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Raising
Ryan,
or
How
Tying Ourselves Down
Opened Up Our World
by
Kelly Lovejoy
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The Life of Ryan
Since I was 12 or 13, I've always wanted to raise a guide dog for the
blind. Three years ago, the opportunity presented itself, and after the
application process, the phone interview, and the home visit,
Southeastern Guide Dogs, Inc. (SEGDI) of Palmetto, Florida, offered us
a
little red ball of energy already christened "Ryan."
Our first link to Ryan was his sponsor, John Ryan, of Tallahassee,
Florida.
John sponsored a vizsla (sponsorship "buys" you the privilege of naming
the pup) because his own guide dog, Joy, was a vizsla. He said that he
wanted to "spread the Joy." We talk with John regularly by phone and by
e-mail. We have yet to meet in real life, but we both know we will.
When raising a guide pup, we're expected to attend a monthly meeting
held
by our Area Coordinator (AC). There we do a little obedience work,
expose the pups to new situations, meet other pups and raisers and ask
questions or air concerns. This is our local contact within the SEGDI
family.
We knew that having a pup would be a hefty responsibility. Aside from
the regular puppy issues, like potty training and chewing, we were
given a rule book that covered all sorts of things. Guide dogs are not
allowed on furniture. They aren't allowed "people food." They may only
play with certain toys. They have special commands. There were some
readjustments to be done here!
Guide dogs in training are allowed by law into restaurants, groceries,
doctors' offices, theatres—anywhere a blind person might need
or want to go. But this also meant that we needed to prepare for this:
our days had to be rearranged to allow for more time with the dog. We
needed to allow for a few extra minutes to get him in and out of the
car, to potty before entering all buildings, to give water breaks and
to clean up after him. The biggest time-consumer though was just
chatting with folks we met.
Grocery shopping took forever! I started adding an extra
hour to my shopping trips for chatting. I guess it's because a dog is
the last thing people expect to find in their produce department! I was
given this advice: "Keep your head down. Don't make eye contact." I
think I did that maybe three or four times in the 18 months we had him.
I almost always smiled and made eye contact. That opened the door for
questions and conversations.
We met so many interesting people and heard so many sweet stories about
their pets or someone they knew who was blind—or some story
totally
unrelated to guide dogs. Ryan was just a great conversation
starter—my own personal ice breaker! Often people just wanted
to
share stories about their favorite dogs. Or they had just put down
their long-time buddy. Or they had just gotten a new pup. Or their
neighbor or niece had a vizsla. People who normally wouldn't give me
the time of day would melt at the sight of Ryan and go out of their
ways to cater to us.
Ryan made friends wherever we went. At some of our more regular haunts,
like the library, the bank, the post office, Game Crazy, Panera and
Target, everyone knew his name, and a few kept treats just for him
(which he had to remove his jacket to eat!).
I answered the same questions so much that Duncan, who was nine years
old at the time, said I should have buttons all over my body that
people could press for the answers to their questions.
"He's a guide dog in training."
"For the blind."
"No, Seeing Eye is a brand name, like Chlorox or Xerox. Guide Dog is
the generic term."
"He's a vizsla. V-I-Z-S-L-A"
"A Hungarian pointer."
"No, Weimaraners are bigger and grey. Vizslak are always this red-rust
color."
"He's _____ months old."
"Just a minute. I'll take his jacket off and then you may pet him. A
guide dog may not be petted when he has his harness on, so we don't
allow the pups in training to either."
The most frequent comment was: "I could never give him up! How can you
do that?" Like it would be easy for me! My first response was, "Well, I
get reminded every day by someone just like you that I'll have to give
him up!" That usually got a laugh. I knew it would be hard. We all
knew it. This dog was literally my constant companion. For 18 months,
we went everywhere together. He slept on the floor beside me. For weeks
after I turned him in, I felt naked.
Part of my job as a puppy raiser is public education. I took this very
seriously and would be happy to explain what we were doing and why. I
also let folks know what was and was not allowed with guide dogs.
People were amazed at his transformation when I took his coat off. In
coat, Ryan was all business. With his coat off, he became a regular,
silly puppy, wiggling and nuzzling your hands.
Ryan's jacket was his signal that he was working. It represented his
harness that he would wear as a working guide dog. Certain rules apply
when in coat—guide dogs are not allowed to be petted and
nothing is
allowed "in or out" while in coat (no eating or drinking or peeing or
pooping!).
We all started to see things from the dog's perspective and from a
blind person's perspective. They both truly changed the way we look at
everything. I became keenly aware of what was at knee level, what
smells were lingering, what food stuffs were on the floor/ground and,
oddly, how many people stick gum to the undersides of
tables—even in
fancy restaurants! Ryan loved gum!
There wasn't much Ryan didn't love! He was very curious and always
eager to see, smell and touch new things.
Ryan loved to swim and jump on the trampoline. He loved hotels! And
restaurants! He liked all kinds of transportation. Cars, buses,
trolleys, taxicabs, boats—but his favorite was the airplane!
One of
my groom clients owned a private airstrip, and she asked one of her
pilots to take us up for a spin. All Ryan needed was a scarf and some
goggles, and he would have been Snoopy searching for the Red Baron! He
intently looked out the window at everything below as well as at the
birds that flew too close.
Letting
Him Go
The hardest part was indeed letting him go. We arrived at the school
early on a rainy day in November in Palmetto, Florida. We kissed him
once
more, and they took him away quickly to avoid as many tears as
possible. But there was nothing painless about it! I ached when I saw
him walk away (and am crying now as I write about it!). But then we
were hustled down to the the puppy hugging room and got to play with
three litters of lab pups which were not quite ready to go to their new
raisers. It was a long drive home.
Six months passed before we heard that he'd been matched. During this
time, Ryan was being trained to maneuver through, across and around
barriers and to recognize dangerous situations and respond accordingly.
He learned to be willfully disobedient which means he is to disobey
direct commands that could put his blind partner at risk. This is a
very hard lesson for a dog to learn; they are naturally pleasers.
Luckily, they are also naturally protective!
The boys and I went to graduation on May 6th. We arrived at the school
with eleven other puppy raisers and got to hear the stories of each of
our pups' partners. We learned that Ryan's partner, Jamie Dolan, had
been shot in the temple during a robbery. He'd lost his sight and sense
of smell, but he felt lucky because three others lost their lives
during that robbery attempt. We watched Ryan lead Jamie around an
obstacle course to show us what he'd learned. I was shocked at how
grown-up and buff and muscular he was! He was so mature and "in
charge."
Then we went back in and set up all our gifts—his bed and new
toys and some of his old favorites that we'd kept for him. We had been
warned that we should first
greet our pup's partner and THEN ask
whether we could pet his dog. I coached the boys a bit on this
so
that they wouldn't go straight to Ryan, but when Jamie and Ryan were
led in, his harness was already off, and Jamie asked Ryan, "Where are
they boy? Find 'em!" He came bounding up to us—our little
puppy
again! Silly and goofy and wiggly and wild!
We learned about Jamie's injury and about his family. We learned that
his was the home that was featured on the tv show Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.
He talked a bit
about his time in training with Ryan: Jamie said that Ryan was a rascal
and a bit of a smart alec, but that was OK because Jamie was too. Jamie
was funny and instantly likable.
Meeting Jamie closes the circle. It was very hard to leave Ryan at the
school the first time, but leaving him with Jamie felt right. We feel
good about their relationship.
The school sets aside three months for the team to bond. During this
time, we are allowed no contact, and we still have three weeks before
we can reestablish contact with Jamie and Ryan. But by the time this is
published, we will have spoken on the phone, exchanged photos and
e-mails—and maybe even met again.
Our lives have been touched—and deeply—by that
goofy red dog.
People still ask where he is or how he's doing. I carry pictures in my
purse. We're so proud of him—and we're so happy for him and
Jamie. We're excited that Ryan will touch even more lives.
What We
Learned
My husband, Ben, has a list of Principles that we refer to in
unschooling as in life. Ryan certainly contributed to our
understanding, enjoyment and definition of a Principled Life.
It's a
process.
To think that that little red bundle of goofy energy
would be someone's eyes was, at first, unbelievable. But we couldn't
expect a young pup of just a few months old to be a full-fledged guide
dog with such extreme responsibilities. Neither can we think of our
young children that way. It takes time. Time and trust and care and
love and patience.
It's
courageous.
It takes courage to give up something you love so
much. It takes courage to keep going when faced with such a challenge
as blindness. It takes courage to stand up for what is right. We
experienced lots of courage!
It's
patient.
It's so important to realize that you can't push things
on others—even dogs. They're ready when they're ready. The
school knows that these pups need their puppyhoods. They need their
time to be silly and goofy—even while learning all the time.
They
could keep these pups in a kennel for 18 months with intense training,
but nothing compares to a loving family that will nourish and encourage
that young pup. When they're ready, the school takes them back and fine
tunes them for their life's work.
It's
emotional.
Boy, is it ever! The ups and downs of this adventure
were huge! Sometimes they occurred at the same time! Seeing
the light go on in Ryan's head when he'd mastered a new command and
letting him go at the school for training—both were dwarfed
though by
seeing him and Jamie working together and starting their new lives.
It's
empathetic.
Trying to see things from a dog's point of view can
certainly open your own eyes. And trying to understand what it's like
to be suddenly and irreversibly blinded. We also decided NOT
to take
Ryan with us to many ethnic restaurants—it's hard enough to
explain
that he IS allowed in all restaurants without having to do it with
someone who cannot understand English well. We simply left him home on
those days when it would upset the restauranteur.
It's
honest.
It's important to be upfront at all times regarding the
guide pup. Honest with Ryan, with the children about turning him back
in (even with myself on THAT! ), with business owners and
with the school.
It's
generous. Generosity abounds in the program. The school
gives dogs
to worthy blind students. Most of their money comes in through private
donations. Sponsors cover the first months of the pups' lives. Puppy
raisers take over for the next year and a half. Vets donate their time
and medications, even surgeries. Trainers give free classes for guide
pups. The dogs give their eyes and devotion to their partners.
It's
grateful. We're grateful to everyone who had something to
contribute to our time with Ryan. The school, Ryan's sire and dam, John
Ryan, our ACs, the numerous businesses that welcomed Ryan. The time we
had with him! We're grateful that Jamie is Ryan's
partner—what a
wonderful match! I can only imagine Jamie's level of gratitude.
It's
sometimes painful. It is. Sometimes the ache seems
unbearable. But
through pain often comes growth. We're sponsoring our own pup this
year, and we're planning to raise another in two years. I guess we can
also work through that pain!
It's
flexible. I think it has to be! Flexibility is key when
dealing
with children and animals. Often plans had to be altered or scrapped
altogether because of Ryan.
It's
joyful. I've never known a person or a dog with such joie de
vivre! Ryan seemed to simply love being alive! Every
moment was one
that should be celebrated. I couldn't look at him without smiling: he
seemed to be grinning all the time! We should all take a lesson from
Ryan and look for the joy of every moment.
It meaningful.
Having Ryan as a part of our family for a time was
powerful in so many ways. He helped us learn so much about ourselves
and about others. Ryan has changed not only our lives, but he's going
to change Jamie's life in a HUGE way! I can just imagine the doors he
will open for Jamie!
I'm proud to have been a part of this amazing animal's life. He will do
wonderful things, I know it!
Kelly Lovejoy and her husband,
Ben, could technically "graduate" their older son, Cameron, this year
with his former classmates. Fortunately, their car sports the bumper
sticker "The Truly Educated Never Graduate", so they'll just let him
keep on learning. A life-long learner herself, Kelly knows there are
not enough hours in the day, days in the year, and years in her life to
do everything she wants to do.
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