Endless Waiting

Yesterday I went to Beit Oved for a meeting with the New York delegation, and I saw DInka again. I didn't even ask if I could have her with me during the meeting, but Ami and Rafi both offered to bring her to me as soon as I arrived at Bit Oved. They know my pain and know that having Dinka next to me helps a lot. I explained to the members of the New York delegation that every day of that trip is still fresh in my mind. Those were some of my last days with Suki, and when I remember them I realize how impressive Suki was, how well-behaved she was, and how she touched the hearts of everyone we met.


Yes, DInka is quite different than Suki. She is not the stunning large pedigree dog that Suki was, but she is sweet and lovely and I will bond with her and love her. I already know the feel of her shorter fur, the delicate, thinner ears, the slightly bushy tail with its dark brown color at the tip, and the special place where she likes to have her tummy rubbed. Certain things make me feel a comfortable familiarity with her: the way she folds one front paw like Suki used to do, the way she doesn't sit down quite all the way when I tell her to and she needs a little coaxing, the way she begins licking me when I get close to her face. She is ready to love and to be loved, and I am ready to love her and to accept her appection and loyalty. It will be hard work training with her, and harder to not compare her to Suki and to just let her be herself. I know that I must do this in order to be fair to DInka. She will be undergoing some dynamic and difficult changes in her life as well, and she will need love and support together with discipline and training. If just being with her for an hour or two is comforting, than I hope that being with her all the time will truly console me. I want the day to come when I can remember Suki fondly without crying, and without longing, but simply smile with fond memories of my first guide dog who was so very beautiful and special. I'm not ready for that yet. I cry for Suki often – at the pool, on the train, even while walking through the crowds at Azrieli Center where it is so difficult to get around without a guide dog. And I notice how people treat me when I use a cane. I don't feel that joy and pride I had when I walked with Suki, and people are helpful to the point where I feel overwhelmed. "Do you need help getting off the bottom of the escalator? Take my arm now and I'll help you out of the station, I have to go smoke anyway…Come on, the light is green, you can cross the street…" They are kind, but I feel overly swamped with this kindness, as if others perceive me as a person who constantly needs help. I cannot wait to have Dinka by my side, to trust and love a dog again. I recall endless moments with Suki, but the joy and security of having her with me seems like a distant lovely dream. It has been an endless nine weeks, and I still have two months until Dinka will be with me. It seems endless.

Let me Introduce Myself. I'm Dinka.

Gee, I feel a bit shy but I guess it's OK if I put in a few paw prints. I'm Dinka, I'm going to be Bracha's new guide dog, and in a couple of months this will be my blog.
When Rafi brought me into the lounge at Beit Oved yesterday I really didn't latch onto things right away. Rafi told Bracha that I was a bit aloof, and I felt that way at first, even after he handed Bracha my leash and she unclipped me. Suddenly Bracha reached into her purse and pulled out a rope toy and offered it to me. She had bought the toy especially for me to give me at our first meeting! As Rafi said, she knows how to treat dogs and has my needs and desires in mind. I accepted it happily and curled up on the rug to begin chewing. When Bracha got down on the floor next to me I was afraid she'd take it away again, so I moved to a new spot, but soon I let her sit next to me and I knew it would be OK. I turned over and she started scratching my tummy, and found that special place that makes me wiggle my hind leg…that did it. I was a goner.

Soon Bracha reached into her purse and I jumped up and trotted over to see if she had another surprise for me, but she pulled out a camera instead and started taking pictures of me. So here I am for you to see!

When Rafi and Natanel left the room I decided it was time to dispel this "aloof" image of myself, and embarked on a major licking of Bracha's face and hands. After all, Bracha was determined to start bonding with me despite her sadness over losing Suki, and I felt she deserved no less than that from me. I behaved beautifully during the meeting in Noach's office and lay quietly under her chair during lunch. After that Rafi let Bracha and me into a room, and we had some quiet time together and a long talk. Bracha told me a bit more about Suki, and assured me that she was eager to have me and love me. She was a bit tearful talking about Suki, and I lay down on the floor next to her to show her that I understood and would do my best to make her happy again. 
It will be a couple of months before Bracha and I begin training together, and I have a lot more work to do. I was pretty distracted by that puppy Rafi deliberately placed in my path in the hallway, and Bracha gave me a gentle but firm leash correction. She knows what she is doing. But she's promised a lot of fun and play, too. I know that she's telling the truth because we played tug of war with the new toy every time I brought it to her. And between you and me, I heard something about our going to London together. So it looks like I'm in for some adventures even while Bracha and I are still forming our partnership.  
I know I have some pretty big shoes to fill, because this was Suki's blog, and Suki was Bracha's wonderful beautiful dog, but I am determined to do my best. And something tells me I'm into something good.

Dear Dinka,

Dear Dinka,


Let me introduce myself. I am Bracha. You don't know me yet, but I know that we are going to get to know each other very well. You see, you are going to be my guide dog and I am going to be your person!

Perhaps you remember me; Rafi took you to do a test walk with me in Rehovot. You probably sensed that I was confidently holding your harness and already knew how to walk with a guide dog, because soon Rafi unclipped his extra leash and let us walk alone. You did everything splendidly – leading me confidently down the sidewalk, pulling assertively on the harness, stopping at each corner, and then halting at the opposite side of the street with your front paws neatly placed on the curb, ready for the next command. But you may have sensed a certain sadness about me, a desire to have you and to love you, but not being quite ready to do that yet. I cried when Noach came to watch us walk, but that was not because of you at all.

So I think it is only fair that I explain what made me so sad when I was actually so delighted with you. There is something very important you need to know before we begin our partnership. I had a guide dog, Suki, whom I loved dearly. I did my best to give her a wonderful life of fun, play, and affection alongside hard work, and she gave me endless love and happiness and did her job with dedication and skill. She was also very beautiful: a large white golden retriever who captured everyone's heart with her dark soft eyes and fluffy white fur. Suki and I were inseparable for the past two years and nine months. But Suki is gone now, and I mourn her deeply. That is why I felt so sad when I was walking with you.

I know that from the moment we begin our partnership some of that sadness will disappear and be replaced with a new love for you. That is part of the healing process I must undergo, and together with time, my pain and sorrow at losing Suki will heal.

There will be a lot of things I will want to teach you, Dinka, but I promise to take things slowly and let you get used to things at your own pace. We will get to know each other and learn to work together and build our relationship. I promise to be patient and understanding. In my mind I might compare you to Suki, but I promise that I will love you for who you are. I will come to know all the exciting things that make you special, because I know that like Suki, you will be special, too! From my short acquaintance with you I sense that you are sweet, mischievous, and lovely.

Everything is waiting for you here, Dinka; a big soft bed, toys, and even shoes to keep your feet from getting burned on the hot pavements in summer. And I have a lot of things planned for us. You'll have to work hard, but there will be lots of fun too; running on the beach, swimming in the river, lying on the lawn at music festivals, lots of traveling, and maybe even trips abroad. We'll do all these things together, and I promise to take good care of you, to love you dearly, and to give you a happy life with me.

Suki was the dog who changed my life and introduced me to the wonderful world of being independent and working with a guide dog. You will be the dog who will bring me back into that world that I lost so suddenly and that I miss so much. I will always have a place in my heart for Suki, but you can be certain that there will be plenty of love for you as well. That love will grow and grow as time goes by, until I love you in the same total and unconditional way that I loved Suki. And I hope that our time together will be long, wonderful, and joyous for both of us. I'm looking forward to it.

So just be yourself, Dinka! I know we'll be fine.

Longings

"Don't you want another dog?" asked the receptionist at the pool. People express sympathy when I tell them that Suki is gone, and then ask, "When are you getting another dog?" I usually answer this question blinking back tears. In the past two weeks the initial shock and mourning over Suki's death has become bearable, but the longing for another dog beside me and the help and companionship that I need so badly is difficult to deal with. I miss Suki constantly, and I know that only another dog to love will make that pain easier.


I run through the dates in my mind; counting the weeks and days left until the middle of October when I have been promised a place in the next training course. It is still a long 12 weeks away. I remember how anxiously I waited for an invitation to the course three years ago, not yet knowing the change in my life that would come with a guide dog, not yet aware of what a beautiful dog I would receive, not yet aware of the loving relationship that I would cultivate with her and of our close partnership. I now realize that if I was anxious for a guide dog then, I am desperate for another one now. As I told Rafi, I will be happy with either Dinka or Derby. I just want a dog beside me again, because I know that will be the only thing that will get my life back on track. It seems a long time to wait. Rafi mentioned the possibility of my spending time with my new dog before the course - maybe even taking her home for a weekend and returning her to the Center. I know that even a short time would give me a lot of happiness and help get me through the difficult time until the course begins. They understand my pain and loneliness, and my longing to bond with a new dog.

My longing for Suki still runs through me like an underground current. I walk through the orchard and still talk to her, telling her I miss her, imagining her running or resting under a tree, praising her in my mind as we walk down the sidewalk along the routes we walked together.

There is a shelf in the closet filled with everything I saved: brushes, the basket with a kong, rope toy, a rubber Frisbee (Suki never got the hang of picking it up off the ground), the new tug of war toy I bought in New York, water bowls, clickers, whistle, and dog shoes. They were all Suki's and I want them for my new dog. Her bed is here, too, and I imagine myself putting them out so that they will all be in place when I bring my new dog home.

I think of both Suki and my new dog, whom I now refer to as D., since a decision has not yet been made as to which dog of the two sisters in the D litter will be mine. I will be happy to receive either one of them and will love whichever one I get.

Thoughts for Suki

Reading this blog and remembering all the good times that Suki and I had together has been a great comfort to me. I'm so thankful for all the pictures, stories, and account of our life together that I kept for nearly three years. So here's an entry for Suki, written in the past weeks, in an effort to find some comfort and ease my longing for her.


Suki, It's been four weeks since you've been gone, and the black despair that I felt at first has given way to a dull pain that is ever present inside me, occasionally bursting forth and leaving me filled with grief. I think of you constantly, what we would be doing together if you were here, and how different things would be. We were both cruelly deprived of all the wonderful years we should have had together, and I am heartbroken that what should have been a long partnership was cut short so suddenly. I am overcome with sadness at seeing places that remind me of you; the place you used to wait near the door in the morning, the carpet at my feet on the train, your spot at the side of the pool, the bench at the bus stop, or the floor at the foot of my bed where you slept at night. Sometimes I put out my hand and imagine stroking your soft fur, scratching your long silky ears, or laying my palm on your head. In my mind I call you, and when I'm walking I silently give you commands and imagine you leading me. It's so hard without you, Suki! I ran into a glass door the other day trying to get into the mall. You would have found the right way and whisked me right through it.

Wherever we went you touched so many hearts with your gentle manners, your sweet disposition, your soft dark eyes and silky white fur. Going anywhere with you was always an adventure and a joy, and I was always so proud of you. Everywhere I go people ask where you are, and I can't tell them without bursting into tears. People are so sad to hear you are gone. It's a consolation to know that I am not alone in my grief, and that there are so many people who loved you and who will remember you. That's because you were such a special dog!

I'm grateful for every day of the two years and nine months we had together, Suki. I have so many good memories – feeling your cold, wet nose nudging me awake each morning, walking with you in the orchard, playing tug of war with your rope toy, stroking your soft ears as you lay with your head in my lap in a taxi on the way home, and hearing your tail thumping happily on the floor as I gave you one last goodnight pat before going to sleep.

So here's what I need to tell you, Sookers. I can't manage without you, but I need to go on. So I'm going to get another guide dog to help me just like you did. I know you'll understand, because you'll want me to be safe and happy again. I will love my new dog, bond with her and give her a good life filled with love, affection, work, and play just like I did for you. She will love me too, just like you did, and she will comfort me and ease my pain at losing you.

But you needn't worry, Suki. There will always be a special place in my heart for you, and I will always love you just as I did when you were here with me! You see, it's like I once explained to Rotem: even when I have more grandchildren, I will still have just as much love for her because our heart keeps manufacturing more love. That's the way it will be with us, too, Suki. No matter how many guide dogs I have in the future and no matter how many years go by, I'll still feel the same unconditional love for you as I did when you were here with me.

You know that if you had lived I would have kept you with me even after you retired, just as I promised. I want you to know that I will still keep that promise. You'll be with me together with my new dog at the beach, running through the waves, lying on the sand next to me, walking through the fields, guiding me down the sidewalks. My new dog will walk beside me, and you'll be safe in that special place in my heart reserved only for you.

So I'll never say goodbye, Suki, because you'll always be with me, and you'll be in my mind often! Run along the beach or through the lush green fields, wherever you want to run, free and safe and healthy and happy, just as I remember you. I will call you to me in my thoughts, or perhaps you'll come running to me with your tail wagging as you always did. We'll play together for a fleeting moment and reminisce about the joyful time we spent together – a brief and wonderful chapter of our lives, that was filled with love and affection. You'll lick me and I'll hug you, and I'll remember what a privilege it was to be with you. And then you'll go dashing off again - until the next time we meet.

.

Fond Memories

There is no shortage of pictures and memories of Suki's and my life together. Here are a few, from one of the first to the last.  The earliest photos of SUki that I have were taken by Nurit Nitzani during her puppy-raising period in December, 2008. 

Suki in New York City

One of our first hikes together

Suki at one year, taken by Nurit Nitzani, her adopted family

Suki and I at Beit Oved during the training course, October 2009

Suki and I at the beach, 2011

New guide dog at home, 2009

Getting some well-deserved rest

Suki in her full beauty, and below, walking in the Israel parade in New York, June 3rd, 2012

Goodbye, Suki

Those of you who are reading this blog probably know that Suki died yesterday, and our two and a half years together came suddenly and tragically to an end. The trauma of losing Suki so suddenly, being helpless and unable to save her, will hopefully fade in time, but memories of the time we spent together will remain with me always.


Suki was serious about her work - obeying all my commands and guiding me effortlessly through the train stations in Tel Aviv, the sidewalks of Nahariya, and even the streets of New York City. At the same time she had a spark of rebellious spirit, a joy in life and playful nature, that I first encountered on our trial walk together when she turned her head to chase after a falling leaf. Her spirit, born of intelligence and a bit of mischievousness, made Suki what she was - a dependable companion who was a joy to be with and a beautiful dog to look at.

Losing Suki was like losing a part of me - we were together for two years and nine months - a far cry from what should have been an 8-year partnership. I'm grateful for every day that I had with her, and I hope I gave her the best life I could; a mixture of hard work and play with constant love. I will always remember Suki racing through the orchard, Suki jumping into waves at the beach, playfully swinging her toy rope at me to nudge me into playing with her, Suki pulling confidently on her harness through crowded streets and train stations. No matter how many dogs I own, I will always remember her paw resting on my arm, her wet cold nose nudging me awake every morning, petting her silky ears and soft, white fur.

This is the last post written in Suki's name after we returned from New York. It marks the last days of her life when we made that memorable trip together - a triumphant conquest of new challenges and dealt with new difficulties. We were due to go to London in the future - I have no doubt that Suki would have handled it just as beautifully, and charmed everyone we met just as she did in New York.

I hope I have the strength to continue, to bond with a new guide dog, and to offer him or her the same unconditional love that I offered Suki. That dog will have a lot to live up to, and I am confident that he or she will succeed.

June 13th, 2012

There is so much to tell about our trip to New York that I don't think I could manage it all myself. I will tell you first of all that Bracha has told me that she is very proud of me and that my behavior was X-M-plary. I think that means that I was very well behaved, except for the business with the squirrels, which I'll tell you about, but anyway, here goes.

We started the trip just as any other trip we take together, but we got off at a new train station that Bracha and I had never been to before, and a nice man helped us out of the station. I was already hungry since I had not eaten all day, but I soon forgot about that in my excitement. We were at the airport, and we were flying to New York! I spent the entire plane trip sleeping next to Bracha and Pnina's feet, and by the time we got to New York I was rather light-headed from not having eaten for a day and a half. But the moment we got outside Bracha whipped out my little travel bowl and fed me. There was even a large dog run for us to relax a bit and do busy, and Lynn, Dror's dog, and I ran about and felt a lot better. Then we drove to Manhattan.

The buildings in New York are so tall that I could not see to the top, and sometimes we went up inside these buildings and I looked down into the street below, where the people looked tiny. Walking around New York is no simple task. The streets are crowded, filled with people, and very strange things happen there. Sometimes the whole sidewalk disappears and there is a scary deep hole covered by metal grates, and I had to walk around them. Other times doors open up in the middle of the sidewalk and people emerge out of nowhere, scaring the living daylights out of Lynn, Norman, (Danny's guide dog) and me. But the strangest things in New York are animals called squirrels that live in the Central Park. The first time I saw a squirrel I forgot I was in harness, forgot I was a guide dog, and completely lost it. All I wanted to do was run after them! I was just a dog! Bracha did not approve of this and gave me a good, hard leash correction and made me lie down on the pavement, but I could not settle down. When Noach heard what I had done he told Bracha in no uncertain terms that he would show me some real discipline, which he did later in the week. After that I realized that I had better shape up with the squirrel business.

Bracha and I lived at a hotel in Manhattan on the corner of 49th Street and 10th Avenue in Manhattan. Now, on the corner of 11th Avenue and 51st street there is a wonderful dog park! Bracha and I soon learned the way there, and every morning she would take me to the park and brush me. I could then run and play before beginning the hard day's work of guiding in New York City. I soon made some local friends: Kayla, a golden retriever like me, Brillo, and the two Yorkshire terriers Dot and Bert. And best of all, there was a pool in the park for dogs to swim in! So there was something in New York for me, too.

Bracha also bought me lots of presents at the pet store: a tug of war toy, a leather bone (I admit, I snitched it off the bottom shelf and Bracha had to buy it!), and a little red purse for me to wear to hold Bracha's keys and a roll of strawberry-scented plastic bags for, er, cleaning up. I was so happy and proud that I wore it everywhere we went. I even chose a present for my friend Petel - a purple donut chew toy!

People in New York were very kind to us, and no one ever told us we had to get out of a store or restaurant, and were always eager to help Bracha choose her breakfast from the buffet or get in the elevator. In New York people call me a service dog, and I am allowed everywhere. I was even allowed into the chocolate store, but Bracha soon took me out again because there were pieces of chocolate on the floor, and she didn't want me eating any!

There are a few things about New York that I cannot figure out: What did Bracha and I do to make the thousands of people cheer and clap when we walked down 5th Avenue in the parade? Were all those thousands of people there cheering and waving Israeli flags for us guide dogs from Israel? Why was the man in Central Park walking on stilts? Why do the trains in New York run underground instead of on tracks outside? And why are people in New York City always in such a hurry? I guess they are all trying to get to the tops of all those high buildings where they live and work. And where oh where are dogs supposed to do busy in New York when all the trees grow out of concrete and there is no soft green grass??

It was hard work guiding Bracha and lying quietly while Noach and Bracha talked to very important people, and I can definitely do without another 12-hour plane ride with nothing to eat but ice cubes. But, yes, I'd do it again. And it looks like I'll have to. They want us to go to London in November. I wonder if there are squirrels there, too…