THE 704 TO THE SEA...

Yesterday, Dobby and I took a trip to Santa Monica to spend the afternoon relaxing at the pier. It was 85 degrees and sunny, what else is there to do on a Saturday like that? I wish I could say the trek was as relaxing as I had hoped. The bus ride on the 704 line took nearly an hour from where I live in West Hollywood to Santa Monica because of the traffic. In a former life when I could still see to drive, the trip wouldn't take more than about 20 to 30 minutes but riding the bus with traffic and periodic stops extends the trip to an hour. With the heavy traffic we encountered, apparently I wasn't the only person who thought it would be a good day to go to the ocean.


Once we arrived, Ocean Front Park was crammed full of people. Dobby did his usual best at weaving us back and forth to get through the crowd. The real challenge for him came when we finally got to the pier itself. The place was a madhouse. I actually considered turning us around and finding a nice quiet place on the grass where we could sit and relax but Dobby loves sitting at the end of the pier watching the world go by. There are always seagulls, pelicans, people, boats, dolphins and a myriad of other distractions constantly going by which keep his attention. If I use my monocular, I can occasionally get lucky and catch a glimpse of what Dobby is looking at. Out of sheer dumb luck, I managed to catch a glimps of a harbor seal swimming in the water near the pier. Dobby was too busy watching a dog that a couple had brought with them for a walk to notice.


The trip home was just as long. I don't go to the pier all that often because the long bus ride is hard on Dobbs. He's good at sitting patiently for about 20 minutes and then he becomes restless. I often end up letting him lay down on the floor during such long rides. It's more comfortable for him that way. We've come up with a routine that works. When the bus stops and the front door opens I give him a sit command and he dutifully jumps up into a sitting position between my legs and out of the path. It's an imperfect solution and has risks but it simply isn't fair to make Dobbs sit still perfectly still for nearly an hour. Who among us could do that?

A SERIOUSLY CLOSE CALL…

It happened in a flash, without warning and came within a whisper of leaving Dobbs and I seriously injured and it wasn’t a traffic check.

Monday was a very hectic day and Dobbs was a real trooper. Somehow, I had appointments piled one upon another, back to back and without any breaks all day long. He must have walked nearly five miles before this incident happened and he had handled the entire day with his usual calm collected demeanor, never complaining, never loosing his focus or diligence. He was just enjoying spending the day on the road with me and I have to admit that I was really happy to have him along with me to keep me company in the midst of my hectic schedule.

It was the late afternoon around 5 o’clock and we were coming back from Hollywood where I had just had to return to my pharmacy to have them correct a mistake they had made earlier in the day when filling one of my prescriptions. It was hot, the bus was crowded and people were in an unusually crabby mood. An elderly lady had made everybody grumble because she had insisted that the bus driver extend the wheelchair ramp so that she could get onto the bus with her walker only to ride one block and then hold the whole bus up for 10 minutes while she got off again. She had made Dobbs and I get out of our seat at the front of the bus so she could get by us with her walker and she was rude about it. So needless to say the bus ride wasn’t going all that well to begin with but what happened next is unprecedented and I still can’t believe it happened.

As the elderly lady egresses the bus, a young man who had apparently been out getting drunk in the afternoon at a pub, got onto the bus. According to the bus driver he was so drunk that he couldn’t even get his dollar bill to go into the bus fare-collecting machine. She had waived him to just go and sit down because we would have been there all day waiting for him to pay his fare and the bus was already behind schedule due to traffic. The guy passed by Dobbs and I who was seated normally minding our own business. He nearly tripped and fell over my feet that I was using to protect Dobbs and keep people from stepping on him. He said “sorry,” and blundered on down the aisle deeper into the bus to find a seat. I could smell the alcohol on his breath he was so drunk. I was going to be glad when this bus ride was over.

The bus started up again and traveled for a minute or so when suddenly the driver had to slam the brakes to avoid smashing up a car that had cut the bus off in traffic. Everyone on the bus was thrown forward. Those of us who were seated weren’t too seriously jostled around and I had a good firm grip on Dobbs so he didn’t go flying off anywhere. However, the drunk guy who had just gotten onto the bus had apparently chosen to try to stand up rather than take a seat and he was thrown, through the air, from somewhere in the mid section of the bus all the way to the front of the bus slamming into the fare collection machine head first. As he flew past Dobbs and I, he brushed both of us with his body. Dobbs pressed himself up against me and I pushed myself back into the seat to try to avoid being injured but the truth is that by the time we had reacted to the situation it was already too late to avoid it. Had the man’s flight path been just a few inches more towards us he would have taken both of us out; potentially seriously injuring both Dobbs and myself.

Several people got up out of their seats and went to the man’s aid. He didn’t say anything. Frankly I’m amazed he wasn’t killed. The bus driver pulled over and rather than the man waiting around for help to arrive to check him out, he just fled the bus over the objections of the passengers and the driver.

Honestly, I consider myself lucky not to be in the hospital right now and not to have Dobbs lain up in the animal hospital with serious injuries or broken bones. This episode hasn’t put me off riding the bus. I really don’t have any other way to easily get around LA with my guide dog (given that Access Services can’t seem to figure out that I need a VAN and not a tiny car for transportation. But that’s another story) and so the bus is my only real option regardless of how I feel about it. I guess I should chalk the whole experience up to the idea that, hey, living in LA may be many things, but it’s never boring...

THE SUPERIORITY OF A GUIDE CAT OVER A GUIDE DOG...

One hot summers day back in late July of this year (2008), Dobbs and I had been waiting for a bus on Sunset Boulevard for nearly an hour. Buses on Sunset often run at irregular intervals due to heavy traffic but this bus was particularly late in arriving. When the bus finally pulled up I could tell there was something weird going on. The driver didn’t open the door right away and left us standing in the hot sun for nearly a minute before he finally opened the door and let us board. The heat is really stressful on Dobbs and if I hadn’t needed to be out traveling that afternoon I wouldn’t have been. I wasn’t sure what to make of the delay but I was glad to get into the air conditioning for both my sake and for Dobbs’ and so I didn’t think much of it and put it out of my mind for the moment.

As I boarded, I waived my bus pass in the air for the driver to see, got to the top of the steps on the bus and called for Dobbs to follow me on board which he did. As Dobbs scrambled up the steps the Driver said, “There’s a seat behind me on the right and watch out for your dog, there’s a cat on the bus.” “Huh?” I said, “a cat?” “Yeah, right across from you,” he said with no further explanation. Just then a droll woman’s voice began speaking, “Oh, now this will be interesting.” She paused. “This will be a chance to do some teaching and learning.” I just ignored her and got to my seat and got Dobbs into his sitting position, between my legs, so that the Driver could proceed.

Dobbs was very interested in the cat across the aisle from us but I didn’t realize that the cat wasn’t in a kennel. “He’s a beautiful dog,” said the droll woman seated across from me. “Thank you,” I said, “He’s my best buddy.” “I see he’s attentive to my cat,” she said, “I have a guide cat with me over here and I can see that your dog is very interested in him. That’s good. That means he’s doing his job.” Now at this point I’m thinking out loud and inadvertently blurted out, “Guide cat?” “Yes,” she said, “I have a guide cat which is much superior to a guide dog in both training and temperament.” I pulled out my monocular and looked at the woman seated across from me. She was rather disheveled with wild brown curly hair and draped over her shoulder was a scrawny, white, shorthaired cat. The cat was just laying there letting her run her hands over it but it was defiantly eyeing Dobbs.

Now to be fair, I had heard about this woman from several bus drivers who had asked me some very pointed questions in the past about what constituted a legitimate service animal and whether or not I had ever heard of a service cat before but I never figured that I would actually cross paths with this person. Apparently, the MTA management was trying to figure out if they could deny this woman access to their buses as long as she had her cat with her. I had previously told the drivers that I simply didn’t know the answers to their questions but I had never heard of such a thing and didn’t believe that cats were trainable and therefore would unlikely be used as service animals for that reason.

At this point, I became concerned. There’s no such thing as a guide cat and so I knew that this woman was either working the system or more likely was a few bricks short of a full load (if you know what I mean). While I knew Dobbs wouldn’t get out of control or go after the cat, I had no idea as to what the cat on the woman’s shoulder would do. I was growing increasingly worried that if the cat sprang at Dobbs or attacked him in some other way, the woman would have no way of controlling her animal and Dobbs could be injured and/or refuse to work afterwards if attacked. Pets aren’t allowed to ride the bus unless they’re in a kennel because of health and safety concerns for the general public and for the safety of service animals like Dobbs. I also guessed that the reason the driver had not opened the door was likely because he wasn’t sure what was going to happen with my dog and this woman’s cat. As it turns out, my guess was close but more on that later.

I decided that I had no choice but to act. One of the things that become very apparent while you’re in guide dog school is that the welfare and safety of your guide dog is paramount. Ultimately, an individual person’s safety and well being depends upon your guide dog and anything that could erode or jeopardize the dog’s well being is by default jeopardizing a person’s personal safety. This woman was placing my dog in jeopardy and thus my safety in jeopardy, unintentionally perhaps, but her behavior was by definition reckless nonetheless.

I realized that directly confronting her and demanding that she leave the bus with her cat was beyond my authority and only the bus driver or the police could remove her from the bus so I took another tact, I began to barrage her with questions about her “guide cat’s” training. Questions that I knew she would be unable to answer because her cat had no training because there’s no such thing as a guide cat. My hope was that the bus driver would be listening and would hear enough to realize that this woman was lying to him in order to bring her pet cat with her on the bus.

I asked the woman which school she had attended to learn how to perform guide work with her cat? No answer. I asked her whether or not a cat used the same kinds of commands that a guide dog used. She reacted. “No, you need to read the ADA,” she said. “I’m allowed under the ADA to have my guide cat with me on public transportation. You need to learn about the ADA.” I said, "Madam, I’m blind. I know all about the ADA. I’m trying to find out how much training you’re guide cat has and who did the training.” “No, you’re not allowed to question me. You need to go to ADA.gov and read the rules about access for service animals,” she said. “I know all about the rules for access,” I said, “what I want to know is what proof you have that your cat is a legitimate service animal. I’m concerned that your untrained cat might attack my dog and harm him. For me this is a safety issue. I’m merely asking you questions which you should have no trouble answering.” All she could repeat was that I needed to go to ada.gov and look up the rules. By this point the driver had heard enough. Just as we pulled up to the stop on Sunset and Highland, the bus driver spoke up and told her that if she wouldn’t answer the questions I was asking then she could answer some questions he had for her about the legitimacy of her “guide cat.” Well, she suddenly realized the gig was up and said, “This is my stop anyway. Next time maybe you’ll all be aware of what ada.gov says and won’t be so ignorant of the rules and will be more considerate.”

She got off the bus (with her cat thank goodness) at which point everyone around me let out a collective sigh of relief. Apparently, she had been torturing people with her endless talking about her service cat prior to me getting on the bus. During the time that the driver had held me on the curb before opening the door, he had warned her that I had a dog and that she needed to keep control of her cat or he would put her off the bus. It seems that when I started questioning her, she had become extremely nervous, as I had hoped she would, but not because I was challenging her but because she knew that the bus driver was already suspicious of her cat.

To be honest with you, I don’t feel bad about doing what I did. My guide dog is the most important thing in my life and his well-being comes first above and beyond the feelings or desires of other people. I have a contract with Guide Dogs for the Blind which clearly states that I agree to advocate for the safety and well being of my guide dog should the need arise. The school retains ownership of the dog. Dobbs is merely on loan to me from the school. If I don’t live up to my end of the bargain, they can, at their discretion, remove Dobbs from my possession and reissue him to someone else in order to protect their investment in his raising and training. By trying to scam the system, this woman had forced me into a position where I was required to intervene for the well being of my dog. Clearly, she hadn’t though through what would happen if someone else got on the bus with a legitimate service animal. I haven’t seen the woman since that day nor have any bus drivers asked me about service cats. I can only hope that this means she is no longer trying to scam the system or has been permanently barred from riding the bus.

I'M WITH HIM...

Let’s get it all on the table up front; Dobbs is a rock star. He’s gentle, friendly, affectionate and diligent. He works incredibly hard, rarely makes a mistake and really watches out for my well-being wherever we go together and people notice.

Whether we’re on the bus, in the grocery store, at the mall, waiting in a reception area or just walking down the street, people actively go out of their way to engage with me about Dobbs. He’s a people magnet. I’ve lived in my current apartment for over seven years and until I got Dobbs, I had hardly met any of my neighbors. Now I know all of them. At times the attention he draws can be overwhelming. It’s always the same kinds of questions: How old is he? How long have the two of you been together? How much training has he had? Did you have to pay for him? and so on. It’s not that I mind answering people’s questions, because I don’t. Having a guide dog makes you an ambassador for the guide dog program and in a way you are always on display when you’re working your dog. It’s just that sometimes I begin to feel as if I’m Dobbs’ publicist fielding all of the inquiries from his adoring fans; and believe me; he has a lot of fans out there in the general public.

Don’t get me wrong; Dobbs is the best thing that ever happened to me. His presence in my life has made all the difference. I get out of my apartment a lot more. I’m not afraid to travel places because I know he’s with me. The likelihood that something bad will happen is infinitesimal. Not to mention that he’s also my best buddy and I adore him. I love it when I’m sitting on the sofa at home and he lies down next to me putting his head in my lap so I can stroke his ears. He lets out a big sigh of contentment that melts my heart. He also loves to play tug and fetch relentlessly but I don’t mind. I really enjoy all the time that I spend with him. The effort that properly caring for him takes is not a burden. After all, he takes such good care of me that he deserves nothing but the best. At this point, I can't imagine not having him in my life.

Maybe it’s the close bond between us that attracts all the attention from people. I’d like to think so. I’d like to think it’s more than the fact that Dobb’s is an amazing dog that attracts all the attention. But, at the end of the day that may be all it is. Perhaps it is Dobbs’ world and I just live in it. If that's the way it is, that's okay. Dobbs' world is a great place to live...

TROUBLE ON THE MTA...

Dear MTA Manager,

I am a visually impaired person who travels with a guide dog. I regularly ride Metro Busses and Rail services in order to travel around Los Angeles. Up until today, I had never had a service dog access related problem with one of your Bus Drivers. When I attempted to board Metro-Rapid Line 761 at the Westwood Blvd./Lindbrook Drive bus stop at approximately 3:00 pm Sunday September 28, 2008, I was confronted by your driver who demanded that I prove that my guide dog was a legitimate service dog or he would not let me on the bus with him. Please keep in mind that my dog was in his harness and that I worked him up to the door of the bus to board. Apparently, your driver is unaware that a guide dog harness is a restricted item that cannot be purchased by the general public and remains the property of the guide dog school that issued it. Any dog wearing a mobility harness is supposed to be automatically accepted as a service dog because there is no way for anyone to obtain a harness unless they have graduated from a guide dog program, which both my guide dog Dobbs and I have. I do travel with my Guide Dog Handlers License issued by Guide Dogs for the Blind but have never had to present it because, in the past, your drivers have always understood that the harness was proof of legitimacy. Had this situation risen to the level where it was necessary for me to bring out my Handler’s License, I would have however, after a brief disagreement, the driver relented (unhappily) and let me board the bus. My issue is that this driver needs to be reminded or made aware of what a guide dog harness is and that any dog wearing a guide dog harness is a legitimate service dog and should not be questioned.

Thank you for your attention to this matter.


UPDATE SEPTEMBER 29, 2008:

"We certainly regret the incident. Due to the number of 761
buses that operator in the area, can you please confirm the 4-digit bus
number.

Metro Customer Relations
(213) 922-6235"


I'm sorry that I cannot. I am not really able to read the identifying information on the outside of the busses due to my visual impairment.



UPDATE ON SEPTEMBER 30, 2008:

Thank you. We will go ahead and forward your email to the Division for
this line. That way management can review procedures with all the
drivers.


Metro Customer Relations
(213) 922-6235

A LITTLE BIT OF BACK INFO...

For me, the ability to confidently travel by myself in public and function independently in my daily life has restored a sense of normalcy that I had lost when my eyesight was compromised and I became legally blind in September of 2006. Prior to receiving O. & M. (orientation and mobility) and I. L. S. (independent living skills) training my life had become cloistered. For the first ten months after I lost my eyesight, I resisted the idea that I needed help. I was holding out for the hope that my vision would be able to be restored surgically and I wouldn’t need to use a cane to get around and that the whole “blind thing” was a passing problem that would be resolved and put behind me within a few months.

During that 10 month period, I found my life getting smaller and smaller. I only went places when I had to and only went to places I knew, the grocery story, the doctor’s office and the bank. That’s it. I didn’t see my friends unless they came over to visit me. I never went out to do anything because I was basically afraid of injuring myself (which ultimately I did in spite of how much care I believed I was taking). One night when the fire alarm went off in my building, I accidentally tripped over a piece of concrete and nearly broke my ankle. I was off my feet for nearly three weeks and was totally dependent upon other people to bring me food from the store and to take me places. When I was mobile, I regularly tripped over fire hydrants, curbs, objects on the side walks, ran into people, etc. all the time. At one point I tripped over a fire hydrant and nearly broke my neck. And yet, I still held out hope that my vision would be coming back soon and that if I could just keep holding out a bit longer, my situation would get better and I would be able to put this period of my life behind me chalking it up as a dark period in my life that I had somehow managed to survive. Well, my hopes didn’t work out that way and I didn’t get my vision back the way I wished.

My health, unfortunately, continued to decline and as I grew increasingly ill and the restorative surgeries that were preformed on my left eye repeatedly failed, I began to realize that I couldn’t continue wishing for my life to get better. If I wanted my life back (or at least a more normal life than I was living) I would have to accept that I needed help and had to work to improve my situation rather than simply hoping that it would improve on its own. The final straw came for me one night when I found myself stuck in a downtown Los Angeles subway station at 10:00 pm in the evening. I had gone downtown to attend a disability application workshop that only occurred at night and even though I had great reservations about traveling around town at night, I was making the effort to improve my life and so, I took the chance and went. Well, after the workshop ended that evening, I managed to carefully make my way to the nearby subway station and, with great difficulty, find the down escalator and get onto the subway train without breaking my neck. Unfortunately, that evening, the subway trains stopped running in Los Angeles due to an unforeseen problem with the train tracks causing service to be suspended early for that day. I was stuck in the Wilshire/Vermont subway station with no way to get home.

Worse, I was alone. There was no one else in the subway station that could help me. I was stuck underground, I couldn’t see well enough to easily find my way around much less get my bearings and find an alternative way to get back to my apartment (which was nearly 10 miles from where I was at the time). I couldn’t see well enough to find a public telephone much less use it easily and besides, whom would I call at that hour? A cab ride back to my apartment from the downtown area would likely have cost me nearly $45 dollars and I had less than $7 dollars in my pocket and no way to get more money. None of my friends were available to me as they were all out of town or working. I was stuck. After fumbling around for a while (being terrified that I would go off the edge of the subway platform accidentally), I managed to find the up escalators and got myself up to the street level. I was totally turned around and it took me nearly 20 minutes to find Wilshire boulevard where I hoped I might be able to catch a bus that was headed towards the west side of Los Angeles. I found what I thought was a bus stop, hoping that it was on the side of the street headed in the direction which I wanted to go, and waited. Fortunately, a bus did come by and the driver stopped to pick me up even though, as it turns out, I was at the wrong bus stop for a bus that wasn’t running during the evening hours. I was never more grateful in my life.

I rode the bus to the corner of Wilshire and La Cienega boulevards where the bus driver told me that I would be able to catch a bus northbound that would take me relatively close to where I ultimately needed to go. Unfortunately, the bus driver didn’t know that, on La Cienega Boulevard, north and southbound busses stop running regularly after 8 pm. I found this out from a person passing by who saw me waiting at the bus stop and wasn’t sure that I knew that there wouldn’t be a bus coming until early the next morning. Again, I was stuck and this time I had no way to get home unless I was willing to walk. It was by then roughly 11:30 at night, I had no eyesight, no night vision at all and at least a two and a half mile walk ahead of me. I won’t lie, I cried. I’ve never been more terrified in my life. I had to force myself to take each step. The walk home was nearly impossible. I tripped over three curbs, ran into two fire hydrants, nearly got hit by half a dozen cars that I didn’t see coming as I crossed streets, it was terrible. For the first time in my life I really began to wonder if I would actually make it home alive. Miraculously, I did and at that moment I swore that I would never go through anything like that again. I finally accepted that, without help, I wasn’t going to be able to remain independent or continue to get around on my own. I just couldn’t put myself through that experience again.

A social worker at the UCLA Medical Center had put me in touch with the West Side Center for Independent Living and they, in turn, contacted the Center for the Partially Sighted in West Los Angeles on my behalf. Graciously, The Center for the Partially Sighted arranged for me to receive a cane and authorized several training sessions for me even though at the time I was unable to afford to pay for the services. They went above and beyond the call of duty on my behalf and for that I will always be grateful. Two weeks later, I received a call from Sophia Leduck who, was, at the time skeptical of my enthusiasm for learning to use a mobility cane. To her surprise, she found that I really did want a cane and once I had explained what I had been through, she understood where I was coming from. As I understand it, most people who begin mobility training with a cane do so unwillingly and resist the idea. I on the other hand, enthusiastically embraced my new cane and eagerly accepted the training. For me, the cane meant a newfound freedom and the confidence that I could get around safely.

My whole world changed. I was able to visit my friends again, go out to restaurants, travel on public transportation without fearing that I would fall from the bus while getting off onto the sidewalk and I didn’t fear tripping over curbs or running into fire hydrants any longer. My former life began to return to me all because of my cane. I loved my cane and became quite proficient with it in a short amount of time. I realized that the fear of using a cane was irrational. If other people thought less of me because I had to use a cane, that was their issue and not mine, I won't live my life just to please others or meet their expectations. If other people looked down on me because of my visual impairment, then they weren’t worth my time. All that mattered was my well-being and safety.

To my surprise, the help, which Sophia brought to me, didn’t end with mobility training. Together, we went through my home where she helped me by marking buttons on devices like my dishwasher so that I could more easily use it. She placed flagging tape on the clear glass of my shower door so that I wouldn’t accidentally put my hand or head through it because I couldn’t see it. She helped me learn how to safely use knives and cook in the kitchen, fill glasses with liquids without overflowing them, determine the differences between coins and make change properly and showed me how to read and effectively handle money. Improving my life skills training was an aspect of my life that I had never really contemplated and her unexpended help in this area greatly improved the quality of my life and my independence.

As good as my cane was, after a few close calls with some inconsiderate drivers who cut me off while I was crossing the street, I began to wonder if there was more that I could do for myself to even further improve my safety while out traveling around town. At the time I erroneously believed that I didn’t qualify for a guide dog because I still had some eyesight in my right eye. I mentioned my disappointment to Sophia who immediately set me straight. She told me that guide dogs were available to people who were legally blind as well as to people who were totally blind and that if I wanted to make the commitment that having a guide dog requires, I would qualify to receive one.

At this point I have to say that sometimes, ignorance really is bliss. In my new found sense of assuredness, after only brief consideration and unbeknown to me, I went right out and applied to one of the top guide dog schools in the world, Guide Dogs for the Blind in San Rafael, California.

It isn’t that the school is exclusive in the typical sense of exclusivity, but they do have some fairly rigid requirements in regards to mobility, problem solving and comfortably level with your visual disability. Having a guide dog requires good orientation and mobility skills as well as good problem solving skills in order to be able to effectively handle the guide dog. Guide Dogs for the Blind generally prefers that a person have been living with their visual disability for a longer period of time than I had because a person, such as myself, who has only recently become visually impaired is unlikely to have accepted their visual disability and become comfortable with it. Not knowing any of this, I applied and then eagerly followed up with them. Sophia knew what I was getting myself into but had confidence me and in the idea that I could handle the rigorous mobility and problem solving evaluation which Guide Dogs for the Blind would put me through and therefore didn’t dissuade me from pursuing the application to the GDB program.

Well, the interview and street level mobility test was definitely an eye opening experience for me and challenged me to rise to the occasion and show what I could do and how confident that I really was in my mobility skills and ability to resolve problems that I might face working with a guide dog. I honestly didn’t know how I did in the test. I don’t want people to read this and be dissuaded from the idea of getting a guide dog, I only want them to be aware of the commitment and willingness to take the world head on each day that having a guide dog requires. Having a guide dog may not be for everyone, but it sure is wonderful. Needless to say I passed their evaluation and was accepted to their program. Four months later, at no expense to me, I was off to guide dog school where I was paired up with my new best friend, my guide dog Dobbs.

Guide dog school was an intense but exceedingly rewarding experience. As much as I loved the freedom my cane had given to me, traveling with a guide dog is just that much more amazing. Having a guide dog doesn’t completely replace your cane, you still need it for certain situations where working with your dog is impractical, but in general, having a guide dog is like the difference between driving around in your average mid-sized car and driving a Rolls Royce. Dobbs guides me around all the obstacles on the side walks, stops to show me curbs, watches out for reckless and rude drivers who might pose a danger when we are crossing the street and he does something my cane could never do for me, he watches out for obstacles that I might hit my head on. But even more that being my remarkable mobility aid, he’s my best buddy. We are never separated. He offers unconditional love and lets me know daily that he is as concerned about me as I am concerned about him.

Yes, properly caring for him is a big responsibility and one that is not to be taken lightly. They call it the guide dog lifestyle and living it does mean some significant changes in the way a person lives their life but the rewards that come from having a guide dog far outweigh the commitment it requires. I honestly now can’t imagine living my life without my guide dog even though we’ve only been together as a team for a short period of time. The confidence he gives me and the increased sense of safety that I have when I travel around Los Angeles is without comparison. Having him with me all the time is incredible. Sometimes when we’re stopped at an intersection waiting to cross the street, he’ll lean his body against my leg just to let me know that he’s thinking about how much he enjoys being out working with me. Dobbs is an amazing dog and I’m really blessed to have him in my life. Guide Dogs for the Blind is really like a family. They watch out for their students not only while you’re attending school but the also offer graduate services and help with postgraduate veterinary care.

I can’t say enough nice things about Guide Dogs for the Blind, the Center for the Partially Sighted or adequately express my gratitude to Sophia Leduck for all that she has done for me. Their help has been invaluable in meeting my goal of regaining my independence and self-confidence while dealing with the challenges that living with a visual disability daily confronts you with.