Don’t sit on the shih tzu!

Cashie, sit

Human pauses. Dog sits.

But next time try not to sit on the Shih Tzu’s head!

I’m always happy when Cassius and I meet nice dogs.  I feel guilty that he doesn’t get enough doggie playtime, so whenever I have time and the inclination to do so, I let him say hi to the well-behaved ones we meet in our local cemetery/park.  We occasionally meet a very sweet older gentleman with an equally sweet shih tzu.  Yesterday, he was walking his dog in a full suit and tie!  Anyway, Cassius is allowed to say “hi” if he remembers his manners.  He doesn’t quite realize that he’s about 6 times bigger than the small dogs he encounters! So I had him in the beginnings of a sit yesterday when he gave me this rather perplexed look:

How am I supposed to sit when there’s a shih tzu under my butt?

Little dog moved, Cassius sat… but looked a tad concerned that he was being told to potentially squish his new friend! (luckily shih tzu moved out of the way and was not harmed by a big yellow butt and ferociously wagging tail).  We went on our separate ways, with Cassius positively bouncing from his allowed doggie interaction.

This morning Cassius went to the groomer, which is a very fun thing!  In addition to the obvious joys of attention and a bath (well, I might like the bath part more than he does!),

it also means a little off-leash indoor play with Henry, the resident Frenchie.  Much fun was had by all today (and they both look positively annoyed that I was stopping their romping for the photo op).

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It always makes me happy when Cassius finds doggie friends, and especially when he has an opportunity for some off-leash romping.

Cassius is now zonked out in his dog bed; playing is exhausting!

Graduation (6 months ago!)

It’s hard to imagine that graduation was really 6 months ago.  Feels like both yesterday and forever ago.  I wasn’t completely assured that I actually knew what I was doing after a total of 10 days with Cassius (who now responds to Cashie as well, hope he doesn’t find it silly or unmanly!).  But despite my complete lack of confidence in knowing what in the world I was doing responsible for this living being with a perpetually wagging tail, we’ve done pretty darn well.

We’ve found our favorite walking trails, the pond where sometimes we find ducks or geese, the house down the street with the friendly cat and unfriendly dog, the groomer down the street who is super-fun, and more dog beds than he probably knows what to do with.

He is extremely adaptable, he loves going out and doing things as much as he loves hanging out and doing nothing. He’s a big fan of going shopping, mostly because he usually gets fussed over and told what a good boy he is.

He thinks doing events with the local CCI chapter is super-fun, mostly because he’s rather biased and thinks Labs and Golden Retrievers are much more fun than any other kind of dog.

He is obsessed with his (fortunately) indestructible lobster, Stewie, and has not managed to destroy him in 2 months.  On the other hand, he managed to destroy a Kong Wubba in 30 minutes flat today.  Silly gentle guy with an insatiable need to chew (Goughnuts are also fun, although they don’t squeak).

He thinks traveling anywhere is fun, mostly because he can be a lapdog in the back seat.  He wishes I would let him sleep on the bed, and makes very sad doggie faces at me when he doesn’t… but forgets that I have a track record of accidentally kicking him in my sleep (sorry Cashie!) 

He regularly barks is in his sleep, where he does these absolutely adorable sleep-woofs.  He obviously has an active dream life.

I can’t wait to see what the next 6 months and beyond hold for me, Cassius, and us as a team.

I can’t wait to go to graduation tomorrow, and really take it all in for the first time without being completely and utterly nervous.  Then I can’t wait to watch Cashie run and romp in the doggie playground, until he gets pooped and plops himself on my feet for a rest.

I think these pictures sum the graduation experience up.

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Pre-Match Day: “Assistance dogs meet their new owners”


“Assistance Dogs Meet Their New Owners”

(Lovely, but how did they get around the information/media/social media embargo? We weren’t allowed to divulge names until at least Monday of the 2nd week, if not later! Guess NER isn’t as hardcore about it as NWR!)

Our Pre-Match was 6 months ago!

Our Pre-Match was 6 months ago!

I’ll save the long post for next week… but today marks 6 months since pre-match day! Hard to believe. I really didn’t know what direction they were going to go with me dog-wise: on Tuesday of Team Training I walked both Cassius and a sweet little black lab female named Nancy (who was placed in May as a facility dog), as well as another dog once (Fame, who actually ended up being COC’ed during/after Team Training for cataracts). I figured both Cassius and Nancy were likely contenders… but I couldn’t get over Nancy’s name. Natalie and Nancy… a recipe for confusion! And while I know you can call your dog anything, it just seemed a little rotten to change their name!) But Nancy walked a little fast and Cassius was all about the cuddling and hanging out in release, so I had a good idea and was not totally surprised.

If you had told me before Team Training started that I would end up with a big male dog I would have probably laughed. Didn’t seem very practical – I totally pictured myself with some tiny dainty little thing. And as much as I love Cassius… tiny and dainty are two things the guy will never be. But CCI tells you to abandon your preconceptions… and I believe them. Who knew the best dog for me is big (weighs more than half what I do! that used to be my barometer point for “too big!”), slobbery goofball of a lap dog?

I wish everyone involved in the Team Training this time around – from puppy raisers waiting to see if their dogs have been placed to students waiting for their assignments (I had the weirdest dreams the night before placement – including one that involved receiving two dogs!) to instructors trying to figure this all out – all the best. It’s challenging and exhausting and stressful… but so, so rewarding.

International Assistance Dog Week: There’s a dog for that!

International Assistance Dog Week: There's a dog for that!

This wins for best tag line!

Having not just one but a few different medical conditions, I kind of feel sometimes like I’m inundated with awareness weeks and months: apparently there are now two different ones for craniofacial conditions, a day for Rare Diseases in February, Moebius syndrome in January, and probably one sometime for alopecia areata – which has been in remission for so long I don’t keep up with their events!

But anyway, this week is International Assistance Dog Week. It’s great that it’s being celebrated so that all different types of dogs, handlers and teams can be recognized – from more traditional guide dogs and dogs that help people with mobility impairments to seizure and diabetes alert/response dogs, dogs for people on the autism spectrum, and therapy dogs working in a variety of settings.

There are several events and demonstrations happening, if you have any questions or are interested in how an assistance dog might work for you or your family… think about attending one of these (or commenting below, I’ll try my best to answer!)

Feelings of Guilt (& Delusions of Grandeur)

GLINDA: Can’t I make you understand? You’re having delusions of grandeur… -Wicked

I’ve been reading all these hopeful, inspirational blog posts recently, and just can’t get behind them.  Not that my life is a disaster or anything (far from it, really!) But I can’t get behind the whole “I was a (probably) genetic mix-up for a reason”. I don’t know, maybe I’ve just studied too much disability theory for my own good or am just too damn bitter… but it doesn’t sit well with me.

It isn’t my responsibility or duty, as a human being, to make other people better people.  It isn’t my responsibility or duty, living my life, to “teach” anyone anything. Hell, with the amount of mistakes I’ve made recently… please don’t use me as a guide for good life planning!

I see the temptation, though, to make sense of the nonsensical.  The one in a million (or thereabouts) chance that whatever happened happened doesn’t make sense.  And, for me at least, it doesn’t have to.  Unlike some, I can’t wait for researchers to hopefully figure out more about the causes of Moebius syndrome. Why? Because I like to know stuff! And maybe because I approach having been born with Moebius as a purely genetic, random occurrence… rather than anything with any more deeper meaning whatsoever.

What does this all actually mean, though? (and how in the world does it relate to the title of this post?).  Well, for me I think the delusions of grandeur can cloud how people interact with the world, and how they expect people to interact with them.

Personally, I feel no sort of responsibility for any kind of social greater good related to the random fact that I was born with Moebius syndrome.  For a long time, this wasn’t the case.  It ate at me.  I thought I should be doing something more, something different, something to help people who for some unknown reason looked to me for answers.

But then I stepped back and realized what I want.  And I don’t want that.  I am okay living my life to the best of my ability, for me and not to serve as any kind of example.  But damn do I feel guilty about that!  Which is bad, I know, I need to make myself not as swayed by what I fear people will think.

I hope that didn’t come off as completely bitchy or snobby.  But sometimes, preserving a little sanity in this weird, convoluted world of living with a disability isn’t pretty. At all.

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The Diversity Conundrum

It happens every so often: the question of where disability fits into the diversity conversation.

This week, it was an e-mail from my alma mater, asking about our experiences of diversity during college. I opened the e-mail, saw the usual questions about race and ethnicity, began to type my response… and then closed my browser window before hitting the “send” button.

Why? I’m not sure. I’m not sure if there is a good place for the disability as diversity argument, or more likely, I’m not sure if I care enough to keep fighting for its inclusion.

It’s a disarming statement, I think, for me as a white woman from a (comparatively) privileged background, to stand up and say, yes I am a minority, yes I am discriminated against due to that status. It throws people off. It’s hard to contextualize or make sense of, unless you have been in this position.

I tried to do it for awhile, I was on all kinds of diversity committees, ostensibly as the “disability representative”… did it have any impact? I hope so, but I’m not sure.

I guess I’m just weary of it all, the attempts to get people to recognize experiences that they have not experience as validly diverse, similar to although theirs.

That’s mostly the point of diversity education, actually, but it is easier said than done.

So for now that survey goes unanswered, unless I think of some brilliant way to formulate my thoughts on the conundrum of contextualizing disability within the diversity conversation.

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Channeling the dog

My dog knows how to relax.

He likes to sleep. A lot. And not the cat-napping kind of sleep I’m accustomed to… he is more a snaring, sleep-barking kind of guy. He wakes up with the most deliriously contented with life expression, ready for his next adventure (even if that only involves choosing where to nap next).

No one told me of my dog’s enduring love affair with his crate, and I was actually a little alarmed when he first crated himself for a nap(really, he can’t hate me already?!) But I was soon reassured that his desire to just hang out in his crate is something he’s done since puppyhood.

He has his routine now: at night he alternates between his dog bed in my bedroom and the crate around the corner. I think he likes both equally. We get up and hang out a bit, and while he waits for 7 am (Breakfast time!)… he self-crates. I don’t know if he thinks he can best control his poor hungry tummy from there or what, but he hangs out there until he knows it’s time to (finally!) eat. Same with after walks, he self-crates when he needs a good nice long nap!

Since I’m probably the human equivalent of a high-strung, high-drive retriever, it’s probably good that my dog is the opposite. He shows me the value of sometimes just hanging out and resting and recharging… something we all need to remember!

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