15 March, 2011

I am not normally a socially responsible blogger.

Wow. Yesterday’s post on Service Dog Etiquette for the Dog Lover got more hits than anything I have written here with the exception of advertising cats what need homes. I am really seriously flattered that people who have been service dog handlers (of all stripes) for way, way longer than I have felt it was worth linking. I am a noob to having a disability (I spent a few years denying that the chronic pain was chronic — if you ignore it long enough, it goes away, right?) and a noob to being a service dog handler, so I was really kind of worried I would be “stepping on toes” or get something horribly wrong. Much love to the friends who looked it over for me before I posted and gave me helpful hints!

And now, we return to our usual programming, which is to say WHO WANTS SID PICTURES? I knew you did. Sunday was phenomenally warm and sunny and a good day for me pain-wise and balance-wise, so we got outside in the yard and played fetch. I also set up the cheesy home agility set to play with. Sid cannot be inspired to move above a plod, and had a tendency to just plow through the jump. On the other hand, with a clicker and some kibble I had Tink and Beowulf doing Performing Doberman Tricks inside five minutes. I had Beowulf down-stay near the jump at a 90 degree angle to it, and then got Tink to do a beautiful string of jump, turn, jump, turn, jump, leap over Beowulf, skid into a “Sit up and beg” all for a click and a couple kibbles. I think it was because the sun was nice and bright and I took care to tap the crossbar and make sure she noticed it.

Anyway, Sid pictures! My handsome boy.
Sid, a black German Shedder who is 8 months old, trots toward the camera.  His ears are slightly worried, his eyes have some urgency to them, and his cheeks are a little pooched out.  Water drips from his mighty jaws, which are closed.
Here is Sid trying to fetch me a mouthful of water. It did not work out very well for him.

To the left, Zille, a 2 and a half year old sable Shedder, heads out of frame, a ball in her mouth.  Center frame, Sid has a really odd expression on his face and his mouth is half-open.  Anyone who has spent time with dogs will recognize that he is about to try biting Zille on the butt to see what happens.
Here is Sid about to get his ass kicked by Zille.

Center frame, Sid runs joyously toward the camera, his eyes bright and his pink tongue flying.  His course has been carefully plotted to be at 45 degrees to that of Zille, who is just to the viewer's right, trying to get past him so she can return the ball to her person.

14 March, 2011

Service Dog Etiquette for Dog Lovers

A friend of mine asked after my rant about adults trying to pet Siddy while he’s in his vest, “Is there ever an appropriate time to pet a working dog in a vest or harness? Like when you’re just hanging around?” And I immediately started kicking myself, because in my rant I didn’t really mention what people SHOULD do if they’d like to pet the dog, just ranted a lot about what they should not do. Bad trainer, me.

Unfortunately there’s no way for me to let people down gently because the only safe answer is “No, there is never an appropriate time to ask to pet a working dog.” There’s a lot of reasons for this, and I’ll detail them below from my own experience using Beowulf (in dog-accessible places since his Public Access Skills aren’t up to snuff for things like restaurants and grocery stores and other REALLY HIGH-DISTRACTION areas) and Sid’s training outing.

1) You can’t tell by looking at someone what that person’s disability may be. Sure, it may look like the dog is just lying down hanging out while its handler waits for the waiter to bring her coffee and spinach quiche, but the dog may be a diabetic or seizure alert dog, or a hearing dog. These dogs need to have their attention focused on their handlers, which they can easily do while lying down next to a chair.

2) While to you it may just look like I’m hanging around, in fact I might have just gotten that hazelnut coffee I’ve wanted all day and settled into this comfy chair at Panera with my coffee and a spinach quiche, and I’m looking forward to some quiet people-watching time. You can’t tell by looking at me whether or not I want to talk to a stranger, or particularly whether I want to talk to the 800th stranger that day who wants to pet my dog. And what looks to you like we’re taking a break and my dog just nudged me so I’d pet him may in fact be my dog alerting me when I fogged out as he was trained to do, and I’m not really in a state to be coherent with a stranger yet.

3) If I let you pet my dog in public, I’ve just taught you and everyone watching that it’s OK to pester service dog handlers about petting their dogs. For all I know, you’re the big dork who is going to ask the next service dog handler you see, and when you’re told “no” you will whip out the “But other people let me do it!” line and then I’m the annoying service dog handler teaching people bad habits.

4) If I let you pet my dog while he’s in harness, I am blurring the line for him between “Working, must concentrate on my person” and “not working, I can be sociable with strangers.” Because I am using my dog to help me stay upright, I can’t take the chance that he may learn that it’s OK to schmooze people while he’s working and veer towards the next clueless person to make a smoochy noise at him. Letting you pet him while he’s working, even if we’re both taking a break, may lead directly to a situation that seriously endangers my safety.

5) I’m probably really, really, really tired at that point of people approaching me and asking about the dog, trying to distract the dog, expecting me to stop what I’m doing and educate them about the dog and about disability, asking me to reveal my medical problems to them because of the dog, or generally treating me like I’m invisible or have the dog with me for a conversation piece or I’m an evil gatekeeper to the dog just out to stop them from having an innocent good time fondling him. I’m just trying to get the things I need to do accomplished, to live my life, and people who will ignore the dog and treat a handler like a dogless human being are few and far between. By asking to pet the dog, you are putting yourself firmly in the camp of “people who don’t treat me like a real human being because of the dog.”

Let me try to tell you what using a service dog part-time has been like for me, using as an analogy something most everybody uses: shoes. You have a pair of shoes. They are the first shoes you have ever found that fit like they were made just for your feet and are really nice-looking shoes. In these shoes, you can go about your whole day and your feet and back and legs feel great and never get tired. In these shoes, you can conquer the whole damn world.

There’s just one problem with the shoes. They attract attention. The first couple of times people smiled at you and said “Nice shoes” it was pretty flattering, but then things started getting a little out of hand. People would stare at your shoes, wherever you went, in a way that made you feel like you were nothing but a way of displaying your wonderful shoes. People would approach you while you’re just trying to buy some milk at the store and get out and go home and expect you to tell them where you got the shoes, how the shoes are working out for you, and then listen to them tell you all about their favorite shoes. Disturbingly, some people will ask to touch your shoes. Sometimes they are still standing when they ask, but other times they are asking as they kneel down and reach out for your shoes. REALLY disturbingly, some people just lunge for your shoes without even asking. Once or twice, you’ve nearly tripped and fallen because someone was grabbing for your shoes. When you act alarmed that these people are trying to take your shoes away while you’re walking in them, people respond by being defensive and angry. Why would you be wearing such wonderful shoes, after all, if you didn’t want to let people touch them or you didn’t want to talk about them? Can’t you see how much they want to touch your fabulous shoes? Why are you being so mean by denying them something they want so much?

When you’re out and about, nobody talks to you about anything but your shoes. You might be in a class you’re really excited to take, because you want to meet other people who are interested in the subject matter, but the other students and the instructor just want to talk to you about your shoes. Even worse, they assume that your shoes are all you know about and act totally surprised when you speak up about things that are not shoe-related. When you ask for help in a shop, the person you’re talking to addresses your shoes rather than you. People say “good morning” to your shoes. People assume that you won’t be able to do things because you won’t want to get your shoes dirty, or you can’t do them because your shoes are not their idea of appropriate footwear for the activity, and they inform you of these exclusions as if you’re supposed to be grateful.

What you’re actually grateful for is the one or two people every day who treat you just like your shoes are nothing remarkable. You come to cherish the people who act as if they don’t even see your shoes. And despite the fact that you love your wonderful shoes, you begin to deeply, deeply wish you could find another pair of shoes that did not attract all this attention that worked for you, but no matter how many pairs you try on, you never can. You find some shoes that are kinda workable and sometimes you wear those just to avoid all the problems with your favorite shoes, even though you know that by the end of the day your feet and legs and back will be aching. After enough painful days, you start feeling pretty bitter towards all the people who make your life so much harder when you’re wearing your favorite shoes, because if they’d just be polite, it would make such a huge difference to you.

So what should you do when you see wonderful shoesa service dog and its handler? The answer is easy: ignore the dog. No matter how much you want to talk about the dog, touch the dog, ask the dog’s handler questions about the dog, tell the dog’s handler about your own dog — don’t. Treat the handler exactly like you are busy treating all the people in the world who do not have dogs with them. If you have a customer service job, or you actually need (not just want) to approach the dog handler, speak to the person, not the dog. Ignore the dog, no matter how hard it is for you. A service dog is not “just” a dog, to its handler it’s a trusted partner and a vital part of what its handler needs to get through the world. Remember too that service dog handlers deserve privacy about their medical issues just as much as everyone else, and asking “Why do you have the dog?” or “what does the dog do for you?” is exactly like asking “So, will you tell me about all your medical problems?” (i.e. none of your business).

The people I am going to happily let pet my service dog are the ones who see me and the dog when the dog is off-duty. In other words, my friends and family, people who might come to my house and hang out, or at whose house I might hang out long enough to ask if I could let my dog be off work, as it were. These are people I know pretty well, obviously. If you’re not one of those people, if you only see me and my dog in public situations, then I’m sorry but no. You can’t pet my dog, and you need to be OK with that.

13 March, 2011

You’re a big chicken now…

Bebelina, looking all grown up in yesterday afternoon’s soft light:
A side view of a young brown chicken.  Her body feathers have black penciling on them, and her neck feathers are black with bright golden edges.  Her comb and wattles are a lovely red.

For scale:
To the left, a black chicken whose neck feathers have coppery edging.  Behind her is a solid black chicken.  Next from left to right is Bebelina, and then behind Bebelina is a white chicken whose feathers have black edging.  All the chickens have their heads down, picking through the bounty of eggshells, greenbeans, and hearts of romaine lettuce that were tossed out to them.
From left to right that’s Ayinnanku, Matilda, Bebelina, and Lorena. Look how big the little girls are!

We’re giving them back all their eggshells, plus whatever greens we happen to not eat while at their best, plus general vegetable kitchen waste. They get really excitable about this kind of bounty, picking out the best eggshells to eat and getting into little chickeny squabbles over them. It’s all kinds of adorable.

12 March, 2011

How do you improve on perfection?

Well, in the case of The Perfect Leash what I custom ordered from Bold Lead Designs, you add a swivel between the collar and the body of the leash.

Yes, I did order a second custom leash, why do you ask? I have been searching for The Perfect Leash my WHOLE DOG-OWNING LIFE and having found it I was not about to be without backup. The Perfect Leash is a multi-function lead with integrated limited-slip collar. Configure it as a normal 6′ lead, and you have a toileting/normal walk leash. Take it down to its shortest length and it’s the PERFECT shoulder-leash to keep Siddy right where I need him for balance work. The swivel-less version is absolutely fantastic, but the addition of a swivel has made it even better, something I did not think could be done.

I will have to get pics of the Perfecter Leash in action, because all you dog owners will be all “Dang, I wish I had a leash that cool.” Helpfully, I have pointed you at the shop where you can get one!

11 March, 2011

They don’t call ‘em Shedders for nothing.

Tonight, I curried and raked Sid.

A pile of black fluffy undercoat that is roughly three times the size of the foot next to it.

That is my foot for scale.

There is a reason I adore my Dobermans in coat-blowing season.

And actually it was my friend Steph who I stole the “German Shedder” thing from. But it fits. Oh god, it fits. Oh god.

In other news, we had a guy come out tonight to sell us a heat pump. The old one is as old as the house. They have a promotion on with a free digital filter. I asked where they would install it and how hard it was to clean, adding “with all the dogs…” He looked briefly startled and said “Yeah, you don’t want that filter.” So we’re not getting it. But we do get a new heat pump on Monday!

10 March, 2011

A One-Puppy DestructoWhirl.

So Monday my beloved husband crated Sid while I was at work, so he could go to the grocery. We had been having crate-related adventures with Sid, to wit: he had learned how to unhook the front of his collapsible wire crate and go on destructive rampages through the bedroom. Aha! we thought. We are clever, big-brained humans, and we own zip-ties. We zip-tied the crate together, and Daniel went off all trustingly to the grocery on Monday.

When he came back, Sid had broken two bars on the crate, bent a substantial number of other bars, and shoved the crate pan halfway across the bedroom floor. Right.

So now Siddy has a new crate, of the solid plastic variety. It came with a “pheromone pod” pre-installed that has calming pheromones, Ayurvedic essences, aromatherapy oils, and Bach flower essences in it. I did not buy it for this feature and in fact am struggling to take the crate seriously because of it.

But for whatever reason, he’s gone into it happily and eaten his meals more readily in the new crate, so I guess for now we’re calling it a provisional win. We won’t know for sure if it’s a REAL win until he gets left alone in the crate again. Fingers crossed that homeopathic flower essences[1] do the trick, eh?

[1] AKA WATER. I HAVE ABOUT AS MUCH FAITH IN HOMEOPATHY AS I DO IN CRYSTAL HEALING. IT’S WELL-INTENTIONED FOR SURE AND THE SIDE EFFECTS BEAT THOSE OF MOST PRESCRIPTION DRUGS, BUT WHO WANTS TO PAY THAT MUCH FOR WATER?

9 March, 2011

Rainy Day

Sunday morning was cool and rainy and the dogs (particularly Sid) were bored, so I thought I would get out the tunnel that came with the cheesy home agility kit I’d bought and teach him to go through it. It actually went very well, and I wish I had pics to show you proof of the one time Sid went through the tunnel, but I don’t. Because shortly after Sid’s one trip through, Braxton Bragg realized there was cheese in the tunnel and camped out in it, defending it from all canine comers with swats of his formidable paws.

Braxton, a stocky black cat, stands in a blue vinyl tunnel, looking off to one side and licking his lips.  It is quite clear that no dogs are going to be allowed into the magical cheese-producing tunnel while Braxton has anything to say about it.

Sid tried to enter the end of the tunnel near me, and got swatted for his pains. Tink thought to go to the other end, which Brax wasn’t defending, only to have him stomp to that end of the tunnel and take a swing at her. So it was with great sadness that I turned to asking dogs to down for cheese. In the next photo, you see Tink the Mercenary checking to make sure that I really do have cheese in my hand now that she’s bothered to down. In the background, Zille patiently demonstrates her excellent down-stay, waiting for her turn for more cheese.

Tink is not about to down without a payout.

Tink’s eye socket is looking pretty good these days, as you can see. The swelling is totally gone and the lids are entirely healed together, leaving just a slightly oddly shaped depression where the eye used to be. There’s enough “overhang” from the bone at the edges of her eyesocket that I could probably get a custom-molded piece of something soft and foamy to stay in there, and I am contemplating various devices incorporating LEDs or lasers or something, because the only thing that could possibly be cooler than Tink is “Tink with a laser eye.”

8 March, 2011

What’s in a name?

Siddy’s AKC registration has come through, a process that was a little more fraught on the breeder end than usual what with his parents being foreigners. This is not terribly important to me since he can’t be shown in conformation because of his undescended testicle, and I don’t want to do AKC-sanctioned dog sports with him. Most of them require a lot more mobility than I have, anyway, if you’ve ever watched agility handlers running between obstacles you’d know what I mean.

It does, however, mean I need to pick a registered name for him. Christine, his breeder, is lobbying for his puppy name, so he’d be “Blackthorn’s Obsidian.” I am admittedly willing to run my ideas by her because she does have a vested interest in not having someone run a search for her kennel name and turn up “Blackthorn’s One Ball Wonder” or similar. But it seems so simplistic to use his puppy name when Zille got a fancible new adult registered name (Blackthorn’s Karimihome, because I love the song “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” and her puppy name was Karisma, call name “Kari” before she became Zille) and Tink features the ultimate in over-the-top fancible registered names: Fadinha dos Olhos Verdes (“little green-eyed fairy” in Portuguese, her eyes were quite green as a puppy and it ties into the Tink name).

To take the easy way out with Siddy feels to me as if I am failing him somehow, which is silly. His actual name by which he is known and loved at home will continue to be Sid (Siddy, Siddymonster, Oh My God Sid Stop Sucking On Cats) no matter what, because it fits him in some fundamental way. His registered name will have the least effect on his life of any name ever, really, but it does feel like with the previous two dogs I managed to say something about them with their registered names: Tink, even as a pup, was a Diva and required a fancy diva name; Zille is sweet and comforting like the hymn her name is stolen from. This is also what makes Siddy’s registered name hard; I need it to say something about him. About, perhaps, the endless dance of temptation I did around him, eyeing him covetously, until when I heard he hadn’t worked out in his previous home I knew we were fated. Or maybe about the way he loves me, deeply and enthusiastically, a love that expresses itself not only in a quiet lean against me but in rapturous delight to see me again when we have been separated for a whole two minutes because I managed to go pee without him. Possibly his name should say something about his quiet steadfastness, the way he looks at strange new things that are possibly alarming, catalogs them as not something to worry about, and files them away with a total lack of drama.

It’s not, in the end, that “Blackthorn’s Obsidian” is a bad name. It’s that it doesn’t say much about him other than “I am a big black dog”. It doesn’t tell you anything about the imp of joy in his eyes when he climbs up on his rubbermaid box for the one-millionth time, and waits for me to notice and approve, or about the way he inherited his mother’s habit of giving hugs, where he comes and leans his chest into mine and drapes his big ol’ head over my shoulder or arm.

Of course, then I started discussing it with Christine (who is quite partial to “Obsidian”) and she started pointing me toward crystal healing sites. Let me just say that I am personally of the opinion that crystal healing is woo, although woo that is well-intentioned and aims to make people feel better with a minimum of nasty side-effects[1]. But anyway, what they had to say about the rock known as obsidian was things like this:

Obsidian helps to protect the very sensitive against depression. It is the stone of the soft hearted and gentle people of the world. Use obsidian to help block negativity of any kind. As a black gemstone, it symbolizes self control and resilience. Black stones have protective energies in the sense that black is the absence of light, and therefore, can be used to create invisibility. Source

Obsidian is truth-enhancing. A strongly protective stone, it forms a shield against negativity. It blocks psychic attack and absorbs negative energies from the environment. Obsidian draws out mental stress and tension. It stimulates growth on all levels, urging exploration of the unknown and opening new horizons. Brings clarity to the mind and clears confusion. Helps you to know who you truly are. Obsidian dissolves emotional blockages and ancient traumas. Promotes qualities of compassion and strength.

Obsidian aids the digestion and detoxifies. It reduces arthritis pain, joint problems and cramps. Warms the extremities.

Black Obsidian is a very powerful and creative stone. It increases self-control. It forces facing up to one’s true self. Releases imbalances and negative energies. Black Obsidian is protective and provides support during change. It repels negativity and disperses unloving thoughts. Source

Leaving a chunk of Obsidian by the door ensures visitors rubbish remains outside your abode.

Using it personally, you are able to work through karmic issues, make sure you are truly ready to deal with them as Obsidian is very to the point one might say.

Many use this stone for protection.

It can be used to remove negative energy from the body, to this point it also works as a pain killer.

In elixir form it balances the mental and emotional sides. It is also a good anti virus and inflammation crystal. Source

Incidentally, according to that last one, an “elixir” is what you get from letting a chunk of rock sit in water for at least a couple hours so the water picks up the rock’s “vibrations”. Right.

So there is a good case to be made for sticking with “Obsidian.” Although given that today he partially demolished a wire crate in a fit of pique because we zip-tied the thing together after he learned to disengage the front panel and let himself out, I’m highly tempted to go with “Blackthorn’s Obsidian Wrecking Ball.” Ah, puppies.

[1] OH GOD THE THINGS I COULD TELL YOU ABOUT NASTY SIDE EFFECTS. LAST WEEK I HAD A BOUT OF HORRIFYING PAIN THAT MY DOC AND I ATTEMPTED TO MANAGE WITH VICODIN WHICH WORKED PRETTY WELL UNTIL I HIT MY OPIATE SATURATION POINT AND STARTED VOMITING. AND THE DAILY DRUG I TAKE TO MANAGE MY AVERAGE PAIN LEVELS DOES AMAZINGLY AWFUL THINGS TO MY BALANCE. PHARMACEUTICALS AND I HAVE A LOVE-HATE RELATIONSHIP.

7 March, 2011

A Pile of Book Reviews

I have been reading various dog books like they’re going out of style.

Eminent Dogs, Dangerous Men by Donald McCaig
I really kind of loved this one, the story of McCaig’s search for The Perfect Border Collie and the people and dogs he meets along the way. It’s the kind of book that makes me feel inspired to go train my dogs, so Siddy got extra clicker-time while I was reading this one. Two instances in the book did make me roll my eyes, though. Very early on, McCaig says that wolves will stare down their prey to “dominate” it. Uh huh. “Intimidate” I would buy but dominance is not a theory that applies here, and I really really wish I could eliminate it from the vocabulary of dog people. And then late in the book, McCaig makes a passing reference to “the r*tarded girl” that a shepherd sends his puppies to for raising and again, really? Did you just need to throw that out there, Mr. McCaig? But only two incidents of eye-rolling in a book is pretty dang good for me, so I’d give this one a thumbs up.

My Life in Dog Years by Gary Paulsen
A nice account of the dogs Mr. Paulsen has known in his life, arranged as brief vignettes about the dogs in question. Not quite Chicken Soup for the Dog Lover’s Soul, but it serves much the same heartwarming purpose. Good stuff, especially for readers who prefer a brief, blog-entry-like reading experience.

Puppies, Dogs, and Blue Northers by Gary Paulsen
I admit it, this book weirded me out in the beginning because it opens with a lyrical description of Paulsen listening to two of his dogs have sex. But it gets much better and less weird from there, and there are moments that are positive gems of comic gold, like his description of letting thirty-some-odd sled dog puppies into his house one morning. A short book that is most definitely worth the read.

How to Be Your Dog’s Best Friend by the Monks of New Skete
Where to even start with this one. Oh, I know, with confusion! The Monks have a beautiful grasp of the need for trust, love, and respect between dog and person. They write gorgeously of the relationship that is possible between human and dog. But to get to that bit, first you have to read through a metric butt-ton of “dominance” bull, and also past the part where they instruct you on disciplining your dog.

The Monks were the ones who, in previous editions of this book, popularized the “Alpha Roll” where you force your dog onto his side and pin him there. They explicitly state in their book that they no longer recommend this maneuver because it is too likely to get you bitten. Unfortunately, they still recommend “the Shakedown” (grab a puppy by the scruff of the neck, or an adult dog by the sides of the neck, lift him off his feet, and shake him) and “discipline under the chin” which involves using a “training collar” (by which they mean a choke chain) to hold the dog in place in a sit at your side while you hit him under the chin. “How hard should you hit the dog?” they ask, rhetorically, before answering their own question. If you don’t get a “yelp or other reaction” then hit the dog harder.

The rest of their training is a mix of the old-fashioned “crank and yank” where you alternate verbal and physical “praise” with leash corrections using the choke chain, and for “softer” dogs they will graciously allow you to use food treats, recognizing apparently that repeatedly strangling your dog, cutting off his air supply in the “shakedown” and hitting him under the chin will totally fry the brains of some dogs. Hell, even most dogs. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want my dog to see sitting calmly at my side as a predictor for being nailed under the chin.

They recommend this “physical discipline” incidentally for “heinous canine crimes” such as going to the bathroom in the house and “stealing”. These are so deeply problematic. If your dog is going to the bathroom in the house, I have to ask why you haven’t worked to house train him, and why you’re giving him enough unsupervised time to have accidents if you’re going to be upset enough to hit him over it. And “stealing”? Oh please. Dogs do not have a concept of ownership like people do. To a dog, what you’re using right now is yours, but when you put it down and walk away from it, it’s fair game.

Most of the book is the same old, same old: “blah blah blah dominance blah blah get leadership blah blah.” I find it hard to believe that a human being could fail to impress upon a dog that the big-brained, thumb-having human controls everything in life a dog wants without resorting to force, seriously.

In short, I do not recommend this book in the least and only read it because I felt like I should. With the exception of a couple of pages, it was universally appalling — dog training has come a long way since the Monks published the first edition of this in the 70s, and I think it would behoove them to stick their heads out of the cloister and learn about it.

6 March, 2011

Sid Goes Out In Public

Yesterday marked the first time I’ve dragged Sid out in his green vest, which clearly identifies him as a Service Dog In Training and also includes patches which say “Working Dog Do Not Pet”. The end result of this first evaluation: Sid needs more work on leash walking in fascinating places like Tractor Supply, but is starting to get the hang of it, and I Hate People.

No, let me be precise: I hate adult people. Universally the children we ran into today who wanted to interact with Sid saw the patches, read the patches, and did not attempt to interfere with Sid. One boy paused on his way out of Home Depot to look me in the eyes and say “Nice dog.” I smiled and said “thank you” because hey, Sid is a nice dog and the kid was fantastic.

The adults, though? Oh, the adults. One man behind us in line at Tractor Supply said to his kids, “His patches say he’s a working dog.” and then proceeded to reach out and try to pet Sid. I said, “Please don’t, he’s in training. That’s why his patches say not to pet him.” And the guy responds, I shit you not, “Oh, I didn’t see that.” while trying out a sheepish smile on me.

Really, Mr. Anonymous Guy in Tractor Supply? REALLY NOW? Sid, on the other hand, was pretty golden, he eyed the guy’s hand, gave it an indifferent but polite sniff, and then moved so I was between him and Mr. Anonymous Partially Literate Guy. I gave him a chunk of hot dog for it.

He was balanced out by the young girl in the same store who started to approach Sid (I’d seen her ogling him from afar), saw his patches, and settled for just hanging around to stare at him, which was a little creepy but I’m totally OK with a little creepy since she was being very polite.

Let me insert a pic of Sid in his vest here. Perhaps I need to have LIGHT UP BLINKY PATCHES for the adults, who are apparently either illiterate or convinced that their desire to pet a dog trumps my need to train the dog. Not that I’m, y’know, bitter or anything. One thing that works against me is that Sid is a damn good lookin dog, so he attracts more attention than a less notable looking dog would. The thing that works for me is that Sid is not terribly interested in strangers and sometimes even looks like he wishes they would stop bothering him. He got lots of hot dog bits to encourage him to keep ignoring the impolite strangers. Now I just need to work on him not following Daniel after he realizes that’s what I’m doing.

Oh, right, I was putting in a pic… I’ll just put it in huge and full-sized so everyone can admire my handsome dog in his spiffy vest. Please note the cool collar with flames and skulls.
A shot of the front half of Sid's body, coincidentally with my legs in jeans also in frame. Sid is wearing a dark green vest with a soft raised handle. A patch on the side of the vest says Working Dog Do Not Pet, patches on the top say Service Dog In Training. There is another working dog patch on the other side which you can't see. Also he has a really, really cool collar with flames and skulls.

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