Journal
Reflections
Reflections
10th December 2009
Introduction
Following his first "aftercare" visit since completing his formal training with German Shepherd guide dog Vance, Robert Johnson reflects on four months of partnership and of time spent learning from each other.
Journal Article
Learning to work a guide dog is truly one of the most difficult things I have ever done, at least in the realm of training and education. First up there's the ten days spent in a hotel, learning the ropes and bonding with the dog. For me this was an emotionally exhausting time, with Vance terribly upset at being parted from his trainer, and a sudden realisation of the things that would have to change in my life. Next up was the post-hotel training, based around the bread-and-butter routes I would need to get from home to work, or to the supermarket. On the face of it I had the basic skills and knew the routes, so what could do wrong? This was however a period of serious honing, taking the skills that I had been taught and giving them a good hard shake in order to ensure that my interaction with Vance was condusive to a happy and productive relationship. No text book can teach you how to do that, and at the end of the day it is more about you as a person, and now a guide dog owner, than about a toolkit of commands and actions.
That second stage was completed, at least as far as the formal learning of routes went, in late September, with three tiring days working Vance on the busy streets of London. Then the work really began.
Some, I think, see guide dog ownership as akin to picking a suit off the shelves and wearing it. You start by browsing the racks (in this case the hard bit is done by Guide Dogs) until you find something that fits. You put it on and suddenly you become the person you want to be, and can do everything you want to. People (and in this I refer to both guide dog owners and the public at large) think that one is matched with a guide dog, told how to turn left and right, and suddenly you have your independence and can go out into the world without a hitch - never needing a guiding arm or helping hand again. If only it were the case.
When buying a suit the work is all accomplished at the searching and fitting stage. Once you've located the right garment and checked it's right for you, that's it. With guide dog ownership, I think, it is probably a lot more like learning to drive and buying your first car (not that I know about this!). You start off as a learner, being coached around the corners, gently accellarating and braking on some quiet back streets before your instructor feels you're ready to hit the routes you'll really need. Once on the busy city roads or inter-urban dual carriageways you pump up the speed a bit, improve your accuracy, and begin building your confidence and your personal driving style. Then, after an assessment, you buy yourself a car and take it onto the roads by yourself. But, crucially, your learning doesn't stop there - in some ways it probably becomes a greater part of your relationship with this activity. Instead now of looking at your feed when changing pedals, or asking your instructor how best to approach a junction, you now begin learning from how your car behaves, taking those initial skills and applying them to each new encounter with a different road layout or set of weather conditions.
Vance came to me at the start of August as an exceptionally well trained dog. Not only did he know how to behave at home and out in public, but his mobility toolkit was extensive and well tested. I on the other hand was a complete novice, a beginner below the bottom rung of the ladder, needing precise instruction before I could use this new and exciting mobility tool. Those first few weeks were of course not just for me, but they were of considerable importance to how I would go on in the future. I had to reach the same level of understanding as to my duties as a guide dog owner, as Vance already had of his. Then, once it was assessed that we could work safely and relatively efficiently together we were released into the real world. And then the real learning began.
Every day with Vance is a learning experience, as it is, I believe, for him with me. One day I might learn how to interpret his behaviour when he needs the toilet, whilst he will learn how best to communicate his need to me. On another I will gain a greater appreciation of what upsets or distracts him, whilst he will learn a new boundary. This is a very difficult, though incredibly rewarding process. Vance learns very quickly indeed, and you barely need to show him something twice before he picks it up and runs (metaphorically - generally). If, for instance, I tell him to go "straight to the curb" when approaching a corner than he would normally cut close to the building line, the next time he will allow more space. Likewise, if I take him to a particular spending area on a Monday, chances are, if we're in the same area on Tuesday, or perhaps the Wednesday or Thursday of a different week or month, he will know that he can "hang on" safe in knowledge that there will be an opportunity to relieve himself very soon. At the same time I learn where he feels comfortable to spend, and how long he can wait. Accidents can, and will, happen along the way, but the most important thing is that we both learn from our mistake and move on.
Yesday's "Aftercare" visit, when the trainers returned to see how we were getting along, and to talk through any "issues" providing me with a great opportunity to reflect on just how far Vance and I had come in four short months. At the start Vance was an expert operator on the pavement, but a frightened, upset child in the hotel room. I was a decidedly inexpert operator, and also somewhat concerned at Vance's anguish. We moved on, however, bonding as we progressed. At home in those initial days he tolerated me - happy to have company when things were going wrong, but quick to reject it if I told him off - after all who was I to tell him what to do? Then there was the first night walk, when I gathered up all the trust I had built in Vance and strode out into the blackness, entirely relying upon his skill and trust in me to get us home. Since then I haven't really looked back - that evening showed me that if we worked together and trusted each other we could achieve anything.
We have certainly had some trials along the way. Vance has retained his deep founded attraction to some of my female colleagues, and also to small, fluffy, female dogs. His spending can still be a little erratic when he's stressed or upset, and he will always appear more interested in other people when I walking with friends or relatives. He may be the same dog that I was given on Day One, and I the same person, but we have grown in understanding, trust and friendship together, and will continue to, I am sure, in the future.
Owning and working a guide dog is most definitely an art not a science, a developing skill not a suit off the peg. In a little under an hour we will set out together into the new day, not knowing what he will teach me and what I will show him. What is known, however, is that we will both return with a deeper understanding of each other, which will equip us well for tomorrow.
