Service Dogs Save Lives

If there is any doubt in anyone's mind, let me make it very clear: Sugar has saved my life.
I have found myself in the moments of darkness where I know in my heart that I had the capability to take my own life. I have found myself woken up by a 50 lb dog when I was in the middle of another nightmare. I have walked through stores, feeling desperate, in danger, feeling that my life was threatened. In that moment, I had a beautiful Collie-Rhodesian Ridgeback mixed breed get my attention and get between me and my perceived threat. I have found myself slipping into a flashback- and feeling a dog not part of my flashback lick my face.
This dog has saved my life. I could have gotten rid of my husband if I'd really wanted to- but nobody would have been around to take care of my dog if I had gotten rid of myself. I can make myself believe any number of things about people, but it's impossible to tell yourself a dog, especially one like this, doesn't love you/need you/want you.
Sugar is happier if I get out of bed in the morning and go through our routine. If we don't, she will still tolerate and love me, but she isn't as happy. She is, more often than not, my reason for facing the day, even when I don't want to face myself, let alone the day ahead.
This mutt from the local Humane Society- a dog they said they'd had for a year before we adopted her- has saved my life in so many ways.
Sugar leans on me, often putting one or more of her paws on my foot or leg, to make sure I don't move without her knowledge. I feed, bathe and walk this dog- but make no mistake, I am not the rescuer in this situation.
Don't ever convince yourself animals are below you, or less than you. Dogs are capable of love and understanding on a level that I truly believe no adult human is.

Sugar and I on the rocks

Airports And Escalators

We had a training session at the local airport today.
Sugar did very well- but made it clear enough she still does not like escalators. She pulled when I tried to get her on, I moved her forward onto it and she was fine after that. Knowing she was abused used to make me think this sort of thing is her still learning to trust me. Now, though, I remember she is my service dog- and she has always been very, very sensitive to my emotions. Having a bad day means she's as tense as I am. She doesn't relax until we're home, and she knows my husband is taking care of me.
She is an incredible dog, and I couldn't be more proud of her.

Today, at the airport, we trained with a very special teacher- Bino, the retired Military Working Dog.
We have met his sister, Miss Suzie, before, but Bino is a hero with many years in the service, and some time down-range. He's a hard worker, and an impressive dog, even as the effects of age and many years of hard work set in on his body.
Sugar is nowhere near that level of honors, but she's my personal hero- the reason I can leave the house. Her attention at training classes is impressive to me- it's incredible to see a dog's attitude change between "work" (treatment, going to work, stores, restaurants, etc.), home (and being off duty), and her training. When we are at treatment, she knows it's okay to say hi to people and check on friends, but that in public places, even if I introduce her to someone, that she doesn't get too friendly- she "says hi" (gives them her paw, maybe a lick) but then will allow them to pet her as long as I allow, yet she really doesn't so much as acknowledge them from that point on.
At training, though, she is focused. The second she is reigned in, it's all business. She might say hi to someone she knows- but only people, no other working dogs- by tapping them with her paw, but she otherwise doesn't stray from any commands she's given. There's no hugs, no distractions and no excuses- although young children are still her weakness. She will ignore even infants as long as possible, but the second one tries to pet her, about age 4 or under, she is checking on them and loving up on them.
Today, a gentleman walked up to Sugar's best friend, Benny, with his barely-toddling daughter, while we had our dogs at a "sit-stay" and proceeded to introduce his daughter to a pit bull service dog without it's owner. When Benny's owner came over and corrected him politely, the gentleman moved on to my dog.
I was already anxious, but this topped it.
I approached, just in time for our (human) trainer to actively correct this gentleman (again) on proper procedure, but Sugar was already checking on this little girl. I know this weakness of hers, and don't blame her much. I have a weakness for kids, too- I'm looking forward to having several, hopefully, eventually.
The rest of the lesson went pretty smoothly. Walking through the procedures for security and moving through the process of air travel was easy with Sugar.
I'm still processing my new reality: I am one of "those" people who gets medically discharged from the military. I am also a handler for a service dog- I am someone who needs a service dog. I don't really know how to handle that.

Moving Up

Sugar has most of your typical obedience commands down pat- sit, stay, down, up, come, and she's a big fan of hugs- as a matter of fact, she came pre-programmed with the hugs command. When we first took her home from the humane society, whenever we came home from work, she'd jump right on up, put one paw on my front hip bone, the other on my lower back and would not budge until I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a hug.

We had dog training today over at one of the local malls. She has seen escalators before and boy, she let it be known she was not a fan. With a treat and a lot of patience, I could get her to lie down on her belly with her front paws just about a half an inch from the edge of the actual escalator stairs.
Today, we got up and down the escalator a half dozen times- I could not be more proud of her!!!! She still wasn't having it after seeing several other service dogs go up and down, and I hate having to force her to do anything- she's too smart to have to be forced. I'll find ways to explain things to her, but force is ALWAYS a last resort with Miss Sugar Mae.
One of the security guards got curious, and, after realizing why Sugar was sitting there with me, watching the other dogs go, then lying down at the bottom- over and over- he very politely asked me if she was scared. I told him yes, she was pretty frightened by the idea. He offered to shut off the escalator so she could get used to the metal stairs without the issue of motion frightening her more. After thanking him profusely and double-checking with our trainer, I agreed. Sugar still looked at those things like they would eat her, but I more or less picked her up and put her on them, right behind another dog. Realizing the only way out was up, she bolted after the other dog, just as I'd hoped. It was hard for me to keep up, but once we got up and down the stopped escalator a few times, we popped right on the moving half, and, while she didn't care for the motion, she didn't fight me on it. We went up and down those suckers over and over, and, between the escalators and the other training we did today, that girl went through an entire bag of treats. I could have been less generous with them, I'm sure, but I was much too proud of my girl to deny her further reassurance that her hard work was paying off. I've never seen a dog look so proud of herself.

We haven't been going out much these last few weeks, although yesterday, she made it through a hospital visit with flying colors. The only moment of question we had was when I wouldn't allow her on the couch next to me in the waiting room. I have absolutely no issues with her being on our furniture, or getting up on furniture elsewhere when told, but remaining professional is of paramount importance to me when I take her out somewhere. I don't ever want to give anyone a reason to question her ability as a service dog, nor question my role as her handler.

Not A Pet

Not A Pet

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.