Yes, he can.

Down to the wire, even after an extended deadline for submissions to the 11th Assistance Dog Blog Carnival (ADBC). This edition is being hosted by Frida Writes. If you don't have a clue what the ADBC is, visit the ADBC home page to find out, and to catch up on past carnivals.

This post is my submission for the 11th ADBC, the theme of which is Resources and Tools.

We settled at our place behind one of the long tables in the conference room at Leader Dogs for the Blind. Or rather, we tried to settle. My back and/or hip screamed at me in a knot for some unknown reason, and FLD Dutch was up to his new tricks.

I had placed his "mat" next to my chair on the right side, to give a bit of distance between Dutch and Cheri's petite Chocolate Lab puppy on my left, and asked him to settle. He slid into a down, and rested his chin on his front left paw.

For one second.

He popped up. I ignored him.

He lay back down, chin to the floor. I dropped a piece of kibble next to his snout, which he snarfed up like a great white shark.

He looked up at me. BARK! I flinched.

Quiet, I whispered. His head dropped. I waited. He looked back at me but put his head back down when a treat was not forthcoming.

I dropped a piece of kibble. SHARK ATTACK.

Pretty much it went like this for Dutch and me most of the morning--the first of three days of on-campus "Puppy Counselor Training" at Leader Dogs. It was a good thing I only fed him half of his breakfast.

I was part of a team of over 40 volunteer puppy counselors that act as liaisons between the 450 volunteer puppy raisers and Leader Dogs for the Blind. Our responsibilities are to assist the raisers in the training of their puppies and to organize monthly outings to practice specific skills.

This was our yearly training intensive to become better counselors. Deb Donnelly, the new Puppy Development Supervisor that Leader Dogs hired just over a year ago, is a Karen Pryor Academy certified clicker trainer, and she brings the same positive reinforcement techniques to her people training. Deb had asked us for specific issues that she could address during our three days. I was ready--I couldn't get Dutch to settle and suspected that my reinforcement timing was off.

After lunch another counselor, who happened to be puppy-less, offered to take Dutch. My back needed the break.

Dutch played his same tricks with her as I watched from across the room.

FLD Dutch looks up for a reward.

Here Dutch has turned around and is in his typical "settle" position--just before he vocalizes...

At last, Dutch was about to become the class demo. Deb talked to us about products to help calm anxious puppies. Thundershirts. Rescue Remedy. Lavender oils. As she spoke she nonchalantly meandered over to Dutch and lightly spritzed lavender over his back. He leapt up, snorting, and jumped away from his mat. He cautiously sniffed the mat, but backed up to the end of his leash.

Eventually, he slid down. Not on the mat.

Deb moved a chair to the center of the room and asked to take Dutch. She picked up his mat, walked him to the chair and sat down. She never said a word to him, just held his leash and placed the mat next to her chair. She continued her lecture.

Meanwhile, Dutch barked and whined and pulled and sat down, lied down, jumped up, and walked from one end of his leash to the other. Deb continued to calmly hold the other end of his leash, ignoring him, but very aware of his antics.

At one point, Dutch seemed to "give it up" and lied down on his mat. Shortly after, Deb dropped a bit of kibble near his belly, so he had to curl around to get it. He looked up at her, but she was focused on the rest of us.

He fussed. She ignored.

He lied down again. She waited. As she reached behind to her treat bag, Dutch's head whipped up in anticipation. She drew her hand away and held it open to show him there was nothing there. He dropped his head to the floor.

FLD Dutch anticipates the treat from Deb.

She waited. He sighed. Another piece of kibble dropped out of the sky between his belly and his rear legs. He shifted position. She waited and eventually rewarded in the same manner. Finally, Dutch rolled over onto his side and fell asleep.

FLD Dutch has rolled over onto his side and is gazing across the room at me. Deb is relaxed and explaining lots of great things to us.

Deb only used about four treats during the entire session. "Of course, he is very tired," she said. Without saying a word about my behavior, Deb made it obvious that a couple of things I did, and didn't do, contributed to Dutch's superstitious bark and the difficulty in adding duration to his settle.

By the end of the second day of counselor training, more than one person asked me if I had a new puppy. Dutch was a different dog, no doubt. And I was learning to wait for the reward-able moment, and to place the reward where it would encourage the behavior I wanted.

I am grateful to have Deb as a resource, not only for guiding the training of my Future Leader Dog, but also when I need help in advising the puppy raisers in my group. Thank you Deb, for all you do!

But I can see...

"You will want to wear this," Bev says at check-in as she hands me a plastic credit-card sized room key on a blue lanyard. Student Room #23. The values of Leader Dogs for the Blind are printed on the back.

• Respect and compassion for people and dogs
• Passion for the work
• Safety in all we do
• Do what is right
• Innovation in our field
• Teamwork

The hallways of the Polk Residence Center at Leader Dogs for the Blind are gleaming white. Sparkling tiles beneath my feet, painted block walls with bumper-like handrails at my sides. A wide royal blue stripe above the handrails and narrow stripes on the floor in the same shade of blue guide me to the room that FLD Scout and I will share for the next three days. She is still in the kennel for now, until I get settled.

Each blue-rimmed doorway is identified with a room number at the side of the door and in a blue square above the handrail directly opposite. In Braille.
 

#23. That's my room.

Arms loaded with my duffle, Scout's supplies and bed, my camera backpack, and laptop bag, I stand on tippy-toe at the black-box sensor on the left side of the door. The key hanging at my belly changes the red light to green for entry.

The room is large, and starkly antiseptic. The same bright white walls and floors as the hallway is made even brighter by the florescent lights imbedded in the ceiling. The ceiling tiles are white too. There are no hotel-paintings screwed to the walls. I have the sense that everything was designed for the safety and efficiency of the blind or visually impaired client who usually occupies this room.

I can see the three shelves in the bathroom that have one-inch lips on them to keep things from falling off. I can see the red numbers on the digital alarm clock that speaks when touched. I can see the small screen of the TV atop the dresser at the end of the bed. I can see the special flip-up light on the end table, and another one at the desk next to the dresser. I can see the tie-down for the dog in the corner. I can see the second door opposite the entry, the door that exits to a covered "park" area.

I think of the person who travels to Leader Dogs alone, the person who can't see, who stays in this room for 26 days of learning and teambuilding. If all goes well, he or she will leave with new eyes--a Leader Dog.

The itinerary for our three-day puppy-counselor training is non-stop from breakfast at 7:30 a.m.  to an after-dinner lecture that ends at 8:00 p.m. I imagine trying to keep a schedule like this for 26 days, like the person who can't see, all while trying to bond with a young dog who is probably wondering why he is in this strange room and "who the heck are YOU?"

I imagine that those three and a half weeks could feel a little bit like boot camp. I hope that isn't so for FLD Scout and me!

FLD Scout on her bed in the corner by the tie-down.

Not a good start...

Stuck at a standstill on southbound I-75, mile marker 126, and no way to tell what was happening. The temperature gauge on the van read 86. It was only 10:18 am.

After the first hour, people started getting out of their vehicles and walking around. I thought about the evacuees in Colorado ditching everything to outrace the wildfire. Apocalyptic. That's how it was described.

When FLD Scout sat up from her spot on the passenger side floorboard, panting, I took stock. Half a bottle of cool water, another bottle in back that had been in the van for who knows how long, a handful of salty pumpkin seeds. Luckily the van wasn't overheating.

I kicked up the air-conditioner fan and poured most of the cool water into Scout's collapsible water dish. I drank down the rest. We'd be okay, I thought.

Luckily, we were. An hour later we inched along the left shoulder, the three other lanes blocked by state trooper cars, a fire engine ladder truck, and a fire rescue vehicle. A surveyor's tripod stood rooted in the middle lane blackened with tire marks that veered off past the right shoulder and into the ditch. A gaggle of tired firemen, looking weary in their full gear, caught a bit of shade beside the rescue vehicle. They must have gotten most of the mess cleared up--what was left of a crinkled mini-van lay rubber-side-up in a burned patch of ditch grass. Windowless. I think it was blue. Hard to tell with how badly scorched it was.

Not good.

An instant later we were free and 70 miles an hour flying back to the city.

I had made arrangements to drop FLD Scout off at the kennel at Leader Dogs for the Blind for a few hours while I visited my parents. I'd be back at 5:00 to check in for "Puppy Counselor" training...three days of intensive training for 48 volunteer puppy counselors. Those of us from out of town got to stay in the Polk Residence Center, just like the blind or visually impaired handlers who come here to learn how to work with their Leader Dogs each month.

When I walked FLD Scout to Bay 1 and into her designated kennel, it felt like a rehearsal for what will happen in a short two months. Scout is due to return to Leader Dogs for her formal training before September 30.

With a toss of a few morsels of chow, FLD Scout scooted into the kennel. I had her leash off and the door closed before she gobbled them up. Three other dogs in the bay barked in typical Lab hysteria. 

I didn't look back as I walked away, but I did peak through the window as the door eased shut. FLD Scout was silent. She stood, stood looking calmly at the door after me.

I hope we both do as well in September.

I will try to post updates of our time here at Leader Dogs, but I suspect my brain might be too full in the evenings. So, posts might have to come later...

Lab-wrestling break--FLD Scout (on the right) hangs with her sister, FLD Anie.

Quiet now in our room, FLD Scout snoozes on her bed brought from home.