Day 39: Gracie's Big Day

Happy 2nd Birthday, Gracie!



.As usual, Gracie is speechless.



Day 38: Kayaking At Last!

Ready to unload at Cedar Lake

After completing what is now our morning routine, Gracie and I drove to Cedar Lake with the kayak.  One of the sweetest pleasures in life for this part Norwegian is being on the water in a boat: sailboat, canoe, motor boat, pontoon...kayak.  Any boat.  I had been easing up to this moment since Gracie arrived: taking her out in a boat with me.  I didn't want to go when it was too cold or too windy or too potentially stormy.  I wanted her to like it enough to be willing to do it again...and again and again.  This has been a summer when cold, windy, and stormy have ruled.  But yesterday and again today, the weather was perfect!  Having everything needed--life jackets, paddle, kayak--all ready to go and being very familiar with where we were going and the logistics of getting the boat to the water was a good start.  Now would Garcie go for it?  I know she is part King Charles Spaniel--but I don't know what else she is.  Spaniels are water dogs, though, so I was hopeful.  (Our last dog, Rex, was a Basenji.  He hated water and wouldn't even step in a puddle.  I would never have considered taking old Rex kayaking! Of course, Rex wasn't a Hearing Dog either.  He spent a lot of time--too much probably--at home alone.)

So far, so good!

Once we were parked, I told Gracie to "wait" while I untethered the kayak and took it down to the lake. I left her in her seat belt and opened a few windows in the car for air.  The model of patience, Gracie sat in the car watching me.  With the boat by the water, I got Gracie out of the car and into her life jacket.  No protests yet.  I got into my own jacket. 


No protests yet.












Bad smells smell good to me!

The water level in the lake is higher than it was last summer.  Because of this, there is not as much sand available for taking off and landing as there has been (all that rain!).  We found the best place to put the boat, but this was not an ideal spot.  Kayaks are tippy.  The first time I took this one out, it dumped me while I was trying to get in despite my years of boating experience.  When we practiced in the yard, I had envisioned getting in and then bringing Gracie in with me.  She is quite the jumper when she wants to be someplace.  I could tell that she didn't really want to be in the boat enough to jump in, though.  So I picked her up, and we got in together.  She was dubious, to say the least, but a good sport through and through.  She sat between my outstretched legs facing me with her head in my lap.  We had to wiggle ourselves into the water.  Thankfully, it was early enough in the morning to limit our audience to one lone dog walker, female.  Then suddenly we were floating!  A slight breeze found us.  "Good girl," I said as I scratched the top of Gracie's head.  Then we paddled off.  I wasn't just how long we would be able to stay out on the water.  But then I could feel Gracie relax.  As we cruised the shoreline, her nose found all the tantalizing lake smells, a combination of dead fish and algae.  "Smells good," I said and gave her head a comforting pat.  



Gracie securely in the car watching me
put the kayak back on the car rack.



We stayed out about an hour.  Then the wind started to pick up, and I decided that getting splashed wouldn't be something Gracie was going to like...at least, not yet.  So in we went.  For a moment I wondered if getting out was going to be a problem.  With the nose of the kayak firmly nestled in the wet clay of the bank, I took a moment to figure out what to do.  In that moment, a small crowd gathered.  Thankfully, age and other things related and not related to that have left me immune to embarrassment.  I decided the only thing to do was set Gracie out of the Kayak which meant setting her in the water (about 2 inches of it).  Then I stood up myself.  We were out.  The show was over.  Our audience moved on.  We did it!  Not only did we do it, we had fun.  I took off Gracie's life jacket and put her in the car.  She was content to watch me put the boat away.  Now we can add boating to our list of things we can and will definitely do more of with each other! 

Day 37: Testing the Waters

Today we finally have weather warm enough to consider kayaking as a team.  If we had been prepared, Gracie and I might have actually hit the water today.  However, weather forecasts being generally unreliable and the weather being generally cold, I had put off the actual pulling out of the kayak from beneath and deck and getting the rack on the car and the kayak on the rack.  This is probably a good thing anyway because Gracie trusts me--well, not without reservation but enough to go along with me after a brief show of skepticism on her part--undoubtedly, healthy and justified skepticism.

Gracie poses in her life jacket, Creamsicle orange
like her Hearing Dog vest!

After I pulled out the kayak--blue plastic from L.L.Bean, light-weight so I can get it on and off the car without help--I put it in the yard to try out.  I got in and coaxed Gracie to get in with me.  Then we sat there for a bit while I scratched her behind the ears.  Hopefully, this sent the message that sitting in the kayak with me is a pleasant thing to do.  Then we got out--Gracie first.  So far so good.  We got the life jackets (I have one for Gracie too).  Would we fit with the life jackets on, making us both even pudgier than we are without them?  We did!  Could Gracie spring out with the life jacket on in the same way she sprang out without the life jacket on?  She did.  Will this beautiful weather last at least until tomorrow noon?  We have our finger's (and furry toes) crossed that it will.  Everything is in and on the car, and we're ready to go.  Tomorrow, we will report on how it went.

Day 36: Communication

Today Gracie and I had a special moment.  We have gone several places different kinds of places together and have worked on sounds.  But this was different.  It was a moment when we communicated soul to soul.  I was sitting at the kitchen table reading.  Gracie was under the table dozing.  Then she got up, came out from under the table, and put her paws on me.  "Do you need to go out?" I asked.  She jumped away like she does with "the touch" (Hearing Dog pamphlet, page 5: "The touch is how the dog tells you that you must follow.")  So I got up, and Gracie led me right to the door.  Out we went.

It sounds small compared to going to a Twins Game or even walking nicely next to a shopping cart in the grocery store.  But it felt big, a sign that we are indeed becoming a team!

Day 35: Why Have a Hearing Dog?

What is a hearing dog?  Why have a hearing dog?  Today Cathy, another recipient of an IHDI hearing dog, posted a wonderful comment that reinforces the "do not pet" request on all service dog vests (see "Day 33: No Petting, Please!" for her wonderful contribution) and helps answer these questions about why a person would have a "hearing dog" by sharing what her dog Walle has contributed to the quality of her life. 

Hearing loss itself, for want of a better expression, is difficult to explain partly because it is so individual.  This disparity makes "correcting" hearing loss difficult too.  One thing that all of us share, however, is the frustration and fatigue that come from trying to get along in a world that expects us to hear with understanding before we have begun to consciously listen.  I cannot do this.  Yet I am reluctant to ask people to repeat themselves because of their annoyed reaction to the request.  Sometimes I do.  More often, I simply smile and nod as if I had understood when I have not.  Of course, this is not very effective.  Sometimes I even think I did understand what someone was saying and respond only to discover that I didn't really know after all.  This can be embarrassing.  The result of all this frustration and fatigue is that often being alone is the easiest solution.  However, this is really no solution since being alone is lonely.

Relaxing with her toy

While Gracie cannot tell me what people have said, she can tell me through her actions that she has heard something unusual.  She looks in the direction of the sound helping me to locate what she has heard, addressing another problem I have: locating sounds.  She can communicate with me without talking to me.  Her presence can tell people not to expect me to hear them.  Her presence makes it all right for me to ask them to repeat themselves.  "Just the facts, ma'am.  Just the facts," as the detective on the television show Dragnet  used to say.  Of course, there are the sounds that she has been trained to respond too.  The IHDI website acknowledges the dogs that have saved their partner's lives by responding to the sounds in a crisis like a fire.  But it doesn't take something that dramatic for a hearing dog to demonstrate its value.  Because she is always with me, I am never alone.  Perhaps that is the greatest benefit of all!

Day 34: Fighting Fleas

Before Martha left, she told me to use Frontline Plus to keep tics and fleas off Gracie when she saw that we would be spending a lot of time outside in the grass.  It's hard for me to believe that the vet's assistant applied the first dose a month ago, but she did.  The stuff needs to be applied once and month, and today was the day!  I had watched the first dose go on, so I would be able to do it myself; then I brought six months worth home and put it in an old coffee can with Gracie's heartworm pills, also a once a month precaution.  "Watch out," Martha warned when she gave me the heartworm medication.  "She likes these and will eat them all if given the chance."  Heartworm medication has indeed come a long way in palitability since the days when we had a Golden Retriever and had to pry his mouth open once a week, toss the pill in, and then hold his mouth shut until he swallowed so he wouldn't spit the thing back out.  On the first of June, Gracie did indeed gobble the heartworm medication down.  The coffee can in a cupboard above the refrigerator is a good place to keep it!

Gracie demonstrating "grass time"

Putting the flea and tic stuff on looked so easy when the vet's assistant did it.  Since the heartworm stuff had gone down to easily, I thought putting on the flea and tic stuff would be easy too. The assistant just parted the hair a little below Gracie's neck and squeezed the stuff--a liquid--on.  This is a spot where she can't lick it off, so putting it here makes sense.  Easy.  I got out the stuff, cut off the tab, peeled back the foil as directed, and then went to part the hair on the back of Gracie's neck.  Doing this should be easier now that she's been FURminated, right?  Wrong.  Even with that and a regular twice a day brushing, the amount of fur on Gracie's neck is prodigious.  Parting it while holding the little vile of flea stuff was like trying to part the Red Sea with a stick and I'm no Moses.  Gracie, as usual, was very cooperative and even lowered her head a bit to make it easier for me.  I can only imagine the mess we would have made had she decided that she didn't want tic and flea medicine on her back.  I kept parting until I spotted a bit of pink skin.  Drip, drip.  Then I parted some more.  Drip, drip.  I kept this up until the stuff was all gone.  I think it will work.  Now I have a whole month before I have to do this again.  I'm sure I'll get better at it too.

Day 33: No Petting, Please!





Admiring a Beefeater

After a day in which Gracie and I did what I might have done in one day during summers past--run, visit a few stores briefly, take a long bike ride, shop for groceries, eat dinner with Bruce, watch some TV, read--I realized that we were indeed beginning to function as a team.  What Gacie and I were doing was the focus of each activity rather than the focus being my doing them with Gracie.  A few times, I realized I wasn't even thinking about her being there!  As I learn to understand her better, we communicate without using words by knowing each other's habits and establishing a routine.   Employees in stores and restaurants understand what her orange vest means; they do not bend down to pet her.  I am still working on dealing with the other shoppers, though, who not only want to pet her but want to talk to me about her.  Though "Do Not Pet" is written on Gracie's vest, she is small, below eye-level, and quite a few people seem to not see this message.  Should it be on the top of her vest for them to see when looking down?  This would probably be a good idea for a smaller service dog!  Gracie loves to be petted.  That isn't the problem.  The problem with allowing others to pet her is that petting is distracting.  We are not in the store for that.  In addition, once someone was petting her, Gracie would not want that person to stop!  After a while, Gracie would begin to think of stores, restaurants, and eventually the college campus as places to go to be petted.  She would actively seek people's attention and be distracted from her work.  In thinking about this, I am reminded of the Beefeaters who guard the Tower of London and acknowledge no one, not speaking to or even making eye-contact with visitors.  That some make a game out of getting their attention is telling.  Part of Gracie and my work as a team is to be a dogged about not giving in just as those British Beefeaters are!



Day 32: Cloudy with a chance of meatballs

Soggy fields--low yields!

Actually, just cloudy...again.  Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs is the title of children's picture book in which food literally falls from the sky.  This summer, however, rain and a shortage of sunshine are apparently threatening the state's crops.  Gracie and I had a chance to see a few flooded fields full of stunted crops yesterday when we went on an adventure with my oldest son, Nate, to pick up the Iraqi art from the Navigating the Aftermath exhibit at the Emmy Frentz Arts Gallery in Mankato--the tour's second of an eventual seven stops, each featuring the work of Iraqi artists and a showing of Nate's documentary film The Unreturned.  For four years as a graduate student and teaching assistant and then as an adjunct with a one class assignment, I drove down to Mankato a couple days a week.  I was very glad to stop making that drive at the end of those four years, thanks to other adjunct work at Normandale Community College, much closer to home.  Yesterday, despite the flooded fields and periodic downpours, I again enjoyed the drive through Chaska, Jordan, Belle Plaine, LeSuer, and St. Peter.  Having had her dinner right before we took off at 5 p.m. (just in time to hit rush hour!), Gracie slept, securely tethered in her special harness to the seat belt in the back seat of the car. [Hearing Dog Pamphlet, page 16: "Never have your dog sit in the front seat.  The force from an air bag would injure a dog and could cause death."] 

We only stopped once at an impossible to ignore plant store in St. Peter with a large display of pinwheels out front.  These were the cloth variety and included tractors with spinning wheels, fish leaping out of churning water, and flowers with twirling petals.  I felt I had to have one for my garden.  "A lot of people buy these to frighten away animals," the owner assured me.  "Some have suggested adding noise makers, though," she added.  I immediately imagined attaching pieces of pop-can metal to the tail of the bird with the spinning body I had chosen.  "The last one like that," the owner said as she rang up the sale.

The Emmy Frentz Arts Gallery

A dark but not unpleasant jaunt along the river (that oddly flows north here so that going down the state is going upriver), we were in Mankato, which, unlike Belle Plaine, appeared to have changed little in the years I had not been there.  The Emmy Frentz Arts Gallery  is an attractive little building in lower Mankato (the older part).  By the time we got there, the gallery was closed for the day.  Nate had a code to get in though.  I fastened Gracie to my belt with my carabiner, and we went to work taking down the art works and wrapping them up for transport following the excellent directions provided by one of the partners on the Navigating the Aftermath project. After a brief attempt to turn this job into something more playful, Gracie settled down.

Add artichokes and spinach and you have our pizza!

According to Nate, the best restaurant in Mankato is a pizza place a few blocks from the gallery: Dino's Pizzeria.  Naturally, that was the next place we stopped.  I was glad I brought Gracie's rug with us.  The place had large booths like the rib place we visited over the weekend; however, the floors were uncarpeted and not a very inviting surface for Gracie to settle.  It had rained a bit too, so she was a little wet.  The dog blanket was all we needed to remedy all that though.  Like the good dog she is, Gracie slept while we shared a pizza, some salad, and quite possibly the best dessert I have ever eaten: blueberries and a soft Italian cheese baked in cake, served hot with ice cream. 

Day 31: Grooming too

A shoe to make Frankenstein jealous

Yesterday when we were out walking, a man and his large dog ran by.  Gracie became excited, not by the dog but by the running.  She urged me to run too.  How do you tell a dog "wrong shoes"?  If I ran very far in shoes other than my orthopedic running shoes, I could kiss my knees and hips good-bye.  "She looks bored," my older son said later in the day when he came over.  Not bored--disappointed.  I vowed we would run together again the next day.

That day is now today.  We woke up to the sound of rain on leaves.  By the time we were heading outside for a potty break, the rain was a mere drizzle.  By ten o'clock, all systems were go: overcast sky, some puddles, no actual rain anymore, just a few drops being shaken from the trees by the wind.  We suited up and off we went.  If work wasn't being done all along 44th Street and if I hadn't had a hair appoitment at 11:15 a.m., we could have run a lot further...and will next time.


In desperate need of FURmination!

Later, at The Chair on 39th and Bryant where I get my hair cut, Gracie did an excellent impression of a lap robe while Heidi the excellent sylist worked on beautifying me.  "She's sure mellow," Heidi commented.  And she was indeed...until Heidi turned on the hair dryer.  I've dried my hair with her right there at home, but, as I told Heidi, I don't spend much time at that due to impatience rather than any sort of hair philosophy.  Maybe it was the sound of the blower--a sound inaudible to me--that bothered Gracie.  Whatever it was, she got a seldom seen look of annoyance in her eyes and began to tremble.  This didn't last long, though, as Heidi had taken off a lot of hair.  In fact, one might conclude from the look of the little piles hair surrounding the chair that I had been FURminated.

Day 30: Grooming

Page 16 of the "You and Your New Hearing Dog" pamphlet states: "Be sure and trim your dog's nails once a month....Long nails can be very uncomfortable for the dog."  When Gracie arrived, she was very tidy and well-groomed.  Because I have had her about a month, I decided it was time to cut her nails.  Having had dogs before, I knew that cutting a dog's nails is not as easy as it sounds.  Most dogs do not like having their nails cut and, if they figure out what you are up to, will pull their paws away.  Dog nail trimmers are more like nut crackers than scissors, and dog nails are thick and not easy to cut through without using both hands.  Since most people only have two hands, needing two hands to handle the nail trimmers means having no hands left over to hold the resisting dog.  Besides, dogs have a vein in their nails that the nail cutter needs to avoid tapping into. I decided to follow the advice in the pamphlet and have a "vet do it for" me at least the first time.  Visiting the vet would also allow me to drop off Gracie's health record that the IHDI folks sent with her.  I called and made an appointment for Monday--yesterday--afternoon.

When the time arrived to go to the vet, Gracie hopped eagerly into the car.  She loves riding in the car almost as much as she loves walking next to a shopping cart at Target or Trader Joe's and practicing her sounds.  The veterinary assistant was ready for us when we got there.  Gracie didn't like having her nails trimmed, but she didn't struggle (much), growl, or nip as other dogs I've lived with have done in the same situation.  Still, I'm not sure I want to tackle trimming her nails myself, mostly from fear of hurting her by cutting them too short.  We'll see.

Long-hair, small dog FURminator

As we were waiting to pay for the service, I spotted a display of grooming tools called FURminators.  My friend Jan had mentioned them having noticed that Gracie is a very furry dog.  This is partly what makes her so irresistible to people, so pettable.  It probably also accounts for her desire to be petted and scratched.  On the minus side, she sheds a lot, leaving hairs all over the parts of the house she frequents.  She also shakes and spews hairs in the process both in the house and in the stores, restaurants, and other places we visit.  I noticed that the FURminators were labeled "dog" and "cat" and that there were various sizes for both depending on the size of the animal.  "Reduces shedding up to 90%" was the promise on the package for small dogs with "hair longer than 2 inches."  I was sold.



"Ahhh," says Gracie. "I've been fURminated."

 Back home with our FURminator, the unpleasant sensation of having nails trimmed a hazy memory, Gracie and I settled down to some serious deshedding.  She loved it, and as the pile of fur grew, I had lightning bolt idea...strategically placed, Gracie's unwanted fur might be just what I needed to scare those striped gophers out of our yard.  I'm not sure about grackles and dog fur.  I think we'll have to go with netting and something that spins in the wind to frighten them away.  Meanwhile, Gracie looks a few pounds thinner without quite so much hair and yet still as cute and pettable as ever.  If only a tool existed that would accomplish the same thing for me! 

Day 29: Bowled over!

Being able to anticipate potential difficulties in an untried situation by applying previous experience is one of the advantages of being human.  Unfortunately, being human, we sometimes forget to even try anticipating difficulties. Well, maybe not all of us forget, but I do.

Yesterday was Fathers Day, a day I believe fathers should spend with their offspring of whatever age since often fathers are too busy to spend time with those offspring.  (In our neighborhood, this is definitely not true, at least from what I can observe through our windows as I age-appropriately monitor the street noise.  Fathers on our block are often out playing rousing games of street hockey in the actual street even though the park is twenty paces away.)  In our stage of life, this busyness is reversed and our boys (now young men) are now too busy to spend much time with us.  For this reason, we arranged to have dinner with them at The Market Barbecue on the edge of downtown Minneapolis--just about midway between where they now live.  Even though Fathers Day was my Day 28 with Gracie, she had yet to meet my younger son who lives near the University of Minnesota and cooks at the Big 10 on the edge of the campus.  

I had brought Gracie's dog blanket, but it wasn't needed. The Market Barbecue has nice, relatively new carpeting and big booths with plenty of room underneath for a Hearing Dog to settle.  Gracie marched in confidently ignoring the oohs we are beginning to accept due to her size and cuteness.  She went right where she was supposed to go and did an admirable job of being quiet and calm while the four of us ate barbecued ribs.  After dinner, our older son who had come on his bike from his apartment in the Uptown area, left.  Our younger son Zach came home with us.  Having heard that I had earned stars on my Wii bowling ball that one gets when deemed "expert" thanks to a session where I rolled mostly strikes--particularly amazing because in real bowling, I'm lucky to roll 60--he was eager to take me on. Both Zach and Bruce, unlike me, are very good bowlers on a "real" bowling alley, and I think it irks them to think that I apparently rule in the virtual world.  In fact, once I earned my stars, Bruce refused to Wii bowl with me anymore and accused me of smugness.  One night before Gracie joined us, I tried Wii bowling alone (just to see again all those stars). But Wii bowling alone is a lonely activity I do not recommend; in addition, I actually came very close to losing my coveted stars in the process.  As I discovered, when a Wii bowler's cumulative score (calculated by some mathematical formula that is not part of "real" bowling) drops below 1000, the stars are rescinded. 

Needless to say, I was a bit nervous as we set up to play, my thoughts on getting back in the multiple strike mode of my glory game and not on how Gracie would like being in a room full of Wii bowlers. Had I thought about Gracie more, I might have saved my stars while avoiding...

THE ACCIDENT!!

Does Dick Van Dyke Wii bowl?

To Wii bowl, some furniture needs to be moved.  The game needs to be turned on.  The little avatars--ours are humorous representations of us concocted by our older son and his girlfriend (who tellingly refused to have one made in her likeness)--need to be selected in the order in which the bowling will take place.  All of this activity, especially after sitting so long at the restaurant, was very exciting to Gracie.  If I had been thinking straight, I might have calmly and pleasantly put her in her crate along with the requisite dog biscuit.  I wasn't thinking straight, though, and I didn't. Instead, after Bruce went first (for Fathers Day), I accepted the controller from Bruce, stood up, got in position behind the comical representation of myself holding the red ball covered with stars, stepped forward, and promptly did a Dick Van Dyke-style fall over Gracie who had gotten up as she has been trained to do to go with me wherever I happen to go. 

I am no limber dancer-type like Dick Van Dyke, so my fall was awkward but not, unfortunately, Graceless.  Gracie's reaction was very similar to the carbonated water incident at our first Twins Game together--she seemed ready to dump me as her person and tried to attach herself to Zach.  Fortunately, she appeared to be unhurt.  I was fortunate too, suffering only a stubbed toe and loss of dignity.  I think I fell around her and not on her, however.  Still she was scared, and she was giving me a wary look that indicated that I had violated her trust.  That was clear.  Putting her in her crate now was and idea that occured to me but which I quickly dismissed.  I needed to win her back.  Lucky for me, Gracie is a dog that loves to be petted and cuddled.  The road to winning her back was clear.

We kept bowling.  Between turns, I did my best to pet and reassure Gracie that the whole incident was entirely my fault (as if she had any doubts--hah!).  My Wii bowling was abysmal. I lost my stars but by then no longer cared.  Meanwhile, Bruce earned his.  Happy Fathers Day, Bruce.  We played again.  This time Gracie, being the smart little dog she is, stayed on the sidelines. 

Day 28: Batter Up!

Downtown in the clouds, mist of the field

Yesterday for much of the day, rain kept grackles and gophers at bay.  Rain also made the prospect of attending an evening Twins game less than thrilling for Gracie and me.  Although having Joe Mauer and Tsuyoshi Nishioka off the injured list and back on the field was compelling.  Biking to the game didn't make sense as the rain lessened but didn't stop all together.  Even though Bruce likes taking the bus downtown to the stadium, we convinced him that, given the rain, driving down would be the best option.

Gracie's seat at the game--obstructed view

After a stop for sandwiches to avoid the stadium food that a few weeks ago made Bruce sick and an aborted attempt at parking in a totally mechanized ramp, we found a ramp with an attendant for a mere $5 (about the price of round-trip bus fare for two).  Gracie entered the ramp elevator fearlessly and navigated the downtown streets like the pro she is.  Once again the stadium bag checkers were very welcoming.  Bruce got to our seats ahead of us and put Gracie's blanket down under my seat for her.  With that in place and plain water rather than the carbonated variety, we settled in.  This time, Gracie stayed put the whole game--with a little petting now and then and a brief sojourn in my lap.  The whole thing went smoothly; although, I could not get Bruce to admit that it was better than last time.  When I said I thought so and tried to get him to agree, he just shrugged.  The couple from the last game who didn't like the water incident weren't there.  The man who sat next to Gracie and me last night seemed more upset about the people who had to stand up and change seats just when Mauer came to bat with two on so that he could not see than he was with having Gracie there.  "Right now?" he said, "when I've been waiting all season for this?"  But then Mauer grounded out.  Life is like that.

Day 27: Dog on the Run

When I was a kid, my father's brother had hunting dogs that he kept in a run, sort of like a kennel but with a long, narrow area in which the dogs could run.  I don't remember seeing my uncle's dogs run in there.  I did see them jump at the fence, though.  I never got to pet them because they were working dogs, hunting dogs.  They were brown and white, and now I think they were spaniels, distant cousins of little Gracie.  But that is not the kind of dog run I'm referring to here.


Athlete at rest


Today, Gracie and I went running together.  After going through our normal morning routine--minus eating--I put on my running shoes, my "Hearing Impaired" vest, and a carabiner to attach her leash to my belt.  Then off we went.  I'm certainly no speed demon.  My running was about half-speed for Gracie.  Before starting, I had decided to do half of what I ordinarily do to test the waters.  I want Gracie to be happy with our adventures, so she is willing to go on them with me.  I want her to trust that I will take care of her.  She was amazing!  She stayed right with me and didn't give more than a quick glance to the obstacles we passed: other dogs on leashes out for a morning walk and, of course, the usual early morning rabbits and squirrels.  Best of all, when we got back, she was excited and pleased with herself.  I am happy to discover that she enjoys running--the kind I do--as much as I do!  Next week, boating!

Day 26: Battling Nature



The Grackle.  Note the voracious mouth!



Today I was accused of being an Elmer Fudd whose epic battle with Bugs Bunny echoes Ahab's battle with Moby Dick but in a comical and absurd way because I put netting over the cabbages in my garden in an effort to discourage the newly arrived grackles from destroying the cabbages' broad leaves in an effort to get their fill of insects.  The robin of a couple weeks ago  was a minor gardening inconvenience compared to the onslaught of grackles.  At the same time what appears to be a single gopher--gophers do not swarm like grackles, so telling just how many one is actually dealing with is difficult--is making large holes in my flower garden and elsewhere that are difficult to ignore.  Discouraging both the grackles and the gopher(s) is obviously required.  They need to find another place to live and other food to eat.  I have a feeling that neither reason nor a scarecrow will work with the grackles.  Neither flooding the gopher holes nor filling them with rocks has discouraged the gopher(s).  What I really need is some solid advice and not ridicule.  Oh, well.  How often does one get what one needs when one needs it?  I can't say never because I got Gracie at just the right moment.  I can say not often, though, and will. 



Striped gopher: NOT a chipmunk!

"I can think; I can fast; I can wait."  A good mantra to turn to in times like this.  Running into the yard, flapping the arms and cursing the grackles causes them to take to the air but only momentarily.  In addition, this unsettles Gracie who, tender heart that she is, thinks all raised voices are a criticism of her.  (I have had to tone down my admittedly heated conversation with other cars on the road while we are driving places for this reason.  Undoubtedly, traveling the world with Gracie will make me a nicer person even if it alone will not rid us of grackles and gophers).  



Gracie modeling good garden behavior--no tunneling and no  pecking at the plants or eating the seeds and sprouts.  While the others have got to go, Gracie is a keeper!

Day 25: Art Attack

The plan was to bike to the Walker Art Center and visit the exhibits.  Biking is the best way to go most places because the issue of parking and getting from the car to the place and back to the car are eliminated.  Most places in Minneapolis have bike racks or at least signs on posts to which a bike can be locked.

My friend Jan came over at one and, remembering Gracie and my need to practice the door knock/bell sound, rang the bell.  For the second time--my older son had stopped by earlier and also knocked and rang instead of just coming in to help Gracie and me practice--Gracie ran to the door and then came back to get me when I clapped for her.  I then followed Gracie to the door and let Jan in.  Gracie did such a good job that I almost forgot to tell her how wonderful she is.  Gracie loves to do what's she's been taught to do; her tail wagged so hard and fast, I thought it might fall off!  I asked Jan if she would be embarrassed biking with me if I wore my "Hearing Impaired" vest.  "Are you kidding?" she said, reminding me that one of the many things I like about Jan is that nothing much embarasses her. 

We were almost on our way when I remembered bags for picking up after Gracie in case they were needed.  (No dog owner should leave the house without pick-up bags!)  Back in we went to get them and then we were off.  The dedicated bike trail and its many arteries is only a few blocks from our house.  The route to the art gallery is actually the same one we take to the baseball park, which is just a little further on toward the Mississippi River.  We arrived without incident.

Fig. 1: Walker Gallery Button, Summer 2011

I considered locking up on the edge of the Sculpture Garden (home of the famous Spoon Bridge), but Jan thought our bikes and Gracie's bike trailer would be safer if we locked them to the racks closer to the art gallery's entrance.  We did.  Gracie took an opportunity to "hurry up" on the lawn next to the gallery; then in we went.  After checking in, we were given a gallery button (see Figure 1 ).  Normally, the Walker is very fussy about what goes into the galleries, and I couldn't help but wonder if someone would question Gracie's presence.  I have been sent to the lockers--small lockers where forbidden items can be left--because of a backpack purse and an umbrella, for example.  Today we were approached by a gallery guard.  But the forbidden item was not Gracie but Jan's empty water bottle.  "We have lockers," the guard pointed out in a very friendly tone. Jan replied that she had already left some things in a locker.  "Your pocket then?" the guard said.  "Under your shirt, maybe?" she added.  Jan relented and rolled the water bottle up in her shirt.  As a reward, the guard began describing the items on display in the room, including a huge tampestry that looked like a huge black and white photograph and related in some way to the history of the Walker Art Gallery.  I couldn't follow what the guard was saying (though Jan seemed very interested), so Gracie and slipped away.  Even though I was wearing a button that said "Trouble-maker," neither Gracie nor I intended to cause any trouble.  I don't think Gracie is a fan of art--or maybe it was the marble floors she didn't much like.  However, she was the model of patience through three different exhibits, staying with me and waiting while I read the signing. Though I didn't witness this, Jan claimed that Gracie licked her leg while we were watching an huge video of a McDonald's restaurant flooding.

Finally, I guess Gracie had had enough. She batted me with her paw, which is also her signal for needing to go out.   We left Jan in the gallery where she was having another conversation we weren't following with a different guard.  Once outside, Gracie rolled in the grass and encouraged me to pet her.  I decided she'd had enough art for one day.  I'd had enough as well.  We found Jan, one step ahead of us with her gear out of her locker and her bike helmet already on.  Home we went.

Day 24: A team

Gracie and I teami up to relax

Today at the library, the librarian asked if I was training Gracie.  She said a lot of people training service dogs of one kind and another bring the dogs into the library.  I said that she was trained before I got her and that I was learning how to keep her trained...I was training myself to use her training.  "Is she smart?" the librarian asked.  "Very," I replied.
At Target, a woman in a wheel chair wanted to know how long I had had Gracie.  I told her a few weeks.  "My dog helps me," she said.  "He picks up things I drop and brings them to me."  We agreed that dogs were amazing and so nice to have around.

Day 23: Rain

Getting puddle wet

Gracie and I had a new experience today: heavy rain and the need to go out for a potty break.  The reality of living with a dog (as opposed to another person or a cat) is that rain or shine, hot or cold a dog needs to go outside to relieve itself.

Wet, muddy feet

As a camper and general outdoor person, I was prepared with a rain poncho, waterproof garden shoes, and an umbrella.  Little, furry Gracie was not so prepared.  The rain was coming down in a very distracting way for her.  The first time out only resulted in a sad look from Gracie.  I told her I would stop the rain if I could, but, of course, I cannot.  We went in.  I had not sooner gotten her dry then she asked to go out again.  Of course she did.  Out we went.  This time she did what we went out there to do.  Back inside, we again dried off as much as is possible with the amount of fur--two layers and counting--that she has.  Of course, all that fur makes her cute and pettable; however, getting her dry is not easy.  Now it is warm and being a little damp is okay.   What about fall, though, and winter?  We will definitely have to add a highly absorbent towel to her equipment list and maybe a dog raincoat and boots.  All this presents a new problem solving challenge!

Day 22: "I didn't know..."

Taking a walk with Gracie is beginning to work better.  By that I mean that the claim in the "Pamphlet Regarding The Training and Behavior of Your Hearing Dog" that "your dog will walk nicely by your side" is becoming a reality.  I'm sure this is partly because I'm becoming more confident about correcting her, about being the boss.

As we walked up the street this morning, we met our neighbor and her two children on their way back from the park's summer program for kids.  The kids wanted to pet Gracie, so I said, "Just a little.  She's a hearing dog, a professional, and not a pet."

"I didn't know you needed a hearing dog," their mother said to me.  Then she laughed, "What is a hearing dog?"  I tried to explain.  "But you can hear," she said.  I agreed that I could but not well.  I told her that hearing is complicated and asked her if she'd ever bought a stereo system with speakers that had woofers and tweeters...kind of out-of-date now, I guess.  But she nodded politely.  She is one of the nicest young mothers in the neighborhood.

"Well," I said, "there are low tones and middle tones and high tones involved in human hearing.  Human speech uses all three of these tones.  I'm pretty good with the middle and low tones but I can't hear the high ones at all.  I can't hear a smoke alarm or the high notes on a violin.  I can't hear birds sing.  I can't hear whistles or sirens.  I can't tell the difference between two and three or fifty and sixty when I just hear them, for example.  On top of that, " I added, "I can't locate sounds in space very well.  Like the eyes work together to achieve depth perception, the ears work together to help us locate sounds.  My left ear works much less effectively than my right ear.  This makes locating sounds hard."

"Anyway, Gracie can really help me with that.  She can't tell me what people are saying, but she can show where sounds are coming from.  She can also alert me when the smoke alarm goes off or when someone rings the doorbell or when my phone rings.  Eventually, she'll tell me when the alarm clock goes off the morning, and it's time to get up.  Best of all, just having her with me will let other people know that I don't hear well."  Like I've said before, I talk too much, and I realized that I'd just done it again.

"Well, " she said, "she is a very cute dog."   I agreed and thanked her for Gracie for the compliment.  Then she gathered up her kids and walked on.

Day 21: Take me out of the ball game

Who could not love this dog?

Today Gracie and I went with Bruce to the Sunday afternoon Twins game.  The weather was not quite as beautiful as the various weather predictions during the week claimed it would be...it is now but wasn't as we set out.  In fact, rain seemed possible.  Bruce checked the current forecast on his computer and reported that no rain was in the forecast despite the overcast sky.  Cloudy, cool weather, I decided, would be ideal for Gracie as long as there was no rain.

Bruce and I have season tickets but not for every game.  We have three or four games a month, usually one in each of the series that are played at home.  We sit in the same seats all the time, the same seats we sat in all of last year.  The seats are small and jammed together but with more leg room than airplanes currently have. Thinking I knew what to expect, I packed my backpack with Gracie's portable water bowl, her hearing dog vest, and her LL Bean dog blanket.  I planned to unroll the blanket under the seat for her to lie on.  Earlier in the week, I had purchased a bottle of water at Trader Joe's to bring to the game.  We no longer drink bottled water, but I was pretty sure that we would be allowed to bring an unopened bottle of water into the game.  I knew we couldn't bring a water bottle filled with tap water of the kind I carry on my bike into the game--something to do with terrorism the specifics of which I have not pursued with the earnest folks who man the gates at the game.  Anyway, feeling clever and prepared, we set out on our bikes for the game: Gracie in the bike trailer and me in my "Hearing Impaired" vest.  Bruce led the way, possibly to protect us and possibly to disassociate himself from us.  I suspect that I am the neighborhood character now, replacing the guy at the end of the block who looks like Grandpappy Amos from the old Television show called The Real McCoys and burns garbage in a blast furnace in his garage, playing opera records as the thick, greasy smoke coats the neighborhood.  At least I will be a more harmless, less polluting character, thanks in large part to lovable Gracie.

We got to the game without incident...or rain.  We parked the bikes at the end of the bike rack just as we had discussed we would do earlier on.  I put Gracie's hearing dog vest on her and left my hearing impaired vest on (to deflect questions actually).  The people at the gate were extremely nice and welcoming.  In we went.  Gracie bravely navigated the crowd which seemed suddenly larger to me both in numbers and in size.  Bruce suggested having lunch in the restaurant that our season tickets allow us to enter.  We rode the elevator up--again, with Gracie acting as if this were something she did every day--only to discover that the only option was a gigantic and expensive buffet.  We rode back down to our level.  Bruce went for sandwiches while Gracie and I worked our way to our seats.

The only other people in the entire row were the people that sit immediately to either side of us.  An older man who comes by himself and a chubby couple.  I had the backpack and the bottle of water and decided that I'd give Gracie a drink before Bruce arrived.  After all, walking through that maze of legs had to have made her thirsty, or so I reasoned.  The chubby couple eyed me warily.  I smiled confidently.  I suppose since I was wearing a vest that said "Hearing Impaired," they thought speaking to me was pointless.  "Thirsty?" I said to Gracie as I set down her little bowl.  Then I twisted off the top of the water, and water exploded everywhere!  It was carbonated water!!  I looked at the bottle, and it did say "Sparkling" on it.  But doesn't all water sparkle? Isn't sparkle a quality of water when it is clean, and the sun shines on it?  Carbonated water actually dehydrates rather than hydrates, or so a nurse once told me.  I don't buy the stuff. Anyway, I was almost as surprised as Gracie...who I suddenly realized was no longer right by me.  "Where is she?" I gasped.  The chubby woman next to me pointed at her husband and said, "Under him."

Thankfully, Gracie was attached to my belt and was therefore unable to get as far as I'm sure she wanted to get. I gathered her in.  Because the floor was now wet, I put her up on my lap where she sat very quietly, well-contained within the area alloted to my seat.  When Bruce arrived, we put the blanket on the floor and Gracie settled right down on it.  I tried to get Bruce to take a picture of Gracie at the game, but he was apparently intimidated by the chubby couple that was clearly put out and not without reason.  Maybe I will never see them again.

Along about the middle of the seventh inning, Gracie started signalling that she needed a potty break.  While everyone was standing to sing the seventh inning "Take Me Out to the Ballgame," Gracie and I excused ourselves down the aisle of legs and trash, up the crowded stairs, and out the nearest door.  This door happened to be the exit into a corral for smokers.  Smoking inside of public places is illegal in Minnesota, so many bars and the Twins stadium have outside areas for smokers who cannot wait until they get home to smoke...as we could not wait for a potty break.

I told the guards--apparently guarding the smokers--that Gracie and I didn't want to smoke.  Instead, we were looking for a grassy spot where Gracie might relieve herself.  They seemed bewildered but let us out.  We walked almost all the way around the stadium before we found a spot of grass.  If Gracie could talk, she would have said, "Ah!"  What a good dog to wait until the right spot could be found.  Afterward, Gracie did not seem at all eager to go back to our seats.  Being the good sport that she is, she did though, and, having scored five runs while Gracie and I were hunting for grass, the Twins won. 

Day 20: Who's the boss?

Last week I got an e-mail from Bob at IHDI who introduced himself as the IHDI Field Representative and asked if I had any questions.  Being asked if I had questions got me thinking and then, of course, thinking of all sorts of questions.

One of my biggest questions was really about "down-time" for Gracie.  Since she has a little hunting dog in her, she is very interested in birds, squirrels, and rabbits.  (We have also had a deer run down our driveway just as we were coming out the back door, and, earlier this summer before Gracie came, a coyote drinking from the pond/swamp out back.)  In fact, though we live in what is thought of as an "inner-ring suburb," wildlife abounds.  To keep Gracie from reacting to all this, I had been putting on her vest to take a walk.  Bob told me--I hope he will correct me if I am wrong and he happens to read this--to save her vest for places where she needed to be especially attentive and well-behaved.  This would include stores, restaurants, movie theaters, and, eventually, school.  However, he wrote, she should not be lunging at animals when we were walking even when she wasn't wearing the vest.   I should say, "No!" and give her leash a tug to remind her that I'm the boss.  She should be paying attention to me and to sounds and not the birds...or other dogs.

This led to my second question about toileting.  Bob's response to this was to remind me that we needed to establish a spot for her, so when we went to that spot, she knew what to do and would do so quickly.  Though she does this urinating, defacting quickly is an issue.  On the other hand, she only needs to do this once or twice a day.  Something to work out as I know she needs a little exercise to get motivated.

Thinking about all this (thanks to Bob and his pracitcal advice) got me thinking about my own reaction to the reaction of people (my birds, rabbits, squirrels, etc.) when Gracie and I are out.  Clearly, I need to be the boss of us both.  Since most people are welcoming and supportive, I need to not let the few who aren't and their comments (which I might not be hearing correctly anyway) distract me from paying attention to Gracie and attending to what we have gone wherever we are to do.  I need to be the boss of me and not let others take that from me.

I was at the library with Gracie the other day, and a woman approached us.  "Are you training that dog?" she asked.  I told her Gracie was all trained.  Later I thought I should have said, "No.  The dog is training me."  But that's not really true either.  I'm the boss; I'm training myself to be an effective teammate for Gracie. Right, Bob?

Day 19: Fresh air and exercise

Though Gracie loves to ride in the car and follow a shopping cart at the grocery store or a big box store like Target or even the outdoor garden store, she also enjoys watching me garden--when it isn't 102 degrees outside--and playing fetch with the ball inside.

Gracie guarding the garden

Though trained to walk slowly and listen carefully for sounds, Gracie can move very fast when she wants to!

Day 18: Responding to a Friend

I once got to read notes--though I suspect I wasn't supposed to--on an interview I had had for a full-time position at a community college and read that I "talk too much."  At first I found this perplexing.  After all, wasn't the interview process about my answering questions about myself that the hiring committee had asked?  As I thought about this some more, however, I decided that I am more comfortable talking than listening.  I often can't understand what others are saying, particularly in a group situation like an interview by committee when I am not certain who is speaking until well after the person has started speaking.  I even have trouble locating the speaker, much less understanding what that person is saying before I can watch her or him talk.  (I am a self-taught lip reader and am rather proud of that.)  When I talk, I am controlling the situation so that I don't have to listen.   Because I talk too much, I might write too much as well.  I am also guilty of both thinking and talking in sentences...not the favored mode of the current times in which we live.  I probably read too much too. 

I include all this as a prelude to an appropriately brief e-mail I just received from a college friend: "I read your entire blog. what fun!  I never knew there was a hearing dog."  To this, I replied the undoubtedly inappropriately long message that follows:

You and a lot of others, Reza! To work as a service animal, Gracie needs to be with me as much as possible. (I did put her in her crate for a short time so I could run today. Her paws are sore, and I needed exercise!) Otherwise, she follows me around the house, sleeps by me, and goes into stores and restaurants with me. But sometimes a waiter or a clerk will be uncertain about letting us in. (I have documents, including "the law" about service animals that the International Hearing Dog, Inc. folks left with me that  I carry with me for just this reason). Sometimes other diners or customers frown and shake their heads about a dog being in wherever with me.  Sometimes they point at us and laugh.  Once a man said, "I left MY dog at home."   I suppose if I were a veteran with missing limbs in a wheel chair with a larger dog--a Golden or a Shepard--no one would question me. I would hope not. Maybe Gracie and I will pave the way for someone less equipped to joust with negativity or a sense of being mocked. I certainly hope so.  At home, though, there is no issue, and Gracie is a delightful, adorable dog!

I really have awful hearing and now that I'm almost old (lol), it's getting worse. I can't really quit working just because I can't hear students as well as I wish I could (even with my digital hearing aides)--and hopefully the law won't let the college get rid of me for that reason either. so on I plunge.  I think having Gracie with me at school will get the point across to both students and colleagues that I just don't hear like most other people--and not because I'm not paying attention.  I tell students that I have hearing issues at the beginning of the semester, but I guess they forget.  Having Gracie with me should help them remember.  She will also help me know my cell phone is ringing or the alarm clock is going off in the morning and may even save my life one day should the smoke alarm at home or the fire alarm at school go off.

Anyway, I'm glad you liked the blog. I plan to blog on until Gracie and I achieve the coveted orange leash and collar...a sign that we are officially a "trained team"...sometime at the end of summer.

Day 17: temperature plummets-ahh!

Today is thirty degrees cooler than yesterday. Amazing and wonderful and perfect for hitting the road on the bike for errands.

Right before Gracie arrived, a friend who is also auditorily challenged (hard of hearing, hearing impaired, partially deaf--is there a good way to say it?) told me that her husband thought she should wear a yellow vest with "Deaf Biker" written on the back when she rode her bike. Minneapolis has a great system of bike trails and, like me, she likes to both ride her bike for fun and to run errands. When she's out, though, she says she doesn't hear other bikers ride up behind her. I have the same problem. A couple years ago, we both got mirrors on our bikes so we could see what was happening behind us quickly and without turning around. She pointed out that some bike really fast and seem to appear out of nowhere.  She thinks they might say, "On your left," or something like that, but, if they do, she does not hear them

I have a similar problem when I go running. As I run down the street, I don't always hear cars coming up behind me until they are right on top of me. Motorists seem to assume that people on foot will get out of their way, and I would if I knew they were there.

The new hybrid cars are especially quiet. The more I thought about my friend's idea, the more I liked it. Only "Deaf Biker" seemed to me to be too specific. I wanted something I could wear running and cross-country skiing and...well, maybe everywhere! I started to search the Web to see what was out there and found this. It's all purpose. Of course, I don't like the word "impaired." On the other hand, I do like being able to relax and admit that I can't hear like most people assume other people can hear. I am not deaf. I do hear some things. In some situations, I hear pretty well (or feel like I do). In other situations, I am clueless. Now, it's not just me on the bike, either; Gracie is there too.

So I sent away for the vest. It's really pretty awesome. If someone put it on me, I think I would be angry. Putting it on myself makes me feel a little safer.

Now I just have to get used to it like Gracie has gotten used to riding in the bike trailer.

Look out! Here we come.

Day 16: Even Hotter

Today we reached a record breaking 102 degrees here in Minneapolis.  Our own thermometer, with its sensor under our backyard deck, said 100 degrees, but the official temperature for the area was 102.  This was not a good day to walk, bike, or drive around, especially since Gracie was chewing on her front paws, a sign that they were sore.  After rubbing some Mushers Suave on all of her paws, I decided I should reread "You and Your New Hearing Dog: A Pamphlet Regarding the Training and Behavior of your Hearing Dog."  Val e-mailed a .pdf version of this to me before Gracie came, and Martha brought a hard copy with her, which she graciously let me keep. 

As I opened it up, I couldn't help drawing an analogy between this document and the course syllabus that I prepare for students to hand out to them the first day of class--or, in the case of online classes, e-mail to students before the first day of the semester.  The syllabus outlines the basics of the course; the pamphlet lays out the basics of hearing dog maintenance.  When students ask me questions that are answered on the syllabus, I refer them to that document.  Before resorting to an e-mail to Val to ask about Gracie's paw chewing, I thought I would do the same: consult the pamphlet. I didn't find anything specifically about sore paws or chewing paws.  However, I did discover that I had not been helping Gracie learn to take me to sounds in the house.  I wanted to blame our lack of air conditioning and the hot weather for this, but really this was only day two of that and this is Gracie's third week with me. 

"Clap your hands to make the dog jump on you or touch you with his front feet," the pamphlet advises.  "One the dog is responding to your clap with little or no encouragement, then you can drop the leash and move from room to room.  This will help your dog understand that you are his new boss now." 

Gracie usually follows me.  With this hot weather, though, she has become a bit lethargic.  As I read the part about clapping, I recalled seeing how well Gracie responded to Martha's clapping while Martha was here.  So today while we avoided the hot pavement, hot car, and hot everything else, we practiced having Gracie come to my clapping and then jump up on me. It didn't take long for Gracie to recall her training.  We'll have to keep working on this because we need her to jump on me but not on anyone else.  In the process of getting her to not jump on Bruce, we must have miscommunicated that jumping itself was bad because Gracie was reluctant at first to jump on me.  I will need to keep reminding her that I want her to come quickly and jump on me when I clap for her. 

Day 15: Hot

Today the mercury has climbed over 90 degrees.  Gracie and I had an ambitious beginning watering and weeding the garden and attempting to move the compost heap I've started in the back yard to a spot more readily accessible for dousing.  I even made a long, detailed list of errands for us to run on the bike.  The reality of the heat took the wind out of Gracie's sails though, and I was happy to follow her lead.

Too hot for Gracie!

So, instead of  relating our exploits, I will briefly discuss a few items that are making our life of constant companionship on the go easier: a dog blanket (from LL Bean: medium sized); a  Zuka Bowl (from itzadog.com); a small Nylabone (available everywhere including Target and the grocery store); and a carabiner.

LL Bean blanket; small, portable dog bowl with carabiner, Nylabone, large carabiner

The Blanket: Gracie loved this blanket--fleece on one side and denim on the other with filling in-between--the moment I opened it.  She knew right away that it was for her.  At the moment, the blanket it on the couch in the sunroom where--as you can see in the picture above--she is napping on it.  If I put it on the wood floor in the dining room, she will lay on it while I pay the bimonthly bills.  If I put it on the floor in living room, she will lay on it while Bruce and I watch TV.  What all this means is that I can take it with me, and wherever we are, she will lie on this blanket.  It's washable too.  Though we have not washed it yet, the reviewers at LL Bean claim it washes beautifully.

The Zuka Bowl:  This bowl is just the right size for water.  It holds enough to allow Gracie to have a drink but not so much that emptying it afterward is a problem.  It came with the carabiner in the loop for attaching easily to my backpack or purse.  Other bowls seemed to be for larger dogs that drink a lot more water all at once.  Gracie is a sipper and easily satisfied yet needs, like all of us, to stay hydrated, particularly in this hot weather.

The Nylabone: small, washable, just right for those moments between meals when chewing on something chicken-flavored briefly provides comfort.  I chew gum; I understand.

The large carabiner:  I had this on my backpack.  I think I got it at a conference--probably a tech conference since they give away little things.  English discipline conferences rarely give anything away other than the occassional pen, and even those generally come from some hopeful publisher of grammar handbooks.  Anyway, after week one with Gracie, I needed to get back to doing what I do.  To do this, I needed both hands free.  I also needed Gracie to stay with me.  I put a belt around my waist--not in belt loops, just loose around my waist--and hook the carabiner on the belt.  Then I hook Gracie's leash to the carabiner.  She stays with me, and I have my hands free.  The carabiner moves along the belt more easily than the leash alone would. 

If anyone else has ideas about simple products that enhance life for dogs and their people, I would love to hear about it.