Service dogs in the news, or How not to be a jerk

This is a service dog.

This is also a service dog.

A few weeks ago, a good friend of mine was illegally forced to leave a hospital where she was visiting a sick friend. This happened because of the breed of her service dog: American Pit Bull Terrier. The story is finally hitting the news, especially because the person supposed to prosecute the case won't do it—because he is prejudiced against pit bulls. And because he thinks the ADA was written by morons.

Most people are being supportive. Her dog did absolutely nothing wrong, was never off-leash as this scumbag lawyer might have you believe, and she had every right to be accompanied by him in the hospital.

Yet a lot of people are doing two things that just make me flaming mad. Some of these people are members of the public who may not know any better, so I will cut them a tiny bit of slack. But some of these people are other service dog handlers.

Here are the two things. DO NOT DO THESE THINGS.

1. Respond to a story of discrimination against a service dog handler with victim-blaming. Example: “Why would you choose a pit bull as your SD? You know it's going to be harder.”

2. Demand to know exactly what the handler's disability is and/or exactly what the dog does to mitigate it.

We'll start with point one. I will be very blunt.

VICTIM BLAMING IS NOT OKAY. EVER.

When someone is discriminated against, the fault lies with the person who did the discriminating. The victim did nothing wrong.

Yes, when you choose a pit bull as your SD—or a Doberman, for that matter—you go into it knowing that your dog's behavior will probably color people's perceptions of their entire breed. You accept that your dog will probably be held to much higher standards of behavior. You prepare yourself for the probability that you will encounter more access challenges than a handler of a Labrador or Golden Retriever.

Choosing a breed is very personal. It is not a choice anyone makes lightly. You choose your breed because it works best for you in terms of both your personality and disability. For some people, the breed they mesh best with is a Golden Retriever. For some people, it is a pit bull.

Just because you will encounter more access challenges with a pit bull SD does NOT mean that these challenges have any merit. Pit bull handlers deserve the same respectful treatment, the same rights, as Labrador handlers. Even if their dogs are very fit and well-muscled, even if their dogs' ears are cropped. They may have to fight harder for those rights, as my friend is doing. As I said, that's something you prepare for when you have a pit bull, a Doberman, a Rottweiler, a Cane Corso, any “scary” breed as a service dog.

When you encounter these challenges, you deserve exactly the same support as a Labrador handler. My friend did not bring this hassle on herself, somehow, by choosing to work a pit bull. This is not her fault. This is the fault of the hospital staff who illegally discriminated against her, a disabled SD handler.

Even if those who threw her out hadn't mentioned her dog's breed as the reason, his breed still would not be relevant to the case. The only thing about him that is relevant is that he is a highly trained, impeccably behaved service dog who was doing his job. His handler's federally protected right to be accompanied by her SD was violated. The end.

On to point No. 2.

I understand that members of the public are curious about other people. (Boy, do I understand.) I understand that fake service dogs are a problem (though not nearly as much of a problem as the media make them out to be). I understand that other service dog handlers are curious and want to know all the details of every service dog story.

But here's the thing: It's still none of your business. You still have no right to know what a handler's disability is or what her dog does specifically to mitigate it. If she chooses to share it, fine. If she doesn't, put on your big-kid pants and deal with it.

A service dog handler's rights do not vanish into thin air when they become a subject of a news story. I hear many handlers complain about members of the public asking intrusive questions about their dog and/or disability, but many of these same handlers feel they have every right to know this personal information once a team is in the news. Members of the public seem to feel that if they are not given this personal medical information, the team must be fake.

Sorry, that's not how it works.

The only people with the right to delve into a handler's disability are their doctor(s) and a judge, if a case regarding their SD goes to court and they need to prove their disability and the dog's training. That's the complete list.

Handlers, of course, may choose to divulge details to friends and family. Some are exceedingly open and have no problem sharing these details with the world. More power to them—I admire that kind of bravery, since I would never, ever voluntarily do that. But some handlers don't want their medical history splashed all over a news story. That is a perfectly valid position. It does not somehow mean they're fake.

Please remember these things when you read stories of service dogs and their handlers in the news. No one deserves or “asks for” discrimination, no matter what breed of dog they work. Their personal information is still personal and private. Be supportive, because tomorrow, that could be you.

Christmas obedience class

Kaline demonstrates his Doberman comfort-seeking genes.

Today was our Christmas class at Stanford Shopping Center! We had a pretty good time. Kaline is used to the shopping center, but obviously today he was more distracted than normal since all his friends were there. His little buddy Lupo now has a snazzy bright red Ruffwear Cloudchaser—he looked so cute. Poor Kaline should've been wearing some sort of jacket. I thought we'd be mostly inside stores, but we turned out to be mostly outside between stores, and it was cold.

We always do Needless Markup (also known as Neiman Marcus) first, then disperse. We paraded through the first floor, went up the elevator in shifts—no one had any issues—then worked on group down stays right in front of the escalators. The dogs were freaking adorable. Whenever I got the chance, I'd work on auto-settling with Kaline. He did pretty well.

Kaline between Bean (Cairn Terrier) and Traci (German Shepherd).

L-R: Bollie (mixed breed), Rex (Golden Retriever), Bean (Cairn Terrier) and Kaline.

Back row, L-R: Gracie (yellow Labrador), QD (Border Terrier), Jessie (chocolate Labrador), and Bollie (mix). Front row, L-R: Phi (Sheltie), Percy (colored Bull Terrier), Sienna (terrier mix), Juno!!, Jockey (Norfolk Terrier), and Rex (Golden Retriever).

We meandered all over the shopping center, eventually running into our friend Sylvia (I've gotten to know her because her house is on the Black Dog Walk route) and her newest CCI puppy, Scotland! Scotland is a three-month-old Lab/Golden cross. Kaline was crazy about her. She is unspeakably cute, I must say. Sylvia and my dad really hit it off because they are from the same area of Pennsylvania, so we ended up standing around in the middle of the center for what seemed like hours.

How many more times do I have to pose with inanimate objects?

Being an adorable puppy himself, Kaline attracted child after child. And he was excellent with them. I was so proud. He did not jump on a single one, or even appear to think about jumping. He sat very nicely while they petted him, and went for little kisses whenever cheeks came in range. If the kids wanted to give one of the doggies a cookie, they got to visit the chow hound, Junebug, who gleefully slimed their hands as they held out treats for her.

We had an afternoon full of grooming, mostly for Kaline. Juno's toenails are fine if I grind them once every two weeks; Kaline's need to be ground (grinded?) intensively at least once a week. Probably twice if I was really a good dog mommy. So we did that, and then both of them got brushed. And then came Kaline's anti-favorite, the bath.

He still needs "help" getting in. He could, physically, jump in, but he won't, even if I put a rug in the bathtub for traction. He was okay after I helped him in. He was seriously pissed about being bathed in cool water though. I'm hoping the bath in the special sensitive-skin shampoo will help us get through the next week or so till his Paco collar gets here. The skin on his neck has been more flaky than normal lately, in certain spots. Ugh.

For the first time in a while, I accepted an invite to the movies from Dad. Then I agonized for a while about which dog to take. Kaline is more attuned to my psych stuff, but obviously is too young/untrained to really help with anything fibro-related. And he requires a lot more involvement in general. But I really wanted to get him the work, especially on settling. Then dinner got added into the mix, and I pretty much knew that that'd be too much for Kaline. Two hours lying quietly in a theatre, then a couple more hours lying under a table? Yeah, surrre.

So once I settled on Juno, I roped Dad into a Trader Joe's outing for Kaline. He worked the best he ever has in his head collar. He was paying attention, walking with me, responding quickly and enthusiastically to commands. He did hardly any sniffing. I had Dad run the cart by us, very close to Kaline, while he was both sitting and lying down. No problems. Dad walked by us and stomped loudly next to Kaline; he nudged his butt while he was in both sit and down stays; he did the bad-dog-hand-waving that Sonja and I like to play around with. Kaline was a little rock. And then he blocked wonderfully in line.

I put him on the treadmill at a trot for about 15 minutes to drain him before we left for the movies. Juno was perfect at both the movies and dinner. Kaline probably would've been fine at the movie, but oh man, he would've been way overstimulated at the restaurant. It was very crowded there, and we had to wend a very narrow path between oodles of tables to get to ours. Juno does not sniff people or tables, but let me tell you, Kaline sure would have! All at nose height—oh boy.

The one disappointing part of the evening (other than getting scolded for not indulging the curious people who ask intrusive questions) was realizing it was impossible for me to use the bathroom at the Guild Theatre. It was built in 1912, I think, so obviously it doesn't have to comply with the accessible bathrooms part of the ADA. It still sucked. The stalls were so tiny, no one with a medium-sized or larger SD—much less someone in a wheelchair—would have been able to fit. The bathroom itself was not large enough to accommodate a SD doing a down stay outside of the stall. And I couldn't even put her on an out of sight down stay in the tiny bathroom "lobby" because every time the door opened it would have hit her. I wrote them a kindly worded letter about the problem; I doubt there's much that can be done but it can't hurt to bring it to someone's attention.

Maybe I'll use Kaline training as an excuse to be bad and eat fast food tomorrow. Hehe. I loved using the McDonald's near Kepler's as a training ground for Juno when she first started training. Mmm, definitely a possibility.

Full day for the pups!

The dogs had quite the full day today. We did the Farmer's Market, the bagel store, Borrone's, a street fair and then up to our ex-neighbors' house to play with one of their two dogs and also meet their horses.

Kaline only had to work in-vest for the market and bagel store. Dad took Juno into the market unvested—they don't enforce the no-pet rule at all, and it's not like Juno will do anything naughty, like poo or snatch produce. Kay was super cute. I had to let out his vest a bunch on Friday; massive growth spurt, I guess! He's getting longer right now, not so much taller. His chest is already super deep.

For the first time, I took Kaline in the bagel store and actually did the bagel buying—normally I just take him in and work him and come out. He did well focusing on me, blocking a little, not sniffing things while I was busy making the purchase. Woohoo!

We came home briefly to watch the very exciting and satisfying end of the Tigers-A's ALDS Game 2, in which the Tigers won 5-4, and then headed to the street fair in San Carlos to meet Mom. We had lunch in the outdoor space of a restaurant, and I took Kaline around the fair and let him socialize with polite people (i.e. people who actually asked to pet him instead of just reaching for him). He had a lovely time and did quite well. He met beautiful rescued Greyhounds raising money for—what else?—Greyhound Rescue, went into a bunch of stalls and immediately settled on the ground, charmed oodles of Doberman fans. He got to meet a firefighter by a fire truck, and the guy knew all the best scratching spots. Within seconds Kaline had melted onto the ground and one of his back feet was twitching in pleasure.

At the end, Dad and I confronted the hateful "pro-life" (read: anti-choice, anti-feminism, anti-separation of church and state, anti-sex for pleasure, etc.) people at their stand. It got really heated. Kaline ignored it all, curling up on my feet for the duration. Good job, buddy. It's very important that he not mirror my emotions, but only reflect calm back at me, no matter how anxious, fearful, or angry I get. When I get in conflict, part of my brain kind of turns off and I have trouble recalling everything I want to, and saying everything the way I want to; so I thought it was interesting that when one of the patronizing godbots at the stand called me a "poor little child," I angrily replied, "I am not a poor little child! I have a beautiful Doberman!" My dogs are the best thing in my life, what can I say. Of course, as soon as we got away from the stand, the adrenaline rush abruptly shut off and I had a meltdown with Kaline in my lap. Sigh.

After the fair, we drove to Woodside, where our former neighbors, Becky and Kip, now live on a big property with their two dogs (Jack Russell and Chihuahua mixes), their horses, and multiple boarders' horses. Kaline and Juno got to play a bunch in the huge backyard with their younger dog, Badger. Pinto, the older dog, recently injured himself so unfortunately he wasn't allowed to run around. Pinto is the real runner; Badger is more into bitey-face. So there wasn't a ton of running, but Kaline got pretty tired out anyway. Becky brought two of the horses, Slick and Aladdin, down to meet us; Juno was super interested and sniffed noses with them energetically through the fence. Kaline came over but didn't really want to sniff noses with something that big! It was lovely to get a horsey fix. I used to go up there all the time in high school to work on Parelli with Becky's horses. Both dogs are crashed out now.

Other stuff we've done lately ... Friday I took Kaline to Stanford Shopping Center to work on stuff. We went in a ton of different stores and had a great time. He got to do a bunch of buttons and work on obedience in all kinds of different stores. We did more escalator exposure, ignoring displays of stuffies and Christmas trees, and desensitization to the various water features outdoors.

We met a wonderful woman at the Bath and Bodyworks store. She loved Kaline, and it turns out she really could benefit from a SD. It was odd—just before, I had met a guy in a stationery store and stonewalled him completely when he asked about Kaline's work/my disability. When this lady asked, I started telling her about fibro tasks. Maybe subconsciously I could just tell she was asking for a different reason?

She told me she's had so many surgeries on the left side that she physically cannot get up without help if she ever falls. Her husband won't let her go on walks alone, ever. If she falls at home, alone, she is out of luck till someone comes. We talked a little about mobility dogs and I gave her my card and a PDPM card. Might go back in and see if she'd like more info on program dogs, because it didn't sound like she wanted (or felt she could) train her own.

Saturday we had no class, but the dogs got to the vet. It was the best visit we've had in a long time! All is well with the dogs, and we were not sent home with any sort of medication! Kaline's white spots on his hock are merely a sign that things are healing up. Juno's periodically red eyes are from allergies, and she should just have Benadryl, nothing stronger. YAY.

Juno in the city

Yesterday, after Danny, Juno and I went to another Giants game, we decided to make a day of it in the city. It was great fun, and I basically could not have done it without Juno.

A characteristic of fibromyalgia is a lack of energy—it's commonly associated with chronic fatigue syndrome. So entire days of stuff just don't usually happen. I paid for it a bit today, anyway (crashed after lunch, didn't wake up for about three hours), but it's Sunday, and I could do it.

So our first order of business after the game—where Juno again was a pro, didn't even eat one peanut shell—was to get a victory donut across the street, since the Giants won. So delicious. Then we made the trek back to the car. Along the way, Juno and I ran into a Random Drunk Guy, as is wont to happen after a Giants win, who got right in front of her and was going to pet her, with a lit cigarette in his hand. As you can imagine, we both went into major avoidance mode!

We drove to Pier 39, and walked all the way to the back to put in our name at Bubba Gump's. Then we went to this awesome pet accessories store, Le Beastro, the only one I've found that sells multiple tchotchkes with natural-eared Dobermans on them. I ended up getting some notecards this time, but I definitely will be back! I need more! Had a lovely discussion with the cashier as well, about how the U.S. is one of the only first-world countries where people are still allowed/encouraged to chop off their dogs' ears.

Dinner at Bubba Gump's was awesome. The line to be seated was in a narrow sort of corridor, and Juno blocked pretty perfectly while we were waiting. Then at the booth, which was raised about four inches or so from the floor, she got to curl up in the most adorable ball just at the edge. She could people-watch happily, with her feet and tail in safety. Plus Danny and I had room for our feet, woohoo!

Juno's big moment came after dinner, when we decided to walk over to Ghirardelli. Boy, did I need the pulling then. My back was starting to complain (it turned into full blown hatred after I leaned down suddenly to pull Juno back bodily as a passing dog lunged toward her), and I was pretty tired. I compare walking with Juno, when she's pulling nicely, to walking on one of those airport walkways. You're putting in the same effort (or less) as you usually do, but you're getting a lot more out of it. With her I can walk a lot faster, and with less effort, than I do without her, and it helps a ton.

We had about a twenty-minute walk each way along rather crowded sidewalks, which several times included uncontrolled dogs. (My idea of an uncontrolled dog: Dog dragging owner, on flat collar or worse yet, harness, by the leash.) I am vigilant and largely suspicious of dogs/owners I don't know, especially when the dog seems to have the upper paw. We tried to give them as large a berth as possible.

Juno was amazing, skillfully weaving through crowds and ignoring all distractions. Once we passed a crowd of girls, who Juno did not even look at, and you could tell where we were because each one in turn shrieked, “JESUS!” as we passed. Sometimes you wonder if people have ever seen a dog before.

We walked through Fisherman's Wharf, down several “hip” blocks that were just crawling with people, and finally made it up a bit of a hill to Ghirardelli. Juno once again smoothly worked the crowd, blocking for me in line, then hiding nicely under the table while we shared our sundae. And then she worked back through the crowds to get me back to the car.

Danny commented on the way home that I will be a very lucky person if Kaline ends up being as close to as good a service dog as Juno.

That I will.

Why ... ?

Why a Doberman?

When most people think of service dogs, they think of Labrador Retrievers, Golden Retrievers, and German Shepherds. Without a doubt, these breeds are well suited to the work. They are intelligent, a convenient size for serving most disabilities, friendly and calm.

But for me, a Doberman is the perfect dog.

I have both physical and psychiatric disabilities. No dog fills my needs like a Doberman. Dobermans are intelligent and trainable (yes, there is a difference!). A male who meets the breed standard—26-28 inches at the shoulder—is the perfect size for me, tall enough that I will be able to touch his back without leaning over (I'm pretty short). There are situations where I will need my dog to lead me, or just provide forward momentum, and the fact that his vest handle will naturally be at the right height is a huge plus.

Dobermans are “velcro” dogs. They want to be with you all the time (ask any Doberman owner when the last time was they went to the bathroom alone—most won't be able to remember), and are terrifically in tune with their person's emotions. They want to please you and keep you safe—and they're smart enough to know when they should employ “intelligent disobedience” for your own good. Again, perfect for me!

To some people, Dobermans can be intimidating. While I will be sure to turn my little guy into an ambassador for his breed, the intimidation factor is not necessarily a bad thing for me. A huge problem service dog handlers have is members of the general public touching, talking to, feeding, and otherwise distracting their service dogs. I'm hoping (probably in vain) that a Doberman will not be as likely to get molested as a cuddly looking Golden.

On the practical side, Dobermans also require minimal grooming due to their short, sleek coats. When you have frequent problems getting your hands to work without pain, that's a big plus. What about the ear-posting, you might ask? That's a lot of work on your hands. Well, my Doberman's ears will NOT be cropped. They will be adorably floppy, and thus require no more out of my hands than constant gentle stroking!

Why Gatehouse?

I chose Gatehouse Dobermanns after a ton of research into Doberman breeders and breeding. One of my big limiting factors was that I was not willing to compromise about my puppy's ears. Some people think that cropped ears are what make Dobermans look like Dobermans; I respectfully disagree. I love the natural look!

However, a breeder in the U.S. who will sell you an uncropped puppy is likely (though not necessarily) one of two things: either he/she is an unethical breeder just looking to make a buck, or he/she breeds working-line Dobermans. Obviously, going with an unethical breeder was never an option for me. A good breeder will take care of the cropping for the puppies before they ever go to their new homes; and most good breeders will not allow puppies to go home uncropped because should the dog be returned for any reason, it is much harder to rehome an uncropped Doberman. I don't know why this is so, but it is.

Most working-line Dobermans are just too much dog for me and the job I envision for my service dog. The reason I originally planned to go with Von Luka, a working-line Doberman breeder, was 1) for the uncropped ears and 2) because the breeder was planning a European show line litter—lower drive than your average Doberman competing in Schutzhund. She knew exactly what I needed in a dog and knew that I would get what I was looking for from that litter.

But once I could no longer wait for the Von Luka litter, it meant I would need to look for a pup in Canada. In Canada, cropping is seen as optional. Gatehouse puppies are cropped before they go home, if their owners desire; but if you want your puppy's ears left natural, that's fine too. Gatehouse had a litter coming up in spring, from parents who have been titled in the show ring as well as extensively health and temperament tested. My pup's mom is quite the velcro dog, and his dad is a big, laid back guy. Mom is black and Dad is red; I am hoping for a black male as my service dog candidate.

Why a male?

Generally, for peace in the household, it's a better idea to have two dogs of the opposite sex, rather than two of the same sex. Juno's a girl, so I had always planned for her successor to be a boy.

Boys also get a bit bigger than girls, and I want a dog on the bigger side. (That is not to say that breeding dogs specifically for large size is acceptable—it is decidedly not.) I would just rather have a taller, heavier Doberman, and with a boy, that's what you get.

All dogs are different, obviously, but from what I have heard from other Doberman owners, males tend to be more eager to please, more goofy, more affectionate, etc. I have definitely experienced the bitch personality with Juno—sometimes you just get the look: "You want me to what? Um, no, not right now. Stop bothering me." I think the whole boy-girl personality thing applies, to an extent, with all dog breeds. I train a lot of different dogs, and I almost always have a better rapport with the boys. Except when it comes to Juno, naturally!

I realize it's a big generalization, and I'm not saying girls or boys are better. I'm just saying I think a boy is better for me, right now, and for what I want him to do.

Why Kaline?

My puppy will be named for Detroit Tigers great Al Kaline. His "call name" anyway—his official registered name is still up in the air. Al Kaline is in the Hall of Fame, hit 399 home runs over his career, won a batting title at the tender age of 20, and played on the 1968 World Champions. He is also a complete class act, known as Mr. Tiger. He is a constant presence around the current Tigers. In case it wasn't obvious, the Tigers are my favorite team!