DORI

Never in all my years of flying had the process of boarding taken so long! The lady at the ticket counter had warned me, saying that the flight was full and that most of the people on the flight were going on a cruise which was to leave from New York and go up the coast to Maine. I really didn't care where the cruise was going. I really didn't care about the cruise at all--until I got on the plane.

I boarded at 10:15. At first, I thought, "This must be a big plane! It's taking a long time for people to board!" Then I realized what was happening. It seemed like everyone had to stop and say hello to Betty across the aisle. "Hi, Betty. How are you doing? It's nice to see you! What time did you get on the bus this morning? I had to get up at 3:00 because the bus left at 5:30. Well, hmmm... My seat is in row 22. What row is this? Oh, this is 11. I wonder if there's any room left for my luggage."

How did everyone know Betty?

I tried valiantly to fight off the confusion which came from lack of sleep. I had been too excited to sleep the night before ... and, of course, packing for two and a half weeks was a big job! Besides this, I didn't want to sleep on the plane--I might snore and embarrass myself. I had fallen asleep in the car and snored, waking myself up. I had immediately mumbled, "Good grief!" My parents laughed.

I did fall asleep. The elderly lady sitting next to me told me later that I didn't snore but that I was "sleeping very soundly". It was good sleep, deep sleep... I needed it more than I had realized.

I woke up as the plane was speeding toward the gate in Newark. Memories of my first trip to this airport flashed through my mind. I was 18 years old and had just finished my freshman year of college. The dignity of traveling with a working dog guide had lured me into applying for a dog of my own; but as the plane landed, reality hit me. I didn't like dogs! How would I ever survive this?

I had survived it and loved my dog very much. Elli had worked hard for eight years, and she was now retired.

I was the last person off the plane. It didn't take as long to deplane as it had to board. No one had to stop and talk to Betty. She had already gotten off the plane, and with the confusion gone after my nap I realized that they were all going on the cruise. That's how everyone had known Betty!

When I arrived at the Seeing Eye, I was met on the front porch by two staff members: Judy, the director of student services, and Jane, my instructor. Jane took me up to my room so that I could unpack. Later, she came and oriented me to the building. Much was still as it had been when I was here in 1991 training with Elli. However, some additions had been made: new student wings and a technology center. I would get a lot of use out of the tech center.

Other things had changed since my previous trip to the Seeing Eye. The most noticeable thing for me was the fact that we all had our own rooms. I wasn't sure whether I would like this arrangement or not. In the end, I decided that it was a positive change. After all, I could usually find someone to talk to in one of the lounges.

On Sunday morning we went into town and practiced commands on an imaginary dog named Juno. Jane held the dog's end of the harness. I held my end of the harness. I gave the command, and she emulated the behavior of the dog--as best she could. These sessions with the imaginary dog are commonly called "Juno walks". The Juno walk just made me more anxious to get my dog, and I was unhappy all over again that "Dog Day" was not until Monday--another of the changes since 1991.

After lunch, we had an opportunity to practice giving commands to some dogs! Jane brought in three dogs all at once! How did she do that? Each dog had a different personality, and we were able to experiment and give some feedback about traits we liked and did not like.

On Monday morning, Jane and I took another Juno walk. She walked at different speeds, sometimes pulling hard and sometimes walking at a leisurely pace with a light pull. I gave her feedback about when she walked too fast or pulled too hard. And I anticipated the afternoon's meeting with my dog.

After lunch, I went to my room and listened as instructors knocked on other students' doors, calling them to the lounge for their meeting. Just as I settled down with a book, having determined that I would be waiting for a while, Jane knocked softly on my door. I went out into the hall and followed her to the lounge. My dog shook her head, as if bragging that she was just out of my reach.

In the lounge, I sat on a chair and called Dori's name. She came to me, wagging her tail gently, and licked my hands. I took her back to my room, and spent a couple of hours playing with her before our first walk.

I had determined in my mind that this training was going to be different in several ways from my training with Elli. I had learned a lot from mistakes I had made with Elli, and I intended to keep those lessons in mind. The first thing I wanted to do was ensure the best bond between myself and this dog that I could. It started with our first contact.

Interacting with Dori was not always easy. I had much less energy than I had had when I trained with Elli and was also in poor health. I had to unlearn some bad habits. I also found that Dori required a different style of interaction than Elli had. I struggled a great deal with this during the first few days and realized that I was having difficulty emotionally with correcting her because of certain regrets I had about the ways in which I had handled Elli.

I realized the reality of this when Lucas Franck, who had trained me with Elli, asked me how I was enjoying Dori.

"She's awesome," I said, "but I feel guilty saying that."

"Why?" he asked. "Elli's awesome, too. Elli's old and awesome. Dori's young and awesome. You're young and awesome, and you need a dog who's young and awesome. God designed this so you could enjoy more than one dog. So if you feel guilty, you talk to God."

He was right. Elli was a wonderful girl. Elli is a wonderful girl. And so is Dori. But if I allowed my guilt about things that happened incorrectly or didn't happen at all with Elli to control my relationship with Dori, we would be getting off to a very bad start.

From that moment on, I was at peace with my decision to retire Elli and learned to communicate my expectations to Dori in the ways which were appropriate for her temperament. Much of our training after that went very smoothly.

We had been told that we would have a fire drill on Friday at 5:00 PM. Each of us had been shown where the various fire exits were in the building. We were all prepared for the drill. We were not prepared for the fire alarm to sound at midnight on Tuesday night. I was still awake, writing in my journal. I hurried downstairs and outside with Dori. I was amazed at my ability to maintain my composure, but I lost my bearings in the stairwell, which had a number of places where I must turn.

The alarm was a false alarm. However, we all stood outside for some 30 minutes until the firemen came to investigate. We were told that they were required to come anytime there was an alarm. Some of us laughed and joked about the incident. Others grumbled about the loss of sleep and the rain.

I had just climbed into bed and was drifting off to sleep when the alarm sounded again. Tired and annoyed, I made the trip back outside with Dori and all my classmates for another 30-minute wait in the rain. I didn't laugh this time, and neither did many of my classmates.

The alarm sounded three more times during the next two days. It was finally discovered that some of the sensors were malfunctioning. Needless to say, we did not have the scheduled fire drill on Friday.

Days in training were long, beginning at 5:30 and ending with an 8:00 trip outside for the dogs' benefit before we had some free time. Each student took two walks each day with his/her dog. Some students were accompanied only by an instructor; other students traveled in pairs. In the evenings, instructors demonstrated how to groom the dogs, give medications, etc.,, and talked with the class about concepts such as traffic safety, dogs' fears, and dog health.

I enjoyed my time there, just as I had in 1991. I spent quite a bit of my free time using the Technology Center to learn about Windows and to correspond with friends via email. I sent frequent reports about my experiences to my parents, friends, and other family members. When I was not in the Tech Center, I napped, read, or spent time talking and playing games with my classmates. I also took occasional walks on the leisure path with classmates; alone; and once even with Rachel, my former classmate, who had come to visit with her guide, who was still working at 10 years of age.

Having visitors while I was in class was a new experience for me. During my training with Elli, I had come from Texas, and most of my friends lived in Texas. While in training I had been introduced to telecommunications for the first time, and since then I had become active on the Internet. One of the ways I had put my interest in the Internet to good use was to start an email-based discussion list for parents of blind and visually impaired children. One of the families from the list visited me while I was in class. I enjoyed having some contact with "the real world". Life at the Seeing Eye is not very natural. Beds are made for us. Meals are cooked for us. Schedules are planned and very strict. I found that sitting with my visitors helped to remind me that I was preparing for reentry into a life that I often felt I had left far away when I came to training.

Taking Dori home was a bittersweet event for me. I had made friends with some of the students, and the structured days in training were very good for me. I still felt dependent on Jane. At the same time, I was excited and wanted my family to meet Dori.

Jane drove me to the airport in the van and went through the process of checking in and waiting for the plane with me. "Dori looks classy, even though she doesn't know where she's going," she commented. I felt proud, and I knew that the dignity I had dreamed of as a teenager was mine. It had been mine with Elli, and now it was mine with Dori.

While we waited for the plane, Jane said goodbye to Dori. I wondered what she was thinking. She had spent four months working with Dori, and now she was giving her to me. Do instructors go through a process of letting go as raisers do? Jane knelt down and stroked Dori's head, talking softly to her. "I want you to be a good girl," she said. Then she used what had become Dori's nicknames when she was disobedient. "Don't be Doris or Dorothy. Just Dori, all the time." I smiled to myself. It was almost as if she was giving Dori instructions for life.

The plane arrived shortly, and I left Jane standing at the gate. I was now in "the real world," on my way home. Dori was a big girl now.

Dori's Homecoming

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