Licking Lesson

We wait for cooler evening temperatures.  At eight o'clock we take FLD Mike for a walk in downtown Mt. Clemens during the annual Stars and Stripes Festival.  We missed the Festival fireworks Friday night, but there are still plenty of distractions to tempt FLD Mike:  dropped Gyro meat chunks, French-fries, and pulled-pork; a novelty vendor blowing soap bubbles; "Banana Derby" monkeys and petting zoo animals; and crowds listening to music--loud music that range from country to rock to "post-grunge."

I am pleasantly surprised at how many people actually pause to ask me, "Can I pet your dog?" before lunging for Mike's blocky-black-Lab head.  To each I reply, "He's working, no, but thanks for asking!  That's exactly what you should do."  As for FLD Mike, he seems not interested in the crowd, preferring instead the taste-treat temptations on the ground all around him.  A simple light tug on his leash with a Leave it and he plods on.

I spot a Lion's Club booth near the National Stage on the corner of Macomb Place and Pine.  It's the Fraser Lion's Club selling raffle tickets for a Harely Davidson motorcycle.

Let's stop here for a while, Andy, I suggest.  I know that FLD Mike will be a big hit.  We meet the Fraser Lion's Club members working the booth; everyone wants to pet Mike.  I decide to let them because FLD Mike is relaxed, with all four feet on the floor, in spite of Club members and bystanders crowding around.  Maybe we can help, I say.   I'll tell people they can only pet the dog if they buy a ticket!

FLD Mike stays calm with the attention, but does get his tongue in gear, licking any hand that comes close.  Deliberately placing hands or fingers near, and sometimes IN, a puppy's mouth is a behavior in humans that I don't understand.  When I say, No, Mike, and pull his head away, the offending humans more often than not reply, "Oh, that's ok, I don't mind!"  But I do mind.  When I say, Well, he has to learn not to lick like that, they sometimes, but not always, take their hand away in reluctant agreement.

All this licking causes FLD Mike to be a little less calm and I keep a tighter restraint on his leash.  One gentleman in particular really gets Mike going.  As he pets Mike with his right hand (Mike licks it intently), he cradles a lit cigarette in the fingers of his left hand, which is hanging at his side.  Mike's enthusiasm grows.  "I'm done with this hand," Mike seems to think as he suddenly switches his attention and aims for the man's idle left hand.  Mike's tongue strikes, but instead of landing on skin, he swipes the lit cigarette.

Until this moment, I had never seen FLD Mike react upset about anything--a roaring motorcycle didn't phase him, getting stepped on didn't make him jump, thunder and lightning--no problem.  A lit cigarette on his tongue?  FLD Mike yanks his head back.

"I'm so sorry," the man says as he pulls his cigarette away.  He tries to pet Mike again with his other hand, but Mike is finished with him and steps aside.  I think he's ok, I say.  I wonder if the bite of the lit cigarette will stem his licking.

FLD Mike fidgets a bit and pulls on his leash to leave.  I want to make sure he shakes it off.  Mike. Sit.  He sits, but his eyes are darting.  Good boy, Mike.  Down.  He lies down and looks up at me.  Good boy, Mike!  I give him a pat on the head.

Another person approaches to pet him.  I am curious as to his reaction.  FLD Mike ignores the petter.  Good boy, Mike, I say to encourage his calm, lick-less behavior.  Mike stands up when he sees another person walk up with a cigarette.

Mike.  He looks at me and settles.  Good boy, I say and slip him a treat.

Although FLD Mike is definitely affected by this negative experience, his response is mild and he recovers quickly.  We hang out at the Fraser Lion's Club booth until Mike actively seeks out pets (and we help sell a few tickets).  When I notice his tongue licking his lips as he is petted, I decide it's time to go.  Mike. Heel.

Happy 4th of July!

Enjoy the finale!

The Rosie Road, part 11 "Rugby and Rosie" A continuation on the theme of names.

October 8, 2008

FLD Rosie waits in her crate in my truck while I ask permission to bring her into the restaurant where I am having dinner with my tandem-friend, Lou, and her husband Randy.  It won't be long before Rosie will not fit in this little crate--she can barely stand up in it to turn around.  She is just three months old and growing like a weed.

After a brief explanation of my role as a Future Leader Dog (FLD) puppy-raiser, permission to bring FLD Rosie in with me is granted.

While the ADA prohibits public places from disallowing service dogs, technically a FLD puppy being raised by a volunteer is not a "trained" guide dog, and thus not automatically allowed.  Leader Dogs for the Blind requires puppy-raisers to ask permission of an establishment before bringing our FLD in with us.  In my experience, almost every place I've asked has been more than gracious in allowing my FLD puppy to come in.  At a few locations, the person I've asked has either been confused, unsure, or unable to make the decision; after politely "educating" them about Leader Dogs and the puppy-raising program, or after they've checked with a supervisor, we've been welcomed.  In the last two years, I've only had two restaurants refuse my FLD puppy admittance.

The hostess seats us at the first booth to the right of the entry door.  I wonder, Perhaps a quick exit if Rosie has to park?  Or, perhaps the hostess thinks we might disturb her other customers if we walk through the dining room to a table further away?  I've only had Rosie for just over one month, and I'm still getting used to taking her with me everywhere I go.

FLD Rosie eagerly sniffs out the floor under our table as we situate ourselves, but soon looses interest and wants to explore beyond our booth.  I struggle with her.  Rosie.  Settle.  She sits between my feet and I give her a praising pet.  Good girl.  She pops up from her sit.  I physically put her back into a sit by running my right hand down her backside to her tail and curling her rear end to the floor.  She pops up again.  I return her to a sit, but this time I sweep her front legs out with my left arm, bring my right hand to her shoulders, and encourage her to lie down.  Down.  Good girl.  I give her a few long, slow strokes along her back.  Settle.

Just when I think I've got her settled, the waitress arrives with our water.  Rosie pops up, vigorously wagging her tail, and sticks her nose out to sniff the waitress's leg.  No, Rosie.  Leave it.

Ok.  Deep breath.

I quickly scan the menu, make my selection, and slip a piece of puppy-chow to Rosie, who is finally settling at my feet.  Good settle, Rosie.  She is so bloody cute when she looks up at me, I can't stand it.  I give her a Nylabone and hope it keeps her busy through dinner.

Before our food arrives, a woman with two little girls enters the restaurant and approaches the hostess stand.  The oldest girl, maybe six or seven years old, takes notice when Rosie peeks her nose into the aisle from under our table.

"Mom, there's a puppy in here!" she exclaims, pulling on her mother's sweater.  The younger girl (a years or two younger) sticks her head around the corner of our booth just as Rosie lunges.  I have a firm hold; there is not chance for Rosie to reach her, but both girls squeeze tight against their mother.  "Mom, look, it's a puppy!" the older girl repeats.

The mother, a tall and imposing figure, turns and leans over to see.  "Awwwwww...." she says in a voice that doesn't fit her persona.

"Can we pet her, Mom?"  The mother notices Rosie's Future Leader Dog bandanna and tells her daughter, "She is a Leader Dog.  You'll have to ask."

The older girl cautiously comes toward us.  I'm surprised, and proud, when Rosie sits without being told, but I keep a tight grip on her collar.  She needs to learn to stay calm when strangers approach and the "four-on-the-floor" rule means she can't accept pets unless all four paws are down.

"Can we pet her?" the girl asks me.  I'm even more surprised when Rosie lies down.

Yes, I answer.

The girl kneels beside us with her sister close behind.  Rosie sits up, but keeps four feet down.   As the girl reaches out, Rosie opens her mouth and reaches back.  No bite! I say and pull her away.  Rosie licks the girl's outstretched hand.

"I just read a book in school about a Leader Dog!" the girl tells me.

 
That's great, what was the name of the book?

"Rugby and Rosie."

I smile, no stranger to coincidences.   Well, guess what?  This puppy's name is Rosie!

"What?!"  The girl jumps up and almost knocks her sister over.  Rosie leaps up after her, but I hold her.  "And she looks just like the one in the book!"

Now you can tell your teacher that you saw Rosie the Leader Dog in the restaurant, I say.  The sister comes over to pet Rosie, but now the puppy is too excited so the little girl draws away.  Pet her on the side, like this, I show her and keep Rosie's head turned away.

"She is soooo soft!"

"Come on girls," their mother calls as the hostess grabs menus to lead them to their table.  The youngest runs off, but the older girls follows slowly.  Suddenly, she races back.  "Thanks for letting us pet your puppy!"

I'm getting the book from the library tomorrow, so I can read Rugby and Rosie for myself!

As it turns out, the Rosie in the book is a yellow lab, not a black lab like my FLD Rosie--I guess it is all in the name!

How Did You Choose Your Puppy's Name?

"L-Sqared" is a talented photographer and blogger with two Physics degrees, who also happens to be vision impaired.  "L-Squared" lives with her now-retired guide dog, Willow, while waiting for a successor from Guide Dogs of America.  (Check out her blog:  "Dog's Eye View.")

I've been thinking a lot about a comment "L-Squared" made on my post from Monday, about guide dogs having "human" names.  She brings up a valid point, one that us puppy-raisers should keep in mind when we name our puppies.

Here is her comment:

This is actually a really good example of why people shouldn't give dogs (especially future working dogs) common people names.  It can be very confusing and distracting for both dog and owner/handler (or other people who share the name).  In fact, I know several guide-dogs that ended up being renamed, because it was just too confusing for everyone involved-usually because a friend or family member had the same or a similar name as the dog.  A lot of guide-dog programs used to actively discourage raisers from giving their pups common human first names, but apparently (judging by all the puppy-raiser blogs I read) a lot of them don't bother to do so anymore.

When my husband, Andy, and I picked up our second Future Leader Dog puppy from Leader Dogs for the Blind last November, we were asked what name we chose so it could be recorded on our contract.  Andy answered, "Mike."  (Andy had originally agreed to  my raising a puppy for Leader Dogs if HE could name the puppy.  He selected "Mike," because, in his words, "It just came to me; it reminds me of a good friend.")  This name was dutifully recorded.

As far as I can remember, the only recommendation for naming our puppy was that some trainers prefer using "a two-syllable word with a hard consonant," and to "avoid names that sound like commands."  We never gave much thought to potential issues arising from a "human" name.

After hearing FLD Mike's name, someone from Leader Dogs casually remarked to us, "We had a dog name 'Bob' that ended up being issued to a handler named 'Bob,' so we changed the dog's name."  I know of at least one other instance that a dog's name was changed, to no ill effect.

I haven't done much research on the drawbacks of changing a dog's name, but it seems that most dogs are adaptable and would soon get used to a new name, especially if the new name comes with a new "owner."  Perhaps this is why "human" names are not discouraged.

All of this led to a discussion between Andy and myself today, on our drive home from a few relaxing days in northern Michigan.  I had told him about "L-Squared's" comment.  We talked about how other puppy raisers have selected names--some chose names with a common "theme," such as names that all start with the same letter, or names from Greek mythology, or from favorite books.

Would you consider not using a human's name for our next puppy?  I asked him.  Being the kind and sensitive guy that he is, I knew he would consider this request thoughtfully.

"What?!  I can name it anything I want!"  He blurted out.  "Although," he added, with a sidelong wink, "I am open to negotiations."

I won't go into any more detail about the rest of our conversation due to its "x-rated" nature; suffice to say that our next Future Leader dog will most probably not have a "human" name.

A question now, to all of you reading this post:

HOW DID/WILL YOU CHOOSE

YOUR PUPPY'S NAME?

Whether or not you are raising a Future Leader Dog, or just have a pet dog, I am truly interested!