tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-92193095912399095402024-03-12T16:54:11.979-07:00Reflections: Remembering the people and dogs of Guide Dogs for the BlindWords and pictures submitted to remember the people and dogs of Guide Dogs for the Blind.Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-56077305082439271872022-08-30T15:56:00.001-07:002022-08-30T15:56:51.626-07:00Tribute for Melville<p> By Brianne Kotschwar</p><div><div>Where do I begin with the special memories of my sweet boy? There's too many to name all of them. It was love at first sight for me and Melville. Not long after my trainer, Sarah, brought Melville to me on March 14, 2016, I sat on the floor so that I could cuddle with him and he jumped in my lap so fast! He popped my “personal bubble” the moment he jumped in my lap. Sarah said she had never seen a dog jump in someone’s lap that fast. </div><div><br /></div><div>He loved laying his head on my foot and falling asleep during training. One time, I was working on escalators with my trainer at the mall. The staff supervisor was holding Melville for me. He was looking to the left and to the right trying to find the best view of me as if to ask someone to please move the bars for him because they were blocking his view of me. At the vet before we finished training, his head moved with the vets, but his eyes stayed on me. They laughed and said, “Aww! Melville already knows who his mom is”! It was at that moment I realized he would have eyes on me at all times. And I’d have very little opportunities to go anywhere on my own. Every time I moved, he’d jump up to follow me. </div><div><br /></div><div>In 2017, we flew to Utah to attend a woman’s retreat. He and I conquered a mountain! It felt so good to be standing at the top of the mountain together. He was so cautious around traffic. I was so grateful to him for this. He loved to play! His favorite game was fetch. He even had to teach some of his canine friends how to play. He was such an instigator!</div><div><br /></div><div>Melville had many nicknames: his puppy raisers called him Mel. I called him, Melville, Ville, Super Glue, Buddy, My Movie Star (everyone told him how cute he was), and Baby Boy. Melville made me feel like i was such a confident handler. He was also a very loud panter, eater, and drinker. I was told Melville had awesome facial expressions and did what we would call “eyebrow exercises” where one eyebrow would go up and the other would go down, then he’d switch the positions. And the “side eyes” when someone did something he didn’t approve of (AKA: me eating a snack and not sharing with him).</div><div><br /></div><div>Melville picked up on things really quick. He knew what a “Button” was. I was with him at Walgreens trying to find help/the button to call for help. I was talking to myself saying, “Where’s the button, I know they have one around here somewhere..." I was trying to walk up and down the aisle and noticed Ville wasn’t joining me. I asked him to “heel” and he wasn't moving. I then asked him “What’s up? Did you find something?” I went to where he was and Bam! There was a button! He got so much praise and kibble for finding it. He was so proud of himself! </div><div><br /></div><div>Ville knew how to get me out of bed! He’d start with his front paws on my bed, if that didn’t work, he’d try giving me kisses. If that still didn’t work, he’d stick his head under my covers where my head was and would give me a kiss or rub his face against mine and start making noises until I surrendered and got up. He was so proud that he actually got me out of bed. Melville knew what the word “Amen” meant at church! To Ville, “Amen” means “we leave”!</div><div><br /></div><div>Ville saved my life on more than one occasion. One time, we were leaving Panera Bread and walking to a car with some friends. I said, “Melville, forward”! He did this, then all of a sudden he stopped literally seconds before an approaching car did! My hero! I cried when he did this.</div><div><br /></div><div>Melville loved serving with the kids at my church with me. He would sit next to me or keep his eyes on me from accross the room.</div><div><br /></div><div>Melville loved snow. When it snowed, I would take him to the dog run at my complex and let him run around off leash for a while so he could play in the snow. He hated guiding me in the rain, especially if there was a puddle and a car came zooming by, he would stop walking and hide behind me so he didn’t get nearly as wet as i did. As soon as that car left, he would be ready to guide again. Little stinker! He was so proud of himself! Melville had to go on a walk daily and we had to cuddle daily too. #NoSocialDistancingInOurHouse! He was there for me when I lost my mom.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ville was always the jealous type. I couldn’t talk to my friend's new born son without Ville’s head being right there giving me kisses. I also couldn’t give love to another dog without his face being right next to mine. Let me tell you how spoiled my boy was: I went Black Friday shopping with a friend and her two oldest kids. We were in Walmart and I found something for me. I thought everything was good. We get in the back seat and no joke he scoots himself closest to my friend’s daughter giving me his side eye. He didn’t even want me petting him. I then asked him what i did to deserve the Silent Treatment. My friends were laughing at how mad at me he was. They said, “He’s looking at you like, “You know what you did..." Then realized I didn’t get him anything at Walmart and he knew it! In my defense, I didn’t see the dog aisle. I then had to beg his forgiveness on hands and knees and promise him I would buy him something at Target. That along with kibble got him right by me again. Not only did he get one thing, he got three things at Target and finished off with a PupCup at Starbucks! He was so happy. </div><div><br /></div><div>He guided me for 6 years. Many ups and downs. When I was upset he felt it and had to comfort me. When I was happy, he tried to keep the happiness going. Ville started getting sick the last two weeks of March 2022. I took him to the vet twice and they performed an ultrasound and found nothing in his stomach. He was on a bland diet for two straight weeks. On April 1, 2022, Melville and I made a decision to go to the botanical gardens in Albuquerque with one of our friends from church. Melville was feeling good that day and so was I and we both needed to get out of the house. Melville did so good at guiding me through all the twists and turns and narrow pathways. I had no clue that would be the last time he would be guiding me. It was such a special memory for me. And we have pictures to prove it. That evening, my boy wanted to play fetch. He had not wanted to play fetch that much in a couple of weeks. So I was thinking I was getting my boy back. That night, I tucked my boy into bed and he gave me lots of good night kisses. I did not know those would be the last kisses i got from my boy. </div><div><br /></div><div>On Sunday, April 2, Ville woke me up at 6 a.m. by putting his front paws on my bed. I got up to see what was going on with him. It didn’t take me long to figure out something was seriously wrong with my boy. He could hardly move/walk, he refused to eat, also would not go potty. I frantically texted a friend and asked her if she could take me and Melville to the emergency vet and she and her daughter were there in less than 30 minutes. Turns out my boy was in very critical condition and needed emergency surgery and was predicted to not survive the night. Not only did my boy survive one night, he survived two nights! The vets called him a living, walking, tail wagging miracle. But on Tuesday, April 4, 2022, his health deteriorated and I had to make the difficult decision to let my boy go across the Rainbow Bridge. </div></div>Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-3262619001995691102021-07-08T10:18:00.005-07:002021-07-08T14:34:20.850-07:00<p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFz_etBMFafo1O4-sDqaoFzQ8tOmjtJ9O8oqvBkYl-hynLEuMKfz7DjgrE-vLFBEWzFiulDcrh0ynHZzg92KzSVdHa9zL5dIazR-Ntbozgq4MYCch11sbx5DCtaf0ldGbgAsbiiDoKQVqd/s1280/Angela+and+Vickie.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Woman with her arm around a yellow Lab guide dog." border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1058" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFz_etBMFafo1O4-sDqaoFzQ8tOmjtJ9O8oqvBkYl-hynLEuMKfz7DjgrE-vLFBEWzFiulDcrh0ynHZzg92KzSVdHa9zL5dIazR-Ntbozgq4MYCch11sbx5DCtaf0ldGbgAsbiiDoKQVqd/w330-h400/Angela+and+Vickie.png" width="330" /></a></div><br /> <span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">“Angela” Kennedy</span><p></p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">April 28, 2006 – June 27, 2020</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">“Hello, I’m here!” Angela wouldn’t just walk into a room, she pranced into a room, and she expected attention, which she most certainly always got! She had a cute sassy gait, and her tail curved straight up, wagging like a metronome She had a way of getting your attention by staring into your eyes. Angela’s personality was larger than life. She was exuberant and irrepressible. My princess made friends wherever we went. She was tiny, weighing in at 50lbs. She had the nickname “da Peanut.” A real mighty might, she was!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">Angela was a beautiful yellow Lab, who was puppy raised by the dynamic Mother Daughter duo, Gayle and Jenna Bittner, from Danville, CA. Angela was their first puppy. They always said that though she was very small, she was a handful. We never doubted it! Angela was always such a happy dog, always having a wide smile on her face. Her “joie de vivre” attitude was with her till the very end. Clearly Angela had assimilated the funny, super energetic personality of Gayle. Just adorable! God bless them both! :o)</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">Angela was my great second guide, and she was a wonderful companion. We traveled quite a bit for my board meetings at Guide Dogs for the Blind in San Rafael. She had two speeds. She had her regular guide pace, but whenever we were at airports she went to warp speed. We flew through the airports without bumping into people or tripping over baggage …. she meant business and wanted everyone to know that we were coming through! Often, airport assists had to ask us to slow down! LOL</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">Da Peanut guided me for just short of 10 years. Then it was time to let her enjoy retirement. In February of 2017, she reluctantly accepted my third guide, Buddy. She and Buddy got along fine, but she was not as close to him as she was to my first guide, Freida. Those two were especially close. When Freida passed away, Angela mourned her passing for almost 3 months.</span><div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="color: #201f1e;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXH6z6yu4XQbjYjfWicN6MXkId4FmsM9AVIK39QztD2vfkzdWKcGZ5iNlThSGzUZPTmDDj0gkKVSt9c_FX3vnFpd0bCbQATqhRhXU-6rvJqBPIQvIkXbs4e3FRP1lJHtz_g-UFa9ENO0U8/s1280/Angela+Buddy+Vickie.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Woman seated with two yellow Lab. They are overlooking a golf course." border="0" data-original-height="867" data-original-width="1280" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXH6z6yu4XQbjYjfWicN6MXkId4FmsM9AVIK39QztD2vfkzdWKcGZ5iNlThSGzUZPTmDDj0gkKVSt9c_FX3vnFpd0bCbQATqhRhXU-6rvJqBPIQvIkXbs4e3FRP1lJHtz_g-UFa9ENO0U8/w400-h271/Angela+Buddy+Vickie.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">When she retired, she became “Daddy’s Dog,” but she still was quite velcroid to me. Whenever I worked in the kitchen or on my computer, she was always there, watching me.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">Her presence is still here, in our hearts. Jim and I miss her so very much. Buddy mourned for weeks after she passed, wandering about the house looking for her so he could go play with her.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">Thank you, my dear Angela, for being my guide and keeping me safe, while at the same time making so many new friends along the way. Peanut, you are so missed by all of us. We smile, thinking of you romping in the lavender fields in heaven with Freida.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">Love you, Peanut, and a hui hou! (until we meet again.)</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">Your mommy, Vickie, and Buddy</span></div></div>Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-56119321029783931792021-07-01T10:14:00.001-07:002021-07-08T14:08:45.802-07:00"Freida" Kennedy<p> <span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">“Freida” Kennedy</span></p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;"><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuqqwhRsZJVSL3t_NVEiPzerbe3XAhvQ3A8kFwdBWSnp-uN1rgbZ1wymySWUZsR3AFdvIWr7RTRdCXpvunNpnE5n9yyw2lRY4Qr5mVntKmkYhQxvCCKGb55ZGnJaWCwKmlyGnnWqCnEmuu/s1280/Freida.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="A yellow Lab guide dog in harness." border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="860" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuqqwhRsZJVSL3t_NVEiPzerbe3XAhvQ3A8kFwdBWSnp-uN1rgbZ1wymySWUZsR3AFdvIWr7RTRdCXpvunNpnE5n9yyw2lRY4Qr5mVntKmkYhQxvCCKGb55ZGnJaWCwKmlyGnnWqCnEmuu/w269-h400/Freida.jpg" width="269" /></a></div><br /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;"><br /></span></div>November 10, 1988 – June 16, 2011</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">Today marks the 10 anniversary of when my precious Freida crossed the Rainbow Bridge. Freida was a wonderful guide, my first guide, who knew exactly what to do. She was a miracle given to me by Guide Dogs for the Blind on June 5, 2000.. You taught her once, and she never forgot.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">I truly believe that “things really happen for a reason.” I was originally partnered with Nettles for 5 days, but she did not work out and was “career changed.” So, Charles introduced me to Freida. She was so very sweet, came up to me and licked the tears from my cheeks. Although I was to lose total vision a few days later, I was so grateful to able to see her beautiful eyes. She and I became inseparable. Freida was an extraordinary guide, knowing exactly what to do, with hardly a command. I think she could read my mind. Really. She was quite the elegant lady too, always crossing her dainty paws whenever she laid down.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">Freida was raised by the amazing Sandy Thomas in Mesa, AZ, the third of 17 puppies she raised. Sandy says that Freida was the easiest puppy she raised.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">We had a real scare in 2006 when dear Freida was diagnosed with what turned out to be a very large mass cell tumor. I could have lost her, if it wasn’t for GDB’s Dr. Craig Dietrich’s awesome skills as a surgeon. God bless him, he gave us 5 more years with precious Freida. Love you, Doc!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">Thank you, dear Freida, for your almost 8 years of impeccable guide work. You guided me so beautifully and always watched out for the little holes on the sidewalks, guiding me around dangerous obstacles. I always felt like a passenger in your limo.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">You are now my angel on my shoulder, together with Angela, watching Buddy and me. You set the bar high for Angela, and now Buddy. You were the next best thing to having my sight back.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">Aloha dear Freida and a hui hou (until we meet again). You are in a very special place in my heart, together with Angela,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;" /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-size: 14.6667px;">Your mommie, Vickie</span>Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-41077102304393055012020-12-16T15:33:00.004-08:002020-12-16T15:33:51.267-08:00Pawprints on my Heart<div><span style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14.6667px;">Please enjoy this audio-video tribute to Hugh, the wonderful guide and companion to Fran Marie Franks for 11 years, from July 2008 till June 2019. Video and original song by GDB volunteer </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13.3333px;">Lauren Renée Hotchkiss.</span></div><div><br /></div><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/rbE_Uc5Vpf0" width="560"></iframe>Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-38423268515332326282019-12-20T13:08:00.000-08:002019-12-20T13:08:12.458-08:00A Tribute to HawkOn November 22 2009 Hawk came into this world for a very special reason: to become my guide. He was one of six puppies born in the H litter that day. Hawk met his puppy raisers John and Amy at the end of January 2010.<br />
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Hawk learned so much from them over the next year and a few months. One very special thing he learned from them was you could tell him to sit and stay and he would as long as you wanted him to stay. He returned to GDB for his formal training at the end of April 2011.<br />
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I met my black Hawk on August 31 2011 at 10:00am and knew he was very special.<br />
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We had a hard time in the first few walks figuring out each other. Thanks to my class supervisor, Kelly Martin, who used helped us figure it out. We are all trained to use words to help us become a team. It turns out Hawk needed me to not say anything walking down a sidewalk - that would distract him. But I will share that Hawk loved praise at each corner! As soon as we started bonding in training we became a wonderful team that walked at Hawk’s speed until he retired.<br />
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We graduated from GDB on September 17, 2011, and yes, his puppy raisers came and he fully enjoyed seeing them.<br />
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Hawk enjoyed playing tug from the very first day I received a tug toy. He played tug with many people. Hawk would figured out your strength and played with you at your level.<br />
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Hawk always took his time and made sure I was safe when we were out working together as a team. Hawk went to many meetings with me over the years. Hawk made many friends everywhere he went, including other guide dogs.<br />
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Hawk settled into our home and from the very first visit from my brother Donald Hawk bonded with him. My brother early the next year started redoing floors in our home and Hawk became known as "Traffic Jam." He would always be where the tools were and most times laying on the next tool my brother was going to use.<br />
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In early summer of 2014 Hawk couldn’t cross a street so he semi-retired. On November 1, 2014, he guided me for the last time. He went to live with my brother as a beloved pet.<br />
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Two weeks ago we found out that Hawk had spleen cancer. We were hoping for a longer time with him to be able to spoil him, but he took a turn for the worse and we agreed to let him go. When he crossed the rainbow bridge, Hawk was with a small group of people who loved him to the very end.<br />
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Love you always my special black Hawk.<br />
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- Louise JohnsonGuide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-40673956237461340922019-07-11T15:14:00.003-07:002019-07-11T15:15:27.550-07:00Beautiful Spunky Sparkly Gretchy Girl!<i>Gretch</i>, lovingly raised by Kristina and Judy Logan and
Kathy Hawkins, was according to them,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“the perfect puppy!” So who am I to argue. My first memory of <i>Gretch</i> is
sitting on the floor in my room at GDB with my<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>new little yellow labby girl curiously nibbling at the rhinestones on my jeans. I kept that pair
forever, but the <i>Gretchy</i> Girl never did that particular cute thing again. <i>Gretch</i>
had enough sparkle and spunk that she didn’t need any denim bling to work her
magic. <i>Gretch</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>had adventures, like
chasing wild turkeys on a deserted beach in Molokai and rolling in Norwegian
cow (don’t know that word in Norwegian). <i>Gretch</i> enjoyed showing off her tricks,
including ringing my back door bells
when she wanted to go out and turning somersaults in my lap finishing big with lots of tail wagging and
ankle biting. Those were my ankles.<br />
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
I will never forget when I returned home
from a clicker workshop and was trying to clicker train my cat to play the
piano. <i>Gretch</i> became impatient, deciding to show everyone what was required by
jumping up and loudly planting her front paws on the thunderous bass keys. From
then on,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it was a good idea to keep the
lid down unless I wanted an impromptu concert. <i>Gretch</i> grew into her job as a
guide while always doing little extras for me like locating Roomba when it
didn’t return to its home base and on more than one occasion,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>locating mittens dropped in snow. She loved
jumping up for elevator buttons and APS poles. My little tax day retriever
retired just shy of her eleventh birthday when I brought <i>Paxton</i> home. </div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
She went
on to enjoy a life of leisure with the cat and two much younger working male
lab guides, to whom she became very attached, adding cougar to her resume.
<i>Gretch</i> enjoyed being top dog, getting fed before the guys and going in and out
first. <i>Gretch’s</i> journey into old age was peaceful, with her fifteenth birthday
representing a satisfying high point two months ago. Her last morning will
always be imprinted on my heart, as we enjoyed the gift of one final breakfast
she got to start on before the boys and
one final treasured grooming session, where if only briefly, <i>Gretch</i> lifted her
front paws for me. <i>Gretch</i> was my fifth guide dog, and she was my favorite, as
all of the others have been and will continue to be. Rest in peace, my
beautiful spunky sparkly little <i>Gretchy</i> Girl!</div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
Sheila with <i>Paxton</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-47579535051979231312017-02-13T16:17:00.002-08:002019-07-11T14:49:01.788-07:00Celebrating the Life of SebastianBy: Mazen M. Basrawi<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
It is with great sadness that I share the passing of my guide dog Sebastian. He was an extraordinary dog and lead an extraordinary life, even by guide dog standards. He traveled to 30 states, DC, Puerto Rico, and Mexico. I am a trial attorney for the US Department of Justice’s Civil Rights Division, and Sebastian was with me when I appeared in over a dozen federal courts in five states. One judge would insist that he be introduced on the record every time we appeared. He was my secret weapon at trial, distracting the jury with his snores and sleep-barking and sleep-running when the other side put on their case.<br />
<br />
For over nine years, Sebastian was a loyal and faithful friend, and always watched out for me, even when I wasn’t working him. He had a gentle and energetic soul, full of youthful exuberance even in his old age. I will never forget how he would put his muzzle underneath my forearm and with a strong jerk, fling it up over his head so that I would pet him. He had an uncanny ability to connect emotionally with almost anyone. He was beloved by everyone who had the privilege of knowing him, including President Obama who called him by name. He was a regular at the White House, and was given the most rare of privileges of going to the residence to drink out of Bo Obama’s bowl; I was not even invited for that particular perk. He was with me in some of my most difficult moments, and some of the best in my life, including in the delivery room when my daughter was born. My family and I are thankful for having shared our lives with him. May he rest in peace. <br />
<br />Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-81805922875229211442017-02-13T16:12:00.002-08:002017-02-13T16:12:33.471-08:00In Memoriam of HaydenBy: Angus MacKinnon<br />
<br />
On March 19, 2003,<br />
A small bundle of fur said,<br />
“HELLO WORLD!!”<br />
<br />
And without knowing,<br />
The lives he would change,<br />
And places he would go.<br />
<br />
With structure and rules,<br />
He grew into,<br />
A guide dog extraordinary.<br />
<br />
As the best present,<br />
A blind person could have,<br />
He introduced freedom.<br />
<br />
As he grew into a loving role.<br />
The world loved him back,<br />
While he showed the way.<br />
<br />
He gave love, compassion and strength,<br />
To one and all,<br />
Even when the job was done.<br />
<br />
As I raise my glass,<br />
I remember how,<br />
He gave and gave and gave.<br />
<br />
He is now an angel,<br />
To watch over,<br />
The people needing a guiding light.Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-68873332956799775702016-09-15T12:55:00.000-07:002016-09-15T12:55:02.497-07:00Remembering JerriBy: Susan Zubillaga - leader of Gold Rush Guides of Sacramento<br />
<br />
Jerri Bitler was my best friend for 18 years. It seemed like we knew each other forever until recently, now it seems like it was only a short while. I first met Jerri when she came to a puppy club meeting. I was raising Ultra, an unruly black Labrador that seemed to love Jerri! I remember handing Jerri the leash and her saying “What do you want me to do with this?” We both laughed, and that started the best friendship anybody could ever ask for. <br />
<br />
We would talk every day; she is the one person I could call with anything on my mind and she would just listen – sometimes that’s all you need to feel at peace. No matter how my life was going, Jerri was there on both the sunny days and through the thunderstorms. She was someone that you could always count on to be there. She was a great person to be around, somebody that would take the time to talk to everybody in the room, no matter how long she had to be there. She always made people feel like they knew her forever, even if it was the first time they had met. <br />
My heart hurts, I feel so lost without my friend, my “other mother.” I miss her so much already and wish I could hear her voice and laughter just one more time. I love you.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeVXY9606qeKnBKtk-HbYIASqBrtqr-xOu7OoC7-Md4bF573gsJ2dPXIqRB2j8WYPm4y_HcDHPxI8teZCVkXEDJhQwK6dpThynw45qjFk1L2KNhjn5GAX61NW9Yk00wKiewNbjOqmDOj4w/s1600/Jerri_Bitler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Jerri (wearing sunglasses) smiles with her arms around yellow Lab guide dog puppy Ursalyn in front of the pond on the San Rafael campus." border="0" height="345" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeVXY9606qeKnBKtk-HbYIASqBrtqr-xOu7OoC7-Md4bF573gsJ2dPXIqRB2j8WYPm4y_HcDHPxI8teZCVkXEDJhQwK6dpThynw45qjFk1L2KNhjn5GAX61NW9Yk00wKiewNbjOqmDOj4w/s400/Jerri_Bitler.jpg" title="Jerri (wearing sunglasses) smiles with her arms around yellow Lab guide dog puppy Ursalyn in front of the pond on the San Rafael campus." width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jerri with guide dog puppy Ursalyn</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Jerri passed away peacefully on September 5, 2016. She was a puppy raising leader with the Gold Rush Guides of Sacramento for almost 15 years and raised several puppies for GDB. We are forever grateful for her dedication to our mission and we extend our deepest condolences to all who knew and loved her. Thank you, Jerri – you are truly missed.</i>Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-38205775413346762162016-03-10T12:29:00.002-08:002016-03-10T12:29:30.831-08:00Remembering Michelle Miller
<br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBadR69JITyrpBmlUfPAzMFagwUG0zBypHx3eWoBE2iBn_Zo8GmtaoTUxv6mrm0VfDTF1PfLxp_xpFaiKQvSk1gkyvPZd1ekMx8mmo7IdpLJv0MzoCNnDwiExCFSsxmks23vS-ZTfHpjE/s1600/michelle2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Michelle and her guide Golden Retriever Tango on a beautiful beach" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBadR69JITyrpBmlUfPAzMFagwUG0zBypHx3eWoBE2iBn_Zo8GmtaoTUxv6mrm0VfDTF1PfLxp_xpFaiKQvSk1gkyvPZd1ekMx8mmo7IdpLJv0MzoCNnDwiExCFSsxmks23vS-ZTfHpjE/s320/michelle2.JPG" title="" width="238" /></a></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Happiness is like a
butterfly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The more you chase it, the
more it eludes you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But if you turn your
attention to other things, It comes and sits softly on your shoulder” – Henry
David Thoreau</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Remembering
our friend Michelle Miller –</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Guide Dogs
for the Blind Alumni Association Board Secretary</span></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Memorial by Becky
Andrews, Past Chair GDB Alumni Association Board, and Leanne Bremner,
Vice-Chair GDB Alumni Association Board</span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is with great sadness we said good bye to
our dear friend Michelle Miller who died unexpectedly this February.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Michelle was devoted to her golden retriever
guides, first Tuft who she worked with for 11 years, then Tango who has been
her partner since 2008.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Michelle was well connected to the GDB
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was involved in her local
Alumni Chapter and puppy raisers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Michelle
served as a dedicated member of the GDB Alumni Board from June 2011 until her passing
in February 2016.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Michelle was
respected and loved by our Alumni Board and all who knew her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She quickly became a leader in this
organization serving as our secretary for the past three years and on various
committees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her ability to capture the
notes of a busy meeting were appreciated and admired. Michelle was a gifted and
articulate writer not only as she served on the board but in her professional
life as well. </span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Michelle served
on numerous committees and was the one you could count on to step in and go
above and beyond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Michelle was the chair
of the last Alumni Reunion, Paws Around the World in September 2015 which was
held for the first time in Portland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
kept the Board on task with her organizational skills, sense of humor and
leadership.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her email closing line
reminded us the value of working together as it read:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘teamwork is dreamwork.’<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipLSTUGD2iwJg7IRDYHOlHH-kfcBa7C2qFOkpAMnb6A_IO_EvP9CZDQvnm5iYXJimB4CWmwbKFpWX9R8_NJGn5wtPF3sCKGFyJGZ-b13FqmI2C3wQJOrfhjV_zMWDBjd1dGSsWDA3EuMiW/s1600/michelle1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Michelle flashes one of her beautiful smiles and has her arm around her guide " border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipLSTUGD2iwJg7IRDYHOlHH-kfcBa7C2qFOkpAMnb6A_IO_EvP9CZDQvnm5iYXJimB4CWmwbKFpWX9R8_NJGn5wtPF3sCKGFyJGZ-b13FqmI2C3wQJOrfhjV_zMWDBjd1dGSsWDA3EuMiW/s320/michelle1.JPG" title="" width="213" /></a></div>
</span></span></span>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Michelle had a
warmth and genuine kindness that was infectious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was patient, confident, resilient and
tenacious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She truly embodied her
guiding principles – a life filled with constant enrichment, integrity and a
love of sharing life’s gifts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Michelle had a
way of lifting your spirits whether you were with her in person or connecting with
her online.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was known for her encouraging
emails that always included an inspiring quote at the end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of her most recent ones was from Mark
Twain:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kindness is the language which
the deaf can hear and the blind can see. She would often insert *smile*
into her email message, which brought a sparkle and a warmth to the message she
was conveying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you were fortunate
enough to have been around Michelle, you left your time with her feeling good
about yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Michelle had many hobbies and interests, including
writing, urban ministry, cooking and shopping, and a love for travel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She visited many exotic places throughout the
world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">She had a passion for butterflies - their uniqueness,
colors, and exquisiteness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She felt that
butterflies were symbolic for all new endeavors and adventures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another favorite quote she would often share,
“</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-themecolor: text1;">Happiness is like a butterfly which, when pursued, is
always beyond our grasp, but, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you”
- </span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">Nathaniel
Hawthorne.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">While Michelle had a soft voice, she was a strong
advocate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She inspired us all to find
our voice and be heard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are committed
to keeping her beautiful spirit and memory alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can do this by being kind and inclusive to
those around us just like Michelle showed us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We can share our voice in a positive way advocating just as Michelle
demonstrated to us. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We love you Michelle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We miss you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We thank you for
your many contributions to the GDB Community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2015-2016 Guide Dogs for the Blind Alumni Board</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksZp_sgs85s-809yxbz1ei8KjxXyAT0Nb786C5FoFQkgr_4irO1agPtA_awsAFr68UBaAgJ38Uk60-QkUt62RgLFWSsDY-aUgKasAZWDFEQyCiJG_RNSVq7t_4VadntFtjOhJxoKNIipl/s1600/alum+board.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="GDB alumni board" border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksZp_sgs85s-809yxbz1ei8KjxXyAT0Nb786C5FoFQkgr_4irO1agPtA_awsAFr68UBaAgJ38Uk60-QkUt62RgLFWSsDY-aUgKasAZWDFEQyCiJG_RNSVq7t_4VadntFtjOhJxoKNIipl/s400/alum+board.png" title="" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-92178280340525341842015-10-01T15:54:00.000-07:002015-10-01T15:54:10.841-07:00POEM DEDICATED TO DARETTA MY GUIDE FROM 12/14/02 – 4/25/15By Lynn Kelleher (Class 476 R)<br />
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Ever watchful, ever caring<br />
Ever loving, ever sharing<br />
Guardian of my wandering pace<br />
You brought me safely place to place<br />
Your memory will linger on<br />
From now and through eternal dawn<br />
From now and through eternal dawn<br />
O ever joyful in the morn<br />
When walks we took them short and long<br />
Your ever loving watchful eye<br />
Has kept me safe when walking nigh<br />
O how I miss the time we shared<br />
Those happy days without a care<br />
Your memory will linger on<br />
From now and through eternal dawn<br />
From now and through eternal dawn<br />
One cannot measure kindness<br />
One cannot measure care<br />
One cannot measure loyalty<br />
Until no longer there<br />
Yet I will keep your memory<br />
And it will linger on<br />
From now and through my passing life<br />
And through eternal dawn<br />
And through eternal dawnGuide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-40101964061285094582015-07-17T16:56:00.002-07:002015-07-17T16:56:36.234-07:00In Memoriam: Kazoo (January 2005 - July 2015)<div class="MsoNormal">
By: James Bluhm</div>
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Kazoo was a male yellow Labrador and my guide in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada (Oregon class OR128 September, 2006).</div>
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What a great boy! Some called him "Kaz", others "Zoo" but Kazoo loved his name and his temperament suited it perfectly. Whenever his name was acknowledged, he responded with an enthusiastic wag of the tail and a desire to get better acquainted with a new or old friend. He worked for almost nine years guiding me to work, school, and many travels to far-off places. He performed his duties as a service animal professionally, but there was always a touch of zeal lurking behind his demeanor. He was ready, on a moment’s notice, to explode with a, “its great to be a Labrador!” He had a love of life, people, animals, food, and blue latex gloves that will be truly missed. What a great boy!</div>
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We met in Boring Oregon in 2006. For those of us who received training at their facility, we found it far from boring. Kazoo was my second guide dog and I expected him to replicate all of the inimitable elements of his predecessor’s style. While this was often true as evidenced by how well he guided me safely to wherever we were going, he did not prove to be a flawless replica. He did not automatically know where my house was even after we had visited it several times. It took weeks for him to confidently arrive at home without taking detours around interesting parts of the neighborhood. He did not automatically know who my wife was either. We would go shopping to a large store and he would follow her for awhile but then, for whatever reason, he would find another pretty lady to tuck behind and follow. I still recall my wife calling “Kazoo” from a long way off to get him to return to her. He had a right fixation; while guiding me, he chose to hug the right side of the street as closely as possible. Why you may ask, would this be a problem? Imagine walking across a bridge every morning with very fast moving traffic immediately to the right, just a step off the sidewalk away. Now imagine walking it with your eyes closed, positioned behind a rookie guide dog, who kept you immediately beside that curb, weaving his way around lamp posts and traffic signs that we encountered in our path. He always returned to his course, inches away from the right drop, despite ongoing attempts to persuade him to walk in the middle of the sidewalk. Roller coasters have no thrills compared to this. So there is little doubt that he was not a perfect dog, but he was damn near one.</div>
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He loved to work. He was always ready to spring to the door when it was evident that I was about to leave. He loved to learn new routes and once learned, he never forgot them. He loved to travel. He especially loved sniffing Hollywood’s walk of fame and the embedded stars of the great actors found there. He was less enthusiastic about whale watching off Vancouver Island only because of the hammering the boat took as it caught up with the whales. He took a cruise visiting many countries around the Gulf of Mexico which he found to be interesting, even though the facilities on the boat were less than ideal for a dog. You never saw a pup happier to see a palm tree surrounded by green, firmly planted on solid ground, at each of our destinations. Wherever we went, he always identified obstacles and changes in elevation that could have been dangerous if I had encountered them unawares.</div>
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He loved people; he had many friends at our office. When I retired, we spent two years at Carleton University earning a BA in English and many more new friends. By then, he had mastered “eye contact.” As a professional service animal, he could not go over to meet all of the pretty girls at the university who so obviously wanted to get to know him better. But with a practiced, steady contact with his eyes, he could often entice them to come over and say “hi” to him; he could not be blamed for that. He loved my wife Denise, and each time he found her, even after a brief absence, he reacted with a bout of near ecstasy. He especially loved church; he had so many friends who knew him for a long time. Following a church service, it would be bedlam as many people from the very young to old would want to respond to his wagging tail. Some of the tried and true guide dog school rules were thrown by the wayside in the turmoil. Happily, it never ruined him as a true professional guide dog.</div>
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What was it about blue, latex gloves? We never knew. Perhaps they were used at the veterinary clinic where his puppy raiser worked and where he spent much time growing up. Perhaps, the vet and others at Guide Dogs for the Blind used them while making a fuss over him. Whatever the reason, he loved blue, latex gloves with a passion and would automatically go into play mode whenever somebody donned them. You might not think of this as much of a problem except when you realize that they are part of the normal attire of airport security staff. Kazoo loved going through airport security. As soon as the security staff put on their gloves, and as he was about to go through the metal detectors, he reacted with joy and enthusiasm. Much of my time at security was spent preparing staff for what they were about to encounter. I doubt if many other travelers requested security personnel that liked dogs because they were about to frisk a dog that absolutely loved each and every one of them. These were interesting experiences that I am sure staff of airports throughout North America still talk about today.</div>
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There are still so many stories to tell. The time he fell, thunderbolt in love with Princess Fiona at Universal Studios, the time he met a baby alligator on a tour bus in Florida, his love of carrots and ice cubes as special treats, his love of wading Black Creek (adjacent to our home in the Niagara), encouraging him to chase ducks trying to set up residence in our pool, sleeping on the front porch, in the back yard, under desks and wherever else when it was appropriate to do so, his treks from Professor Keen in Brit. Lit. II to Professor Beecher in Brit. Lit. I...the stories could go on and on.</div>
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He was such an amazing personality. We had no idea of how ill he was. He stayed just long enough to go to our convocation, wearing his well-earned gown and acknowledging his personal recognition by the president of the university. I will miss you my friend.</div>
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Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-13754425052476428422015-05-15T15:34:00.002-07:002015-05-19T08:42:56.520-07:00Carnation Crossed the Rainbow BridgeIt is with a heavy heart and much sadness that I bring you the news that my sweet Angel Carnation crossed the Rainbow Bridge Thursday Afternoon on April 23, 2015. She lived a long and happy life and had just passed her fourteenth and one half birthday on Saturday April 18th. She was happy and alert till the end and I was with her and she knew I was with her, and that it was OK for her to leave; I would be fine as long as she continues to watch over me. I know she is watching and I am happy she is no longer suffering or in pain and can run free, play keep away, and see all of her human and doggie friends who have waited for her. <br />
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The past month has been horrible as we learned from an ultrasound that she had a tumor in her liver. I opted not to have a biopsy or any further treatment as it would only give a little more time and we wanted her to enjoy the time left. So, she got to eat whatever she wanted, go for walks when she wanted to, go for rides in the car, and stay in the yard enjoying the fresh air and flowers. She totally controlled her destiny to the end including deciding when it was time to do things or what she would eat or drink and when. We humans were sometimes frustrated, but she was totally in charge. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbhQv-xBlmNMzsgFdbEgiS7l6tUWyWNqInyCs3s966zGGKN_BfnkwMwAyA6W2fh8T0ckOVWq910xdEPRyQTmgzXlj30cqXd4JHCisiYpzb6T_ujz1PoDQMl-TER35B_kC0jTdKYyOyXBll/s1600/Carnation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Roxanne (wearing a purple jacket) poses with Carnation (yellow Lab) in a studio portrait." border="0" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbhQv-xBlmNMzsgFdbEgiS7l6tUWyWNqInyCs3s966zGGKN_BfnkwMwAyA6W2fh8T0ckOVWq910xdEPRyQTmgzXlj30cqXd4JHCisiYpzb6T_ujz1PoDQMl-TER35B_kC0jTdKYyOyXBll/s400/Carnation.jpg" title="Roxanne (wearing a purple jacket) poses with Carnation (yellow Lab) in a studio portrait." width="400" /></a></div>
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Princess Carnation was my first guide dog. We met later in my life and she gave me freedom and confidence that I had never known while using a white cane; I was able to go places alone where I would have never gone using a cane. I could go anywhere with Carnation by my side and was never afraid. My Zaga took her place when retirement came for Carnation after nine long years of work. Carnation was jealous because she didn’t want anyone else to do her job, but eventually, she settled into her new lifestyle and enjoyed four years with other people and dogs who became her family too. She was alert and happy and lived life to the fullest and never gave up her professional duties of being a guide dog. She could still leash guide after all those years and was happy to do it.<br />
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My sweet Carnation, rest in peace and enjoy the love and contentment you have earned. We will meet again, so wait for me. We have so many wonderful memories of things we did together and I will never forget a minute of our times together. Watch over me and Zaga too, because we are all together and will never lose sight of each other. <br />
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Roxanne and Zaga<br />
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Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-61153622965779652762015-01-14T11:40:00.002-08:002015-01-14T11:40:39.440-08:00Dog of HonorBy: GDB graduate Becky Andrews<br />
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It has been almost seven years since my first guide dog, Pantera, died at the age of 11 1/2,working as a guide for nine of those years. The pain of her loss has turned to such sweet memories and celebration of an incredible life well lived. Pantera was a devoted, loving companion up to the day she died. I remember with such joy receiving her on September 17, 1997. Experiencing the freedom and ability to walk joyfully again was incredible. I wanted to just keep walking. Pantera held her head high and was so proud working as a guide. She helped me hold my head high and once again walk confidently and conquer so many things. <br />
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I soon learned I did not only gain a beautiful guide dog to enhance my mobility and independence, many doors were opened up in my life. This included being a part of the GDB family and friendships with so many including her puppy raiser. The pictures below are Pantera as the dog of honor at her puppy raiser, Meg's wedding. After that day, Pantera was referred to as our Dog of Honor.<br />
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I remember well the day Meg called to ask if I would be her Matron of Honor and Pantera the dog of honor. I was busy catching a bus to go to class - living the independent life with my guide dog. <br />
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Pantera lived her life with honor loving and serving. When my family and I reminisce about Pantera, we often talk about how much she loved to serve as a guide dog and her devotion. Thank you, Pantera, for your example and for opening my world back up as a young wife and mother. I carry you in my heart forever. <br />
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Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-7906693577087683942014-03-27T15:48:00.002-07:002014-03-27T15:48:59.024-07:00About Miss Laura<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">By: GDB graduate Karen Strudwick <span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">It is with the deepest sadness and sense of loss that I am sharing this news.We said a final good-bye to dearest Laura on Thursday, March 13, 2014. She turned 14 last month but her ongoing struggles with arthritis in her hind legs, respiratory issues, and other challenges of a very senior dog were getting the better of her. Despite our best efforts, it had become clear that, if we wanted her to leave us on a high note, we had to help her to take this last step.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Last Tuesday, spring arrived on Marrowstone Island where Laura was happilly relaxing at her home-away-from-home with Jeff and Newbe. Zarek and I joined them and we all enjoyed walking in the woods , relaxing on the bluff above Heart Rock Beach, and generally spoiling our darling girl one last time. Then, on Thursday morning , Jeff's plum treee burst into bloom. That afternoon, lying on her blanket and sheepskin on the sunny lawn, nibbling at a banana, with Jeff and I and the vet kneeling at her side, Laura went into a deep and peaceful sleep and her spirit gracefully floated away, unfettered by earthly ailments. I like to think that she bounded across a field of daisies toward a welcoming committee led by my mum--with a banana in hand.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH3DYJaELt5V1IeQvvgdJ1MSD5ghbxRQbRDogRBuHXxQXmS4EipzotDCMuFQLDOyHrICC4RMpfosch8OP849zPFTmh3eAmvxxUO5jqkkiv_FA10CJV4M1V59aHyqeURIxJk6LsTViYR-nH/s1600/laura2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img alt="Laura (Yellow Lab) stands in grass with the sun on her back." border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH3DYJaELt5V1IeQvvgdJ1MSD5ghbxRQbRDogRBuHXxQXmS4EipzotDCMuFQLDOyHrICC4RMpfosch8OP849zPFTmh3eAmvxxUO5jqkkiv_FA10CJV4M1V59aHyqeURIxJk6LsTViYR-nH/s1600/laura2.jpeg" height="293" title="Laura (Yellow Lab) stands in grass with the sun on her back." width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: xx-small;">Laura (Yellow Lab) stands in grass with the sun on her back.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Jeff's student tenants helped us to lay Laura to rest beside several other canine, feline, and fish friends in a small secluded garden surrounded by 7-foot-tall ferns and shaded by a dogwood tree. </span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Both Newbe and Zarek attended the burial. Zarek sat leaning against my leg, as if trying to comfort me. We believe that Newbe played her own special role as well. Named after the canine-like Egyptian god who guided the recently deceased through the underworld, our own Anubis made sure that her dear old friend did, indeed, reach that welcoming committee on the other side.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Through Guide Dogs for the Blind, Laura and I joined forces in 2001 when she was only 18 months old. Over the next 10 years, we were seldom apart. She guided me at work, attended social and cultural events with me, made sure we collected Stephen safely from after-school activities, wrapped my mother around her little paw, and charmed the world. With Laura at my side, I confidently traveled to big and little, crowded and remote places across the United States, Canada, and Australia. She literally saved my life on more than one occasion--the first time witnessed by neighbors as we tried to cross a busy intersection only a week or two after we came home from training as a new team.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Laura was a "talker" who used various vocal intonations to respond to people, and she knew exactly how to get whatever she wanted in her disarmingly determined way. She didn't care much for motorcycles or German Shepherds--not even a metal sculpture of a dingo in Sydney escaped her notice. In her youth, she loved to run free on a big lawn like a thoroughbred racehorse. Throughout her life, she enjoyed water and snow in equal measure and had her share of adventures in both elements (giving Jeff and I our share of grey hairs as a result).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: xx-small;">Laura rests her head on a lap with her eyes closed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I couldn't have asked for a more loyal or loving partner. I never dared to get sick for more than a day because Laura refused (and could not be persuaded otherwise, even by GDB) to go anywhere on leash with anyone but me. Jeff and I eventually solved that problem and that led Laura to three wonderful years of town and country life in retirement with two people who loved her with all their hearts. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The past few days have been very difficult for us, Including Stephen who could only share in this long-distance. Added to thaht, Jeff is now in Cleveland with his mum, 96, who is nearing her own finish line. So if I haven't responded to a call or email, please excuse me. But I do want to sincerely thank those of you who, in one way or another, learned of what was happening and reached out to us. And I want to assure you all that, though we feel a huge void in our lives, we also are at peace with Laura's passing because we believe it was her time and she was ready. She lives on in our hearts.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Wishing you the best,<br />Karen </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span>Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-47630180570698615932013-11-27T09:48:00.000-08:002013-11-27T09:49:57.412-08:00My First Guide Dog KitBy: Pamela Boyle, GDB Graduate<br />
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Words cannot express the sadness in our hearts....Kit was my first guide dog. I will never forget the incredible feeling I had when I turned myself over to Kit for the first time. Life changed for me at that moment and I never looked back. She guided me for six years. She danced at Mama Mia on Broadway, got a kiss from an actor in Lion King, sang with a Barber Shop Quartet (they probably though she was howling) and then retired to the life of leisure she deserved. We will miss her sweet face greeting us at the door when we come home every day. There will never be another Kit (03/18/2000-11/12/13).<br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /></span>Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-43412350857713190822013-11-13T16:23:00.000-08:002013-11-13T16:23:00.314-08:00Remebering GalleonBy: Larry Marcum<br />
<br />Galleon guided me for over nine years, and was the best guide dog that a person could ever hope for. For the past three years, in 2011, 2012 and 2013 he enjoyed a happy and much deserved retirement here as Ida and my pet. But ironically, those years would end on 11-12-13. Yesterday morning, as usual he instigated a play session with Brinkley, as happened most every morning as Ida and I sat in front of the fire drinking our morning coffee.<br />
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God blessed me with Galleon in January, 2002 at Guide Dogs for the Blind in San Rafael, class #621. He turned two that month while we learned to work as a team, a team that would fly over 20,000 miles together, and experience so much in life. Galleon helped me to learn how to cope with blindness, he gave me the confidence, independence and strength to be what I am today. He touched so many of your lives as well in so many ways. He helped raise needed donations to Guide Dogs for the Blind, guided me on my path in Lions, and stood by me as Ida and I started our incredible life together, both Galleon and Ida allowing me to be the person that I have always wanted to be.<br />
<br />Below is a photo that I took a couple of months ago, I photo that I will always cherish because I can see it, and see the ever-present smile on his face.<br />
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Our hearts are heavy right now, Galleon will always leave a paw print on our hearts and I know that as the days pass, our hearts will once again be filled with the joyful memories of Galleon on the path of being a great guide dog.<br />
<br />Larry & Ida and BrinkleyGuide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-46656605152050227442013-11-06T11:11:00.000-08:002013-11-06T11:11:25.739-08:00Eulogy for a Guide DogBy: Todd Smith
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She was whelped on September 30, 2004 at the San Rafael Campus of Guide Dogs for the Blind. She was the third of six pups, all Black Labs. She was in the “R” litter, so she was named “Roanna”. She spent her first weeks in the GDB kennels with her siblings, being cared for lovingly by the staff and volunteers.<br />
<br />When the time came, she was placed on the “Puppy Truck” and sent to her raiser home in Camas Washington, and her co-raiser home in Wilsonville Oregon. There, she learned her basic obedience, was potty trained, and was prepared for her life as a working guide by being socialized in many different venues. Roanna took trips to the local stores and restaurants, went to school with her raisers, enjoyed movies at the theatre, walks in the park, and rides in the car. She even flew with her raisers to San Francisco where she rode the cable cars, walked the Golden Gate Bridge, and saw the seagulls and sea lions on the piers. Her raisers taught her well, and she had lots of fun playing with the family pets and just being a dog.<br />
<br />When Roanna was around 16 months old, she returned to the Boring, Oregon campus of Guide Dogs for the Blind to begin the guide task training. There she learned how to be the eyes for someone who could not see. She had to learn many things that do not come ‘natural’ to dogs, such as looking up for overhead objects, stopping at curbs and steps, and keeping her handler from running into objects that she could simply duck under. It took a long time with many different training sessions in many different venues, but she learned it all and made it through the 10 phases of training to become a real working guide. Now all she needed was to be matched to the right person.<br />
<br />She was matched to Candy on August 12th, 2006, and from then until August 26th, Candy and Roanna spent all their waking and sleeping hours together. They learned about each other, how to ‘read’ what the other was needing, and began the formation of themselves into a symbiotic team. On August 26th 2006, they ‘graduated’ in class number 127R at the Boring, Oregon campus. From that day forward, they were always together.<br />
<br />It wasn’t always easy. Newly-placed guides will sometimes ‘test’ their handlers to see what they can get away with, and Roanna was no exception. She was sometimes stubborn, strong willed, and not always ready to work. Candy was concerned that Roanna would never ‘bond’ with her, because Roanna seemed so uninterested in being with her at times. But Candy persevered and by the time the six month ‘anniversary’ of their teaming together came about, things were starting to smooth out.<br />
<br /> Then came the day that Roanna went blind. Roanna had an issue with demodectic mange, and Candy had taken her to the vet for treatment. The vet prescribed medication for the issue, but the dosage had been incorrectly labeled on the bottle, so Roanna had been given an excessive amount of the medication, causing a negative reaction. Candy was at a seminar entitled (of all things) “Living With Blindness”, which had been facilitated by the Oregon Commission for the Blind at Fish Lake Resort, Oregon. Right after dinner on the first night of the seminar, Candy was returning to her cabin for a short break before the first session began when Roanna refused to move forward. She just stopped dead in her tracks halfway to the cabin. Candy tried to see if there was something Roanna was alerting her to, but nothing was there. She commanded Roanna forward, but she would not move. Candy reached down to touch Roanna to try and figure out what was wrong, and noticed that Roanna was trembling and shaking uncontrollably. Roanna would not move forward at all. Candy called me to her, and I took a look at Roanna to see if I could figure out what happened. I could not see what was going on with her, so I picked Roanna up and carried her to the cabin. When I set her down, Roanna just stood where I put her, shaking and trembling. We called the emergency number for the vet, and after talking with them we were able to figure out that the incorrect dosage of medication had been given to Roanna. We left the seminar and drove home that night. When we got home, Roanna refused to go into her kennel, and this dog always loved her kennel. If she was not on tie down, she would go and kennel herself because she favored her kennel over anything else, but this night, she would not go near it. She slept on the bed that night, still shaking and trembling. The next morning, we took Roanna to the vet for an examination. The vet examined her and found that she had been rendered blind by the over dosage, however it was deemed to be a temporary condition and that Roannas vision would return to normal in a week or so after ceasing the medication. That was a long, worrisome week for Candy and me. Roanna slept on the bed, was hand fed her meals, and spent every hour close to Candy. The next week, she was taken to the vet where her vision was tested and discovered to be ‘normal’ again, and Roanna resumed her guide work. But what a difference in her personality! The stand-offish, stubborn and strong-willed guide who did not want to ‘bond’ with Candy was gone, and in her place was an affectionate, loving and attentive ‘velcro’ dog that never wanted to be away from Candy if at all possible! The world’s first blind guide dog had made a comeback. A positive corner had been turned.<br />
<br />That is how it was for the next years of the team. Candy went back to college and Roanna was there to guide her safely through her classes, all the way through to her AAS degree in Human Services. Vacations and fun times were had with Roanna always there to guide, even with the most mundane of tasks such as grocery shopping or visits to the dentist. Roanna was ready to go whenever the harness came out, and happily worked as long as Candy needed her to. If ever there was a "perfect" guide dog team, they were it. Along the way, we decided to ‘give back’ a little, so we became puppy raisers for GDB. We knew what it was like having a guide dog which gives a sense of safety and independence, so we wanted to try it from the other side by raising one from a pup. Roanna was all for it. She helped mentor all the pups that came in to our house, “showing them the ropes” and leading by example. From Wally, our first pup (who made it to be a guide), then Vicki, who became a K-9 Buddy, then Jerianne, who became a breed dam, then Victoria, who also became a K-9 Buddy, then Lasso, who is in training now and finally, Oprah, who is Jeriannes daughter. Roanna has helped us raise all these pups.<br />
<br /> Then in December of 2012, we noticed that the tip of Roannas nose was starting to turn "up". A visit to the vet in January of 2013 gave disturbing news: malignant fibrous sarcoma. No surgical option for removal, and expensive medication for treatment was no guarantee that the cancer could be slowed down. After discussing the situation with our vet and the vet techs at Guide Dogs for the Blind, it was decided to retire Roanna and keep her as comfortable as possible for the time she had left to be with us. She became a much loved pet and happily settled into her new role. The cancer grew and swelled, pushing her nose upward until it was level with the top of her snout. Roanna could still eat and drink, she adapted quickly. But we knew it was only a matter of time. The sarcoma grew, and got to the point of becoming infected and bleeding, with no relieving effect from the medications given. Soon it got so big that the blood supply could not keep pace with the growth, and tissue began to die off. Gangrene soon followed, and at our vets suggestion, we helped her cross the Rainbow Bridge on Saturday, August 17th, 2013 at 1:00 PM. She no longer hurts, and can run free and wait for us to meet her there someday, along with Mariah, who crossed in April of 2013.<br />
<br />Roanna was a special girl who overcame a lot in her short working life. Both Candy and I have been truly blessed to have been able to share part of our lives with her.Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-45035420957142591742013-10-04T11:14:00.000-07:002013-10-04T11:14:34.790-07:00Angel DogI, Becky a yellow Lab Guide dog went to doggy heaven on April 1st 2013 and my friend Kit buried me on June 2nd 2013 in her back yard between the apple and the Asian pear trees. I rest in peace here and I bless my family in the house.<br />
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I had 14 years of a happy life. I was not just Kit’s guide dog. I was her partner, her special friend. We had walked more than a million miles together in our life. Financial district, busy street crossings, traffic checking, looking for doorways going in and out, strolling around street fairs, playing snow balls, visiting parks, and being treated like a princess, are things of the past! <br />
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Monday early morning April 1st 2013, Kit walked into the room to find me lying on the floor motionless. She rushed me to the vet at 9:00 AM while crying. Kit told John to spread a blanket on the floor for me. The vet suggested putting me to sleep based on my prognosis. She tried to hang on to me for a few more hours by asking the vet to give me an IV. After 3:00 PM, She pet me for the last good bye and let the vet put me down. Her tears ran down like rain. I knew she had an urge to scream "Becky, Becky don’t go." However, she wanted me to have a peaceful departure and she suppressed her emotions. I heard beautiful soft music and I saw a group of angels came to lead me into heaven. "Good bye Kit, my dearest friend, good bye world. I’m going to another new life." Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-64874331636084117402013-08-15T11:03:00.000-07:002013-08-15T11:03:51.652-07:00My Dear BeamerBy: David G. Carlson <br />
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You let us down<br />You were supposed to live forever<br />After so many years of dedicated service to us<br />how could you just leave?<br /><br />It's so hard to imagine what you thought all the years<br />that you led Dad from one place to another<br />You made it seem like a game, like a romp in the park<br />and all that time you were helping him be independent<br /><br />You had no idea how important you were <br />and how you gave us such unbridled joy<br />You willingly gave up the lead to a younger guy<br />and you happily became a life partner to your Mom<br /><br />How can we express to you in a few hours and minutes<br />all the outpourings of love and awe?<br />How can we possibly give back to you a fraction of what you gave to us<br />and all in the name of simple loyalty?<br /><br />My dear Beamer, my partner my left arm<br />go now to where you can rest and be away from any pain<br />Just remember that we were always at your side,<br />and were your most admiring companions.<br />
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In Memoriam<br />8/4/2002 - 8/4/2013<br /><br />
Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-31795894061450436032013-07-18T11:30:00.000-07:002013-07-18T11:30:45.117-07:00The Power of One - A Little Golden's Big ImpactBy: Maia Scott<br />
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In September of 2012, I learned that my nine year old golden guide dog Tessa had a very aggressive form of cancer. Almost a month to the day, she passed away up in the mountains in my mother's arms. It was all so fast and devastating, it physically hurt. One moment, England, Yosemite, the world at the end of a harness and the next, an empty little fleece in the corner of my room and an apartment that echoed with booming silence. I lost myself in my woes.<br />
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Back at work after a week off to grieve, I returned to face my coworkers and clients. I posted a letter so I wouldn't have to tell the story all the time. Even so... “Where's Tessa?” I ended up repeating myself at least five to ten times a day, depending upon how many clients I had on my massage table and how many people asked outside work. At the start, I felt awkward sharing the news, expecting to be alone in my grief when I should be taking care of my clients.<br />
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To my surprise, I ended up having to offer my clients support. When many of them learned of Tessa's passing, they teared up, cried, caught their breath...and often expressed embarrassment at getting upset when it was my loss. I did not feel slighted as I learned the loss was not mine alone. In fact, with each person who grieved Tessa with me, I felt something warm welling inside. Gratitude filled me, reinforcing the Tessa shaped hole in my heart with stays of strength and stability. I began to realize my guide dog didn't just enhance my own life - she made an impact on people I never expected.<br />
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In addition to my clients, Tessa's gentle presence, coy ways, sweet little doe face, and melty brown eyes burrowed into the hearts of people I barely took time to notice. For example, there was the checker at the hardware store who sniffled and flapped her hands in front of her as I set my purchases on the counter a couple months later. “I still can't believe she's gone!” The manager at TJ's sent me home with flowers when I came in to shop without Tessa. <br />
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Then there's the streetcar driver who held up her busy train to lean out the window and tell me how much she missed seeing Tessa on board. “Having her on here brightened my day. She made me feel so warm and happy.” The driver went on to say Tessa was so sweet and gentle and such a good dog... Many a bus driver and rider asked me about Tessa and expressed their sadness to know she's gone.<br />
At eleven o'clock at night after seeing a musical downtown, my mother and I waited to cross a busy street. “Where's your dog?” asked a deep and soulful voice from nearby. We turned to find out who asked and came face to face with a man in a wheelchair who frequents the neighborhood in the hopes of collecting some change. I, like so many others rushing to and fro, learned to forget he was there in an effort not to feel the sting of others' situations. But he did not forget Tessa. I thanked him for asking and told him she passed. Like others who felt the blow of the news, he curled his shoulders in and covered his heart. “I'm really going to miss her.” He said in his slow and quiet way.<br />
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It amazed me, the kaleidoscope of people touched by this little Golden I assumed was mine alone. Tessa's abundant love and excellent guide work taught me a lot about life. I didn't expect losing her would exemplify one of the most important lessons of all. We are all interconnected and even the little things can make a big difference. Indeed Tessa was trained to guide a blind person through life. She certainly offered guidance of many sorts, enhancing my life and the lives of so many along the path. <br />
<br />Here's to guide dogs and the big jobs they do – bigger than anyone can imagine.Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-86329121650597390052013-03-06T08:22:00.003-08:002013-03-06T08:24:42.612-08:00Sherby Says Goodbye<br />
<b>Sherby (May, 2001 – February, 2013)</b><br />
Submitted by Natalie Martiniello<br />
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Dear mom,<br />
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It is so strange to say good-bye. We’ve never really said good-bye before. Sometimes, we’ve had to part for short moments. When you told me I was ready to retire and that it was your turn to take care of me, sometimes you’d have to leave in the morning without me. But I knew, and you knew, that these moments apart, and the distance, would be short-lived – that we would always come back to each other at the end of each day. Each night, I would find you in the house. I would loyally rest my head on your lap. You would scratch my ears and hug me. You would tell me that I was a good girl. Then, we’d walk together to my big pillow, and you’d say goodnight. But at the end of each dark night, we knew we would see each other again.<br />
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Somehow, I know that this time it is different. I saw it in your eyes. I felt it in the air. Something in my heart told me so. I do not know words as you do. I cannot find the words to say what this thing is. But I know it is different, and that we would have to approach this time apart differently. For both of us, it was different and it would require us to be stronger than we’ve had to be in the past.<br />
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You are laying here on the couch. My big pillow is right beside you on the floor. Carlina is curled up against me – her head resting on me, our paws intertwined.<br />
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I don’t think any of you know that something has happened yet. We are all just resting, living in the silence. It all just seems to be a normal day… until you call me for dinner. I do not come.<br />
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I know you are thinking that is strange. I am thinking the same thing. There is food waiting for me in the other room. Why am I not getting up? Wait. I realize I am trying… but it is not working. There is a weight pressing down on my back legs. I am trying to pull myself up… but it is not working. You come to see me, to try to help me up. I know you are thinking it is just my old bones, but something inside me tells me it is more than that this time. so much more.<br />
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I stay laying on my pillow. Everyone is beside me, trying to see what is wrong, and I know you recognize the signs. It is just as it was a few weeks before. My head feels funny, like it is off to one side. My eyes are not working very well at all. I am sniffing the air, trying to find where I hear your voice. You touch my ear and I flinch because I did not see it coming. But when I know it is you, I wag. I hear you laugh and say “only sherby would still wag, even during a stroke”.<br />
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This word, stroke, is a strange word to me. I’ve only heard you use it once before. A few suppers ago. It was when I felt strange inside, just like now. When my legs weren’t working and my eyes and my ears too and my mouth couldn’t close properly. I wagged then too.<br />
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I need you to understand why I wagged then, and why I wagged now. Because I am happy. I do not need many things to be happy. I’ve only ever needed you. well, the food and the strawberries helped. That just makes me wag harder. But if you are sad now and wondering whether I suffered during my final moments on this earth, I want you to remember that love is so simple, and so constant. For it touches us all and carries us forward and nurtures us and does not dessert us, even when our bodies and our health do. I wagged because our love was still there, and still is there now, so what is there to be sad about?<br />
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I heard you use the phone, that funny thing that makes noise sometimes. Anthony came home. He approached me and my tail wagged some more. Together, Anthony, your mom and dad transferred me onto this funny flat thing, and I was lifted into the air. Usually, I would have found this very strange and probably would have tried to jump off. Puppies don’t really like to be so far from the ground. But though I was wagging and happy, my bones were tired and I couldn’t move, and so I let them and your love carry me forward. I did not protest or try to jump off. I remembered your words, and let you take care of me this time.<br />
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In the car, you stayed beside me. You pet me and held my paws. You touched my soft ears. I was trembling a bit because I know the car means we are going to the puppy doctor, and I never liked that very much. But then I started to relax, because, you were here with me and telling me it would be okay. You always trusted me, and I have never doubted you.<br />
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At the puppy doctor, I was brought into a room. The doctor looked into my eyes and looked at me all over. She spoke to you but I did not understand. I heard words that sounded like “cancer”, and that word again “stroke”. Then you were silent for a moment and said something else. And she said something that sounded like “….quality of life” and “she had a happy life”. The puppy doctor patted my head gently. Everyone seemed sad, but I didn’t really understand why. Actually, I was really wondering whether anyone forgot that we left the house without my supper. It was getting to be way past my eating time, and this is a big deal to me, you know.<br />
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The puppy doctor and your mom left the room for awhile. It was just me, you and Anthony. I like Anthony. He cares for you a lot like I do, but I know that even though he’s around, you still have always loved me just as much. It makes me happy that many people care for you. this has always been my job, but I like to know that when you leave each day, others do the same.<br />
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You were on the phone. I think you were calling that happy place in California that I still have not forgotten. What a happy place. You spoke to a few people there. I could tell they were so understanding. I could hear it in your voice, that whoever you were speaking to, they understood what was happening and were supporting you, helping you make some kind of important decision that looked to be hard, but right. And I’m okay with tough. As long as you think it’s right, I will never doubt you.<br />
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This is how I see it. Sometimes, in my life, I have had to make very tough decisions. I have had to decide whether to walk forward, or around an obstacle. I have had to put your safety and your happiness first, and the path was not always clear. Sometimes I was afraid, or unsure, but all I had was my training and my love and my instinct. You had the same this night too, and I know from experience, that these things are never wrong.<br />
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A lot of time has passed by. A lot of talking between you and Anthony. A lot of hugs and petting. I am wagging and wondering why everyone is making such a big deal about things. I have you and that is all I need, though I was happy to get that cookie jus now. I am wagging. Wag, wag, wag. I want you to know I am grateful, and happy, and thankful. I am so grateful, and happy… and thankful.<br />
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I am being moved to what the puppy doctor calls “a more comfortable place”. I am resting on warm blankets. Anthony, you, your mom and even your brother sit beside me. Everyone is petting me and telling me how good I am.<br />
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I especially notice you.<br />
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I notice you beside me.<br />
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I notice your hands looking at me, as though you are trying to remember me, imprint me in your memory in your heart forever. But oh, my best friend, my soulmate, remember that it is not the way we look or sit or the things we do that leave lasting pawprints on the heart. It is the thing itself, we call love. It has no substance nor does it look like anything in specific. But I promise you, you will never forget what my love feels like. I will cloak you in it, even when I am called away. And even though you say it is your time to care for me, we both know, I have never stopped watching over you… and I never will.<br />
Your brother brought me a basket of strawberries. My most favourite thing in the whole, wide world. Now I am really happy. I even try getting up. You have to admit, that was a really good try this time, but it still doesn’t work so well. No matter. I’ll eat. As long as I have a labby tongue to lick, those strawberries will find a way in my belly. And they do. You each take one to feed me.<br />
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The last one I eat was given by you. this was my last strawberry, and my last meal. And I am so happy you thought to give me my favourite food.<br />
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The puppy doctor is back. I think I am starting to understand the tears, and the words. And what this strange feeling is. A little voice inside me is telling me I need to go. I think it is strange because I do not go anywhere without you. I must stay beside you always throughout life, for that is why I am here. I hear you struggle with something very new in your heart. Throughout our time together, your instinct has been to protect me. You have always fought to get me the best vet care. You have always opted for the treatment, the pills, the care that would keep me going, keep me happy and healthy and well. But I see the struggle in your eyes, because something will be happening very soon that you are allowing, and it is something that feels unnatural to you – because your instinct is telling you that you should be fighting for me still, and instead, the right thing to do this time is to let it happen, and to let me go. I hear the words in your heart, as you ignore the urge to say, “stop”, to protect me one final time.<br />
And that is when I know. this time, you have to let me go.<br />
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Now, I know you said it was your turn to care for me, but as I lay here thinking about those strawberries I just ate, I know that we have never taken turns – I have cared for you and you have cared for me. This is how it works, and how it always will. And though I cannot talk, this is what I want you to know.<br />
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It is okay. Please don’t hurt as you say this goodbye. Please don’t believe for a single moment that letting me go means that I am gone. When I was very young, I left the happy place in California and I went to a special family who loved me so very much. But then I had to say goodbye and return to the guide dog school. I worked with a special person who trained me to care for you. but then I said goodbye to her and started my journey with you.<br />
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Now it is my time to leave you on this earth, but this goodbye is different. It is different because we are strong for each other, and because the memories we have forged will hold us up and keep us close, even after you let me go.<br />
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Everything is becoming quieter, yet also, strangely, louder. As if, I truly hear what you are saying. I am resting my head on your lap, and you tell me I am good. And I truly believe you. and I truly feel loved.<br />
I did not feel the needle. I need you to know this. I did not hurt.<br />
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Images run through your mind. Our first walk. Our memories. Our times together, both happy and sad. Both public and private. Like a film, they run through your mind, and before my eyes, and I think, “what a beautiful, beautiful story we have shared”.<br />
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Those final few moments lasted forever, as though we forced them to linger as long as we could, but so quickly, my head felt heavy and I rested it on my paw. I wanted you to know that I would just be sleeping. I hear you say “you look like you are resting” and I am happy. Because it is peaceful, and the very last thing I hear you say before my eyes close for the final time are these words:<br />
“thank you, sherby, so much, thank you”.<br />
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And as my eyes droop and I begin to float away, I think, no, my precious friend, my loyal companion….<br />
…thank you.<br />
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I am floating. It is light. I have not felt this healthy and young and whole for so long. I can move and jump.. and fly. Was this how it felt when you first held my harness and walked with me? You said then that it felt like flying, and what a beautiful, free feeling it is. I am happy I gave that to you.<br />
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You are getting up, and I hover around you, cloak you in my love, where I will, instinctively, remain forever, tucked within your soul, carried within your heart. I am far away, yet still so close beside you. and that is the beauty of love.<br />
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I know you were not ready. That you would never truly be ready. But I am writing this now because I want you to be at peace, as I am. I am floating, higher and higher. There are big, pearly white gates. Someone is calling me forward. I know this word, and I go because it feels safe, and warm, and right… and home.<br />
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I looked at you far below, and I know that where I am going, I will continue doing what I do most best of all. I will watch over you, and truly be the angel you have always said I am. I will never stop watching over you.<br />
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Here the ground is soft and warm. The sun shines brightly and heals my body. I am surrounded by love. There is a buffet of strawberries from every country in the world laid out before me. A platter of dog cookies, and kibbles, and more strawberries is put before my nose. I sniff approvingly and take it all – and the platter keeps refilling.<br />
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I see all the other guide dogs that have gone before me. They each wag and prance and seem so light and free. We have all we need to feel whole here, and best of all, we each possess a window, buried deeply within our hearts, that lets us see down to where you are, so that we can continue guiding you forward – even after our time on earth.<br />
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And I will continue guiding you my friend. I will hold you up and hold you strong. I will continue showing you how much you can accomplish each time you take a step ahead. I cannot guide you with a harness or down a paved path. But I can guide you through your life and within your heart.<br />
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And at the end of your journey, I will be hear to welcome you, just as you always welcomed me.<br />
Do not be sad for me my friend. Be happy, because what we shared is beautiful. This thing called life is not always easy, but what we shared was momentous – and far stronger, and greater, and more worthy than life itself. It runs much deeper, and thus, does not die, even after I do.<br />
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So know this final thing, my friend. I am not gone. And just as you explained to me once I retired, it is never truly goodbye. This goodbye feels more permanent, but I will always be right there beside you. and as I close this final tribute to our story, I want to end by telling you the very same words you told me as I closed my eyes to my time on earth.<br />
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Thank you, my friend, thank you so much. For loving me, and always doing what was right. Even if it felt so hard. For giving me all that I gave you in return. Thank you, for letting me go, so that I could take my place in the sky and become an angel who will always shine high above you.<br />
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Thank you… so much… thank you.<br />
Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-67698789789238393482013-01-25T16:44:00.000-08:002013-01-25T16:44:00.070-08:00Celebrating GDB’s Oldest Working Graduate: Don Knight <br />
<b>By Emily Simone</b><br />
<b>GDB Graduate Field Representative</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpEictbsTDC_2v-r1p3NH3Mr90u6S5Nzn0_cDyUehQUAUJ4ZH6RtaLUieNBsaQwYSJZplGFo4Li_I42s0xM32k71TSzzE6Pl7sAeJS0XimTrXYFR3olMavfCDVJwBiPozoGQZt8UgshP4C/s1600/Em_Don.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Emily Simone with Don Knight and his guide dog" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpEictbsTDC_2v-r1p3NH3Mr90u6S5Nzn0_cDyUehQUAUJ4ZH6RtaLUieNBsaQwYSJZplGFo4Li_I42s0xM32k71TSzzE6Pl7sAeJS0XimTrXYFR3olMavfCDVJwBiPozoGQZt8UgshP4C/s400/Em_Don.jpg" title="" width="297" /></a></div>
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I am writing this memorial in celebration of an amazing GDB graduate, Donald Frederick Knight, age 100, who passed away on Jan. 19, 2013. He was born in 1912. When I met Don, he was living in Boulder, Colo., in a high-rise apartment that overlooks the University of Colorado campus His 10th story apartment has the best view of the famous Flatiron Mountain Range in the entire city…no kidding! People might pay millions for this view. Don lived alone and remained sharp as a tack and completely independent up until just one month before his passing. He was a remarkable man in so many ways and is officially the oldest active GDB graduate we’ve ever had.<br />
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Don first came to GDB in 1993 at the youthful age of 81 and trained with Marin a stunningly beautiful golden retriever male who had a wonderful, ‘old soul’. They were inseparable for 12 years and had a bond that went beyond anything I have seen in my many years at GDB. Marin was devoted to Don, and Don would have jumped off a cliff for his beloved Marin. Marin succumbed to aggressive cancer in early 2005 and this ended friendship was devastating to all involved… From the local vets, to GDB’s vet staff and the AGS grief counselor, we all wept copiously for Don and his lost Marin.<br />
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Don’s next soul mate was Sachi, a spunky little female yellow lab, with whom he graduated in June of 2005 at the amazing age of 94! Don worked with Sachi until summer 2012. Sadly Sachi passed away suddenly from aggressive cancer. Don was devastated to lose his constant companion.<br />
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Don loved GDB and over the years, he and I developed a warm relationship. He looked forward to my visits and I tried to visit him whenever I was in Colorado. One of my fondest memories was a time when I arrived for a visit and he had set up TV trays in his living room and served me a lovely take-out Chinese lunch, served on his deceased wife’s best bone china dish ware. It was so very sweet and touching.<br />
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Don lived through two world wars and witnessed the invention of cars, television and guide dogs as a mobility aid. He spoke frequently and lovingly of his lost wife and son.<br />
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On my last visit with Don, this last October, I took him to his favorite restaurant ‘The Buff’ in downtown Boulder. I asked him what his secret was for living to the age of 100 and still being so independent and sharp. He was humble and couldn’t offer any miracle for discovering the key to eternal youth. He did tell me that sharing his life with his guide dogs gave him a reason to live and thrive….Isn’t that what our mission is all about????<br />
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Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-1367701951389481332013-01-25T16:38:00.001-08:002013-01-25T16:38:14.407-08:00Gail Paulson: Friend, Mentor, Angel<br />
<b>By Aziza Rodriguez</b><br />
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<i>God watched you as you suffered, and knew you had your share.</i></div>
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<i>He gently closed your weary eyes and took you in his care.</i></div>
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<i>Your memory is our keepsake, with that we will never part.</i></div>
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<i>God has you in his keeping; we have you in our hearts.</i></div>
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<i>Nothing could be more beautiful than the memories we have of you.</i></div>
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<i>To us you were someone special. God must have thought so too.</i></div>
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<i>All our lives we shall miss you, as the years come and go,</i></div>
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<i>But in our hearts you will live forever. Because we love you so.</i></div>
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<i>God saw you were getting tired, and a cure was not to be.</i></div>
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<i>So he put his arms around you and whispered "Come with me"</i></div>
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<i>With tearful eyes we watched you suffer and fade away.</i></div>
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<i>Although we loved you dearly, you were not meant to stay.</i></div>
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<i>A golden heart stopped beating, hard- working hands to rest.</i></div>
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<i>God broke our hearts to prove to us, He only takes the best!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6wDCxcXsrMhcVXLIkqNAKkBTtivp7ebS6ua1xyBZwJeuRa8_B2JBXp7dzw4iT7tLGYLF7olskmlZC8lHqZBRkOmyOiJYePgNWTlt9Dhu6M5XRH6UmKis69rxCVnqwVk72ptdtk2-nFBip/s1600/5030239139_034351a951.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Gail Paulson and Firestone" border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6wDCxcXsrMhcVXLIkqNAKkBTtivp7ebS6ua1xyBZwJeuRa8_B2JBXp7dzw4iT7tLGYLF7olskmlZC8lHqZBRkOmyOiJYePgNWTlt9Dhu6M5XRH6UmKis69rxCVnqwVk72ptdtk2-nFBip/s400/5030239139_034351a951.jpg" title="" width="400" /></a></div>
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I met Gail Paulson when I was fifteen years old. She came to me offering to stand by me while my family and I fought for my educational rights as a blind student in public school. She was inspirational and comforting, and one of the few who would set aside the legal aspect of the fight to listen to me express the stress I was under. Even after the issue was resolved, Gail stayed by my side as a mentor and friend. She was honest and caring, she always had something inspirational to say, or advice to give.<br />
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Every visit was begun, and ended with a warm hug full of love. She was forever attempting to smooth out conflict, and see the good side to everything. Gail assisted a number of students in our county to express themselves on many topics, including school, socialization, family, and how that all was affected by blindness.<br />
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We took a trip to Catalina Island, where she was around if we needed her, but encouraged us to find things independently and experience the island for ourselves. I took many trips to various blindness related conventions and conferences with Gail, she could always make me laugh. Especially when I didn’t want to wake up early, and she got her present guide dog to lick me into submission.<br />
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She loved her dogs fiercely. My heart broke when I answered the phone to find out her sweet Firestone had passed. Hearing the tears in her voice jolted me back to reality, even the people that are the strongest are affected by life and its tribulations. I spent Easter of 2012 with her, hoping to ease the pain of her loss with the presence of my rambunctious guide. We laughed and cried, and talked for hours.<br />
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When she left California for her annual trip to North Dakota, I was sure I’d see her at Christmas. Fate had other plans; I could never reach her, which wasn’t all that strange. When my mother discovered Gail had been admitted into the hospital I tried frantically to find someone to give me more information, calling mutual friends, but there was very little news. Soon after, I received the news that she passed on. The thought still brings tears to my eyes, and I miss her terribly.<br />
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I despair at the loss, and yet, rejoice that my friend is no longer suffering. She was as solid as a friend as you could ask for, and she will always have a place in the heart of my family. Her wisdom will stay with me, as will the memory of her laughter. My only regret is not having been allowed to say goodbye. My deepest condolences go out to her family, and the friends she’s left behind. She spoke of her children and grandchildren with such love. I find solace in the idea that she is looking down on all of her family, friends, and guide dog teams, with a smile, Firestone sitting at her side, with his head in her lap, wagging his tail. I know she’d wish us all to smile despite the pain, to go forward and make her proud. I’ve lost a friend, but gained a guardian angel.<br />
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Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9219309591239909540.post-36098940678078803952012-07-26T11:41:00.002-07:002012-07-26T11:42:13.404-07:00Marly: Gone But Not Forgotten<br />
<b>By Juliet Cody</b><br />
(Note: Guide Dog Merl, known as Marly)<br />
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Marly is gone but not forgotten. She will be in every fragment of my memory, because from the first day we met at GDB, she changed my life. Our adventures started three days after graduation when we took off to an NFB National convention across the country in Philadelphia. While there, I touched the liberty bell, and my own liberty bell began to toll for Marly and me, proclaiming our new horizons.<br />
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The convention taught me many ways to adapt, and being blessed with a Guide Dog like Marly, blindness seemed to have disappeared. The ultimate flavor was when I tasted freedom jogging on the beach without worrying about tripping or falling because Marley’s beautiful eyes were seeing for me. Now marly has left, and blindness has returned. We had eleven miraculous years filled with adventures, trials, love and dedication for one another. SHE left me a legacy that I have written about in my upcoming book, "Building More than Sand Castles." She has also left me knowing that blindness is not devastating; rather, it is what you make of it. Therefore she is compelling me to get another Guide Dog in the near future.<br />
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The emptiness, the aching heart, and the tears are not yet healed. Nevertheless, on a warm summer sunset as the waves were breaking, I swam into the ocean with a handful of marly's ashes and rose petals. The wave broke along with my heart when I let my precious guide go. I heard myself saying, "Marly, I will be back to surf with you every Sunday." When I reached the shore, my GDB alumni family was waiting with tears, rose petals and love.<br />
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I want to thank the staff at GDB with my deepest appreciation for giving me Marly, my GDB family, and all of the support that anyone could ask for.<br />
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<br />Guide Dogs for the Blind (GDB)http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135092720520520866noreply@blogger.com0