Journal

Guide Dog Training Diary - Audio Diary First Half

In Summer 2007 I applied for a guide dog, little knowing that it would not be for a further two years until I was finally able to train with Vance, my wonderful German Shepherd.  During the intervening period I searched the internet high and low for information on what it was like to train with a dog.  There was plenty out there on the puppy walking process, and on how the dogs are prepared during their advanced training, but very little indeed on Guide Dog Owners’ experiences of meeting that new dog for the very first time.

I decided to fill that gap by both writing down and recording my thoughts as I went on.  Further down this journal you will find some short articles that I wrote in the latter stages of my formal training, which give an insight into the highs and lows of that time.  I have also recently been publishing on http://audio.fm/rjnet entries from my audio diary, charting day-by-day the process of learning to use a guide dog.  I have to-date, posted the prologue, and about one week’s worth of entries, and these are linked to below.  The entries from later in my training will be posted as soon as possible.

I hope that this audio diary serves as a useful resource for anybody thinking of applying to train with a guide dog themselves, as well as for those who are just inquisitive about the process.  Please let me know what you think using the comments button below.

Guide Dog Training Diary: Preamble Part 1

Guide Dog Training Diary: Prologue Part 2

Guide Dog Training Diary: Prologue Part 3

Guide Dog Training Diary: Day 1 Part 1

Guide Dog Training Diary: Day 1 Part 2

Guide Dog Training Diary: Day 2

Guide Dog Training Diary: Day 3

Guide Dog Training Diary: Day 4

Guide Dog Training Diary: Pay 5 Part 1

Guide Dog Training Diary: Day 5 Part 2

Guide Dog Training Diary: Day 6

More recordings will be posted shortly.  In the meantime you may be interested to visit the Guide Dogs website at http://www.guidedogs.org.uk .

Reflections

Reflections

10^th 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.

Grooming

Grooming

5^th October 2009

Introduction

"Doesn't he look lovely!"

"Hurray for German Sheperds!"

"What a stunning dog!"

Vance is getting somewhat used to basking in the glowing compliments that come his way - indeed, if his head gets much bigger I'll struggle to get his harness on.  But then he really is a quite magnificent dog.  His proud head, muscular legs, and classic black and tan markings really set him apart from your run-of-the-mill yellow or black Lab.  These are all important aspects that directly affect the way he is perceived by pthers - but so too, I would claim, is the splendid condition of his coat - which, if you will forgive a tiny bit of imodesty - is considerably down to me.

Journal Article

I've never really been a great one for activities requiring a degree of patience and perseverence to get the job done.  Looking after pot plants springs to mind as something I've failed miserably with on more than one occasion - usually resulting in minuiture conifers turning a rather dubious shade of brown, before dropping all their pines.

I was determined, however, to turn over a new leaf when it came to looking after Vance.  Well, one might argue that I didn't have a chance if I wanted to maintain my new guiding machine in tip-top racing condition - or just keep him alive!  So, feeding, spending, playing and exercising all became a vital part of my daily routine.  I cannot claim to particularly enjoy getting up at 6am every day to feed Vance and give him a chance to toilet, or of having to go outside in all weathers, late in the evening, to let him to a final "busy" before bed - but they are a fair swap for having such a wonderful friend with me all the time.

There is however one activity which, though left off the list above, is of at least equal importance if I am to maintain Vance's coat in all its shining glory.  I speak, obviously, of his regular grooming session.

In the grand scheme of things introduced at the beginning of my guide dog training at Barnett Hill, back in August, grooming was right up there with regular spending and obedience.  Whilst the law may protect a guide dog owner's right to access any service or facility offered to the general public, the flip side of this is the need to maintain the dog in excellent condition - both in terms of health and hygene.  I well remember the grooming session with Emma, where the implements of torture were handed out with considerable ceremony.  First there was a "Zoom Groom" (or maybe a "Zume Groom" - I'm not entirely sure!), a strange rubber device studded with pointy pyramids.  This is, used, we were told, to rough-up the dog's coat, running it against the lie of the hair.  Next came a fairly standard brush, which was to be used after the zoom-groom, in the same direction, but with a certain degree of vigour, predominantly in order to tease out the dead hair, and prepare for the third and most dramatic act of all - the combing.  The comb, much as you would expect, has a wooden handle and fine metal prongs, and run through the dog's fair, pulling out all the dead bits, along with anything else that might be found in there.  Last of all comes the triumphant ending - wiping down the dog with a shammie leather, giving it that wonderful shine that everybody seems to find so appealing.

The first practical session was carried out on a bench positioned at the perimeter of Barnett Hill's volleyball court - perhaps on reflection a difficult choice, given the degree of potential distractions for the dogs.  From the moment I began stroking the zoom groom up Vance's coat it became evidently clear that he was more interested in the buzzing flies in the flowers behind, in a ball game taking place in the field next door, and in sniifing the freshly cut grass.  Well, I suppose he is a dog!  So, that first session was somewhat trying, but at least it stood me in good stead for what was to come - for, if I was to learn one lesson from living with Vance, he absolutely detests being groomed!

I remember trying every possible scenario whilst still at the hotel: holding him on the lead whilst on the bench; tying him to the bench; using the makeshift grooming bench at the back of the Guide Dogs van; even doing it in the tiny bathroom of my hotel room, in order to stop Vance from wandering, whilst attempting to contain the air (though I later learnt that the poor cleaners had a job and half cleaing up after me!).  Every time I thought I'd found the perfect recipe Vance would prove me wrong by ducking out the way, walking around, or fighting me off with his paws.  I was, however, determined to get this right, and in those early days, to have a go at it every single day!  Looking back now it seems like complete madness that I would spend a good hour of every day crouched over Vance going over every detail of his coat, quite literally with a fine tooth comb.  Every day, it seemed, I found a new area untouched by the previous day's exhaustions, and every day a new way for Vance to try and evade this most hated of activities.

Things didn't improve when I went home - despite more experimentations with grooming methods, one of which involved looping Vance's lead over a bollard!  The method I've settled on, however, is a little more simple, and only slightly less effective.  I simply lay a plastic mat across my living room floor, keep the lead close at hand, and practice my skills in leaping from a crouched position to grab my dearest dog as he exits stage left.  It is perhaps, however, a sign of my growing frustration with this aspect of our relationship, that groomings began, a little while back, to become a little more sporadic.  I began waiting a day - well a groom every two days is almost the same as one every day - isn't it?  And then two became three, and three became five.  Grooming Vance yesterday for the first time in almost a week I rememered why I had ended up waiting so long, enduring his coat beginning to shed that little bit more, and - more crucially - attract only the occasional positive remark.  Vance had become quite determined that he was no longer going to standard for this great indignity.  He sqirmed and wormed, and wriggled, and ran, and was an absolute total and utter pain.  Every time I went to comb behind his legs, or around his neck, or even just down his back he would stand up, roll over, or otherwise evade my attempts to pin him down.  I certianly didn't settle without a fight, and became quite adept at straddling him with my legs, holding him still with my knees, whilst using one hand to feel his coat and the other one to groom - but it began to wear me down - until I snapped.

Sitting on my bed a few moments later I reflected on my actions, and what they must have taught Vance.  Throwing down the comb was evidently an act of surrender - he had won and I was giving up.  Calling him a "stupid dog" - something which is so obviously not true, probably told him nothing, but made me feel dreadful.  Telling him to get on his bed and stay there must have left him confused, and slamming the door cannot have made him any happier about undergoing this procedure in the future.  In short, I thought, I had in ten seconds sunk my chances of getting to the end of this - let along any other - grooming session.  I would now be delaing with a frightened, confused dog, whilst feeling somewhat upset myself.  What a fine mess you made of that one Robert.

This story does however have a happy ending.  Having recorded my thoughts as an audio diary entry (to be uploaded at some point in the future) I returned rather sheepishly to the living room, made up with Vance who was quite happy to lick my hand as I sat beside him on the dog bed, an arm around his shoulder.  And then he returned to the mat and sat for me beautifully, allowing me to continue this masterpiece - for at least another two minutes, before standing up, shaking himself down and dashing off to the spare room!  I'm pleased to say though that I learnt my lesson and kept my cool.  All these "dog-whispering" type television dog programmes, as I seem to recall, teach you one thing - it isn't the dog that is at fault, it is the owner - and I truly searched to find the behaviour that would put him at ease and allow me not only to finish the grooming session, to transform my dog back into a beautiful specimen for all to admire, but to retain his overall confidence in me.  Shouting at him, calling him "stupid", or acting in an otherwise strange or abnormal way will only lead Vance to lose confidence and happiness, which will in turn have a detrimental effect on his work.  I cannot afford to let that happen.

Guide Dogs talk of their clients and dogs as partners - and that is so very true.  I provide Vance with all that he needs - food, water, regular trips to the toilet, an occasional free-run, a spot of grooming, stimulating conversation, Radio Four (he particularly likes the Archers ... though he doesn't have much choice on that one), an exciting workplace in which to sit under the desk, and a cuddle or two - and he gives me indepedence, freedom, dignity and companionship.  There is little more I could ask of him - save, perhaps for staying still when I'm combing him - and I only hope there isn't anything else he would want of me.

A Weekend of Contrasts

A Weekend of Contrasts

28^th September 2009

Introduction

True warm weather seems to have been something of a rarity these past few months.  It was therefore with some determination that Vance and I set out on Saturday afternoon to enjoy what could turn out to be the final weekend of summer (albeit an "Indian Summer").  Taking the Red Jet to Cowes Vance showed once more what he was really made of - enthusiasm and courage combined with a good measure of work-ethic.

Sadly, a day later he also showed just how stubborn he can be.  This really was a weekend of contrasts, but the highs, at least, were really high.

Journal Article

Since Vance and I were let off the Guide Dogs leash a few weeks back we haven't really done an awful lot out of the ordinary.  Life has revolved around walks to work, back from work, and just to make things that little less tedious - walks to Waitrose as well.  Yes, we did fit in a weekend visit to London, but that aside we haven't really been doing much.

So, with the sun beating down on Saturday morning, and with the blue sky quite cloudless (as far as I could see, anyway!) I felt quite determined that we had to make the most of things.  After all this could be, I thought, the final cfement weekend of the year before the long slide into the deep dark days of late Autumn.  In the past year, having taken up sailing iin the past fifteen months, I have visited the Isle of Wight on quite a number of occasions.  They weren't all in order to get afloat, but those trips to the United Kingdom Sailing Academy (UKSA) really gave me a taste for what is an incredible friendly, hospitable corner of Southern England.  An afternoon trip to Cowes therefore seemed the ideal way to make the most of warm sunshine.

I had accomplished the journey to Cowes on several occasions, independently, with just a cane for company - so felt quite confident attacking it with my new best friend.  Vance had also visited Town Quay in Southampton, the departure point for the 25 minute catamaran crossing of the Solent, once before to enjoy a spot of dinner earlier in month.  We found our way there, this time, without event.  The route is reasonably straightforward, and certainly nothing beyond Vance's capabilities.  Boarding the Red Jet itself wasn't an issue either.  Vance had enjoyed a brief ride on a Thames Clipper service some weeks before, and truly takes these things all in his stride.  Sitting near the front in a bay of facing seats he spent some time studying the passing scenery, as Netley and Hamble rushed past the window.  I have now idea what he discerned from this, but he was certainly intrigued.

Cowes was absolutely thronged with people.  I had visited a couple of months before for the the final Friday of Cowes Week - infact the weekend immediately prior to beginning my training with Vance.  The streets then had clearly been packed with sightseers, sailors and others - however this sunny Saturday afternoon was by no means quiet.  Barring that previous visit this had to be the busiest yet, and Vance had quite ajob steering a coherent path away from the Red Jet terminal and west towards the Promenade.  Once there, however, he absolutely shot along - James Bond in his foldaway helicopter couldn't have caught us as we twisted and turned between groups of tourists.  Actually, I exaggerate slightly - that may be how Vance would have liked it, but I was definitely driving the brakes on.  So insistent was Vance on putting his foot firmly on the accellarater that I was compelled to use both the gentle leader and half-check to steady him as much as I could.  He clearly was delighted to be by the sea, out in the sunshine, and somewhere knew all at once!  I half expected at any moment that, when overtaking a sauntering couple, he would curve gently to the right, and instead of cornering smoothly back the other way having passed them, carry straight on into the sea.  Thankfully I stayed dry!

 I did feel, however, that I couldn't go all that way and not let Vance touch the water.  Clearly this was a bit of a risk, since, when determined to get somewhere it is challenging to hold him back.  I was however pleasantly surprised, when letting him wander on a long lead (the normal lead can be used at two lengths - short for working and long for spending).  He did his usual spot of sniffing, then gingerly stuck his paws in the white surf at the furthest extremity reached by the larger waves.  Getting more adventurous he moved a little further in, wetting his undercarriage a bit - and then he made to swim - and which point he felt a sharp tug on the lead and was disappointed to be called back to dry land.  In more controlled circumstances I would love to give him a proper swim, but on this occasion, with no way of getting him back, no idea of which way the tide was going, or of how quickly the beach adjacent to Cowes Green shelved, there was no way I was going to risk it.  But Vance seemed okay with that, and quite happily worked another half mile or so along the promenade before we sat for a while, recorded an audio diary piece, and turned for home.

 I did, however, have one further hurdle to cross before heading back across the Solent.  As somebody who likes a good pint of real ale it may come as something of a surprise to some that, until Saturday, I had never been in a pub on my own.  I always felt somewhat self-conscious on my own with just a piece of plastic cane to protect me.  I was worried about walking into people, or of inadvertently staring at people when attempting to gaze into space.  Well, I finally made it.  Buoyed with confidence, provided entirely by Vance, I paid a visit to the pub adjacent to Red Jet (sorry, can't remember the name) and ordered a drink.  It was quite satisfying - perhaps a small, insignificant step to many, but an enormous leap in indepedence for me.

Returning to Southampton we were lucky enough to pass three cruise ships on their way out to sea.  The Queen Mary II, Independence of the Seas and Aurora, in procession down Southampton Water.  Though, to me, they were just sillouettes against the fading September sun, they were still an imposing sight and rounded off the day quite nicely.

 Sunday dawned as yet another promising looking day, perfect, I thought, for Vance's first free-run in two weeks.  Not since Abi, Ramona and Richard, along with Blies, Louie, and Bliss' puppy walkers, visited a fortnight back, has Vance had the opportunity to really let off steam and do what he does best - namely eating rabbit poo, and galloping about like a maniac.  My only previous solo attempt at free-running hadn't gone brilliantly well.  Having chosen a time late on a Sunday afternoon with every man, his wife, children and dog, out for a stroll or a kick-around I struggled to find any open space on which Vance could dash about without either scaring toddlers or disrupting football games.  In all, in the course of two free-runs, he had about a minute of air-time - mainly as a result of me losing my nerve and calling him back the moment his bell disappeared from hearing.

I planned things a little better this time around, heading for the Common at 8:30 in the morning, when only the most hardy of dog walkers - generally the more accepting ones at that (ie: less likely to get upset about their pooch being mauled by my big, scary, German Shepherd!) - out and about.  I was therefoe able to find a quiet patch pretty quickly, and Vance enjoyed a good half hour of dashing about, nose to the ground one moment, galloping at full tilt towards me the next.  Calculating distance, speed and angle on the trot he frequently whizzed past me with inches to spare before turning some ten metres later and wandering back to say hello.  On using the whistle to call him back, he was pretty responsive.  One moment his little bell would be tingling away in the far distance - the next, the earth would be vibrating as he pounded in to collect his reward.

That was until the third call back.  Having allowed him to roam some way off to one side of the Common I became somewhat nervous that the beel seemed somewhat less audible than it should otherwise have been.  It was quite normal for him to stop and sniff, but thirty, forty, even fifty seconds without any signal of his whereabouts was starting to trouble me.  So I blew my whistle, and blew, and blew and blew.  Indeed a blew so long and so loud - and so shrill - that my ears began to ring - and still no Vance.  I shouted too, and blew some more, and with the minutes passing by - eight, nine, ten - I began to wonder how I would ever retrieve him.  I felt confident that he would return at some point, but I wanted him now, and he wasn't coming.

Eventually I heard a shout from some distance away.  Somebody seemed to be calling me over.  "Do you want to collect him?" they seemed to shout, though, between whistle blows, and with ringing ears, it was difficult to know.  On getting closer I found a gentleman with what appeared to be a small, fluffy dog, and Vance - not too fussed to see me at all.  Apparently he had been pmouthing and attempting to play with his new girlfriend for the past ten minutes, and had evidently seen this as a far more pressing need than returning when I called.  The dog walker was very pleasant about it, and seemed quite at ease with Vance about.   I, on the other hand, was most definitely not at ease.  My dog had failed to return because he had found a friend - something which is unlikely to be a rare occurance in such circumstances.  How could I ever trust him again?

It is fine for people who can see.  They can watch their dog playing in the distance, and if they fail to return, simply walk over and collect them.  If you rely on a bell to work out where the animal is, and a whistle to bring them back, you are quite helpless if they refuse to do so.  What if the gentleman hadn't been so helpful - what if somebody had tried to steal Vance?  Perhaps I'm being melodramatic - this was, afterall, the first time he had failed to return - only, if it was repeated at any time when I am alone, I may be lucky to get him back, and I really cannot afford to let that happen.

So it was in something of a subdued mood that we returned to base.  He to lie on his bed, me to make brunch.  He has, since, had opportunity to redeem himself - and he has done so in abundance by just being him - a wonderful, charismatic, friend - but that doesn't change the fact that he didn't come back.

 So there we have it - a true weekend of contrasts.  A brilliant afternoon by the sea on Saturday, followed by a slightly disconcerting free-run on Sunday.  I had been told that this process wouldn't be a walk in the park, warned that there would be both highs and lows, and I try not to be naive about this.  Sometimes, however, the individual issues can seem so big, so overwhelming, that it is difficult to see the way out - to find a resolution.  But, we must find such a solution.  Vance is the most important thing to me now, and I will do anything to ensure he has a happy, contented life, in return for his sterling work giving me my indepedence.

True Independence

True Independence

9^th September 2009

Introduction

Those who know me will understand, to some degree, the vast difference in my ability to travel independently during the day, and at night.  My eye condition means that, as the day draws to a close my vision reduces to seeing just lights - not what they're shining on, but the streetlights and headlights themselves.  I cannot see street furniture, parked vehicles, the pavement, people walking on the pavement, trees, bushes ... or just about any other obstacle that others use for safe navigation.  It was therefore with some trepidation that I approached my first ever walk in the dark with my new guide dog, Vance.

Journal Article

I had been anticipating the approach to this most sizeable of hurdles for most of my guide dog training to date.  Whilst I had completely a number of walks in different circumstances - in quiet and busy streets, with shopping in hand, or on my way to work - but it seemed I had been ignoring a very large proverbial elephant in the room.

Walking independently at night, with thrashing a lump of plastic about in front of me, or relying on a companion's arm, was until yesterday just as inconceivable as flying to the supermarket atop a winged Gloucester Old Spot.  Whilst it is difficult to explain what I do, or don't see at night, imagine altering the contrast on a digital photograph taken at night, so that all you see are car headlights, streetlights or traffic lights, but none of the obstacles below or before them.  That is approximately how the world at dusk and at night appears to me, and why mobility at such times is so difficult.

Some four weeks after beginning my guide dog training, however, I thought the time had come to cautiously approach this hurdle on my own.  Whilst my Guide Dogs Mobility Instructors had been planning a night walk at a later point in my training, I felt that doing the first one on my own - without Vance being distracted by their presence - would greatly aid my confidence when repeaitng it in busier areas.  I also wanted to slip into darkness step-by-step, rather than plunging in head-first.  By doing it on my terms I was able to complete one walk as dusk fell and my sight began to deteriorate, before doing the return leg in complete darkness - giving me an opportunity to learn how the route might look in the dark on the way out, whilst still retaining a small number of visual cues.

 I don't think it really hit me, until around 3/4ths of the way back from Waitrose.  There wasn't a drop of light in the sky, I was being led along a route including road crossings, corners and street furniture, I had my left arm by my side gently holding the harness handle, and I was walking - perhaps for the first time in the dark - with a degree of dignity.  It was such a liberating experience, being freed from the need to wave a cane about in front of me - an object which in practice tends to act as an artificial barrier against the sighted people around me - or to bring along a companion for guidance.  Vance was quite superb - truly showing off what he could do - and I felt free to go and do whatever I wanted, regardless of whether it was light or dark outside.

Four Weeks On

8^th September 2009

Introduction

At the start of August 2009 I began training with my first ever guide dog, a German Shepherd called Vance.  In the run up to the start of class I spent a considerable amount of time preparing my website for the posting of articles and audio diary entries.  Well, I'm afraid I have a bit of an apology to make...

Journal Article

On the 10th August 2009, after two years waiting on a very long list, I finally began training with my first ever guide dog.  Vance is a very large black and tan German Shepherd, weighing in at around 47kg!  We had first met each other, briefly, back in July, when I had the pleasure of test driving him - checking out is accellaration, cornering and general maneuverability.  He was then, as now, a superb dog - intelligent, fast and inquisitive - a brilliant guide and an even better friend.

 I had originally planned to chart my progress with both prose and audio diary entries.  Sadly, as fate would have it, on the night before training began my computer decided to drop down dead.  Then, to compound issues, I was then prevented from returning to my flat by the unavailability of spending (toileting) facilities for my dog.  So, I have had, and indeed still have, no access to my home computer.  Therefore, although I have kept an audio diary throughout my time training, which will hopefully be of some interest to you, I currently have no way of posting it.

 Suffice to say, training at the hotel went very well.  I don't want to suggest it was a walk in the park, or anything like any course you may have been on before - on the contrary it was incredibly intensive - but it was amazingly rewarding, and a truly positive experience.  The time was helped considerably by the staff of Barnett Hill who were exceptional in their service, and who I cannot thank enough for their help and support during the time.

After returning to my temporary home, things have progressed well.  I finally qualified almost a fortnight ago - paying my 50p to take formal ownership of this wonderful dog.  The time since has been split between work, learning the occasional route, and attempting to free-run Vance on the weekends.

In due course I hope to post the audio diary, and perhaps some written articles.  In the meantime I can only apologise for building up your expectations without being able to provide anything to date.  Hopefully when it comes however, like my time on the guide dogs waiting list, it will prove to be well worth the wait.

In the meantime you may be interested to read an account of learning to use a guide dog from one of my classmates on the course: http://terrioshaughnessy.blogspot.com/

Robert Johnson