Early tomorrow morning, January 6, 2020, I head to O’Hare for a flight to Newark International Airport. There I’ll meet up with guide dog users from all over North America to catch a ride together to Morristown, New Jersey for three weeks training with our new Seeing Eye dogs. This short post will clue you in on some of the details involved in coordinating24 people who have visual impairments so that we all arrive at Newark International Airport on the same day and at (relatively) the same time.

A few of the 24 of us will be training with their first ever Seeing Eye dogs, but a majority will be like me: people who retired a guide dog recently and are returning to train with a new dog.

Translation: we are not very skilled with our white canes! To help you understand a bit about how this all works, I give you an excerpt of the official itinerary sent to me by the Seeing Eye.

Here is your confirmation for your flight on JANUARY 06, 2020. Please make sure that you arrive at the airport with your Government issued photo ID and go directly to the ticket counter for your boarding pass. We recommend you checking with the airline for the current baggage fee policy. You will be responsible for any baggage fee so packing lightly will be to your advantage.

Upon your arrival at Newark Airport you will be escorted by an airline representative to your baggage claim area, where a Seeing Eye Instructor will meet you and drive you to campus. Airline representatives who provide assistance often have wheelchairs with them, but remember you do not have to ride in a wheelchair unless you want to.

We ask that you turn on your cell phone and use the facilities prior to getting to the baggage carousel. There usually is some waiting time while collecting everyone.

Lori will be sending you a Seeing Eye luggage tag via USPS. Please attach that to your checked bag so it will be easily identifiable by the instructor that meets you.

Wish us luck!

Thank you for all your thoughtful responses to our posts about Whitney’s happy retirement in rural Pennsylvania. Thought you might like a quick update from an email message her new/old family sent yesterday. “Having Whitney is giving me the motivation to take walks again, so that’s been good,” reports Elisse, who walks with Whitney every morning. “She does pull quite a bit, which is mostly ok, except when going downhill…the good news is that my favorite nature walk is relatively flat.”

In other news, Whitney met Alisse’s daughter Kate’s dog Thor this past week. A 16-year-old high school student when Whitney lived with them a decade ago, Kate is now an occupational therapist and a newlywed. When her husband Luke and their dog Thor (a big, well-trained puppy) came for a visit this past week, Elisse says Thor seemed to understand Whitney was an older dog. “Whit’s still spry, but has her limits, although she would play at frisbee until she keeled over, I’m sure. I have to stop and force her to rest. It’s nice to see she still has retained some of her crazy!”

Elisse’s daughter Kate knows a lot about dogs. Recognizing how strong the canine sense of smell is, Kate suggested I bring an old shirt of mine along to leave for Whitney during her transition. “she does sleep with your shirt,” Elisse reported in yesterday’s email. “And sometimes I see her nuzzling it.” Elisse knows a lot about dogs, too, and told me that while dogs do live in the present moment, they won’t ever forget a scent. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to keep that shirt before deciding it’s a little too scented, if you know what I mean” she laughed. “For now, I’m sure it’s a comfort for our mutually loved furry canine!”

In other Whitney news: our Safe & Sound blog had a little bug in it before Christmas, and many of you never received a post I’d written about Whitney’s very last school visit as a Seeing Eye dog. So here it is, with all good wishes for a happy and healthy 2020 — I look forward to future school visits this year with new guide Speedo, or whoever my next Seeing Eye dog is!

Questions Kids Ask: Are You Older Than Whitney in Dog Years?

December 12, 2019

I was busy shoving Whitney’s water dish and extra leash and a Braille copy of Safe & Sound into my backpack Wednesday morning when it dawned on me. The presentations we’d be doing at Ravinia and Braeside schools in Highland Park that afternoon would mark Whitney’s final school visits as a working Seeing Eye dog.

Whitney’s always known how to charm kids. (photo by Jamie Ceaser)

Do third-graders even know what the word “retirement” means? Should I tell the kids its Whitney’s last visit? That Whitney’s moving away? Could eight and nine-year olds possibly understand?

Whitney and I have visited dozens of classrooms this past year as part of the Educating Outside the Lines disability awareness program, and the thoughtful, caring questions third-graders came up with during the Q&A wowed me every time.

When we arrived, I ran the idea by their teachers. Would it be okay to forego most of the blindness stuff? Focus my talk on Whitney’s upcoming move instead? “Sure!” they shrugged. “If they want to know more about you being blind, they’ll ask about that, too.” The teachers were right, of course. This sampling of questions the kids asked tells all:

• How did you get blind?
• Why do you want Whitney to go to another person?
• At the beginning of your talk you said all of Whitney’s brothers and sisters have names that start with ‘W’, so do all the dogs who start with ’W’ live in one house, and dogs that start with ‘B’ or another letter live in another house, and like that?
• Is Whitney gonna have babies?
• If you can’t see where you’re going, and there’s like, a wall in front of you, how does your dog tell you it’s there?
• After Whitney retires, are you looking for a certain type of dog?
• Do you have kids?
• If the dogs are just puppies, how do the people at their school know that they can be trained?
• How many years have you had a dog that helped you?
• Do you really want Whitney to go to another person?
• How long does it take to train a dog?
• What will you do in-between the time you give up your dog and you get a new one?
• What are the books that you wrote?
• What if your new dog isn’t a good match, do you have to go back to school again?
• What happens if a person is blind and they’re allergic to dogs?
• So if dogs are color blind, is everything in black & white?
• Are you older than Whitney in dog years?
• How do you get on the plane to get your new dog if you don’t have Whitney to help you anymore?

That’s just it, I told the boy who asked that last question, admitting that I try not to think about it. “It’s going to be hard, but eyebrows up! She’s still here now!”

And with that, I thanked the kids for having us, and when I stood up, the beautiful ten-year-old Golden Retriever/Yellow Labrador Cross at my feet jumped up, shook herself off and stood patiently at my side. I lifted Whitney’s harness handle then, commanded, “Whitney, outside!” and dozens of eight and nine-year olds, all of them sitting criss-cross applesauce on the classroom floor, laughed and cheered as Whitney threaded me through them and out the door.

Whitney finished her final school visit on a high note, as did those third-graders. They wowed me again.

It happens at the end of every year: News outlets recap the biggest stories of the past 12 months. Only this year also marks the end of a decade, so we’re getting recaps of the past 10 years.

This practice has always aggravated me because, well, dividing time arbitrarily by decade has always seemed dumb. For example, 1969 was a lot more like 1971 than it was 1961.

The other thing about this practice is it seems sort of lazy. Instead of covering the news of the day the outlets repurpose work they’ve  already done.

But you know, I’m feeling pretty lazy this holiday season, so what the heck: I give you my favorite Mondays with Mike posts—but not for the decade, only since I started writing these things. And, I’m not going to lie: I couldn’t wade through all of them. Jeez, I didn’t realize how many of these things I’d posted.

So, here’s a somewhat random collection of my own favorites.

And this: I’m thankful to all of you who take the time to read this stuff each Monday. It’s flattering and humbling. Here’s to a great New Year, and see you next Monday.

A very happy anniversary
On the anniversary of Beth’s terrifying brush with mortality, it was nice to take stock.

My morning commute
The wonders of Chicago I experience on my walk to work.

Wayfaring stranger
A tribute to the late, great bassist Charlie Haden.

The saints go marching in and on
Remembering Flo, Beth’s remarkable mother.

The kindness of strangers
A visit with our son Gus at his group home in Wisconsin,

My partner’s partners
With Beth leaving to get her next Seeing Eye Dog a week from today, this one is still timely.

To our dear, wee Sheelagh
We were lucky to know her.

Our version of all right
Reflections on disability.

When Pick met Henry. And Mike and Beth met Henry and Pick…
The story of beautiful friendships.

Whitney’s living large.

1. Stretch your legs on an airplane: no one tucked under the seat in front of you
2. Learn a lesson in humility: people no longer say “She’s beautiful!” when you enter a room
3. Sleep: the 5 a.m. “I’m hungry” wake-up call happens in Pennsylvania now
4. Get through TSA without being wanded
5. Take an escalator without cringing at the thought of paws getting caught
6. Move through the kitchen without worrying you’ll step in a water bowl
7. Jump out of bed rather than gingerly checking for a dog underfoot first
8. Leave your luggage unzipped without worrying that a creature will dig in there for a bag of almonds…or a lacrosse ball
9. Spend an entire lazy day at home=no one needs to go out
10. Miss them. A lot
11. Smile to picture the retiree now, back with old friends in a hilly, wooded country town with nothing to do but play
12. Count the days until you’ll meet your new pup – only 13 more to go.

I write from the lobby of the LePavillon Hotel in New Orleans’ Central Business District. Beth and I are 15,000 steps into our first day in New Orleans and 60 degrees feels pretty good. We just polished off a half a classic muffuletta sandwich from Central Grocery.

From left to right, Kate, Chuck, and Elisse. You know the rest of ’em. Thanks to Rebecca for snapping the picture.

We are sans Whitney, as loyal readers would know—and boy am I glad we didn’t bring Whitney on this NOLA adventure. It’s hard even on a sighted human guide weaving around on narrow, uneven sidewalks, dodging drunk phone walkers. But at least we human guides get muffulettas and Sazeracs out of it.

Right now, Whitney is probably counting her lucky stars. We dropped her at her retirement home in Pennsylvania Saturday. Like lots of these things—at least for me—the self-manufactured, anticipated dread about the event was much worse than reality.

In fact, it was as joyful as a separation of its like could be. Beth and flew to Baltimore on Friday, and we spent the evening catching up with our friend Rebecca. Rebecca and I go back to high school days. We were partners in crime of a sort—actually, partners in adventure. And we’ve reached the point in life where we look at each other and recognize that we’re the only other people to have witnessed certain important passages in one another’s lives.

Rebecca drove us the hour north to Pennsylvania and it felt good right away. Green. Hilly. Quiet.

We drove up a windy road up a hill—then up a steep driveway. Beth put the harness on Whitney for the last time—she wanted her new people to see her working, at least once.

Once we hit the door, well, we were off. There was Elisse, who guest blogged; her husband Chuck, their newly married daughter Kate, her husband Luke, and Elisse’s 96-year-old mother. We learned volumes about each other in a matter of minutes. Including the fact that Chuck is a mechanical engineer with a distinctly non-conventional engineering job: He and his colleagues engineer giant arena shows for the likes of Cher and other mega-acts.

And Whitney was off harness and off leash. She whimpered for a second, and we knew it was time for the lacrosse ball. For most of her life with us, Whitney would fetch that ball until I stopped. In fact, sometimes I had to hide it for fear she’d run herself to death.

But for the last year, she’d fetch it once and then walk off.

Well, between Luke and me, we coaxed the old Whitney back.

By the time we gave Whitney a last scratch, and carried her leash and harness out to Rebecca’s car, she was happy as a clam.

And so was I. With that, I leave you a a couple tastes of New Orleans