Chag Sameach!

We've been so busy traveling and celebrating that we've hardly had time to write. Our Pesach adventure began with a train trip to Lev Hamifratz and crossing a major intersection, which I don't think I would have dared to do without Suki. I counted no less than a dozen crossings and traffic Islands to cross the bus station and Haifa-Acco Road to the other side and then cross the road leading east. No one was there to help us. We did it all by ourselves, Suki and I.

After a few hours being tied up outside the small coffee house where we set up our Seder, Suki was rewarded with a run through the citrus groves at Kibbutz Sarid, and then behaved very nicely while 29 of us worked our way through the Haggadah and then a lovely Seder meal.

Here are Rotem and Suki, looking very nice side by side with Rotem wearing a T shirt from Beit OVed with a puppy looking very much like Suki.



I'll let her tell you about her first encounter with the Mediterranean.

WooooooooooooooW! I thought the stream in Ben Ami was the epitome of fun in the water until I was let off the leash on the beach in Nahariya! There's nothing like this! First you go dashing in, and then the water comes and chases you back out again! It's like magic! And then you stand on the sand and the water rolls in and jumps at you and you can't resist going in again! I simply couldn't stop, and that was fine, seeing as everyone was busy taking pictures of me diving in and running out again. Only thing is, it doesn't taste like water. It's salty. And I had to get a thorough drying off before I as allowed in the car again. I wonder why…maybe it was the familiar eau de wet canine perfume I love so well…

Wow! I could do this for hours!

Wow! This is as good as going up and down escalators! First you run down the bank at full tilt and jump into the water...


Then you run back up the bank, shake off all the excess freezing cold water all over Bracha...


then run down the bank and do it all over again...

\

and then dry off in the sun.

Feeling a bit Under the Weather

Suki's tummy ache no doubt stemmed from that bad habit dogs have of snatching anything up from the sidewalks, whether it is good for them or not. After reading horrifying stories on the Internet about life-threatening ailments of the canine digestive system, I realized that I was suffering from an acute case of over-information. The dog was active and far from lethargic, and her tail continued to wag. She would have cheerfully continued to eat had I given her the opportunity, was not in pain and not seriously ill. So I did what I had been told to do – I refrained from feeding Suki for a day. Sounds easy. It was not. When feeding time came for my perpetually hungry golden retriever, those soft dark eyes implored, "Where's my dinner already?" while the tail wagged and the paws rested pleadingly on my thigh. I stood firm, and gave her a bowl of rice water (with a few grains of rice in it). And this morning Suki was as good as new. I gave her a small bowl of rice just to make sure, and in the evening she got a real meal – half of her usual food quantity with more rice. I think we're back to normal.

I admit I did feel more than a bit yucky when we returned from Rehovot. So Bracha put me on a one day fast! I begged and pleaded, but she stood firm. No food today until my tummy settled down. And the next day she gave me this funny white stuff instead of my real food. I was a bit out of it walking around town this morning. I kept searching the sidewalks for some morsel or other, but Bracha's hand on the harness was firm and did not let me wander over to those little piles of rubbish I love to explore. This afternoon she finally she gave me some of my real food again mixed with the stuff. When we walked to the store after I finally got a meal, and Bracha bought herself an ice cream. She stopped to talk to someone, and a little piece melted and fell down, and – well you know the rest.

I guess I'll never change. But I have decided that it's worth it to cooperate and have my teeth brushed. It's worth the treat afterwards.

Suki Goes to the Head of the Class

Suki was the center of attention at a seventh-grade English class in Rehovot where I went to give a presentation about guide dogs and people who are visually impaired. The children sat at rapt attention for two lessons, with a ten-minute break in the middle (spent mostly petting Suki) and asking questions. The kids were sharp in their questions, and quickly understood the essence of the mobility problems that blind people encounter: Here are some of the questions they asked and the gist of my answers:

How to you navigate in a strange town? (I ask people's help. I also described the final task of the course when we were deposited in the middle of the market in Ramla and told to find the district court building. We all got there.)

How do you know when to cross the street if there is no one there to help you or you don't know what the traffic is doing? (I stand at the stoplight for one or two cycles until I understand the sequence, and then cross when I am sure it's safe.)

Can't you drive a car any more? (I never drove a car. But I did ride a tandem bicycle with a sighted person steering!)

If you can still see a bit, how come you don't wear glasses? (Some problems with eyes can't be corrected with glasses.)

How do you find things that you lose in the house? (There are some things a dog can't help you with. I try and keep things in a pace, but sometimes, like everyone else, I lose things sometimes.)

 

Taking things into my own Hands

OK, I admit it. I made a mistake. But that hissing hoise from the shower really did sound like something dangerous, and I really felt I had to bark and bark and warn Bracha that something was really wrong. And Bracha listened to me, because I never bark unless there is a darned good reason. I know she was proud of me for barking, because she petted and praised me afterwards. After all, even the man who came said he thought there was a snake in the shower – that is, until he discovered that the strange noise was nothing but air in the pipes.

Sometimes, though, Bracha just doesn't get the hint. When I want a run through the fields or even in the basketball court, I show her. I stop at the corner to go to the basketball court, but she pointed me home. On the way I stopped at the point opposite the dirt road that leads into the field, too. I turned and put my front paws right at the curb. We've only been there once or twice, but I remembered the exact point where we have to cross the road and go into the field. No go. We headed home again. So yesterday I decided to take things into my own hands. We were sitting on the patio and Bracha was drinking coffee, and hadn't tied me up. I guess she wanted to see if I would stay with her. But when that cat took off towards the back and ran into the avocado orchard, well, that was it. I was off. I did get in a good run before Bracha came out with her whistle and called me back. She should know by now that I will always come back to her, even if I eat some fallen avocado on the way.

But I did have a good time yesterday when we finally did get out for a long hike. We went to the fields, and I ran and ran through the tall yellow flowers and there were white butterflies, too. Those poor dogs who live in the city! They don't know what they are missing!

But I miss Saoirse. Nuala comes home in the evenings, eats with me, and then lays down in her place by the couch, but she's not as sociable as Saoirse was. And I think Bracha misses Saoirse, too, despite the fact that she was always getting her up at night and she had to always be mixing medicines and pills into her food. And every evening Bracha takes a watering can and we go and water the flowers and the little plant on Saoirse's grave. The little seeds are starting to come up.

Tomorrow Bracha has promised that we will go to school again – this time all the way to Rehovot! I hope she gets off the train in the middle for a break. Two and a half hours of train travel is, er, a long time. But she's always considerate of my needs, so I think it will be OK. But I know what's coming this afternoon…a thorough brushing and more of that combing and perfume stuff. Ugh.

Suki's False Alarm

Yesterday evening at about 8:30 Suki began barking excitedly. Why is that so
exceptional? Because Suki seldom barks, and if she does, it's a single
low-pitched "WOOF!" Puzzled, I went to her and she stood at the doorway of
the shower. I opened the door and heard a strange hissing noise - the
unmistakable sound of a snake. Furtively I advanced into the shower with my
camera, hoping to snap a picture and then get a closer look at what was
going on. Nothing. The picture showed - the shower. The hissing noise
continued and Suki continued to bark.
Not wishing to deal with this alone, I called the neighbor from upstairs. I
really don't mind snakes, but I didn't trust my vision to determine if this
was something dangerous, should it come out from wherever it was hiding.
Together we called the police, who were unable to help us, the municipality
pset control staff who said they were not responsible, and finally, a snake
catcher.

A very nice young man named Dekel soon arrived. I told him what we were
hearing and we crept into the shower. The noise continued. Dekel, also
convinced that something similar to a viper was lurking in the drain,
stepped back and surveyed the area. Suddenly he laughed. He pointed to the
shower head. From the spout, which somehow had air trapped inside, came a
loud repetitious hisssssssssssssss!

I felt like an absolute idiot, but Dekel assured me that the noise had even
fooled him, and he had often been called to pursue such phantom snakes only
to find that there was no snake at all. I paid him NIS 100 for his trouble
and gas and he departed, leaving me a business card in case next time Suki's
alarm would not be a false one!

Amazingly, Suki still bears the instincts of any dog - something extraordinary in the house such as a strange noise, Saoirse in an aura before an epileptic attack, a tractor parked in a strange place - all make her feel uneasy. It is handy to have Suki around, even when she is not in harness, because I know she is capable of spotting a lot of things that I would not notice - even if they are not really cause for alarm. I recall my little dog Natasha standing over her bed, tail down, growling, and picking up her bed to find a black scorpion underneath, Saoirse standing in the yard barking at a hedgehog, and both dogs scrambling out of the house seconds before I felt an earthquake! What would we do without these creatures to warn us of potential danger??

Bath Time

Why is it that I just can't get Bracha to understand that I like getting wet in the river, in puddles, and at the beach, but I don't like it when she puts on a collar and leash and takes me into the shower. First of all, she seems to think that all that shampoo and stuff she puts on my fur smells good. I can't stand it. And then no matter how hard I try I just can't roll around the rug enough to get dry. Yesterday we went to the river and I took one look at the running water and made a charge straight for the gully. I came out and went back in again and again. But the river doesn't make me full of that perfume smell. Yuck! Bracha explained that we have to go to school in Rehovot next week and talk to children about guide dogs, and that I have to be extra clean and pretty. And no fleas, either. But still…isn't going in the river enough to get me clean? And did that tidbit she gave me after my bath really make up for having to stand in the shower dripping wet? I'm not so sure.

Still, it helped me keep my mind off my sadness a bit. Last night Nuala came in and we both lay down next to the sofa for a while before she went back outside. And Bracha has made a special place for Saoirse with pretty stones, and she planted flower seeds and put a little flower pot on it and she waters it every day. We see it when we are outside running in the grass in back. And if Saoirse is there, well I guess she sees us and runs with us in spirit, too.

A Somewhat Distorted Dream

A discussion evolved on the Israeli Guide Dog Users Forum concerning the following advertisement that was used to promote fundraising for the Israeli Guide Dog Center: "Help a blind person realise their dream to see again through the loving eyes
of a guide dog." Noah, the head of the center, discussed this line with the woman in Canada who is in charge of publicity, and explained to her that this was not the right idea at all and that the broadcast should be changed.

I haven't met anyone who expressed a dream to see again. I'm sure we'd all like to. But I think many of us if not all of us have come to terms with our situation. We don't want to see again: we want to lead normal, useful lives despite our disability and we want independence, safe mobility, and not to have to depend on others. That's what our guide dogs give us. And that's all we expect them to give us. We don't expect them to help us see again.

A blind person would never have come up with a statement like that. It implies that we are constantly wanting to see, rather than accepting what we have and learning to live with it.

Other misconceptions for today's post:

Jokingly Yael's friend Evan said, "She does pretty well for a blind dog." This referring to the misnomer in Hebrew and English "a blind dog" instead of a guide dog for the blind. Suki sees very well, thank you.

And does a guide dog know when the light is green and that it's time to cross the road? For the thousandth time, no.

Understandably, people continue to direct me even when I am holding Suki's harness. Here's the door. There's a step down. Here's the train platform. The road is right ahead of you. They mean well. They don't realize just how much Suki can do and that she can find these things for me.

Feeling Sad and Lonely

One of the last pictures of Saoirse, here lying with Suki by the stove on a cold night

Yesterday I sensed that Bracha was very sad and I could not find Saoirse anywhere. Bracha sat with me and petted me and said Saoirse was gone. I know she was very sick and couldn't walk with me any more. But I miss having her around. Sometimes I walk around the house and look in all the rooms, just to see if maybe she's here, but I guess I'd better believe Bracha. I feel a bit sad and lonely and yesterday I spent a lot of time just lying on my rug with my head on my front paws. Bracha has promised me that she will try and bring Nuala into the house more so that we can be together. Nuala usually likes to be outdoors, but it would be nice to have her here, too. She understands that we dogs are social animals and need company. That's why she always kept more than one dog around.

But I just don't understand why people shout so much. Today on the bus a man shouted something really rudely to a woman who had a small baby like the Emma because she did not want to fold up her stroller. And when we got on the bus to go home the driver didn't say hello back to Bracha. Instead he shouted "What's this?" at us. Why do drivers shout that? Don't they know what a dog is? Why do they ask what I am?

Bracha has promised me a long walk to the green field this afternoon with Nuala. Maybe that will make us feel happier.

Saoirse (Sirsha)

Suki arrived here at my house in November to find two companions: my 13-year old Belgian shepherd, Saoirse (pronounced Sirsha meaning peace in Irish), and Nuala, a gentle and furry 57-varieties black dog that I adopted from the SPCA in 2004. I adopted Saoirse in 1997 on a cold rainy day when I found her as an 8-week old puppy in the yard. My son was about to leave home to go live abroad, and I was evidently in need of something to fill the emptying nest. Someone had abandoned her on Ben Ami. I took her in and she soon outgrew my other dog Natasha and the rest of her reached a size proportionate to her large paws. She wasn't the smartest dog I ever had and my kids would joke about her supposed lack of intelligence, but she was gentle, playful and faithful. She loved swimming in the reservoir and the river, and would trot through the orchard with Nuala, each of them holding one end of a large branch like two working dogs carrying a pole. Despite her large size she could be trusted even around small children and babies, and would bark excitedly when one of my friends came over and there were signs of a good, long walk.
In her later years Saoirse was more than a handful to take care of. She suffered from epilepsy, and I did my best to be there when she came out of a seizure, unhappy and confused. In 2008 she developed a growth on her hind leg that was removed, but according to the vet's predictions, it grew back and by the end of January it had grown quite large and uncomfortable. Despite Saoirse's advanced age, I decided to gether with the vet that it would be best to remove it and hopefully give Saoirse a couple more years of life. That was unfortunately not how things turned out.
After the operation a week and a half ago, Saoirse was pretty miserable for the first couple of days, but doggedly (yes, I guess there's no other word) got up and began to limp around the yard. She determinedly plodded on, and I had hopes that the hind leg, now diminished in size and muscle tone, would grow stronger. But this morning she was unable to get up and lay crying and shaking with pain. I knew that the time had come to make the difficult choice of putting Saoirse to sleep. If she could no longer walk it was not fair to her to make her suffer any longer. There was no doubt that she was not going to be able to walk any more. The decision had to be made and it was evident that she was in pain, and the sooner her suffering ended the better. The vet arrived and I held Saoirse and petted her, and soon she slipped into merciful sleep and her suffering was over.
Saoirse had a long and happy life. I have two other dogs to keep me happy. And as always, I'm convinced that even when you have to grieve over lost animals, the joy of having pets is
worth it all!



Above: Saoirse (on the right) and Nuala looking glamorous after their haircuts

Uh oh…Dog Hair…

How is it possible to travel in a taxi and not get any dog hair on the edge of the seat or the floor? And how is it possible that that hair won't show up when I have a white dog and the upholstery is black?

Even brushing Suki every day doesn't prevent some hairs from shedding. And when the driver insisted that we get in the back and I realized that I would have to get out the same door as we came in or end up in the middle of the street, I knew we were in deep trouble. Suki got into the taxi and was cramped between the front and the back seat. The driver claimed he'd moved the front seat forward, but Suki and I spent the entire trip trying to maneuver our six feet so that we both had room. And when we got to town I immediately saw that Suki was not going to be able to turn around and get out the way she had come in.

Unfortunately dogs can't back out of a car…And sure enough, what I had feared happened: I called Suki out, but she put her two front paws on the back seat to get herself out the door. Standing on the sidewalk with a dog on the leash in one hand and my knapsack and Suki's harness in the other I apologized profusely, put my bag down and attempted to brush off the seat as best as I could where I thought Suki's paws had been. He drove off angry and I was left feeling bad. Things always seem to be a lot easier when Suki is in the front: she always manages to get neatly out, turning into a sitting position facing the door and then waiting until I get out and follow me.

We did better in Haifa. I have never before attempted to get into the large yellow service taxis. It seemed to me to be a real invitation for trouble: cramped quarters, nowhere to put a dog, and seven other passengers who would have to be in close proximity to a large dog and drivers who feel they are not bound to any laws at all. So when a yellow cab stopped at the bus stop and called out that he was going to the Hof Hacarmel terminal and invited me in, I decided that his invitation was worth accepting. He raved about the dog all the way, saying it was a mitzvah to take the dog and confronting every passenger who balked at the stops and was reluctant to get in at the sight of a large white dog in the first seat. He stuck to his guns all the way down the mountain.

In hopes of dealing with the hair problem I ordered a deshedding tool from abroad. I wonder how much hair it will remove. Suki sure seems to have a lot.

The Perils of Crossing Streets

Yesterday it was reported on the guide dog users' forum that a blind woman in Ashdod and her guide dog had been hit by a car while crossing a busy intersection. Evidently the woman had been crossing the street when the light changed and had gotten caught in the middle of the road. She and her dog were rtaken to the hospital. Ironically it seems that until some tragedy happens, no one is willing to take action, but the Knesset has ruled that all municipalities and regional authorities have to install beeping stoplights by the end of this year.

Crossing streets with a guide dog is easier from the tandpoint that the dog stops at the curb, but it is up to us, the dog's owner, to command the dog to cross the street. Contrary to what many people belive, the dog does not know when the light turns green. Learning about this incident in Ashdod reminded me of many things we were told NOT to do on the course:

Never listen to a pedestrian coming towards you at an intersection who sets foot on the curb after crossing the road and encourages you to cross ("Geveret, yarok!") They have already crossed the road and if you set out, you are liable to end up in the middle of the road when the light changes to red. The same thing goes for drivers who call out to you from their car. They have no way of knowing how long the light will remain green. I've been accosted by people standing at the corner nudging me to cross and have ignored them. They think I have all the time in the world to waste. Actually, I don't, but I just want to stay safe.

The hospital crossing still continues to rile me to no end. Even if I step into the road and start walking towards the traffic island as soon as I hear the first car start up and start across the intersection or the first car stop next to me, I still can't make it across the road in the 3 seconds the light remains green. It's a scary place. When they finally do install beeping stoplights there, I hope the invite Suki and me to the ribbon-cutting ceremony!