The honor and the agony

 I've been working with him regarding off leash obedience. He's been learning today, even out of harness, to be with me outside our apartment with only vocal control. We have a leash law, and large dogs are forbidden in our rental agreement - so this is the cause of major curiosity and interference from neighbors. I've had to stop and talk to a lot of people I've not met before today that live in the complex. Working off leash is a skill I need from Charlie. He is not on leash with me when working, and is on leash when off duty - so obedience while "naked" reinforces obedience between the two personas he has to have. It's the little bit of blurred line Charlie needs. Other service dogs might not need it, but he does, because he has a tendency to think when he's off duty that he can do whatever he wants to, including misbehaving or destroying toys.

Working with vocal control off duty also reinforces that I am Charlie's Alpha, even though he is so much stronger than me. It discourages disrespect from him, and instills in him that no matter the situation, working or play, there are rules.

Anyway...I got kinda hung up there explaining why we were "breaking the leash law".

Here's the basic rundown I give when interrupted:

"yes, he's my service dog in training. We live in (#). Oh thank you! Yes, I think he's pretty too. No, he's not purebred. No, he's not a pit bull. No, I'm sorry, you can't pet him right now. He doesn't have his uniform on, but we're working on training right now. Yes, management knows he lives here. Yes, I have to clean up his poop. I will not leave anything behind him ever. No, he will not hurt you. You don't have to be afraid of us -Just think of him like you would a wheelchair - he's just an extension of me. No, you can't feed him your biscuit, he's on a vet controlled diet. Yes, you're right. It's offensive to talk to the dog and not the disabled person. That was awesome of you to not distract the working dog at the bar that time."

I think I'm going to invest in some caution tape and a fold out board with clear writing that says "service dog team is training right now. Please read about us at www.charlieisaservicedog.blogspot.com". I know I need to go print more business cards...I just don't have the cash right now to do that.

I got into a conversation on Facebook today with some friends of my mom's, as well as mutual friends regarding my civic duty as a disabled American working dog team. It's a great privilege and responsibility to educate everyone about service dog etiquette because Charlie and I might be the only working dog team people ever encounter. It's amazing and a great honor, but it can also be a huge burden. It's one of the things I didn't realize would be such a part of my new reality with a service dog. 

For over a year before getting Charlie I waffled between various pros and cons of getting help in the form of a dog. I'm a huge lover of animals, and I don't want to toot my own horn, but I'm pretty darn good with most animals (birds and reptiles being my exceptions - birds don't seem to like me, and I don't seem to care much for reptiles!).

I knew I would be responsible for vet bills, food, cleaning up after the dog and also responsible for daily caring for its gooming needs. There was a long drawn out process of deciding what breed would both fit my needs and also fit my desires. I knew I couldn't realistically maintain a poodle on my own, because of its grooming alone. So after deciding to do private training instead of fundraising and traveling for a trained dog, and after a failed adoption of a Samoyed and also a failed adoption of a husky, I was burnt out. I had done all this research and tried to find "The dog". After the miracle that happened last December of finding and adopting Charlie, the last thing on my mind was the fact that we would become lifelong advocates and educators of the needs of service dog teams. It's just a fact I completely overlooked in all of that process.

 Here I am 10 months later, learning through experience that I am a walking, talking representation of service dog teams the world over. I have to be polite and willing to talk about it even when I'm exhausted or bitchy. I have to be social and polite when I don't want to or feel like it. Charlie has to be at 100% at all times in harness not just for me and my health needs, but for everyone, because they will forget me, but not him. He's Charlie the wonder dog - the dog that will be talked about in front of us in hushed whispers by the curious or scared people. He's the dog that will be gossiped about by people that don't approve of service animals. He's "that service dog we saw that time", in the minds of the public.

It's a huge honor and a burden rolled into one.

I feel a SURGE of energy!

(No, Charlie didn't have any soda!)

If I had this and a bottle of Mountain Dew livewire, I'd be set! ...I'm pretty sure I'd still be asleep right now if Steve hadn't woken me up at noon with breakfast in bed and SURGE! Today has been a very bad pain day.

 Yesterday we had to work on conquering fear with Charlie. Steve was horsing around with an empty paper tube, and scared Charlie really badly. What started out as just being bored and playing with a tube became a 30 minute ordeal of exposing Charlie to loud, random foghorn like sounds from the tube. It was a big deal. He had to sit, lay down, and also expose his belly while focusing on me and receiving praise and petting. He couldn't have his way, and the ordeal was only over after he relaxed and focused on me while what he was scared of was going on.

Fear is something a service dog can't have. If he is afraid of something, and he reacts on his fear by running, barking, biting or shutting down (which are natural dog reactions to fear), he can endanger me, his disabled partner.

Changing topic randomly: Charlie and I have been "bad Catholics". I haven't been to mass in a month! I've been so tired from working that I pretty much sleep any time I'm home, so I end up sleeping until the afternoon, and mass is in the mornings. Charlie and I need more Jesus time. Will you guys please pray that we are able to go back to church? I know we both miss it and need it. Thanks! :)

Here. Have a cute picture of Charlie in the passenger seat for the first time!

My walker was in the back seat because I couldn't get it in the front seat, so Charlie got to sit next to me on the whole drive home tonight.

Here's a picture of him napping:

And looking suspicious:

OCD.

 Short haired tabby bathed and toweled dry and combed. Check.

Long haired tabby combed down, bathed, blown dry and combed again? Done.

Dog bathed, toweled dry? Check and check.

Human bathed? Nope. Still waiting on the towels to dry. Poor kitties peed on the bath mats from anxiety while being dried. Let that be a lesson to us all, Spoonies included: flea prevention takes more than pills. 

I've been so &@$? Tired lately that I stopped cleaning the porches, and can't remember when I last vacuumed. I've let shoes and jackets be tossed around and left wherever, and now we have had some fleas. I know we tracked them in, and without my rules in place, they stayed and found hosts on the cats. What's so sad is I didn't notice the cats were uncomfortable, because I've been falling asleep as soon as I get home from work. Mom noticed one on Charlie.

 There's nothing as disgusting feeling as an animal caregiver than to let fleas or other parasites in. It's moments like these that my compulsions work me past reason, because it know I will not sleep tonight, even though I worked a full day, and will work another full day tomorrow. I must clean until I feel better. Bleach and essential oils will come out, the cat trees will be flea bombed, every cloth thing I can wash will be run through the washer on hot with bleach or bleach alternative. The tub will be scrubbed with comet, even though it sets off my asthma, because my brain will itch, telling me that the fleas will breed somehow.

All because I stopped my compulsions and over zealousness in favor of rest.

I drive myself and my husband crazy. I'm always moving everything he owns, because I don't want shoes tracking in dirt, bacteria or parasites in to the carpets. I change as soon as I get home, and toss my clothes in the wash, because I've been exposed to all sorts of things during the day. One of the most disgusting things I can think of is sliding in to bed in the same clothing you've worn in the outside world. Socks especially. And laying down for a nap? You better be napping on the couch, not in or on the bed! That's just on a normal day.

Things have been so far beneath my level of comfortable and clean this month that I haven't been making myself food. When I eat at home, it's on disposable stuff because I don't know that the dishes are cleaned to my level of okay. That makes me uncomfortable too, because I'm killing the planet in favor of phobia.

OCD isn't cute, or a turn of phrase for liking things your way. It's a beast that commands you past your limits, berating you and scaring you the whole way. It tells you things like "you will end up on tv for how you live, as an example of how life falls apart unless you fix this!", "you missed a spot. You didn't leave the cleaner on there long enough. You will make everyone sick unless you clean it right!", "give up. You can't do it right! Why are you even trying to fix this? You'll die because you can't clean it. It will be your fault your cat dies from not cleaning this up. If you leave those dishes, you will never get them clean enough. You will die of ecoli. Throw your plates away. You can never bleach off what you left on there." And other horrible things.

Most days I feel in control of my impulses, and I don't see the sense in trying to get help for it because compared to my physical problems, who has time to talk about this stuff and address it as real? I know I don't have money for psych visits! But then there's days like today, where finding a flea on the dog and then seeing the cats scratch sends me over the edge, and I will keep plugging along like a machine, or empty shell of desperation to try and make myself feel clean enough, and my world "okay". 

I know as long as I live with my husband I will never ever have a home that is clean enough for me. If left to my own devices in times like tonight, it's "normal" to see me scrubbing a counter for 3 hours with bleach. I will physically hurt myself with exhaustion and repetitive actions for cleaning/fixing, just to "feel better" mentally.

...and tonight it's all because of a flea.

It's been a long time!

How many tags can I add to one post?!

Here's my update from this month:

I've been under a "gag order" at work, so I can't update much there - except to say "stay tuned for October!"

I went on a weekend getaway with my bestest buddy, J, and our mutual friends paid for us to spend the weekend in Orange Beach, AL with our friend Mrs. Sam. (I have a Mrs. Sam friend and a completely different and unrelated Mr. Sam friend.) Charlie got to experience sand under his paws, a cafe with dogs off leash, and our mutual favorite: a few rides on Mrs. Sam's boat!

We had such a time convincing him to get his butt in the boat the first time! I don't think we would have made it if not for Mrs. Sam and her husband, as well as J and me physically getting him onboard. When the wind whipped up, and he realised staying in the shade on the towel in "down, stay" resulted in a smooth ride, where he could enjoy the salt air and watch the waves without getting wet, he was HOOKED! The next day, I asked him: "Charlie, wanna go on the boat?" and he practically flung himself down the stairs to get to the back door, where we came in from the dock the previous afternoon.

I felt so lazy and loved that weekend. Mrs. Sam and her husband made such delicious food, and we played with yarn. Mrs. Sam let us each pick which guest room we wanted to bunk in, and my bed felt like a snuggly hug on a cloud. We got a sand castle pail with yarn and other neat goodies in it! She is one of the most generous, funny and loving hostesses (and friend) a gal could wish for! We watched their horse race on TV, and she came in 2nd place. Here's hoping she'll come in 1st next time! :D

I've made 2 pairs of socks this month...well, almost. I have to put the heels in the first pair and finish off the second sock. Progress though!

I met with a bone specialist about my limited use in my hands. Come to find out, I have up to 20% usage of them. He wants me to start occupational therapy, and if we see no improvement, I'm looking at having to have surgery on them to tack the ligaments and tendons back into place where they should be and stay. Not good. Since we know it's a connective tissue disorder I have, the doctor is really not happy about the prospect of surgeries. He said I will have to go to UAB or possibly somewhere more presigious out of state to get it done by a surgeon whose whole practice is dedicated to hand surgeries, and in all liklihood, I will have to repeat the process in some years to come.

I now have a walker - I have to use it whenever Charlie and I aren't together. I feel a bit safer with it, at least indoors, because I have somewhere to park my butt when I'm feeling faint - and I also have something on both sides of me to keep me upright. When I'm with Charlie, I know he will help me or find help if I need it, and he can now be trusted to carry things for me, so he's a huge help - plus I get a lot less pity with Charlie and a cane than I do when I have my walker. Another huge perk to Charlie is I don't have to put him in the car, he gets in himself - the walker's a pain and a half to get in and out of the car, just because I end up popping all over, and people keep offering to help me do it - which weirds me out, because uhm...I don't know them, and they're helping me at my car. Makes my brain think of those old 1990's episodes of the Oprah Show where she talks about how to get away from attackers by twisting your arm just so - and if you get thrown in a trunk to kick the taillight out. And then I hear Sandra Bullock in my head from "Ms. Congeniality" go through her routine on stage on how to disable an attacker, and I think: "Can I do that, or will I hurt myself more than I hurt them?". Ugh.

Another adventure from this month makes me wonder if a study has been done on service dog handlers. My dad is disabled, and went with my mom to get a new ID this month. They took Charlie with him while I was at work, and everyone commented to dad "What a handsome dog!", and left it at that. No one tried to touch Dad or Charlie. When my mom or I have Charlie, people come up and invade our space all the time. The creepiest and most destructive is when someone brushes up like a pickpocketer and touches one of us. It's so super creepy and unsettling! I end up being really mean and saying "Don't touch!" or "Stop touching us now!" loudly. I don't understand why people don't see that's creepy! And it's rewarding Charlie, when all "on duty love" needs to come from me, his handler. My health is pretty brittle, and I need his attention and protection. He can handle my "episodes" and get my meds or help. It's scary enough to think I could have a "nervous system reboot" and be vulnerable without society reinforcing that my body and personal space doesn't belong to me. We're not a "cute dog team", we're a "working dog team". I don't know how to handle this right now. Any tips?

Lots of love xoxo
-Beth

Frequently Asked Questions

Why do you need a service dog? Because I am a disabled American Citizen in need daily help to navigate life. I can't afford to pay someone to follow me around all day doing minute tasks, but Charlie can and will do them for me.

Who trained him? My family and I.

Is that legal? Yes, according to the Americans With Disabilities Act.

How will/does he help you? Charlie Majors helps mitigate my disabilities in several ways. He can provide balance/support for me. He also can get my medications/help for me if I am incapable/incapacitated. He also helps with household tasks like laundry, and recycling!

What's wrong with you? I'm assuming when this question is asked that you are inquiring about my health. I do not have to share this information, but I choose to - so I can advocate for invisible disabilities. I have a connective tissue disorder that is still pending final diagnosis from a Geneticist. Currently my insurance is not willing to cover the testing because I need 3 tests and they range in price from $10,000 to $30,000 each. The Rheumatologist diagnosed me with "Ehlers Danlos Syndrome". I also have "Neurogardiogenic Syncope", and a host of other medical diagnosis. Those are the main two that make life hard.

Why can't I pet your dog?/Why can't I talk to your dog? Because even when it looks like Charlie Majors isn't working or doing anything, he needs to be focused and at my disposal if I need something. He needs to learn that all good things come from me, so we can trust each other completely. If you pet or distract him while we're working, it will chip away at our bond and it will put my health in danger.

Well, is he ever allowed to have fun or meet people? Yes! He's a total puppy when he's off duty! At the dog park he runs around like a loony, and in the car at Starbucks he's so excited that his tail will just about beat the door open! When we go to someone's house, he's allowed to play by the owner's rules, and if they have pets he LOVES to make friends. He's a bed hog, and loves to watch movies with dogs, or "The Dog Whisperer" with me at night after work. He loves the beach and rides in boats too.

Why is the title on your blog "a Zebra and her dog"? You're human. Because young doctors are taught the phrase "When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras". The phrase means instead of looking for rare illnesses, they need to assume it's common illnesses. The problem is, people such as myself slip through the cracks and get ignored for years. (I've lost count of how many times I've been checked for arthritis!) I'm still trying to get all the help I need. I am not a "regular" patient. I am a Medical Zebra.

Why does your dog have a weird name? My husband and I had been talking for over a year about how upsetting it is for me to ask for help constantly, and for people to see me with my cane and ask "What happened?" or "Were you in an accident?" by random strangers. We decided it would be best for me to get a Mobility Support Service Dog, and we wanted to name it  after Lee Majors, the star of "The Fall Guy" (because I fall a lot). We have a weird sense of humor, I know. Well, Charlie was the name of our dog when he lived at the Humane Society, and it just fit to add a middle name. I got my dream! :)

Are you allowed to go everywhere with your dog? Yes, except private property - people have the right to ask us to leave their private property. Also there are some instances where Charlie has not gone with me in hospital, he has had to stay behind with my family.

As a business owner, what questions am I allowed to ask when I see a dog and person trying to enter my store? "Is this a service dog? What task does he do for you?" However, you are NOT allowed to ask what a person's disability is. Likewise, it is NOT a requirement that a service dog wear a certain garment, and service animal teams are not required to show any form of paperwork or id card.

Sometimes I've seen you with a cane and the dog, sometimes without them, sometimes with a walker - you're a fake gimp, aren't you?! No. I'm a "real gimp". My needs change on a daily basis. Some days Charlie might be sick, or needing a break from working really hard, so I will use my walker. I have a walker, cane, service dog and multiple joint braces to help me mitigate my disabilities.

Thank you for your interest in us and my medical journey.

PLEASE REMEMBER: Service animals should be treated by YOU as a medical device. If you wouldn't do it to an oxygen tank, don't do it to a service animal!

On days that punch you in the face

Brush yourself off and say "That was your best? Now watch mine.", and keep marching on however you can.

Just now - In the aftershock of today's slap of Neurocardiogenic Syncope (aka passing out, sweating, losing temporary mental files, crying and Charlie Majors being an A+ service dog in training) my brain finally told me something good, instead of the Major Depressive Disorder barking at me. 

"Breathe in" *body tremors* "Breathe out. Good. Keep repeating that. This is no one's fault. You're going to be okay. You're not crying because of something you lost, you're crying because you're in shock, and you're crying because of what you thought you had. Normal is a lie. You're ok. Pet Charlie. Tell him he's a good dog. Tell him to 'get towel'. Wipe your face. Kiss Charlie. Lay down and tell Charlie to 'get momma's drink'. Good job. See? You're ok. You're ok."

I have to be vocal about what I'm going through, or it will break me apart. I refuse to be broken be things outside of my control.

Swap box, kitty sitting and all that lies between

The gorgeous swap box I received! It's like Rhonda has telepathic skills! I don't remember writing anywhere on the internet how much I love red jelly beans! And eos is my FAVORITE lip balm. I'm addicted to lip balms. It's not that I lose them, they're my lipstick. I change it up all the time!

Thank you, Rhonda!!!!!!

I've been kitty sitting this gorgeous mister mister! He's really shy.

Mischief has been really attached to me lately. She thinks my new pink walker belongs to her!

I've been to the doctors a lot, and I'm supposed to see a bone and joint specialist on Monday. The doc is supposedly going to check my hyper mobility in my arms, wrists, and fingers, because the cane started giving me wear and tear. (That's why I ended up with a rolling, seated walker. So I have even support on both sides, I don't have to lift it. And I have somewhere to rest at all times.)

It hurts to knit. It aches to write. If I lose all functionality, I don't want to lose my ability to craft with yarn! It's one of the only things I do for pleasure, so hopefully they can assess me and get me some supportive gear so the hyperextention decreases.

Anyway, I hope you have a great weekend!