I remember the first time I met my best girl. The very quiet little toy chihuahua, Chevy, who had adopted us a few months prior had ran off after living with us for about a month, and we had agreed it was time to adopt our own dog. We walked through the El Paso Humane Society, peering in cage after cage of excited, happy, tail-wagging dogs. There were beautiful Rottweilers, gorgeous Pit-Bulls, sweet German Shepards, and so many great dogs I didn't think I'd ever be able to choose just one.
Among all these gorgeous animals, there was only one that wasn't bouncing off the walls. I nearly walked by her cage all together in fact. "Pen" was the name they had listed on her cage. What kind of name is that for a dog? The dog they had called Pen was just sitting at the edge of her cage, quietly, watching me say hello to all these other excited dogs. Seeing this pair of beautiful amber eyes staring at me, it was hard not to walk over and say hi. I came over to her cage, and she popped up on her haunches, clung to the fence, and did her very best to stick that pretty, long snout through the cage and lick me right to death. We asked to take her out on a leash. Finding a quiet spot away from the kennels, the man who later became my husband sat down on a curb- this 60 lb dog just sat right down in his lap like that's where she was from. She was ours- and her name was now Sugar.
Less than a year later, Sugar goes everywhere with me. If I go to the mall to run an errand, she's by my side. When I go to work, she's there. The day my husband had surgery on his foot, she came with us. You see, Sugar isn't a pet. Sugar is my service dog.
I was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder just about four years ago, though I very well may have had it quite some time longer. Having nightmares are now normal for me, and I'm proud of myself if I make it through a store or restaurant without having a panic attack. I can proudly say it's been a while since I've had a flashback to my past traumas.
Here's the hardest part: trying to explain to young children that this beautiful dog by my side isn't a pet, and that it's not okay for them to pet her without my permission and involvement. Recently, it's become common for me to overhear parents encouraging their children to 'Go say hi to the puppy'. Now, don't get me wrong, I will introduce Miss Sugar to people, especially children, when I'm able. Sugar loves children, and she would just love it if she could say hello to every child we came across. The problem is, when she has that vest on, she's in uniform, and she's working. I think most people can relate to being a little frustrated when they get interrupted at work- Sugar deals with the same thing.
Now, I can't imagine the majority of parents out there are going to encourage their child to go try to touch a dog that they don't know- that seems to be a bit illogical to me, for the safety of a child- but the fact is, most parents are as uneducated about service dogs as children.
So here's the plan: Next time you see a service dog with your child, point out that dog to them. Ask them if they know why that dog is allowed to be in the mall/restaurant/movie theater, etc. When your child doesn't understand why that dog is allowed there, you explain to them that they're working. Service dogs do something to help their owner (or Mommy/Daddy) and need to be left alone so they can do their job well. If the handler of the service dog seems fairly relaxed, ask them about it. Now, don't go into nosy questions about why they have a service dog- us handlers will volunteer as much information as we're comfortable giving you- but ask them about special rights of their dog, training, cost, whatever. Let your child ask questions if you can. EDUCATE YOURSELF AND YOUR CHILD.
Service dogs are not just for the blind. The majority of the people I know who have service dogs have no visible disability. Many of us avoid Wal-Mart and the mall because of the feelings of fear it brings us to be in crowded places. Some of our dogs wake us up from nightmares, some can smell when a diabetic's blood sugar is low, or sense an oncoming seizure. These dogs are our guardian angels. They help us survive- quite literally.
Sugar is not my pet, she is my partner. I feed, walk, and care for her, and she takes care of me. She will insist I focus on her if I'm moving towards an anxiety attack, she will get between me and someone she senses is a threat (she's never attacked anyone, nor is she trained to), she will climb in my lap when I start melting down, and she will wake me up from a nightmare. She is my best friend, and I don't go anywhere without her, but she is not my pet.
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