Living in the same small town all your life is brilliant. People know each other, and they always take time to stop and talk. Everybody looks out for each other, and there is a great community spirit in our town. Most people know me, so I always feel safe, and know that I can ask for help if I ever need it.
This can get interesting when you train with a new guide dog, as I’ve been discovering since I came home with Sibyl.
When I began training at home with O.J, my instructor was amazed at how excited people were about meeting the new dog in town. People knew how much I’d wanted one, and how much independence it would bring, so they all wanted to stop and share their enthusiasm and wish me luck.
When I went to train with Sibyl, there was an article in the local newspaper to coincide with Guide Dog Day, so most people knew that O.J had retired and gone to live with my parents. They seem to be equally as interested in meeting the new dog, so needless to say, we don’t get anywhere in a hurry. Generally this doesn’t bother me, and I’m happy to talk if I have time. It really frustrates me when people talk to the dog and not me, or if they call or pet it without asking, but luckily people are very aware. I’m having more of a problem with drivers than pedestrians these days.
When you train with a new dog, everything takes more time, and the dog can often need lots of encouragement until it builds up confidence in particular areas. Sibyl is still having difficulty finding a crossing on the way back to my house, so I’ve been practicing it with her a lot. I have to slow her down, look for it myself, encourage her to come up to it and give her lots of praise when she does. It’s a very busy main road with an island in the middle, so people want to let me across if they can. If I stop for more than a minute to help Sibyl to learn, people slow down, put down their windows and tell me it’s safe to cross, even though I’m not standing in the appropriate place. I wave them on. I smile politely and thank them. I quickly explain why I can’t allow the dog to cross at a random part of the footpath. I focus on the dog and encourage her to find the right spot. But they insist on being too helpful. People have even gotten out of their cars and come over to me. One overly helpful man told me today that maybe I should have somebody with me for a while until the dog is trained. No! That would be too easy, and she’d start to rely on other people. That’s exactly why I’m taking the time to teach her at the minute, because I know she’ll soon do it without thinking when she becomes more confident.
I’m writing about this more in amusement than frustration. There’s no point in being frustrated with people who are only trying to be helpful. They don’t know enough about guide dogs. They don’t realise that I can’t ask my dog to cross a road in front of their car with it’s engine running. That goes against all she’s been trained to do. They don’t realise that a dog should cross in a specific place to ensure that we are both safe. I can’t see. I can’t run across a road as quickly as you can. Things take a little bit more time when you are blind. It can be a pain at times, but that’s just life.
It’s important to politely refuse help if you don’t want it, rather than being frustrated at people who are trying to do good. I’ve heard of blind people who rudely refuse help, which can make sighted people reluctant to offer assistance to others in the future. And who could blame them?
I began writing this, then saved a draft and went to the shop to buy milk. On the way back, for the first time, Sibyl found the crossing without any prompting from me at all. Her work today has been the best I’ve seen so far, and this was an even bigger bonus. Maybe she wants to prove that man we met earlier wrong. We don’t need anybody to help us. We’re taking our time. We’re not doing things in a hurry, and it looks like the hard work and patience is starting to pay off.