Harper loves it at home! It's that crazy outside world that's become too much. Who can blame him?
Harper is not the only heroic guy in the family – my husband Mike Knezovich is a hero, too. When I told him I’d have a hard time writing about this, he generously offered to write a guest post about it for me.
Harper the hero
by Mike Knezovich
So I was going to steal a line from Beth and call this post Harper’s Bizarre, because, well, he’s exhibited some really strange behavior over the past several months.
The thing is, if you were to watch Harper and Beth work inside and in the vicinity of our condo building you’d say he was terrific. Because he is. He’s uncanny at finding elevators, weaving through pedestrian traffic, and unbelievably gentle and polite when approaching slow walkers or WPs—wobbly people as we say in the guide dog parlance.
But.
Harper has developed a boundary line—a line only he sees or understands—past which he will not go. Literally. For example, he’ll cross our street—Dearborn—at a very busy intersection and take Beth to the tree where he does his emptying, and he won’t miss a beat. But he won’t cross the next street—a quiet side lane. On a good day, he will follow Beth’s command to walk south, a long city block to Polk Street, then turn right on Beth’s command to head north and back home.
He will not, however, go any farther away from home than that route. He simply stops. He can be literally dragged, but that’s all that will move him. And it’d take a stronger man than me to drag him much more than a yard. He’s one muscular dog.
It’s like this in other locales, too. That is, if I drive Beth to the Chicago Cultural Center, where Beth teaches, he’ll pile out of the car, Beth will grab his harness, and he’ll be off like a rocket up the ramp to the front door, and lead her precisely to her spot in the classroom inside the building. No mean feat, as the Cultural Center is a hulking structure. He’ll take her out of the Cultural Center, too. But only as far as is necessary to be picked up by me or a taxi. He will not venture down the busy city sidewalk to lead her home. Beth traveled to Madison, Wis., recently, and it was the same. She got a ride from Chicago to the front door of her hotel. He brought her to the registration desk. They were led to their room, and he routinely got her out of the hotel and back to the room without help. But he would not travel away from the hotel.
Beth and I have concluded sardonically that we’ve become guide people, service people, our mission in life is to make sure that Harper is able to travel safely with our help. A little gallows humor never hurts when dealing with sad subjects.
But ultimately, this is really sad, not funny. Harper is not bizarre, he’s a hero. And like a good many other heroes, his heroic act has left a lasting—if invisible—scar.
Here’s what happened: about two or three weeks after Beth and Harper came home from training, they were headed north on State Street. Beth waited to hear that traffic on State was moving—indicating that the light was green and she could cross—and she commanded Harper to go forward. They stepped into the street to cross.
A northbound vehicle didn’t see Beth and Harper and made a right turn into their path. Beth doesn’t remember any detail except being dragged backward—by Harper—yanked so hard that she fell to the pavement and hit her head. So hard that it bent and split the metal fitting on Harper’s harness where the handle attaches. (Even back in December during training, Harper had excelled at traffic checks—disobeying the command to go forward in the face of traffic and pulling Beth back if a vehicle darted in front of them.)
The woman driving the car pulled over and came, panicked, to Beth’s aid. She didn’t realize that the reason Beth had fallen backwards was due to Harper’s strength and determination to pull her away from the oncoming car. The driver was sure she’d hit Beth and Harper. Beth, to this day, isn’t absolutely sure whether Harper was brushed by the vehicle or not.
A pedestrian also came to Beth’s aid and asked what he could do for her. Beth asked whether Harper was OK—fully expecting to hear that Harper had been hit.
The pedestrian told her Harper was fine, helped Beth get her bearings, walked her and Harper across the street, and Beth and Harper made it home to tell me the story.
As it happened, Harper was not fine. He behaved normally for at least a couple weeks after the incident. But then, one day, weeks afterward, Beth was on her way to a meeting at her Easter Seals job in Willis Tower. Out of the blue, as they were cruising along Jackson Street, Harper stopped on the sidewalk. It wasn’t at an intersection. A passerby came to Beth’s aid. Beth asked if there was anything unusual—construction or whatever—going on. There was not.
The stranger gave Beth his elbow and walked her and Harper “sighted guide.” As soon as Harper saw Willis Tower—a familiar sight—he picked it up. But later, he kept doing this type of thing: balking, crouching, cowering in the middle of a block—for no apparent reason. He just didn’t want to go any farther.
After a visit from a Seeing Eye instructor, Beth got some great tips using clicker training and treats and Harper started to improve. It looked like he was going to make it.
Then Beth broke her foot.
For weeks she could only take Harper out once a day on harness. And that was only as far as his favorite tree. I’d take him the rest of the time. And that’s when we knew the problem was getting worse, not better. When I took him—or tried to take him—on a walk, he cowered and froze any time we went past his usual spot and on into unknown territory. And he wasn’t even working. He didn’t have his harness on. He knew
I was leading. And he still didn’t go.
I held onto the hope that it was because he knew Beth was back at home, and he didn’t want to go any farther away from her than necessary. The last hope was lost after Beth’s foot healed and she got the doctor’s green light to start walking as far as she wanted to. Where before, a clicker and a treat would get him going, now Harper—a Yellow Labrador Retriever mind you—was not motivated by treats.
The Seeing Eye sent another instructor out our way. Chris spent a couple days with us and Harper. He tried the clicker/treat routine and witnessed what we had. He said he’d never ever seen a Lab who didn’t want a treat badly enough to obey a command.
We talked a lot with Chris, and he said that although the training at the Seeing Eye includes a trip or two to New York City with the trainer, then another with the person they are eventually matched with—there’s really no way to know for sure how a dog will react to city surroundings—or any surroundings, for that matter—in the long term.
He also explained that although Harper didn’t start balking right after the near-miss with the car, the stresses on the dogs can be cumulative.
The three of us talked and imagined what swirled around in Harper’s head. In the end, Chris made it clear that city life had just become too much for Harper. Beth would have to get matched with a new partner. We all agreed that Harper would stay with us at least until Beth could go to another class. He’s still good at what he is able to do, as long as we can provide door-to-door transportation. And we’re more attached to him than ever. As for Harper’s future, Chris said he’d talk with his colleagues when he got back to New Jersey about whether Harper could be retrained and perhaps work in a calmer environment.
We doubted he could, and silently hoped—for Harper’s sake—that he’d be able to spend his years as a plain old dog. But we also hated the idea that all that training, and all Harper’s gentle ways, would be wasted.
Well, we needn’t have worried. Last week John Keane—the Seeing Eye’s head of training—called Beth. He made clear that there was no intention to retrain Harper.
And John drove home that the Seeing Eye’s hard work and Harper’s training were hardly wasted.
“He took a bullet for you,” John said. “And for that he earned an early retirement.”
These dogs are so sensitive and so amazing, they care so much and it is so sad when the weight and responsibility they carry becomes too much. I’m very glad that TSE has stood by you and Harper so well and is doing what is right by Harper with early retirement.
I hate to hear this. But let me be a voice from the other side, please. As I’ve mentioned before in comments on your blog, we’ve been here and done this. And Mark, Tom’s “failed” guide dog, is now our “special needs” pet. For reasons we’ll never know, Mark became more and more terrified of his harness, progressively more insecure about decisions, ultimately cowering away from Tom rather than eagerly pushing his head into the harness. Like you, we feared the school would reclaim him and retrain him. Instead, after seeing him in person, the trainers decided that if we could keep him, that would be best for Mark. He is still odd, insecure, needy. But he is also wonderfully sweet-natured, the calm one among our five animals (don’t ask–it was NOT intentional!), a voice of reason when things in the animal kingdom get testy. And Tom’s new dog, Cate, is the best he’s had yet. She leaps into her harness, gallops along at breakneck pace (Tom’s natural stride), greets challenges with verve and obstacles with grace. She smiles as she works, fairly strutting, with absolute confidence that she and her daddy absolutely rock this world.
This is a sad and beautiful tribute to a sweet dog. May the next one share Harper’s loyal doggedness but without the demons that dogged his growth. (Sorry, I can never pass up a good word play.) And know this, from a veteran guide dog mama: Harper will live a blissful, doggy-heaven life. They never seem to miss going to work–all of Tom’s dogs have looked at retirement the same way most people do, as a time to relish.
Thanks Lauren. We remembered Tom and you having a similar experience and are hoping for the same outcome. Except for maybe the five animals. Unless four are fish, maybe.
I cried as I read this, as a person reading about another person’s problems, and selfishly, as a puppy raiser who wants to believe it’s all roses and sunshine for the dogs that make it through. I am so deeply sorry that Harper has to be retired: sorry for Beth, sorry for you [Mike], sorry for Harper. We can only bring them so far. I know there is a silver lining to every cloud; hopefully Beth will be matched with a super-special dog, and Harper finds out what his true calling is.
You puppy raisers do a wonderful job. It’s just complicated out there. Sometimes I’m afraid to walk around here:)
Dear Beth and Mike – I am so sorry that this couldn’t be turned around. We have been talking about you up here in the rural north and want to talk about bringing you back to “finish” your middle school tour. Remember that our offer of taking Harper is still open. Labs are big fans of walks on the beach, and along canals – areas we just so happen live right upon. We would give Harper a very happy home, but I’m sure you’ve gotten many offers already – perhaps we’re the first from the quiet countryside. With love and our best thoughts, Jenny and Dennis.
P.S. – I will be in touch re: the Finke Tour, Part Two!!
Oh – one more plug for Door County. I was at a lecture today at a learning center on a huge parcel of land that is dedicated to our particular biosphere here and reclaiming prairie. They have wonderful long dog walking paths and I saw someone walking a lab and I thought – someday – we will have a lab to walk on these paths with us. XXOO
Ha! As if Door County needs a plug. What a beautiful place, I do hope we can do “Finke Tour Two” –by then i can tell audiences all about my new dog, whoevers/he is…
My eyes are wet and my heart is breaking for your family. Give Harper hugs from me and all of your loyal readers. I will look forward to hearing about his retirement and your new adventures with your next guide.
Always happy to give Harper hugs –will do so for you now, too.
Beth – As hard as It must be to realize that Harper’s time with you will be coming to an end, thank goodness he was with you and protected you when you needed him. I’m so happy he is going to an “early retirement” and am looking forward to hearing about your new partner.
Maureen, you are so right. He saved our lives that day, and for that, he certainly does deserve an early retirement.
Beth, I’m very sorry to hear of Harper’s early retirement. I hope he lives a long and happy life as a pet and that you are matched with a dog who can handle the stressors of city life. Hugs
Thanks, Alexis, and much love to you and your wonderful guide Julia.
I concur with the comments above….and on another note, just want to say that you guys are the best blog and blog guest writers!
Oh, Nancy, you are sweet. I’ll make sure my guest blogger knows he has a fan.
Hi Beth and Mike,
I’m really sorry to hear about Harper — this must be very sad, especially for you Beth. While it’s sad Harper has to retire because of that unfortunate incident last December, we’re thankful he was there when you needed him. His job as a guide was short, but he was a hero! Also, you and TSE never gave up on him — you had confidence he would return to his normal self, but we can only imagine the trauma Harper is facing. You should be proud that you did everything you could to help him. Good luck, and I’m looking forward to reading about your adventures with your new buddy!
Thanks, Sandra. It’s easy to thing “Well, of only I’d done this,” or “Maybe if I hadn’t…” but you are right: all of us, Mike, me, Harper and the trainers Seeing Eye sent out, did the best we could. Harper did his job, and now it’s time for him to retire.
Oh Beth–very sorry about these developments. Just because you and Mike seem so able to handle what comes at you doesn’t mean that stuff should keep coming at you! I am thinking of you–and Harper. You are both heros.
Aw, shucks. Thanks gretchen. I am with you — I hope the next year goes a bit more smoothly.
Wow, thanks for the update and give Harper a hug from me for keeping you out of harms way!
Hope all goes well for you and you get a new wonderful friend soon!
Penn
Will do — give Harper a hug, I mean. Thanks for your good wishes, Penn.
Harper is a real “hero” in my book too!
God bless him and grant him a long and joy-filled retirement with you.
The story of Harpers eventual retirement is an emotional journey. Glad for such a sweet outcome, but sorry that you and Beth will be making another adjustment entering into a new relationship. Se la vie! Love to you.
What a year it has been. Much love to Harper and both of you.
Oh, I am so stubborn I cannot make myself admit it was a “bad” year. It certainly was not my *favorite* year, though. The only word I have come up to describe the last 12 months is this: dumb. I’m going with the Jewish calendar and started my new year already, this one is sure to be better, and maybe even smarter.
As always with you guys: WHAT A STORY. Of course I’m always thinking about Beth’s Next Book: have you guys considered co-authoring a book about your dogs? Seeing eye dogs, and their relationships to people, are just intrinsically fascinating. . .and you guys REALLY know how to tell the story.
I just can’t add anything new to the chorus here: so sad, what a crap year, add Epping NH to the list of dog retirement resorts, etc.
Oh, well one more thing I will add is that one thing I always love about your blog is the community of blind folks you have built up, who are all writing about negotiating this crazy world with such intelligence and humor and snarkiness. You guys rock.
“intelligence and humor and snarkiness
Meant to add there that maybe that can be the title of the next book: intelligence and humor and snarkiness
Beth and Mike – SO sorry — I know how hard you have both tried to make this work. I am glad that everyone is OK – but thankfully this was not your first guide dog experience and you did everything you could to make this work. Poor Harper. I like your comment about the Jewish New Year – hopefully the upcoming year will bring you all a more peaceful time!
I read this lovely tribute to Harper with teary eyes. You were all blessed to have each other for this time, however brief, and I wish Harper a very happy retirement! I’m sure you’ll always have a special connection and I have every confidence that Beth will find another fabulous dog that will lead her on even more great adventures.
it was not meant to be, and I am sorry for all of you. I am sure this has not been easy for anyone.
are you keeping harper? or, if not, will you offer him to his puppy raiser for adoption? I am sure they love she/he has for him continues to be strong.
I am guessing that if things went with Plan A, where I’d be bringing Harper back to the Seein geye and they’d evluate him to see if he coudl be retrained, the puppy raiser would have been contacted in the event that Harper would go up for adoption. When it was decided that we should retire Harper relatively quickly and take the pressure off him as soon as possible, we moved to Plan B.
Such a beautiful post, Mike. So sorry all of you had a tough go of it but thank heavens Harper was there for Beth.
Lots of hugs and doggie kisses to all three of you. Wishing Harper a well deserved retirement.
Mike-thank you so much for being the guest writer. I know that this has been very difficult for all involved. Harper is a hero- as are all the heroes at Seeing Eye and the puppy raisers. We will always remember Harper as the associate “officiant” at Jen and Brian’s wedding!
Yes! Harper had a *lot* of wonderful adventures in his short working life with me. I guess he lives in, ahem, DOG YEARS.
Beth and Mike
I am so sorry for all of you. That is heartbreaking news, but no one failed here! Harper is a hero and you guys helped to identify what Harper is and isn’t capable of handling. Your love for him is saving him too. For sure Seeing Eye didn’t fail as they taught Harper the right responses to prevent what could have been a tragic accident.
Unfortunately, all of that doesn’t make the hurt go away. Hugs all around. Hang in there. You’ll find the right match soon.
Amy
Amy, thank you *so* much for this reply. That Mike Knezovich is one heckuva writer. The one thing I was hoping to convey in this post is that Harper is by no means a failure. From your comment, Amy, I think Mike got that point across. Thanks for your good wishes.
I can only echo this chorus of Finke-Knezovich lovers. All the best in 5772.
Mahlzatov!
Beth-So sorry to hear about Harper! He will always be in your heart and sounds like he deserves retirement. I hope next year is a little less brutal on your emotions! Hugs to all
Phil
Hugs to you, too, Ms. Early. Let’s hope I treat the poor trainer who works with me in NJ next month better than I treated you when you taught me with Pandora, my first Seeing Eye dog!
I agree with Siobhan. You are both beautiful writers. This brought tears to my eyes. Please consider co-authoring your next book.
Thanks for the compliments, Siobhan and Mary. Co-authoring a book with mike might seem like a good idea from the outside, but don’t hold your breath. I’ll never forget hearing a cautionary tale from an interview with Jimmy & Rosalind Carter way back in the 80s after their book “Everything to Gain: came out.
Their marriage almost fell apart during the writing! From an AP storyearlier this year:
“They decided to write a book together in the mid-1980s. Soon, they were sending each other nasty notes and squabbling about minor differences. They were ready to hand back their book advance when an editor arranged a ceasefire: Each would write their own sections, and sign them with their initial.
“They’re not all disagreements. There are some things I knew and that you knew we wanted to put in,” Rosalynn says now of writing the 1987 book, “Everything to Gain: Making the Most of the Rest of Your Life.”
Jimmy cuts in. “Well, I would say they were disagreements,” he said, adding with a chuckle: “I was amazed at how paltry Rosa’s memory was.”
I’m so sorry for you two, Beth and Mike. I’m not as sorry for Harper, who will undoubtedly live out a long and happy and well-deserved retirement. Things didn’t work out as you (and we, your readers) hoped, but Harper was there when you needed him most. You’ve done everything you can to make it work so now move on to Plan B with optimism and with love for Harper.
Oh, you are so right, Harper live out a long and happy and well-deserved retirement.
Oops, my comment got cut a bit there. we have really grown to love Harper, which in a funny way makes it easier to have him retire — it’s too hard on him to force him to try to keep working.
I’m in tears, too. Best of everything for all of you & may Harper find a wonderful retirement spot to grow new roots. Take care.
Thanks, Holly. Not much longer before Harper officially retires and I’m back training with a new Seeing Eye dog. Look for more adventures here on the blog…!
I love the picture with Harper on your lap….. losing him is losing a friend, but to know that there’s a new adventure waiting for both of you is a positive touch.
Still, how sad!
You’re right. It is. Sad, I mean.
Meant to add: thanks for commenting and empathizing –it helps!
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Beth & Mike,
I’m saddened to hear about Harper’s early retirement, but so glad to have met him. I’ll look forward to stories about the new pup.
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