Mondays with Mike: Dog days

Give them a wide berth, please.

I would bet that if someone kept track, my Printers Row neighborhood has more dogs per capita than any place in Chicago—and probably beyond.

Which is fine. I like dogs.

I like people, too. Mostly. But here’s the thing. Because of Beth’s circumstances and by extension my circumstances, I have a different viewpoint than some.

Some context: A survey by The Seeing Eye was published last year in the Journal of Visual Impairment and Blindness. Seeing Eye dog users were asked about interference–which is any distraction (intentional or not) by people or other dogs. From the article in the Seeing Eye Guide, a magazine for constituents:

“The interference can range from deliberate, sustained eye contact with the dog that can cause a distraction to an attack on the guide dog or handler.”

The survey found 89 percent of the people had at least occasional interference from other people and 78 percent reported interference from other dogs.

Beth’s freedom of movement, her independence, her very life all depend on a dog. Luna is not a pet. She is a partner who relies on Beth as much as Beth relies on Luna. Walking around Chicago is a difficult and intense job. Beth is listening for traffic and sensing input from the handle on Luna’s harness. Luna is listening for Beth’s commands and weighing them against what Luna sees—and Luna selectively disobeys Beth’s commands when what she sees (construction barriers, potholes, cars, trucks, dumbshits on electric scooters, etc.) runs counter to what Beth has asked.

I love Beth and I worry about her. So, sometimes it’s hard for me not to make orphans of some of the dogs in our neighborhood and our very own condo building. Their people do really stupid shit.

Let’s leave Beth and her blindness and her service dog out of it to start. There’s stuff that a sighted person like me can’t understand. People in our building let their dogs pee immediately outside our building entrance. Usually against the planters. Often near outside seating at restaurants on the first floor. Which, apart from being, at its face, completely ignorant and insensitive to others, requires our maintenance people to wash down the area, every day, with detergent. This is not cool. It is disrespectful.

As an able-bodied, sighted person, I also am perturbed by people who assume I like THEIR dogs. Who have long retractable leashes that I have to sidestep to avoid tripping. Who like to stop in the MIDDLE of the sidewalk to let their little whatevers sniff someone else’s little whatevers while the people blurt out baby talk to the little whatevers.

For these people, the dogs are not pets. They’re attention-getting devices. They are accessories. And if you haven’t picked it up as yet, I don’t like it.

For me it’s an annoyance. For Beth it’s a freaking hazard. There is a person in our building with an adorable puppy. And this person milks it. She stations herself on the sidewalk looking for people to ooh and aah and it always creates a little bottleneck. These circumstances aggravate me but they are absolutely hazardous for Beth. Luna’s job is really hard and she’s trained to negotiate circumstances but there are limits. And people like this make it impossible.

It’s not that hard. Here are some human being lessons for you Printers Row/Transportation Building dog owners:

• Some people don’t like dogs.
• Some people are fine with dogs but yours is not that special.
• If you love dogs, that’s great, but ask their companion if it’s OK to pet or otherwise pay attention to their dog.
• Because all people need to travel down the sidewalk, keep your dog close at hand.
• Because all people need to travel down the sidewalk, it’s OK if your dog wants to visit with other dogs, but please, move to the side.
• Beth’s dog—and other service animals—are not pets. Don’t make baby sounds, or make eye contact, or assume that Luna needs to meet your dog—or you.

Follow these simple precepts and you will avoid my wrath. Which you really should want to do.