures at 8:00 AM, where we meet our instructors face-to-face for the first time. Morning lectures reinforce our reading assignments from the prior evening, and each of the instructors take turns both presenting and soliciting interactive feedback from us. There are two students per instructor,so on this first day we all learn who we’ll be paired with for the experiential part of class. Michelle and I are assigned to Larissa; Kimi and Bonnie are with Leo; Sharon and Stephen have Jeff.

After our lecture, the instructors break off into separate rooms. Michelle and I take turns showing Larissa (and demonstrating for one another) the techniques we learned in class, with the help of Wheeler (a cloth-covered, life-sized dog on wheels, used to teach appropriate leash correction technique), and Juno (a training technique mentioned in an earlier post,in which the trainer pulls the harness, mimicking movements and behaviors of a real guide dog).

Such basic guide-work steps are critical to the success of any team. I need to become fluent In them so my soon-to-be partner and me can maximize our potential. As I practice giving Wheeler corrections, Larissa ensures that my movements utilize my wrist—to avoid potential injury—and that they are focused enough to grab a real dog’s attention.

We remain in the classroom during a short instruction break. Michelle and I express that we are beside ourselves with anticipation about meeting our dogs after lunch. Despite our best attempts to remain focused on learning the tasks at hand, we’d each admittedly rather learn something about our dogs.

Larissa is a pro. She’s been through this too many times before to spoil our later dog day surprises. She won’t budge with any real details—not even gender. She does finally appease us by telling us the first letters of each of our dog’s names. Michelle’s begins with an “n””and mine with a “W”.

“W”? Really? I’d hoped to get a dog with a name that I love…Right now, I’m sitting here, racking my brain, trying to come up with a “W” name that I love.

“Hmmm, is it Winifred?”
“No.”
“Wasabi???”
“No.”

“Oh, I know… You guys are giving me WHEELER,”I say with a smile. We all laugh.

“You’ll never guess in a million years,” says Larissa. “Even if you got it right, I wouldn’t tell you. You’ll just have to stay in suspense until afternoon.”

(To be continued)

Getting A Guide Dog (Part 3)

March 25, 2015 By Donna Mack

The dorms are brand new, beautiful…and thoughtfully designed for people experiencing vision loss. Jen shows me to my room. The first thing I notice is a padded storage bench to my left, just inside the entry. The bench houses a large canister of kibble, 2 dog bowls, a measuring scoop for feeding, dish soap, a plastic scrubby and extra storage space. There is a series of rubberized hooks on the wall above the bench, one of which holds dog-waste bags. A new-looking kennel, extra-long tie down and fluffy white fleece sleeping mat are located on the right side of my bed, awaiting the arrival of my new companion tomorrow.

My classmates and I each have private rooms, complete with full bath, personal fridge, coffee maker, queen bed, recliner, flat-screen tv and individual patio. Each patio features an outdoor bistro table and chairs on one side, and a planter filled with gorgeous orange flowers on the other. The layout of the planters keeps us from wandering into our neighbors’ space, serving as a landmark to orient us to the back doors of our own apartments.

Although we still appear to be on some form of concrete, the ground slopes slightly downward near the back of the patio area. A drainage system has been installed in the sloped area, and lidded waste cans appear at regular intervals, across from the patio planters. It is the dogs’ relieving area, and is hosed down and sanitized by staff after each relieving session. Two individual fenced play yards are located farther beyond the patio and relief areas.

On our tour, we are oriented to: the main lobby where we meet each morning for class; nurse’s and instructors’ offices; overnight staffers’ room and dining hall. We’re also shown: the library with its incredible selection of audio books, DVDs and adaptive computer stations; student laundry; lounge with fridge, microwave, assorted drink mixes and big-screen-tv for those with low vision to enjoy; weight room and hot tub area—all available for our use during our time at Guide Dogs for the Blind— and all provided through generous gifts from GDB donors.

While dinner is being prepared, the six of us gather around a single dining table and take turns introducing and telling a little about ourselves: Newlywed Michelle is a mom in her 30’s. She has recently relocated and has a promising second job interview scheduled with a nonprofit in her area. Steven is Canadian and a member of the Indian Nation. He is middle-aged, widowed, devoted to his daughter and grandchildren, and possesses a wonderfully dry sense of humor. “Energizer bunny” Kimi is in her mid-to-late 20’s, works in the legal field and attends law school. Her sweet friend, Bonnie, is laid-back, retired and lives in Washington State. Kimi and Bonnie were classmates at GDB with their previous dogs. Since both dogs were retiring, they asked to be placed in the same class again. My favorite, Sharon, is also Canadian. She’s a very fun, young and energetic 60-something who is highly involved in vision-loss advocacy and education in her home province. I’m the only “newbie”. All are getting replacement dogs but me.

We chat during dinner and a few minutes beyond…leaving before we’re asked to by kitchen staff. Jen advises us of our reading assignment in preparation for tomorrow, available electronically or in large print.

The remainder of my evening is spent finally unpacking, reading my assignment and reacquainting myself with the surroundings presented to me in the earlier tour, as my late arrival left no other opportunity for exploration. I fall asleep, exhausted and incredibly excited about meeting my new best friend…thrilled with the promise of all tomorrow holds.