Dear Dori,
Welcome to the family! We're all looking forward to meeting you on the 14th.
I must admit it is with apprehension that I turn over my responsibilities to you, a complete stranger. Knowing that you were trained at The Seeing Eye, my own alma mater, I can at least rest assured that you have had the very best opportunity to become an outstanding guide dog. Even so, it is with great reluctance that I put Sarah in your care. I hope you will read on and let this old dog share some words of wisdom ...
Sarah was just beginning her sophomore year in college when she was entrusted to me. She was lucky enough to have some very good mobility training and a family who encouraged her to become independent, knowing they would not always be around. As capable as Sarah was, her family was comforted knowing that I would be her "eyes" and that I was totally devoted to her. I've been in the family for a long time now and have made my own niche with them. You'll do the same ... over time.
You will be called upon to wear many hats with Sarah--you will be her eyes, her companion, her informant, and at times, her protector. She's pretty good at directions and knowing routes; however, as you know, you will be responsible for letting her know when it's safe to proceed. Just as I was, you've been prepared for this moment your whole life.
Sarah and I have been through some pretty challenging times together. I've accompanied her to the dentist, to the doctor, to work, to school, to church, to the mall, on plane trips, to parks, on walks through the neighborhood, in busy downtown areas, in rural areas, through construction sites, in pouring down rain, in ice storms, in snow, in blazing heat, to the swimming pool--I guess you get the picture. You have to be attuned to everything that is going on around you, ever alert to things that might hinder Sarah's progress or harm her. When you signed on for this job, you agreed to do whatever it takes to help Sarah--I hope you're up for the challenge.
In Indiana I had to walk on blazing hot sidewalks in August to help her get to classes. In December, the same sidewalks became freezing cold with snow and ice. Thunder storms, lots of lightning, and threats of tornadoes struck fear in my heart many times; but it could not deter me from my task. Later, when Sarah transferred to a school in Texas, I learned what "blazing hot" really is! I also learned how to watch for flash floods. In New York City, I watched in horror as a car turned right on a red light and headed right for Sarah. There was no hesitation for me; I blocked her path and was struck down by the car. It was the most painful and frightening experience I've ever had; but I'd do it again in a heartbeat for my master.
I've had to ride hundreds of miles cramped on the floor of the car or scooted under the seat of an airplane or bus. I've endured birds dive-bombing me and suffered the humiliation of wearing a towel over my harness to keep the reflection of my harness from attracting them. Although my breed is meant to be a hunter, I've had to walk undistracted (for the most part) past ducks, geese, birds, squirrels and rabbits. I've had to learn to be tolerant of cats, lots and lots of cats, because Sarah loves them so. I've had to watch my diet in order to remain physically fit, which meant I got no table scraps even though they were easily within reach at times. There were many times when I could have put one over on Sarah and snuck something, but I have too much integrity for that. I admit there have been some times when I did bolt out the door and bound around the neighborhood for a while. There were just a few times that I needed to really run free, to feel the wind on my face, my ears flying in the breeze, sn
iffing all the wonderful forbidden things that are out there. But every time, I came home and accepted the punishment I knew I deserved. I've sat proudly on stage with Sarah during vocal and piano performances and during worship services. I've had to endure the up close and personal sounds of handbells, guitars, drums, keyboards, piano, flutes, violins, etc.It isn't my intention to scare you before you even get started, but I think it's important for you to think very seriously about this commitment before you board the plane with Sarah to come home. I'll do my best to mentor you, to share with you the wisdom I've gained from so many years of service, to be your friend and playmate. In return, I trust that you will give your very best service to Sarah as long as you are physically able. You'll be expected to behave with a sense of dignity, to be totally focused on work when you're in harness, and to make Sarah your priority at all times.
The job does come with a certain amount of "perks". I believe you'll find Sarah family to be quite the animal lovers. I have free run of the house and yard. They keep me supplied with clean linens for my bed and with an ample supply of toys. I always have the finest quality nylabone, milkbones, and dog food. I'm sometimes allowed to get on the bed--which I love. I can pretend I'm small and snuggle up really close to Sarah or her parents. Sarah's niece, Harmony, is getting old enough to play with me, pet me or hug me. Why, just today she tossed grapes for me to catch in midair. (Grapes won't be on your diet until you're retired. I'm finding things are a bit more relaxed now.) I'm rarely left alone and, when I am, there are two friendly cats here to keep me company. Bear in mind, there are times when they misbehave and it falls to you to let Sarah know when they're up to something inappropriate--things like clawing the carpet, walking on the kitchen counter, scratching the screens to get in. Unlike dogs, they are stubborn and have little regard for rules. When the humans are out of the house, I have a very convenient place for observation--I can sit on the couch and look out the front window. It is important to get down as you see them approaching the porch. Not that I'm trying to be sneaky or anything like that. I think they just enjoy being met at the door because they're always smiling at me when they come in. And usually they feel a certain amount of guilt about having left me alone, which means I get a fair amount of attention for a while when they return.
Yours is a dauntless task and an honorable profession. Hold your head high and serve with pride. You'll find that the love you get in return makes it all worthwhile. See you soon.
Love,
Elli
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