Well, I've bitten the bullet and made contact. Joe and I have talked about getting an assistance dog for a very long time, almost since I began using the wheelchair. We've hesitated because I was worried about my motiviations. But increasingly over the last couple of years I've wished that I had a furry helper beside me instead of having to always call on Joe. When something hits the floor, call Joe. When I need something from a low shelf, call Joe. When I'm shopping and I need to put something in the bag at the back of the chair, go find Joe.
Joe doesn't mind these extra duties. But I mind having to ask him. When we rented the apartment we asked about having an assitance dog because the apartment has a, completely ineffective as it turns out, no pet policy. We were reassured that assistance dogs would be welcome. So, it's been in our minds.
Then my friend Belinda told us a very funny story about her daughter's dog Molson. He is a beautiful animal, fully trained as a therapy dog. Well, there was some kind of agreement whereby Molson was 'on call' to provide 'lovin' when the time was right to father another batch of assistance puppies. Belinda ended up having to drive him in the night, when the time was right, for a booty call. I'm grinning as I write this. (Belinda I'm writing this in the dark, early morning, could you up the url in the comment section for people to go read about you and Molson and your midnight rendez-vous?)
When the puppies arrived I went to the website with their pictures and it stated that they had assistance dogs and were receiving applications. And that's it. I did it. I wrote them. They wrote back.
So now the process begins. I don't know if I'll pass muster. I don't know if my need is serious enough. But if it is, I'll soon be up writing in the early morning with my feet being kept warm, professionally.
Rah. And Who Rah.