A roll of stickers, I mean, medallions seals, arrived in the mail this week. They came from the American Society for the prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and I must say — winning an ASPCA Henry Bergh Children’s Book Award is the coolest. Now I can stick those oo la la shiny gold medallions seals (my publisher insists I call them medallions seals, not stickers!) on the covers of all my copies of Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound. And guess what? The medallions seals have texture to them, too – they feel great.

Books that win Henry Bergh Children’s Book Awards are featured on the ASPCA website. I love how they say I am “a writer who travels a lot and is blind.” True!

Hanni and Beth: Safe and Sound
by Beth Finke

Henry Bergh Children’s Book Award Winner:
Non-Fiction Companion Animals Award 2007

This book tells the story of Hanni, a Seeing Eye dog and her owner, Beth, a writer who travels a lot and is blind. Told from Hanni’s point of view, we
learn what Seeing Eye dogs do and do not do when working. When her harness is on Hanni can’t stop to eat or sniff. She can’t be petted or roll over to
scratch her back. She is focused on “keeping us safe”. While at times Hanni envies the lives of other dogs, she is very proud of her job and enjoys being allowed in places where most dogs can’t go.

End notes explain Hanni’s intensive training at the Seeing Eye School in Morristown, NJ, and how Beth became blind and came to have Hanni in her life.

If you buy Safe & Sound online from the ASPCA your purchase will help the ASPCA in its “ongoing efforts to educate children about animal awareness and create a more humane nation.”

Books purchased directly from the ASPCA will, of course, come with oo la la gold shiny medallions seals on the cover. Heck, pretty soon books purchased anywhere will come with those oo la la gold shiny medallions seals on the cover. My publisher’s son Jude Tucker says it’d be fair enough to charge more for getting a book with a sticker, I mean, medallion seal on the front. But get this: if you buy Safe & Sound online from the ASPCA, they’ll give you a discount! Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound retails for $17.95, and the ASPCA sells it for only $15.25!!

What. A. Deal.

It happens any time Hanni and I find ourselves in a closed space with other people. On buses, in line somewhere, on elevators — someone inevitably asks what my dog’s name is. I’m not a gambler (thank God, because I sure do embrace every other vice), but you can bet that if someone asks your dogs name, the next thing they’ll do is talk to your dog. Usually in some saccharine sweetie-pie voice. Not good for a Seeing Eye dog. They’re working. They need to stay focused.

And so, I lie. “Wags!” I say.

“Hi, Wags! The stranger coos. Hanni doesn’t respond. “They sure know how to train those dogs,” the stranger marvels. “Wags didn’t even look up at me!”

When I know I might run into someone again sometime, I do divulge Hanni’s real name. Her name is so unusual, though (by the way, it rhymes with Bonnie, not Fanny) that most people forget what it is. That comes in handy – if people can’t remember what Hanni’s name is, they can’t call out to her and distract her from her work.

An excerpt from my first book, Long Time, No see helps explain how Hanni got her name in the first place. Note: Robert is the guy who trained Hanni, Pandora was my first Seeing Eye dog.

At a private interview on my first night, Robert asked “Is there a certain breed, a certain gender you need to have?” I didn’t know what to say. My real concern was getting a dog with a good name. The puppies in each litter born at the Seeing Eye are given names that start with the same letter of the alphabet. Pandora was from the “P” litter, for example. To avoid repeating names too often, the Seeing Eye sometimes gets a little too creative. I didn’t know what might happen to my self-respect if I were given a dog named Yorba, or Bouquet, or Gremlin. My need for a well-named dog, however, seemed too juvenile to admit. “No,” I finally answered. “I’ll take whatever you think is best.” As Robert stood up to leave, I added one last thing. “I really would like a faster dog this time, though. I’m tired of walking so slow.”
Be careful what you wish for.
My new dog is a one-year-old yellow ball of energy, a cross between a golden retriever and Labrador retriever. It’s amazing to think we’ve only been home together for one month; she is extremely attached to me, and I already feel tremendously confident with her. She loves to work, often nudging my wrist as I sit at the computer, anticipating our next trip outside.

Our walks must look comical —she pulls with such enthusiasm that curbs seem to surprise her. She stops, but often not until the very last millisecond. I imagine us in a Hanna-Barberra cartoon, the sound of my rubber soles squealing on the pavement, sparks shooting from behind my shoeheels at every stop. Her tail stands straight up as she works, and I often find myself laughing with joy at her exuberance as we walk.
The only thing I struggle with about this dog is—surprise—her name. Born in the “h” litter, her brothers in our class had great names: Homer and Herbie. Their sister wasn’t as fortunate.
“Honey, that’s nice!” I said to Robert when he first introduced us. I was already on the floor with my new dog, rubbing her belly. “
Not Honey,” he said. “HAHnee”
“Huh?” I furrowed my eyebrows. “How do you spell it?”
“H-a-n-n-i. Pretend you’re from Alabama and you’re saying ‘honey.’”
I scratched Hanni’s ears, and she sprung up to give me a kiss. Okay, I smiled. I can live with the name.

In my Law & Order: Special Dog Unit post last October, I wrote about testifying against a cab driver who refused to pick Hanni and me up. That very morning, when Mike helped me hail a cab to go to court, another cab driver refused to pick me up with my Seeing Eye dog.

A cab slowed down, the driver looked past Mike and saw me standing there with Hanni. “No dog,” he said.
“It’s a Seeing Eye dog,” Mike explained. “A service dog.”
“No dog,” the driver said.
Mike was angry. “You’re going to court!” he shouted at the driver
“I don’t care,” the driver said, then sped away.

I was somewhat reluctant to report this second cab driver. Going to court the first time was not fun, and I didn’t want to have to go back. But I filed anyway. I figured if word got around that drivers were getting fined for refusing service dogs, maybe I wouldn’t have to file any more complaints after this one.

Good news arrived in our mailbox this week. I guess this second guy pleaded guilty?

re: CSR#07-01972211
DOAH docket number: 08CS00267A

Dear Beth Finke:
This letter is the final update of the Department of Consumer Services investigation of the prosecution of the cab driver you reported for investigation. The Department of Consumer Services (the Department) investigated your complaint, and…the cab driver was found liable of violating the municipal code of Chicago. Accordingly, fines and penalties were imposed on the cab driver.
Thank you for reporting this cab driver…your participation is assisting the departmen’ts goal towards 100% clean and safe cabs and 100% courteous and safe cab drivers.

Sometimes the things you wish for really do come true. Hanni and I never did have to go to court to testify against that second driver, and we haven’t had a cab driver refuse us since I filed that second complaint.

Here I am, composing this blog as I sit at my gate at Bergstrom International Airport in Austin. Hanni just made good use of the airport dog park, if you know what I mean, and is now resting happily at my feet. And me? I’ve got headphones attached to my ears as I type away at my talking computer.

It’s official. I’m a geek.

I suppose I’ve been influenced by the conference I just attended. John Slaten Access University, (Access U) is an annual conference/workshop about accessible technology – it’s put on by a non-profit in Austin called Knowbility. A few years ago I sat on a panel with Knowbility’s Executive Director and co-founder Sharron Rush. Ever since then, Sharron has been trying to get me down to Austin to speak at Access U.

This year it finally happened. Easter Seals agreed to fund my trip as part of the Technology Opportunities Project (TOP) grant I worked on with them. I gave a speech about the TOP grant on Tuesday — my mission was to show attendees the many ways accessible websites can really make a difference in a person’s life. It was an easy speech to give – all I had to do was tell the truth! Thanks to the efforts of programmers and website developers who value the importance of accessibility for the blind, I google to do my research, I’m able to fill out online forms on my own, I flip through websites to find information about events, times, locations and on and on. All that stuff the rest of you do using your eyes and a mouse? I do that by using my ears and keyboard commands.

And hey, without website accessibility, I wouldn’t be able to blog. Hmmm. Not sure that’s a plug for or against accessibility for the blind!

In addition to giving a speech, I attended a few sessions at Access U, too. It was heartening to be around so many people with an active interest in keeping the web accessible.

All in all I had a great time. Hanni, too. She wasn’t the only guide dog in the bunch this time – she shared the spotlight with two other guides who were there helping their own blind partners. I have a funny feeling the guide dogs exchanged secrets under the desktops while we blind geeks typed away at our computers.

Uh-oh. They just called our flight. Gotta go. Here’s hoping there are no storms in Chicago this time!

Last Wednesday Hanni and I took a commuter train to St. Pius X — a Catholic School in the Chicago suburbs. my nephew Ben’s kids go there, their great aunt came to talk and answer questions for Riley, Haley, Colin and their schoolmates. And then yesterday Hanni and I boarded a commuter train again, this time I talked to kids at the West Suburban Montessori School in Oak Park.

The questions kids ask from school to school vary, but whether we’re at a city school, a country school, a public school, whatever, one thing they all want to know is this: how old is Hanni? The answer always gets the same response from the audience– Eight-year-olds squeal with joy to discover Hanni is the same age they are.

Sometimes the kids want to know how old she is in human years, too. Turns out the idea that every dog year equals seven human years is a myth. Hanni is not 56 in human years yet. Not according to a converter on a Flat- Coated Retriever site, at least.

“To work out the human age of a dog or other pets many people will multiply their age by seven years. This is not that accurate, as differing breeds of dogs will age at differing rates. For example, many smaller breeds of dogs such as a west highland terrier will live well into their late teens, whilst larger dogs may only live to about ten years. “

Did you catch that “whilst” word in there? That website is from Britain, and my talking computer reads it using a robotic British accent. It’s like having Michael Caine at my fingertips. Imagine.

But back to dog years. The site points out that dogs mature quickly in their early years – a medium-sized dog (Hanni weighs 63 pounds) will be 14 human years by their first birthday, a two-year-old dog her size is the equivalent of a 21-year-old human. No wonder Hanni was so goofy when I met her. She was about to turn 21!

Thereafter for every actual year, add on…5 years for a medium dog breed or 7 years for a large dog breed.

Big dogs age faster? I’ll stick with calling Hanni a medium-size dog. That means she’s 51 in human years.

Hanni and I don’t have any more school visits scheduled for this academic year — our upcoming events are more for grown-ups. At each of these, I plan to announce this new calculation of Hanni’s age in human years. We’ll see if all the 51-year-olds squeal with the same exuberance those eight-year-olds do.