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Update on Harper

November 18, 201117 CommentsPosted in Beth Finke, radio, Seeing Eye dogs, Uncategorized

Dude has a new toy.

A few weeks ago I recorded an essay about Harper’s early retirement for Chicago Public Radio, and the piece aired last Tuesday onWBEZ.

Harper didn’t retire until a few days after I recorded the essay, so he was there in the studio sitting quietly at my feet while I sat at the microphone. I don’t cry during the recording, but if you listen closely you’ll hear me get a little choked up. I had assumed my terrific producer Joe DeCeault would cover up my stammers with music, but I guess he decided my verbal stumbles help tell Harper’s story. It’s all me. No sound effects.

Harper’s new family heard the piece, and Chris e-mailed Mike to send a review:

I heard Beth on the radio the other day – her and Harper’s story is always so moving and when I share it with others, they also seem touched by the two of them.

You know what? I find Harper’s new chapter with Larry and Chris very moving, too. I am touched by the three of them.

Chris updates Mike on Harper regularly, and they’ve found that taking him off leash and just walking alongside Harper makes him feel at ease. Soon as the leash goes back on, though, Harper shows anxiety again. Handsome Harper is charming all the neighbors, Chris says, and even George the cat comes out of his hiding place from time to time to say hello to Harper. The biggest news of all, as far as harper is concerned: Larry and Chris bought him a new squeak toy.

If you missed hearing the Harper essay on the radio last Tuesday, you can still check it out online. Listen closely, and maybe you’ll hear the little charmer jiggling at my feet!

What it takes to be a Seeing Eye dog instructor

November 15, 20115 CommentsPosted in Beth Finke, guide dogs, Seeing Eye dogs, travel, Uncategorized, visiting schools

I figured that once I told the animal sciences department at University of Illinois that Harper wouldn’t be coming with me, they’d cancel my guest lecture to their animal sciences class tomorrow. But I was wrong. Professor Amy Fisher wants me to come anyway, and I think the talk will be interesting. My plan is to use Harper’s early retirement as an example of just how difficult it is to prepare Seeing Eye dogs for the hard, hard work required of them.

From the Seeing Eye Web site:

Staff instructors are full-time employees who hold college degrees from various fields of study and have successfully completed three years of specialized on-the-job training. They relate well to dogs and people and are physically fit, since their jobs are physically demanding and involve working outdoors in all weather. Some of our current instructors came from teaching, business consulting and rehabilitation fields. Some were in the military and worked with dogs before, and many started out as kennel assistants here at The Seeing Eye.

picture of Seeing Eye trainer, a dog, and an obstacle course

A Seeing Eye trainer demonstrates how dogs learn to negotiate obstacles.

When people express interest in pursuing a job training guide dogs, I always remind them that they won’t just be working with dogs. They’ll be working with people, too. We blind folks are all different ages, and we have all sorts of different backgrounds and experiences behind us. Some of us are newly blind and still adjusting, others have been blind our entire lives. Although some of us might be easy to work with, a lot of us are brats. We test our teacher’s patience.

The Puppy Place (a Web site created by a group of volunteers who raise puppies for guide dog schools) says it well:

Guide Dog trainers must work with a variety of dogs within a given size range. A great deal of walking and upper body strength is required to mold hyper young dogs into responsible workers. In the beginning, when working with dogs alone, this may not seem bad, but soon the apprentice must team dog training with people training. You can’t leash correct your blind student, or give him/her a dirty look and expect the undesired behavior or wrong actions to stop. You must verbally communicate while physically managing to keep up with the dog. Coming out of yourself to work with both dogs and people is a special skill and not one to be taken lightly.

Schools receive literally hundreds of applications a year from people who want to train guide dogs, so even opportunities to become an apprentice are rare. Most guide dog schools do require instructors to do an apprenticeship, and some apprenticeships last as long as four years. From my observation, apprentices work very hard. And from what I hear, salaries are not that high. Considering that guide dog schools are non-profit organizations, I would guess the pay is far below what a lot of today’s college educated people expect to earn.

If you’re looking for job satisfaction, though, this kind of work must be pretty dang rewarding! For general information about working for The Seeing Eye, contact:

Human Resources
The Seeing Eye
P.O. Box 375
Morristown, NJ 07963
or email jobs@seeingeye.org.

Quit looking in the mirror!

November 12, 201110 CommentsPosted in blindness, memoir writing, travel, Uncategorized, visiting schools

Last Thursday I gave a presentation to a class at Carnegie Mellon University. Harper couldn’t make the trip to Pittsburgh, and I am

A few of the beautiful women in one of my memoir writing classes.

very grateful to my gracious husband Mike for stepping in as Seeing Eye Human and making this visit possible.

The class I spoke to was History 79-311: “Body Politics: Women and Health in America.” To prepare for my talk, I went to the experts. I asked the women in the memoir-writing classes I teach to write about “body image.” Their essays did not disappoint.

Myrna’s essay taught us that anorexia existed long before pop singer Karen Carpenter succumbed to it in the 1980s. Myrna wrote about growing up pudgy in a home where eating was “considered one of the great pleasures in life.” When she was sent away to camp at age 12, she saw it as a chance to lose some of the pudge and look more like the girls in magazines. The magazine girls were not as skinny then as now, Myrna acknowledged, but definitely trimmer than in life. This little 12-year-old girl starved herself at camp, devising ways to pick at her food to make it look like she’d eaten more than she had, always leaving the table early to dump what was left on her plate into the trash. It was weeks before the camp counselors finally noticed. Myrna’s parents were summoned and took her home. From her essay:

A picture of me taken not long after I returned home shows me scrawny, for the first and last time in my life. I stopped menstruating for several months. Perhaps I thought that, too, was an accomplishment.

Myrna’s fellow memoir-writer Kathy had the opposite problem. Her essay described one of the long-lasting effects of growing up a late bloomer.

I waited, waited, waited! Friend and after friend smiled knowingly as she joined the ranks of women, no longer a girl. I was still my mother’s thin child with a chest flatter than flat. (Her body type had been all the rage in the flapper era!) Furtively, I began to stoop to conceal the absence of a Marilyn Monroe bosom. My posture, once erect and confident, became the rounded shoulders I have today…

One of the most intriguing essays came from Sheila. She wrote about life as an identical twin, describing her body as a carbon copy of her sister Clare’s — up to a point. “A slightly distorted mirror image is a better description.” At birth Sheila weighed in at 5 pounds, Clare at four pounds, some-odd ounces.

Weight has been a comparison point for our entire lives. Clare was always a size smaller than me. I resented weighing more than her. No one, even strangers would let me forget the difference. “She’s bigger than the other one. Otherwise, they look exactly alike.”

The twins are in their 60s now, and Clare put on weight after being immobilized by foot surgery.

Finally, she’s as big as me. It doesn’t feel as good as I thought it would. All my life I wanted to be the same size or smaller than Clare. How come I don’t feel like celebrating?

There is not much to celebrate about becoming blind, but one thing I appreciate about not being able to see is that I can no longer judge people by how they look. I am left to judge others on more important things: what they say, and what they do.

In my scholarly research for Thursday’s talk at Carnegie Mellon I came across one study that found that blind women have lower body dissatisfaction scores and more positive eating attitudes than women who can see. From the study:

The high levels of body dissatisfaction and abnormal eating attitudes currently prevalent in Western societies have been attributed by many authors to the promotion of an unrealistically thin ideal for women. We investigated the role of the visual media by examining the relationship between body image dissatisfaction and eating attitudes in visually impaired women.

The results suggest the importance of the visual media in promoting unrealistic images of thinness and beauty.

All pretty interesting stuff, and I thank my friends in Pittsburgh and Carnegie Mellon University for inviting me to present on the topic – I ended up learning a lot!

Man's best friends

November 7, 201113 CommentsPosted in Beth Finke, guide dogs, Mike Knezovich, Seeing Eye dogs, Uncategorized

Gonna' miss him, but he's in great hands.

Here’s another post from my husband Mike Knezovich. I’ll be back later this week.

Sunday, for the second time in the last 12 months, I carried the dog bed, toys, and other canine accoutrement to the car to drive Beth’s retired Seeing Eye dog to new digs. Last year it was Hanni headed to Urbana and Steven and Nancy’s. This year it was Harper to Wheaton and Chris and Larry’s.

We had one last shindig with Harper the day before. Steven and Nancy—who are Hanni’s current humans—were kind enough to drive up with her for the retirement party. We made one attempt at a walk together—thinking that Harper might forget his invisible force field and follow Hanni down the block to the park. No luck. Harper has his boundaries and that’s that.

Hanni, however, was in full glory. While Steven, Nancy, and I waited for Beth to meet us with Harper, a CTA bus came to a stop for a red light. The driver opened his window, stuck out his head, and said, “That’s a beautiful dog. Is it a Lab?” We shouted back that it was a Lab-Golden mix. “She’s beautiful,” he said, and then the bus roared north on Dearborn.

We had a great time Saturday and so did the dogs. And the Sunday transition was eased a bit this year because I had company for the trip: Beth. The Seeing Eye encouraged us to take the pressure off Harper as soon as we could; Beth’s not headed to New Jersey to get matched with a new dog until later this month.

Party!

As difficult as letting Hanni go was—after nine years of her being part of our household—this time has been harder, for me at least. With Hanni, things had run their natural course. She’d had a great career, she was slowing down, it was time.

With Harper, if you follow this blog, you know this is different. For one, there’s just the disappointment that we’re going through this again so soon, and that Beth’s going to be gone for nearly three weeks—working like a dog with a dog—in New Jersey. For another, it’s just sad to see Harper go. Things didn’t go as planned, but somehow, in a relatively short time, I grew more attached to Harper than I did Beth’s other dogs.

First, it’s not an exaggeration to say that he saved Beth’s life. Second, when we and the The Seeing Eye concluded that it really was not going to work with Harper, I was free to treat Harper like he was our dog, not Beth’s service animal.

So I was caught by surprise by how sad I was yesterday. A blithering mess. I mean, it’s a DOG right?

But it’s pretty easy to empathize with Harper. Harper was different right from the start. He’s strong as an ox but gentle as a lamb. He’s composed, deliberate, and almost regal. He even walks around the house quietly. As Beth noted, if you hung out with Hanni and Harper off-harness for a while you’d swear he must be the better guide dog. While Harper will gently take a treat from your fingertips, Hanni will just about take your hand off. And she rolls over on her back for a belly rub at the drop of a hat.

Harper’s serious. He’s a worrier—to an extreme I think, and this I absolutely empathize with.

Apart from that, we asked Harper to do very difficult things—he did them—but it ultimately was beyond his limit. The trauma of the near miss with the car aggregated with the daily stress of downtown Chicago got the better of him.

We humans can certainly understand this. And how it takes its toll—we see it in war veterans as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. We see it in other folks as crippling anxiety, depression, and other mental disorders. Some of it is probably inevitable—life is a struggle. But it seems like we make it harder for each other than maybe we need to. I don’t know.

What I do know is that Harper now lives on a quiet, leafy street in the suburbs, in a lovely brick home decorated in arts & crafts style, with a beautifully tended, fenced back yard. He shares this home with a cat named George and two humans named Chris and Larry.

That's Larry, Chris, and Harper--with his equivalent of a security blanket: a squeak-toy snowman

We met Chris and Larry through our mutual friend Greg (that’s a story in itself for another day). We don’t have a long history with Chris and Larry—when Greg comes to town, we all get together and very much enjoy our time. That’s been about once a year for the last few. The last time was at our place, and that’s when Chris and Larry met Harper.

When it became clear that bringing Harper to France with us in September was just not going to work (he won’t walk a block south from our apartment, so France seemed like a bridge too far), it was Chris and Larry to the rescue. They came and picked up our boy and had a nice time with him.

They also witnessed his behavior—he would not walk more than a block or so from their house before turning around and high-tailing it for home. But they enjoyed Harper, and he enjoyed hanging out in their back yard, discovering squirrels and life outside the city.

Beth and I both thought they’d be great for Harper because it would get him out of the city chaos. Plus, they’d witnessed his behavior, which you sort of have to see to really believe. They’d know what they were taking on.

When Beth asked them whether they’d be interested in adopting him, they asked to think about it for a day. And then said yes.

When we arrived Sunday Harper bolted the car and ran up to Larry and Chris and then headed for the front door. Inside he seemed completely at home.

So did we. Over a bowl of chili we learned a lot about our new friends. Larry joined the army after high school and went to Viet Nam. He eventually re-enlisted in the reserves. That’s where he and Chris met—she’d joined the reserves to help pay for college. Mostly, we learned these are people who have lived full, sometimes challenging lives, and they have a depth of understanding and kindness that makes you feel good when you’re around it.

As our visit wound down, and I woofed a really good piece of pumpkin cheesecake Chris had made, I speculated that Harper, after some time just being a dog, would go on normal walks again. Everyone seconded that hope.

Larry added, “And if he doesn’t, this guy never has to leave the back yard if he doesn’t want to.”

We certainly can make life unnecessarily hard for ourselves and others. But Chris and Larry reminded me of how caring folks can be, how they can ease our way, and how remarkably lucky Beth and I are to have the friends we do. Thank you all.

Guess who we asked to Harper's retirement party?

November 6, 201118 CommentsPosted in Seeing Eye dogs, Uncategorized
Note to my blind blog readers: Today is Harper’s last day on the job, and Hanni came to town with our friends Steven and Nancy to wish him a happy retirement. It was a small party, just four humans and two loveable loyal dogs. This post is a series of photos of the two of them Partying together at our apartment.

Whole lotta dogs going on. Hanni is still an affection hound.

That's Nancy of Nancy and Steven, who were kind enough to bring Hanni up from Urbana for the party.