That's Beth and her classmate Carlos and his beautiful Golden retriever at Rockefeller Plaza. So New York's nice, but Beth and Harper need to come back to Sweet Home Chicago.

So Monday night I got home and there was no impossibly frantic tail-wagging and jumping up on the hind legs. And I felt, for the first time since Beth left for Morristown, alone.

It was a particular kind of aloneness that I’ve felt before. Like the weeks on end I spent in Urbana while Beth was in the hospital in Chicago after eye surgeries. Or the night of the day that Gus was born. He was delivered by C-Section, squawked, and then proceeded to try to die right in front of my eyes. That night, with Beth doped up in her hospital room and Gus in the neonatal ICU with a 50-50 chance of surviving the night (by the doctor’s estimate), I came home, sat on the couch, and the first thing I saw was a tower of disposable diapers we’d built. Our friends had given them to us as a shower present. Now that was lonely.

Back then I tried the stiff upper lip routine. I’d conjure up a voice that would say, “Don’t feel sorry for yourself.” Now, I hear a little voice — it sounds a lot like Woody Allen’s — that says, “Go ahead. Feel sorry for yourself. If you don’t do it, who will?” So I do and it passes quickly. Takes a lot less energy than fighting the urge.

But I’m still sad. Times like these, some people suggest thinking of all those folks who are less fortunate. I get the count-your-blessings part of that. But it’s never worked for me. In times of misery, knowing that others are even more miserable doesn’t perk me up. Then there’s the “Welcome to Holland” thing. If you don’t know about it, a parent of a child with a disability wrote an essay by that title. The central idea is, say you always wanted to go to Italy. You book the trip, you get on the plane, but somehow, you land in Holland. You’re disappointed that it’s not Italy, but you learn to appreciate all the things about Holland that you never knew you would. I get that, too. But you know, what if sometimes you feel like you landed in freaking Siberia?

I wish we’d landed in Italy. I wish Gus had grown up to play a mean shortstop and become a Rhodes Scholar. I wish Beth could see. I wish she didn’t need a Seeing Eye dog.

Over the years I’ve learned just to go with feeling bad for awhile. And, most important, I’ve learned I’m not alone unless I want to be. After the drive home from dropping off Hanni in Urbana, I had dinner at Kate and Joe’s. They’d invited me knowing I might be a little down. (For the record, we ate Italian food.) These past two weeks with Hanni, our friend and fellow White Sox fan Lora walked Hanni while I was at work.  Lora would tell me stories about their walks each evening. Ira — a friend of Beth’s from college days and now my friend, too — visited with his wife Debbie and delivered a new dog bed for Harper last week, just like they did for Hanni years ago. They also lavished attention on Hanni. I met our friends Rick — who is visually impaired — and his wife Rhona (who isn’t) for coffee yesterday at their invitation. Beth’s 94-year-old mother called last night to make sure I was OK.

In the past I might have resisted having company at a time like this, thinking I was supposed to fight the good fight myself. I might also have turned down Beth’s request to fill in for her here on the blog.

Not anymore. My thanks to all our friends and family, you’ve made a rough time a lot less so. And thanks to all of you blog readers who’ve been reading and commenting and following our little transition. It’s been great having you along for the ride.

Beth and Hanni are back Wednesday, so with any luck at all, the next post will be Beth’s.

There's the Harpster. He and Beth will be back in Sweet Home Chicago Wednesday.

So, the latest news from New Jersey is that Beth and Harper had a great time in Manhattan. Apparently Harper had already been to the city three or four times during his training and was unfazed by the throngs at the Port Authority; then he led Beth on a walk in Central Park, and had no problem threading himself and Beth through the holiday crowds on the sidewalks. Also, Beth had another friend visit at school today, and that means more Harper photos, one which I’ll post here.

But enough about Beth. Have I told you about me lately? I just got back from dropping Hanni off with Steven and Nancy at her new home in Urbana. I left last night after work, thinking I’d lucked out with weather. It was warmer than it’s been in awhile, and no snow or rain. Except with the warmth came a thick fog from the downstate snow cover, and visibility was next to nil for some stretches. But it’s not what you’d call a challenging drive (can you say straight and flat?), and I have driven that trip — literally — hundreds of times.

I was raised in a Chicago suburb, but Champaign-Urbana feels like my home town. That’s where I really grew up. I went to college there at the University of Illinois. I met Beth there. Most of my friends — to this day — are connected in some way to my time in C-U. Gus was born there. My big sister Kris — who has helped me stay relatively sane through the years —  lives there with her husband Ed, and Kris’s handsome son Aaron lives there with his photographer wife Joanna and their three kids, who are the cutest kids on earth.

That's nephew Aaron and Joanna with the brood at the Champaign County Fair. If you say they're not the best-looking kids on earth, you're in big trouble.

The university is at the center of life in C-U, and why not: It’s full of whip-smart people doing remarkable things. People like the late physicist John Bardeen — a two-time Nobel Laureate (once for the transistor, once for the theory of superconductivity). Writers like Richard Powers and our wonderful friend Jean Thompson — if you haven’t read her, you should. And you’re looking at this blog thanks to the University of Illinois — where Mosaic, the first graphical Web browser, was developed. Let’s just say the U of I is one of the grandest of the grand land-grant institutions in the land.

That's Nancy and you know who.

Some of the best people in town don’t have a thing to do with university life. Two of them are our friends Steven and Nancy. Steven’s the head of a local arts group, and Nancy’s a nurse practitioner. They live in a sweet place on the edge of town in Urbana, and we’ve visited and stayed there — with Hanni — several times over the past few years.

All of which is why, despite my growing sense of dread over the days leading up to last night, delivering Hanni to her new home was not a sad ordeal. OK, OK, I almost broke down into mush while packing her squeak toys, food, doggie bed, and other paraphernalia. But driving south felt like I was driving her home.

When we got to Steven and Nancy’s house, Hanni got excited and pulled me to their front door. When it opened, I unhooked her leash and she pranced around like she owned the place. I brought her stuff in from the car and Hanni watched intently as I ceremonially handed the big bag of dog food to Steven, and she followed him as he stowed it away. Next, he placed her ratty old dog bed next to an easy chair. By now, Hanni was on her back having her belly scratched by Nancy. Minutes later, Hanni was lying in her bed, surrounded by squeak toys while the three of us humans enjoyed libations.

When it was time for bed, Steven took Hanni out for her last constitutional. Back in the house, he gave her her goodnight treat. I headed for bed, and so did Hanni — she followed Steven and Nancy and slept in their room. As if it had always been that way.

The night before — on her last night in Chicago — I took Hanni for a long walk. Only instead of heading south to the park, I took her into the teeth of downtown. On her old routes with Beth. At Madison Street, she stopped, looked at me, and pulled me west, toward the Ogilvie train station that she and Beth have been to countless times. On the way home, as we passed Sears Tower (yeah, I know it’s Willis Tower, but I’m not doin’ it), she pulled me to the entrance door. That’s where Beth goes for office meetings once a week. I scratched her head and we went along on our way.

As we neared home, we stopped with a huddle of others, all bundled up on a snowy Chicago evening, on their way home from work. As we waited for the light to change, a

So I guess Hanni's going to adjust to life with Steven and Nancy.

woman in front of me bent down, looked Hanni in the face and said, “You are one beautiful city dog.”

That woman was absolutely right, but not anymore. Now Hanni’s one beautiful Urbana dog.

The dogs work hard even before they meet their human companions. Here, a trainer teaches a dog how to lead around common obstacles.

Every day I get dispatches from Beth that stress the highlights. But I asked her to outline a whole, typical day for me.

Whew. The dogs do wonderful things, but it ain’t magic. It’s tons of hard work that will continue back home. Here’s Beth’s account of her latest day of training:

• 5:30 a.m.  Music comes through intercoms to wake us up. Today it was Randy Newman’s “You’ve Got a Friend in Me.” One morning it was “Baby its Cold Outside.” Every day, a different song to wake us up.
• 5:35  Put bell on Harper’s collar.
• 5:40  Trainer came to each door with a bowl of food; Harper must stay in his assigned place by our bedpost as we answer the door. The bell on his collar gives him away if he moves off his place, and he has to go back. He can’t have his food until he stays in his place.
• 5:45  Harper inhaled his food, then I healed him to the bathroom (heal as in walk with leash, but no harness), measured out two cups of water, he drinks what he wants, and I empty out any water he didn’t drink. He only gets water when I give it to him, part of the “bonding,” he better follow my commands and keep me safe so that he can have water!
• 5:47  Dressed up warm then out to the courtyard for “park time” – 17 blind people with their dogs circling around them, all of us urging our dog to empty. Trainers are with us and call out to let us know when we’ve had success: “#1 for Dilbert!” and Dilbert’s owner whoops it up to encourage him to always go on command. “Harry has a #2!” And his owner squeals with delight. Today was a red letter day, Harper did his #1 AND #2 fairly quickly, and once they do both you can have them lead you back into the building (and warmth!) using the “inside!” command.
• 6:00  Back to our room brought empty bowl to nearest lounge and set it in the sink for workers to pick up, made myself a cup of tea to bring back to the room (we’ve all been told to use lids).
• 6:15  Shower.
• 6:30 Harper led me to nurse’s office; he sat quietly under a chair while nurse checked my blood sugar level, I took appropriate insulin
• 6:45 Announcement over intercom “first floor ladies, head down to the dining room” or “men from upstairs, start heading to breakfast.” We all parade down to the dining room, our dogs leading the way.
• 7:00 Each student has an assigned seat in the dining room, we give dogs a series of commands to go “left” “forward” or “right” to get to our seat and praise them when they achieve their goal.
• 7:15   Breakfast. The dining room is lovely, white tablecloths and all. Waiters and waitresses come to get our orders so the dogs will know how to act in restaurant
• 8:00  Off in vans to training center in downtown Morristown.
• 8:15  Today was our “solo” route. We’ve been practicing a route around Morristown for the past couple days. The route includes T-intersections, four-way stoplights, a two-way stop sign, talking walk signals, left turns, two right turns. During the solo the trainer is still behind us, but quite a distance behind us. He doesn’t give us any clues as to where we are at or what lies ahead; we do it on our own. Today’s route included a barricade across the sidewalk that forced us into the street, a dog distracting us and a traffic check, all provided by the Seeing Eye. In addition to the distractions the Seeing Eye “planted” there were natural distractions, too — ours included a fire truck and ambulance whizzing by us at an intersection. Harper did great. The walk was actually a lot of fun.
• 9:30  Caught shuttle from the training center back to the Seeing Eye school
• 9:50  Down to nurse’s office for blood sugar test. I don’t always test my blood sugar this often, but the schedule here is so different than at home it’sgood to have it checked to make sure.
• 10:00  Tea time. This is optional, but I usually go. Another opportunity for Harper to learn to sit quietly under a table, plus get to meet other Seeing Eye staff.
• 10:35  Announcement over intercom told us to give dogs two cups of water again, empty out any water they didn’t drink and then take them to park time.
• 11:15  Down to nurse’s office for blood test
• 11:30  Made my way with Harper to the grand piano in the Eustis Lounge — it’s a Yamaha and sounds beautifully bright. Played the piano until they called lunch.
• Noon  Lunch
• 12:45  Took Harper for an additional park time, always a good idea to give them an extra chance to park before you go out and work. Don’t want them to have to empty while en route.
• 1:00 p.m.  Van ride with fellow student down to training center in downtown Morristown.
• 1:15  Our trainer gave us directions to go to a drug store, very tight aisles, and any time dogs ran us into anything, we had to give them a correction. Harper ran me into a display of some sort, had to do it over. Second time was the charm, he avoided it.
• 1:30  Our trainer directed us to department store, and we learned how to get off and on escalators.
• 1:45  Our trainer directed us to local city park where we worked on squirrel and bird and rabbit distractions.
• 2:30  Shuttle bus back to living quarters.
• 2:45  Groomed Harper.
• 3:00  Nurses office for blood test.
• 3:15  Downstairs to do laundry, they have Braille labels on the washers and dryers so we know “small” or medium” loads, that sort of thing.
• 4:15 Went through our daily obedience ritual: heal, come, sit, down. Rest. “Good dog, Harper!”
• 4:35  Put bell on Harper’s collar.
• 4:40  Trainer came to each door with a bowl of food. Same drill as the morning: Harper had to stay in his place by our bedpost as I answered the door. The bell on his collar gives him away if he moves off his place, and in face he did and he had to go back. Second time was the charm. He stayed at his place, and he got his food.
• 4:45  Harper inhaled his food, then I healed him to bathroom, measured out two cups of water, he drinks what he wants, I empty out any water he didn’t drink.
• 4:47  Dressed up warm and out to courtyard for “park time.”
• 5:15  Call for dinner.
• 6:30 Upstairs to common lounge for class lecture Tonight’s was by a Seeing Eye veterinarian on keeping our dogs healthy. There’s a lecture on a different topic every night. Having to go upstairs for these lectures teaches our dogs to negotiate stairways. We also go down a flight of stairs for park time, plus downstairs for grooming and laundry purposes.
• 7:30  Free time: Played with Harper, playtime is encouraged to keep up the bonding. Plus, it’s fun!
• 8:00  Announcement over intercom: Give each dog one cup of water, dress warm and out for park time.
• 8:15  See nurse for one last blood sugar and for check of legs and feet (for diabetics only, can’t see our own feet and have to be careful we didn’t get blisters or anything like that with all the walking).
• 8:30  Put Harper on chain near foot of the bed. Harper usually falls asleep right away, and I’m never far behind him.

Tomorrow, we head for Manhattan. You know, like Woody Allen’s Manhattan. I’m serious. All of us who live in big cities are encouraged to take this trip to learn how to go through turnstiles, ride a subway and work through crowds. So I guess if Harper and I can make it there, we can make it anywhere.

Harper and I better rest up.
Zzzzzz.

That's the new guy. He's colored a lot like Hanni, brown ears and all.

So last weekend a friend from New Jersey came to visit Beth at the Seeing Eye. A couple years ago Beth attended the American Library Association’s national conference. She wrote about it back then — she was there to accept the Henry S. Bergh Children’s Book Award from the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA). The Bergh ceremony was held in conjunction with the convention.

As you well know, Beth tends to meet new people easily. At the convention, she met Stephanie Burke and her aunt, Maria Apone. Stephanie is the head of a library in North Arlington, New Jersey, and Maria is a teacher in Fairview, NJ. Beth eventually appeared at Stephanie’s library and Maria’s school, and they’ve all been friends ever since. Fast forward to last weekend: Maria came to Morristown to see Beth and meet Harper.

During the visit Maria was good enough to snap some great shots of Harper and Beth. Turns out photography used to be a pretty serious hobby for Maria — this Jersey Girl even had a shot of Bruce Springsteen published in The Village Voice. In these shots, though, Harper’s the boss.

Here are Harper the Hunk of Burnin’ Love’s statistics:

61 lbs.
Birthday: 12/13/2010
Age: He’ll be two on December 13
Turn-ons: Nylabones
Turnoffs: Not being able to find Nylabones

Here are a couple more:

Awww.

Even has Hanni's nose. He looks like he's all paws.

Well, Hanni and I have made it through a week. So have Harper and Beth. But it sure seems like it’s been longer.

Ain't no messin' around on the streets of Chicago.

Out in New Jersey, Beth’s learning more about Harper. He likes to chew on his Nylabone. A lot. For those who don’t know what a Nylabone is, it’s this synthetic bone-like toy that’s designed not to break off into pieces that could choke a dog. And they’re very tough. Apparently Harper’s already just about rounded off the big knuckle on the end of the bone. And I can hear him — while on the phone — gnawing on it.

The best news out of Morristown is that Harper is great at traffic checks. A traffic check goes like this: Beth and Harper go out to work on stuff for the day with their trainer. In addition to whatever they’re drilling on that day, other instructors are out and about in cars. They intentionally cut in front of Beth and Harper to simulate the very real and insane behavior of texting, distracted drivers.

And Harper has done exactly the right thing several times now. If there is one thing I’d want Harper to be good at, that’s it. Here in Chicago, it’s a must.

He stops for cars but apparently, he likes walking fast so much he sometimes doesn’t stop for curbs and crossings when there’s no cross traffic. Which requires a correction. Which brings me to Beth.

It’s been clear to us since Beth’s first time at the school that the time at the Seeing Eye is as much or more about training the humans as it is training the dogs. The dogs have had the bulk of their training. The humans are learning, in essence, how to be dog trainers, and to keep the dogs doing right. When Beth checks in with me, she usually mentions some basic technique that she’d forgotten or that had gone rusty since her last time there. Like how to hold the harness. There’s a natural tendency — which can be exacerbated by a dog walking slower as she ages — to want to guide the dog, and to push. But you have to hold the harness loosely and let the dog feel a sensation of pulling and leading. The dog has to count on that.

The whole thing — as people who have had dogs or kids well understand — is consistency. So, a warning for all of you who might run into Beth and Harper when they return: Beth’s going to be intensely focused, perhaps less friendly than she usually is for awhile, and she’s going to have to stay on top of her and Harper’s game for a good long while.

I hope you’ll remember it isn’t personal. It’s just necessary for Harper and Beth to be safe and sound.