Post-Polar-Vortex PAW-pourri

 

Post-Polar-Vortex PAW-pourri

 

by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

 

 

With three snowfalls and Polar Vortex 2019 behind us, as well as two ice storms ahead of us, my Leader Dog Willow and I set forth yesterday morning to check out the height of the snow stack at the southeast curb of Juneau and Jackson.  Although this curb was previously impassable since the twelve-inch snowfall, I thought, after my boot checked out the snowpack, we could proceed north to the post office; and Willow agreed.  Fortunately, the northeast curb was relatively cleared of iceberg-type snow:  so, with a right turn and a “Find the post office” command, Willow took me directly to the proper door of the post office.  “Post office,” I affirmed; then, I praised my British Black Labrador Retriever with “Good girl!”

 

After we work through the second door, I told Willow, “Find the deposit.”  Of course, she turned left and guided me to the wall where we were confronted by four choices for depositing our mail.  More praise for Willow!

 

I do think that each of my previous guide dogs left a scent for each subsequent Leader Dog of mine to follow because each learned this post office routine so quickly.  Actually, I distinctly recall that Zoe, my third Leader Dog, went directly to the deposit area on my first command–just as if she had been at the Juneau Station Post Office previously.  At Willow’s first visit to the post office near my home, she also needed no repetitive lessons.  Perhaps, each was able to understand the cue word “deposit” and was able to visually recognize the wall of deposits as the target.  If each of my guide dogs had worked in a post office in Michigan (home state of Leader Dog School and home state of the puppy-raisers of my guide dogs), the Leader Dogs’ abilities to transfer the knowledge to a new location still impresses me.  I appreciate being able to smoothly navigate to a destination–thanks to my four Leader Dogs and their superb training at the school in Rochester, Michigan.

 

After placing my mail into the chute, Willow and I did a U-turn so that the mailboxes were on my right; I gave my quiet and patient Lab a small dog treat and a few more words of praise.  With my gloves on again, I said, “Willow, find the door.”

 

Next comes a “Willow moment.”  I think Willow must have realized that I am older than I was under Zoe’s guiding because Willow was my first guide dog who took me precisely in front of a large, square button which automatically opens the door.  I must confess that before Willow, I had no idea that such a button existed beside that door.  Well, since Willow insisted, I pushed the door button and have continued with this pattern at this frequent stop.  Once Willow realized that I had learned about the button, she takes me to the door and is confident that I will use the button which is to my right.

 

When Willow and I returned to the curb (Yes, a real curb is still at this location!) We waited and then safely cross Juneau, with the four tracks of the streetcar to our west.  Heading south, I knew that my creature-of-habit would guide me a little to the right and maneuver west of the snow pile and up the  diagonal-type ramp.  Once again, I praised my Leader Dog and gave her a little treat (the same type which was used at Leader Dog School during our training).  “Willow, forward, left.”  We took a different and longer route home.

 

Later yesterday afternoon, I wanted to mail a large envelope before the first of two predicted ice storms; so, our afternoon walk included a second trip to the post office.  However, when my guide dog and I entered the post office, I gave her a different command:  “Find the line.”  Perhaps, due to the post-Polar-Vortex syndrome, everyone in line was especially  quiet.  I always like to confirm that I am in the back of the line when other postal patrons are being too quiet.  During our wait in line, I complimented Willow and petted her.  Periodically, I asked her to “hup up”–move forward a little in line.  At the “island counter,” I “touch base” to confirm my location as we proceeded.  At the end of the island, Willow knows to turn left to face the business counter.  Knowing that I am next in line and only one of four postal clerks is working, I listened for the end of the prior transaction to know when to say, “Willow, forward; find the counter.”  In front of the counter, I greet the postal clerk and hand him my large envelope while Willow patiently waits at my feet.  I was pleased that we had waited in line because my large envelope needed nine cents more of postage.

 

Our typical exit routine is to return to the near side of the island, then “Find the deposit,” where I put away items in my backpack at the ledge in front of the deposit wall.  Yes, Willow received another treat and praise before “Find the door.”

 

On this afternoon walk, our next stop was Metro Market.  For this routine destination, some common phrases which Willow understands and executes like the professional she is include:  “Find Metro Market,” “Find the stairs,” “Find the door,” Find the service window” (where I ask for a utility clerk to assist me with shopping), “Find the bench.”  As anticipated, shoppers were stocking up post-Polar-Vortex and pre-icestorm.  After shopping for all needed items, Willow, my shopping assistant Omar, and I wait in a longer-than-usual line to check out.  Since we had not moved in line for a while, Omar explained that someone was having an issue with checking out.  I heard a remark from a woman who was two customers behind me.  Finally, the man turned toward the line and apologized to all of us for the delay.

 

“Your dog is so patient,” the woman behind me emphasized.

 

“Yes, she is.  I wish I were as patient as she is,.”  More praise and pets for Willow before our turn at the checkout.

 

Walking home with a backpack full of items and holding a filled paper shopping bag in my right arm and Willow’s harness handle and leash in my left (gloved) hand, I realized how good we felt to be outside walking, doing errands, and going places post-Polar-Vortex.

 

Stay safe, warm, and well!

Alice and Leader Dog Willow

 

February 6, 2019, Wednesday (second icy night in a row)

 

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