Meeting Sam and Self-Control

Sam and young Piper last June

Sam and Piper in December

Piper is head-over-heels in puppy love. However, the object of his ardent affection and undying love is not some canine cutie, but my son, Sam. Sam has been a key player in Piper's young life since the little pup was seven weeks old. Together Sam and I have taken Piper on local expeditions and excursions, and he has witnessed Piper's growth through many awkward, laughable stages. Often at the house, Piper and Sam just hang together on the floor, Piper sprawled on his back, sparkling brown eyes fixed on Sam. When Sam is absent any length of time, Piper sits on the front porch with his head resting on a low rail and eyes dreamily fixed on the driveway, for all the world as if he's waiting for his special man to drive up.

Although Piper is my close partner and we have amazing times together, Sam is something special - the absolute light of his life. As Piper's raiser, handler and teacher, I don't see anything wrong with this. On the contrary, I think it is wonderful Piper can forge strong attachments with other people since close relationships are an important facet of a service dog's life. In fact, I am rather relieved. As a small puppy Piper tended to be rather aloof and independent and I used to worry about him giving people the cold shoulder.

Piper loves the cold and ice.

Not the problem anymore. More recently, when Sam's visited our house or we've visited the library, where Sam does IT work, Piper is beyond ecstatic - he is a whirling dervish of dog blissfulness. These meet and greet sessions used to be overwhelming, noisy and even painful. "Shush, Piper! You're in the library!" and "Oh, sorry, did Piper get you in the face again?" So, it came about that I turned Piper's infatuation into a training opportunity to teach my teenage dog the fine art of self-control.

One day when I heard Sam drive up, instead of letting Piper hurl himself at the back door, I quickly snapped on the leash. As Sam walked in, I positioned myself with Piper on the far side of the room and told Sam to stay by the door and wait quietly. With Piper weighing in at 65 pounds of solid muscle, our slick floors gave me a big advantage. He couldn't get a solid purchase to claw and haul himself over like a lassoed bull. Because I stayed rooted in one spot, Piper finally decided to pay attention and cooperate. Reaching Sam was his big reward.

The aim was for Piper to sit on a loose leash and check in with me, though it was fine if he watched Sam as well. When Piper was ready for permission, I'd softly say, "Piper, you want to Go Visit? Let's Go." We'd take a step or two forward. This is when Piper would try to launch himself again, at which point I would anchor myself again and we'd started the calming-down, checking-in-with-me process all over again. Whenever he completely ignored me, we'd play Monopoly:  Go Directly to Jail, Do Not Pass Go, meaning we'd retreat to the far corner and start all over. "Hmm," thought Piper, "that didn't work like I wanted."

To move forward, he had to exercise self-control by walking at my pace and not surging ahead. Reminding him with "Eee-asy" helped. In fits of starts and stops, we slowly advanced across the room toward the prize - Sam. Finally, finally he calmly reached Sam. I released him with a "Go Visit", and they had a glorious reunion, where Piper lifted his muzzle, laid back his ears and molded his body around Sam's legs. He let out a little groan of pleasure. It was too cute. I gave Sam and Piper a minute of howjadoo-time, then called Piper away with a treat and lots of praise. Over to the far side of the room we retreated and did the whole exercise again.

By the third repeat, Piper got it, loose-leash heeling nicely across the room with only minor stops and reminders to walk easy. Success! At the start of this exercise I had to exert quite a bit of control over Piper, but it progressively switched to Piper understanding he needed to control himself. The big payoff was after the third repeat Sam and Piper got a nice, long visit. Sweet!

Piper last Tuesday at Riverside nursing home. Starting to figure it out!

After doing this exercise with the ultimate challenge (Sam), Piper shows way more self-control when visiting strange or familiar people in all types of settings. I ask the person to stay put while I bring Piper calmly to them and he visits with my permission. Usually the greet is short and sweet, and Piper is called away with a treat and praise. Now Piper has clear-cut guidelines for greeting people, and he's not confused about what's expected of him. And I don't have a rowdy, possibly unsafe situation with a 65-pound teen dog dervish. Teaching high drive Piper self-control during the puppy/teen stage makes him a joy to be around:  for me, Sam and those future loves of his life.

Peter Piper....

A few of the Danville Therapy Dog group (Therapy Dogs Inc) dressed in their Christmas regalia. L to R:  Piper, Megan, Bonnie, Maggie and Bolt. Piper is not a registered therapy dog, he just tags along for outings.

As well as raising a puppy for St. Francis Service Dogs, I am also heavily involved in therapy dog work. It started about two years ago when I heard about a nearby therapy dog group that met on Tuesday mornings at nursing/assisted living homes for a hour. Each Tuesday of the month the group, consisting of between 6 and 10 therapy dog teams, went to a different facility. At that time I took my guide puppy, Emmy, and discovered that I enjoyed this work very much, besides its providing a great opportunity for my puppy to train around a variety of well-behaved, "working" dogs, including Irish Setters, dachshunds, Belgian sheepdogs and Pomeranians.

Since then I have taken each of my guide/service pups on therapy dog outings and find that some are natural-born therapy dogs - and some are not. My sweet, loveable guide pup, Emmy, enjoyed the excursions down rabbit-warren hallways and into rooms, but seemed to just be humoring me when it came to interacting with the residents. She would obediently sit, stiffly set her head in their lap in an obligatory fashion, then give me a sideways look as if to say, "Ok, I put my head here. She petted me. Now...can we go?"

In contrast, my over-the-top guide puppy, CeCe, who had such a difficult time with self-control when I took over her raising at the age of 9 months, turned out to be a natural at therapy dog work. Excited about everything, she seemed to intrinsically empathize with the nursing home and rehab residents resting in wheelchairs and beds. Her body would calm and her head sink with a sigh into their laps. Lifting her eyes to gaze up softly, she seemed to be saying "As long as you want me to stay, I will." What! My jaw dropped the first time I saw her do this. Dogs will amaze you.

Piper's "Good Meter" is in the green zone!

Since Piper was a little smidge he has been coming with me, off and on, to Tuesday therapy dogs. Initially his visits consisted of just five minutes of greeting a few therapy dog teams in the lobby. Later as Piper grew, we would walk partway down the main hall, say hello once or twice, then leave. As he got older I had to keep a close eye on what I call his Good Meter. I imagine a meter sticking out of Piper, with a needle and gauge that goes from green (Good Boy) to red (Caution:  Time to Go Now). When he was younger the green area was very narrow indeed, and the needle could quickly rise into the red "Time to Go Now" zone. We would take our cue and head for the exit. Now at 8.5 months, Piper stays in the green Good Boy zone the full 50 minutes or so, walking many halls, navigating tight spaces between tables, beds and chairs in rooms, and passing other therapy dog teams in close quarters. He really enjoys these times in the facilities. However when our visit is done and we gather at a lunch place, an exhausted Piper is happy to sack out under the table.

Now I need to qualify that Piper is NOT a perfect gentleman when he first comes in the facility door. He is Happy! Excited! Ready for Action! Yeah! It is my job to get all that good enthusiasm under control, so we can safely and comfortably interact with the residents and staff alike. So the first few people-visits we hang back. If a person wants to see Piper, then Piper sits politely a few feet away and does some obedience. Amid exclamations of awe and wonder he gets a cookie (he likes that part). When I feel the edge is being worn off his excitement, he moves in closer to a person's side, while I make sure to have my hand under his collar. Thus steadying Piper, the person can then pet for a minute or so. Several greeting sessions later, mixed with obedience, and hall and room navigation, Piper is now at the point where I can relax control a little. He is getting the idea this is all about "easy does it" for which you get lots of attention and treats.

I enjoy therapy dog work on many levels. It is fun and

challenging to work Piper safely in a facility where we are there for the express purpose of brightening someone's day. Also occasionally I find myself caught in a Kodak moment that can oscillate between poignancy and hilarity, as I observe the unique chemical magic between my dog and a strange person. One such moment was this Tuesday.

Piper and I were making the rounds through the home's large exercise room, when I noticed a lady slumped over in her wheelchair. Having just finished her workout, she was waiting to be wheeled back to her room. The woman looked completely done in, her body askew, head down on her chest, eyes closed. Her therapist stepped behind her and straightened her up in her chair. When she opened her eyes, I asked if she'd like to say hello to the dog. She weakly nodded, yes.

Piper came over and sat next to her, his head on a level with her resting arm. She slowly slid her hand over and stroked the top of his head and weakly asked, "What's his name?" I told her his name was Piper, as in Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. She kept stroking him, and then she started the tongue twister:  "Peter Piper..." Yes, I said, that's right, so you know it too. She kept going, very slowly, "...picked a peck of pickled peppers."

As we talked she told me she had a stroke three months ago, back in September. She said it happened in her yard and there was nobody there but the neighbor's dog, whom she often fed biscuits. The dog then alerted people to her plight, which she thinks may have saved her life. As she says this in a low voice she keeps stroking Piper's head and fingering his ears. Piper stayed very still. Before saying goodbye, together we finish the tongue twister:  "Where's the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?" As she showed me her name on her bracelet, asking Piper and I to visit again, I noticed her voice was much stronger, her eyes were bright, she smiled.

First Christmas!

The therapist wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, winked at Piper and I, and wheeled her away. A moment in time. Mr. Piper, I hope you have many, many more of these moments where you charge the batteries of someone who needs you. At 8 months old, you haven't even had your first Christmas or birthday. You have no idea how important someday you could be to someone. You are just beginning your lifelong work. Yet, Peter Piper, Tuesday was an auspicious beginning.

Piper with his dog family:  Hazel (L) and Wrangell (R)

Twas the Eve of Thanksgiving

Twas the Eve of Thanksgiving

Twas the Eve of Thanksgiving

when I saw with much dread,

I had no more pie filling

and was all out of bread.

So I called to my pup

and we sprang to the car,

Heading off to Food Lion.

It was not very far.

Why this won't take long,

with my service pup...but

the day before Thanksgiving?

Was I crazy or what?

Dash away, with pup Dorian
My stocks to supply.
Back home we will be
In the wink of an eye. 

First stop is the bread aisle.

Stocking shelves by the way,

was a man - would you know,

he had something to say?

"Your dog looks so spoiled!"

"Just look at him lay

Sprawled there on the floor.

What a silly display."

As I'm mulling this over 

My mind in a fog,

He asks if I brought in

My own personal guard dog.

"Of course," I think dryly,

"grocer stores scare me silly.

All shoppers should bring one!"

(Ah no - not really).

Dash away, dash away

come Dorian, away!

Escape from this madness,

Almost Thanksgiving Day!

Over by produce,

Hover two ladies who spy

my approach with the puppy

And one gives a cold eye.

"Dogs should not be

in this store," she pronounces.

As a cat on a bird

she stalks and she pounces.

"These pups have a purpose."

I attempt to explain.

Yet to her the best dog

is staked out on a chain.

Dash away, dash away,

To the aisle with the cream,

If we don't escape soon,

I surely will scream.

"Mommy, a dog!"

Shrieks a toddler in tow. 

"Hush, baby!" says Mom. 

In a voice not too low.

"The poor lady can't see

 And the dog is to help."

"Can't she see me read labels?"

I am wanting to yelp.

Dash away, my young Dorian,

I say with a croon,

Our time at Food Lion

Will end very soon.

Yes, soon we'll be home,

and tomorrow we'll pray,

and thank God for His blessings,

this Thanksgiving Day.

For so much we are thankful,

Raising puppies is one.

Interesting, challenging,

NEVER dull...mostly fun!

***This poem is based on an actual experience I had last Thanksgiving Eve with my guide pup in training, Dorian, 10.5 months old at the time, when we did some last-minute grocery shopping. Of course as a puppy raiser, encounters like these can happen often, especially when you least expect them. It happened last Thanksgiving Eve we had all these encounters in a 20-minute period. Now, a year later, I can still vividly remember, and laugh about it!

P.S. I also make sure not to shop that day.

Current service pup in training Piper at 7 months.

A Fine Match

Dorian and Carlene are now a fine twosome and I couldn't be happier. But let me back up, everything has been a whirlwind lately....

Dorian on a billboard. Really!

About three weeks ago, furiously packing for my visit to see Dad in California, I get The Call. You raisers know the one. My Area Coordinator, Joyce, announces the news Dorian has been matched! I am almost speechless, partly because my brain is stuck on a checklist track thinking about all the things I need to take to California:  dog treats (check), Piper's rabies certificate (check), 3-day supply dog food (check, check, check). So it is difficult to switch tracks and I am not prepared.

And yes, I admit, this news grieves me a little. This is surprising, since it is the goal all puppy raisers diligently strive towards, and then wait expectantly for word on. I ask myself, what could be better than learning your puppy has become a guide dog? Though my intellect knows this, my heart sings out the tiniest swan song, "Oh Dorian, this is really good-bye," that is drowned out in the realities of preparation for the days ahead.

Dorian at five months.

When your puppy is matched, the raiser and immediate family members are invited to Southeastern Guide Dogs for Puppy Raiser Day, where you and several fellow raisers have the opportunity to meet their pups' new partners, watch them work a route together, visit, take pictures and have brunch. It is a wonderful, heady morning full of laughter and tears. Yet you are given only two week's notice, so it's a mad scramble to plan the logistics of a 750-mile trip to Florida.

Still surprised over the news, Piper and I spend the next ten days in California enjoying my Dad. Three days after our return to Virginia, Sam and I (and Piper) make the 14-hour drive to Florida for Puppy Raiser Day in the '96 Volvo station wagon.

At Puppy Raiser Day several moments stand out sharply. As we watch from a distance, Dorian appears around the side of the building, guiding Carlene. He stops at the road crossing and lifts his head. Listening, searching, sniffing for a new disturbance, looking for the source, Dorian is alert. He spots our group of raisers, half-hidden behind the foliage, trying to be quiet and not disturb the teams' concentration. I am so proud of him, I could bust. Maybe he is just curious but I sense, at least in part, he is looking around and taking stock for Carlene's welfare. With Carlene's prompting Dorian moves on at a steady pace.

Trainer Joe, Carlene and Dorian doing a route.

Dorian stops at another curb. Ridiculous as it sounds, his stop holds great significance. My puppy stopped at the curb! Goofy, silly Dorian, my clog - part clown, part dog, dubbed my Peter Pan Puppy because I would ask myself a thousand times, "Will he EVER grow up?" Now he is stopping at a curb for someone who needs his eyes. Irrepressible silliness is replaced with solid, focused responsibility. And she trusts him to keep her safe. It is a powerful, beautiful thing.

Later Carlene, Dorian, Sam and I have a great visit together on a bench under the trees. Dorian remembered us immediately, which I knew he would. Dogs do not forget. I love Carlene's energy, enthusiasm and sense of humor. She is so right for Dorian, who exemplifies these traits as well. And I like the way she brags on him proudly, yet later, sensing him wiggling after an acorn, insists he mind her. Blind from birth, she has had several guides over her lifetime. I like that she is experienced, which complements Dorian's tendency to be a tad headstrong. We discover she lives with her adult son, who "has a way with animals", and a pug named Max. Again I am pleased - Dorian will be a part of a household. Southeastern Guide Dogs has done a fine job of training and a fine job of matchmaking.

We swap stories, laugh and talk about our favorite subject, Dorian, of course! Carlene has decided to keep the long version of his name - Dorian, rather than Dori. Although the sponsor named him after Marine sergeant Dorian _____ who was wounded in Afghanistan, the sponsor asked the name be shortened to Dori. As his puppy raiser, I preferred the more masculine-sounding Dorian, and Carlene feels the same.

Too soon the time is up and we say our good-byes. Dorian will be flying home next week with Carlene to Rochester, New York. She was worried about whether he would like snow, which unlike Virginia, comes in feet, not inches. I assured her that Dorian as a puppy loved playing in the snow. Also his two plane trips with me should hold him in good stead guiding her home. We hug a long moment, then away they walk. Together.

Dorian, the day you left my care I prayed you would fly to new heights. Now I am filled with gratitude and the absolute certainty you have! May God bless you and keep you, both you and your fine new partner, Carlene.

We visit Pat Allen, Tom and her guide Dave, who we raised in 2008-2009. Dave is 5 now, and he and Pat work as a docent team at the Salvador Dali Museum in St. Petersburg, giving art tours. She says their tour is one of the most popular at the museum.

Westward Ho! Piper on US Airways Flight 461

Part II - Piper on US Airways Flight 461

Kung Fu Panda and the yawning chasm.

Continuing with the story started in Part I of Westward Ho, Piper and I walk down the jetway from the gate to the airplane. When we get to the plane entrance however, Piper stops cold. Where the tunnel and the plane door meet there is an obvious threshold, with a 1 to 2-inch gap where daylight and fresh air leak thru, and a change in elevation of maybe an inch. To Piper there is something highly suspicious about all this. I imagine a warning sound going off in his brain:  "Ah-oo-ga - proceed with extreme caution!" I step over the threshold, keeping his leash slack. Piper momentarily sniffs the ground then summoning his courage, he soars Kung Fu Panda-style over the yawning chasm, landing on the hard floor of the plane and sliding up to the flight attendant, interrupting her cheery "Welcome aboard!" in mid-sentence. The momentum of his entrance carries him, skittering, to the front of first class, where several passengers raise their heads. Acting nonchalant, I step in front of Piper and lead him down the aisle, past the first class section to Seat 5A in steerage (I mean regular class).


Seat 5A is a bulkhead window seat that US Airways thoughtfully assigned me when I first made the reservation and told them I was traveling with a service dog in training. Way to go US Airways! My new neighbor in the middle seat immediately introduces himself as Steve and asks if he can help me. You know, I have flown close to 30 times with the dogs in training and have always sat next to a friendly or neutral person. What are the odds of that? Steve kindly takes my pack and stashes it for me while I introduce Piper to his new surroundings:  a 2-foot by 2-foot square area at my feet. Piper is still learning how to lay quietly at my feet for extended periods of time, so I know a 5-hour flight in a small space is going to be a challenge for him. But I am confident he can do it!

He lays down, I sit down. Within minutes I look down to see him licking the floor, as if saying "Hey, this rug is delicious!"
"No, Piper, leave it."
He does, then proceeds to lick the adjacent wall below the window.
"No, Piper, leave it."
OK. He stops. "Good boy!"
Moments later, he is licking the seat legs where they attach to the floor. To Piper, his new space seems to be one big lollipop.
"Piper, NO!"
Piper looks at me questioningly. Obviously, he is not generalizing that when I mean Leave It, I mean leave the whole space alone.
I get out his blankie and arrange it rather awkwardly under him, then get him a toy slathered with peanut butter. Now he is quite happy to direct his attention away from taste-testing the airplane.

All is bliss and happiness. The plane takes off. Steve and I chat about service dogs a few minutes. He is a Very Nice Man. After awhile he gets out a thick paperback book and starts reading. Piper finishes his peanut butter treat and pops up.
"Hi, how's it goin'?" he asks.
"Fine. You are a Good Boy, but now Settle."
Piper looks blankly at me. Temporary amnesia has set in.
"Piper, Settle."
The amnesia is the long-term type. Time to up the ante.
"Piper," I say in my Low but Serious Voice, while I point my index finger at the floor. "Settle."
Piper looks at my finger, as if I am condemning him to Hades. And does not move.
"I prefer to Sit," he seems to say.
 
I am well aware that my neighbor, Steve, just inches away, is probably listening in on this mini-drama. I pull down on Piper's collar. Piper is a stone statue. I pull one of his front legs out. Stone statue. I pull the other leg out. He collapses into a stiff rigid line on the floor, invading Steve's space. I bodily slide him over. I tell him to Wait. I lean back in my seat.
Up pops Piper between my legs. "Hi, how's the atmosphere up here?"
My patience has flown the coop. Well aware that Steve is inches away, and that just minutes ago I bragged on what a great boy Piper is, I up the ante again. I pounce on Piper, wrestling him down and growl, "SETTLE!"
Taken by surprise by my intensity, Piper finally, really relaxes into a nice Settle. He looks up at me as if to say, "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?"

All is well, Piper decides he was tired anyway and falls asleep. I lean back and relax and soon fall asleep too. Much later I wake up, my neck stiff from sleeping in a chair with a headrest for a bigger person. I lean forward, elbows on knees, holding my head in my hands. I look down at Piper and half-doze. I can see Piper is in a REM (rapid eye movement) cycle and is starting to twitch his paws. Soon he starts emitting little squeaks. Then an occasional shudder along his back, like a horse getting rid of a fly. This is almost as entertaining as the movie the airline didn't show. I wish I had my book, but it is miles away, stashed overhead in first-class somewhere. Sigh. I watch as Steve sneaks a hand over to pet Piper on the head. He thinks I'm asleep - funny!

Now I am really bored. Two hours to go. I order some ice and wake Piper up. We play my idea of a  fun game where I put ice inside a Kong and I hold it while he gets the ice out and chews it up. Piper is sleepy and could easily drift off if I would let him. But I am still bored, so we walk up to first class and stuff ourselves into the telephone booth-like restroom. Piper is very OK with this. Well, that was fun, now what? Piper looks at me with sleepy eyes. I tell him to Settle and he plops happily down. I amuse myself by looking out the window at the myriad twinkling lights as we descend into Los Angeles. Soon I can see the arteries of criss-crossing highways, with blood cell-like cars pulsing along them.

The plane lands. Passengers start to stand up and pull down their luggage. Behind me two children peek over the top of my seat to tell me how good my dog was during the flight. I take their compliments with a smile and thank-you. Only Piper, Steve and I know what really went down in Seat 5A on US Airways Flight 461.

Westward Ho! Piper at RDU Airport

Last Saturday six-month old service pup in training, Piper, reached a special milestone - his first air trip - from Raleigh-Durham, NC to Los Angeles, CA. As his raiser, I would say it was a journey worth writing about. In fact so much happened I am splitting the story into two posts:  Part 1 - Piper at the RDU Airport, and Part II - Piper on US Airways Flight 461.

Part I - Piper at the RDU Airport
Our flight from Raleigh-Durham was scheduled to depart at 4:10 on a Saturday afternoon. Although we left the house with plenty of time to spare, a terrible snarl on I-40 caused by a combination traffic accident / UNC football game made our airport arrival a little too close for comfort. At the parking lot we "parked" Piper, then Frank and I walked in and went thru ticketing and check-in on US Airways in record time. As I started to thread my way thru the maze of ropes and posts at the security entrance, a TSA agent motioned me to a much shorter line for the flight crew. Yes! I turn and wave good-bye to Frank who smiles from the departure entrance and gives me a thumbs up.

In order to pass thru the security check, I decide to keep Piper's leash, collar and vest on (I live to regret this decision). So I put Piper in a Sit/Wait, walk thru the scanner myself, and then call Piper through, which he does like a pro. Piper needs to be checked, wanded and patted down, but first we have to wait till they call Al over. I am guessing Al is the dog-check man. Arriving, Al is a large, friendly security agent whom Piper takes an immediate and serious liking to. However when Piper curls himself into a "C" around Big Al's legs, it definitely makes Al's dog-check job a little tricky. Peeling the encircling dog from off his legs, agent Al next unzips Piper's vest pockets and digs thru the poop bags and rabies certificate stashed inside. As he stuffs them back and zips the pockets shut, Piper reacts with a "Whoa, that tickles!" and twists onto his back, exposing his soft underbelly for scratching and inspection. Thankfully Al has seen (or had) enough and gives us the OK to leave. Piper follows me reluctantly with a backward glance at his new friend while I make a mental note:  next time remove the vest and send thru on the conveyor!

After collecting my belongings, we grab the elevator, and head down the concourse toward our gate. I like the RDU Airport. It is not very big, yet the terminals have high, sunny spaces that make you feel as though you're already airborne. On this Saturday afternoon it is blessedly quiet. Checking our gate, we discover we still have a half-hour before boarding, so I decide to familiarize Piper with the concourse surroundings. Yet I notice as we walk along that Piper's ears are pulled slightly back, his head is just a little too low, and there is not a nice looseness to his gait. Instead of walking with me, he is a little too far in front and staring fixedly ahead. Basically, Piper's body language says "I'm not so sure about all this." So I spend several minutes engaging and relaxing Piper until I see the sweet sparkle return to his eyes, and the flash of his toothy grin reappears. Once again he is enjoying his day at the airport and we're a team as he loosely trots at my side. That's my boy!

I love watching Piper's reaction (or lack of) as we meet odd and interesting airport personalities. There is The Cowboy, clunking along in his 8 gallon hat, with white toes on his boots so long and pointy he could skewer a horned toad. Piper gives him a perfunctory glance. Later my pup observes a little boy dangling a strange doll that looks like a cross between the Phantom of the Opera and a skeleton. Piper's gaze takes in the little guy and his toy and moves on, as if giving his dog stamp of approval that every preschooler should have a cadaverous doll for a best friend. Come to think of it, some of Piper's best playthings are bones....

Soon the loudspeaker blares that it's time to board and off we start on Part II of Piper's journey westward across America.

Dogtoberfest!

Every year St Francis Service Dogs puts on an outdoor festival at "The Farm", celebrating dog-lovers and their best buddies. Dogtoberfest is also a fundraiser, with proceeds going towards the running of the school. Frank and I, with 6-month service pup Piper in tow, headed up to Roanoke on a bright October Saturday to check it out and...we had a doggie blast!

What did we find? All sorts of activities for dogs and their owners to try out, including Fly Ball, agility rings, several fun dog games, a doggy day spa, caricaturists, and PawCasso (a matted photo of your dog surrounded by his paw prints).

 


There was a Parade of the Dogs in costume, a blessing of the animals, a DogGone Good Diner and service dog and police dog demos. Of course there was St Francis merchandise for sale as well as other vendors.

Piper gets a pedicure from a St Francis trainer.

Piper gets a pedicure from one of the St Francis trainers. I usually do his nails, but wanted him to experience having them done in a different setting. I've also done his nails in the back of my car by the grocery store.

We bought tickets and Piper tried out the agility ring. In charge of the two agility rings was Connie, Piper's weekly trainer. Piper recognized her immediately and had no problem going in and out of tunnels, clearing low jumps and trotting along a board-walk. Piper loved it. Then he cooled off under a hose spray.

In a shady spot, we hung out and watched the amazing array of dogs walking by. Everywhere were dogs of every shape, size, breed and color imaginable, some in costume. What struck me was how dogs and people mingled, played, sniffed (the dogs) and explored without so much as a growl or hey-you bark. I guess everyone was too busy taking in the sights and having fun. It was great training for Piper to sit calmly and watch the dog-world go by. I wonder what he thought looking at all those dogs. Did he recognize them as part of his "family"?

Soon we packed up Piper and headed home. Down a country road, I snapped this fall picture of an old farm house "afloat" in a field of tobacco - a perfect day.