If Only Bracha Knew...

The way I look at it, lots of people like dogs. In fact, they all seem to have had one. And they all seem to have had one “just like me”. I don’t understand how this can be. Lots of people come up to us and talk, and it usually goes like this:
- Oh, what a pretty dog. (in masculine! I"m a GIRL!)
- Actually, it’s a she….
- Oh, what a pretty dog! (This time in feminine). She’s a Labrador, right?
- No, she’s a golden retriever.
- Oh, I have a dog just like that.

How can everyone claim to have a dog just like me? Especially when they tell me that their dog behaves badly, barks, begs at the table, destroys things in the house, and all kinds of other things that I learned not to do ages ago. And if they have a dog just like me, how come they think I’m a Labrador like Sunny? Makes me wonder…and they all say their dog is terribly fat. Why don’t they make sure their dogs keep their trim figure like me?

Then come the other questions:
- Are you training her?
- -no, she’s my guide dog.
- Can I pet her?
- Please don’t. We’re about to cross the street and she’s working. Petting her disturbs her concentration. (Boy, does it ever! I’ve enough trouble trying to keep my mind off that little barking mouse on the corner and that piece of bread on the sidewalk without being distracted by people petting me on the head, making silly noises, and waving their hands in front of my eyes when I’m trying to look where we’re going.)

Hey, I thought "Aroma" coffeehouses were only for people, but I guess this one’s mainly for guide dogs because there’s a water bowl right outside for dogs to drink. Today the bowl for dogs outside was empty, but a nice man came to our table and brought me the bowl all filled up and held it for me while I drank. Then a lady brought coffee for Bracha, too. That was really nice of her to remember that Bracha was with me and wanted a drink, too!

I know that I am very good: getting on and off busses and trains is old hat by now and we do it like pros. Yesterday I stopped at every curb, walked nicely, evaded pedestrians, even found the way around a big scary truck that was blocking the entire sidewalk, and best of all, I decided to find our place on the bus even without being asked. I saw an empty seat and I turned right into it and lay down on the floor. Bracha praised me no end.

At the pool Bracha put me outside on an old towel in the sun with a brand new bone, and I was so happy that I didn’t even notice that she had left me and was swimming in the water again.

But that ????? at the gate of the moshav is freaking me out. When it’s there I just can’t get myself to keep going, and yesterday I sat down in the road, but Bracha said firmly that this was no place to sit and that it was dangerous, scolded me, grabbed my harness and made me go forward and get back up on the sidewalk. I was really sorry. It’s just too much to handle. After all, I may be well-trained and smart, but underneath it I’m only a dog.

If only Bracha knew what was there. Then she’d understand.