Follow Your Dog: A Story of Love and Trust

By Ann Chiappetta

What, exactly, does it mean to share one’s life with a guide dog?

While there is practical merit to the human-canine bond, which developed over a period of 70,000 years, it’s not akin to any other human-animal relationship. It is unique.

The person and guide dog are interdependent, and the bond of mutual trust is what makes the partnership successful and fulfilling for both. Ask yourself how many people you would trust with your life, and after answering, ask yourself if you would trust an animal with your life. Unless you are bonded to and live with a working dog, you might hesitate in answering the second question.

To be sure, guide dogs have performed many heroic tasks and have saved handlers from innumerable dangers. However, there are smaller and subtler things that can mean so very much: the feel of your dog’s head on a foot while riding the bus, the whimpers and doggie dreaming, the way you and the dog move in sync when walking down the street, and countless other tokens of trust and affection.

With this book, I hope to take the reader on a journey of understanding: learning what it’s like to overcome the darker side of disability by walking the path of independence with a canine partner.

--Ann Chiappetta

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ann Chiappetta
• Release date: Oct 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370530144

Ann Chiappetta

Ann Chiappetta is a writer, poet, and essayist. Her writing has been featured in dozens of small press poetry, fiction, and nonfiction journals and anthologies including the Pangolin Review, Poesis Poetry Journal, Dialogue Magazine, Magnets and Ladders literary magazine, and Breath and Shadow, a magazine of disability Literature. Ann hopes to make meaningful connections with others through writing.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Part One

Man’s Best Friend

Past, Present, and Future

Coke Bottle Bottoms and Solitude

Unconditional Regard with Four Paws

Earning and Learning Doggie Style

Two for One

Part Two

Living the Blind Life

Rehabilitation

Kibbles and Pouches and Leashes,  Oh, My!

Getting Acquainted

Training Hurdles

Dog Day

Magic in Black

OMG!

Part of the Family

Bold and Beautiful, Woof!

The Finish Line

Where Is the Drill Sergeant When You Need One?

Traveling Together

Dynamic Duo

Barricades

Domiciliary Dynamics

Winter Woes

Strength in Numbers

Saying Goodbye

Making Progress with This Thing Called Blindness

Back in the Saddle

Mist and Maple Leaves

Home Away from Home

More Than Just a Dog

Moving On

Part Three

Making the Transition

Slowing Down

Whoa, Doggie!

Recovering and Impatient

How to Read the Signs

Second Dog Syndrome: Blog Post from 2014

Big Yellow Fellow

Dog Two

2015

More on Transitioning

A Weekend to Remember

Resources and Appendix

List of Guide Dog Schools  in the United States as of October 2017

Blindness Resources

About the Author

Editing and Self–Publishing Services

Acknowledgements

This book wouldn’t have been written without the trustworthiness and intelligence of my first guide dog, Verona; her successor, Bailey; and all the dogs I’ve known and loved who came before them.

I am most grateful for this life, for being fortunate enough to be able to appreciate and benefit from the mutual bond with dogs throughout my life up to this point. I also want to acknowledge the people who know the value of the human–dog partnership. Thanks to my birth family for being there when I began losing my vision, and to my husband, Jerry, who stuck it out with me; to my kids: I am proud of them because both have grown into compassionate and caring adults who understand abilities beyond disability. Thanks to Charlie Brown, the affable and clownish Airedale, who looked into my eyes and allowed me to see a beautiful canine soul, and to all the dogs who enriched my life by trusting and befriending me since I connected with Charlie Brown as a child.

Thanks to all my writing friends and editors. Your support and feedback are more valuable than gold.

Thanks to Leonore and David Dvorkin, my editors and publishing experts, who helped me with kind and skilled guidance.

Most important, thanks to Guiding Eyes for the Blind for so much, most of which is written on these pages and the remainder of which is stashed in my heart.

To my sister and photographer, Cheryll, and her eye and instinct for knowing just what I am imagining and making it happen.

Special thanks to the folks who have helped me in all aspects of my personal, professional, and writing endeavors. You all know who you are; I hope you won’t mind my skipping out on a very long and protracted thank−you list.

Introduction

And so, on to the introduction to this book. The idea for it began after I started a blog and wrote about working and living with a guide dog. At the time, around 2010, I wasn’t even trying to write a book. It just happened. Blog posts morphed into essays, then into a few chapters, and so on.

I was writing other prose. Many shorter essays and poems were published, too. Yet I felt it wasn’t time for a biography or memoir; both my parents were still alive, and I struggled with how to approach them once the words were written, the content of which might cause them emotional pain. Our family was torn apart by divorce and other things. I wasn’t sure either of them was ready to be examined by others in, of all things, a book. I worked on a fictional account of growing up, then tried a first–person version of it, and finally gave up. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t going to get it published. I was afraid of how my words would affect my family and friends. How did memoirists do it? I was at a loss and put the manuscripts away, moving on to other things.

I concentrated on short works, wrote for a few online magazines, completed non–fiction and poetry for a few years, posting a few short stories and more than a few poems on my blog, www.thought–wheel.com, which got very little feedback.

During this time of what I call writing but not getting anywhere, we said goodbye to our dad, then my mother–in–law, and a few years after that, our mom.

We were in Mom’s apartment, getting it ready to be cleaned out, and I was listening to my sister–in–law read some of Mom’s journal. I was struck by how well Mom wrote, the beauty of her prose. At that moment, I promised myself that I would honor her memory and get published.

The journey was not overly long, but frustrating. The technicalities of desktop publishing were significant barriers; people I contacted to find out if anyone could help me with the formatting and uploading, etc., were dead ends, and I was about to give up. Then it came to me to read other guide dog partnership stories and find out who their publishers were and follow the route leading to those prospects. I found the email address for Leonore and David Dvorkin, and the rest, as they say, is history.

In closing, I hope you enjoy and are impacted by this book. I hope you learn something about how something beautiful can grow from the soil of loss and suffering. I hope that even if you are not a dog−centric person or animal lover, you will find this book compelling and entertaining. There is not just a spiritual but also a practical merit to the human–canine bond. It has had over 70,000 years to develop and is quite unique. It’s not akin to any other relationship, even though it has benefits similar to any other valued animal–person interaction. It is more than just anthropomorphizing your animal to where you believe that your dog will learn how to read someday or that dressing Fifi up in puppy fashion products makes her oh so cute and happy.

The best I can do without drawing from the book’s message and spoiling the story is to say that the person and guide dog are interdependent, and the bond of mutual trust is what makes the partnership successful and fulfilling for both. Ask yourself how many people you would trust with your life, and after answering, ask yourself if you would trust an animal with your life.

Unless you are bonded to and live with a working dog, you might hesitate in answering the second part of the question. Let me say here that although I use the phrase working dog, the words don’t explain what a working dog really is, contextually speaking. What I mean is a dog that accompanies a person while working or going about activities of daily living. It could be a hunting dog, a show dog, a dog used to mitigate a disability, a therapy dog, or, in fact, any dog that keeps company in a significant way during day–to–day business. It is this unique and powerful partnership that I hope to explain so that the reader can understand and appreciate it.

Thanks for reading.

Annie C.

Part One

Man’s Best Friend

George Graham Vest, 1869. Closing argument of Old Drum.

Gentlemen of the jury: The best friend a man has in this world may turn against him and become his enemy. His son or daughter that he has reared with loving care may prove ungrateful. Those who are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name, may become traitors to their faith. The money that a man has, he may lose. It flies away from him, perhaps when he needs it the most. A man's reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill–considered action. The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do us honor when success is with us may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its cloud upon our heads. The one absolutely unselfish friend that a man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him and the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog.

Gentlemen of the jury: A man's dog stands by him in prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master's side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer, he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounters with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert, he remains. When riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens.

If fortune drives the master forth an outcast in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against his enemies, and when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in its embrace and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by his graveside will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even to death.

Past, Present, and Future

January 2009

It was the second week of class and the coldest night of training. While we were getting into the van to drive here, Jamie, one of our class instructors, told us it was 16 degrees with a wind chill of −5. The night walk was the challenge this time, and it wasn’t the first one of the day, either. Our class had already put in a full day of routes; the bitterly cold winds, ice, and snow flurries had been plaguing us for days, and now we were expected to brave it once more, and I wanted nothing to do with it. I just wanted to go back into the dorm and crawl into bed with my hot water bottle. I was mentally and physically wrung out. Part of me just wanted to stay in the van and not face my fear and the horrible weather. I sat in the training van with my thoughts, waiting for my turn. I hated walking at night. I felt dizzy, often stumbled, and had no sense of direction. I wasn’t convinced a guide dog could ameliorate the vertigo or the panic whenever I stepped out into the darkness.

I sat in the heated van with a few other students and waited. The students who didn’t have any light perception wouldn’t be worrying about anything other than how cold it was tonight. The others, like me, who did depend on the light to feel safer, were as edgy as I was, and we talked quietly, trying to help one another through the anxiety.

It was week two, and I was just beginning to feel like I could be a guide dog user. Prior to that, though, week one had its ups and downs. The night walk was supposed to build our confidence when partials like me were expected to depend on our dogs even more.

I was managing to keep the panic at bay, but just barely; I was using breathing techniques to ease the fear, but the butterflies were still there, and I sent up a silent prayer asking for help. I recall thinking, Ann, you are a therapist; you experienced and survived the birth of two children; use your coping tools. It took the edge off a bit. Then it was my turn.

I told Jamie how nervous I was, how dizzy I often felt at night, and she assured me I would be safe and that Verona would keep