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Service Dog Retirement??

If you have a Service Dog for any significant time one of the questions you are bound to have to answer will look something like the following:

  1. How long does (s)he work?
  2. How do you know when it’s time for a dog to retire?

These are perfectly valid questions and they deserve an answer. The problem in answering the question is that it doesn’t have a finite answer. This isn’t algebra solving for Y, it’s more like solving WHY?

The only answer I have found is that your dog will let you know. So, let’s interview a dog.

Dan: Casper, you’re five years old, do you still love your job? Are you ready to retire?

Casper: Yes, of course, I love my job! Retirement is NOT coming anytime soon!

Dan: How do you know?

Casper: Well, I would think I answered the question loud and clear today, right?

Dan: Tell our followers about it.

Casper: We got up today, just like any other week-day. Your alarm went off, you got out of bed and then gave me smooches before you showered; then we made breakfast for the critter crew and went outside…

Dan: Well, to clarify I fell after my legs gave out rounding the corner toward the end of the bed…

Casper: Did you ask me to tell the story?

Dan: Yes…

Casper: OK, so… YOU GAVE ME SMOOSHES!!!… Then you took your morning meetings while I chilled on my family room bed. After a while, you went back to grab some socks and shoes. I really don’t get your fascination with shoes, I hate them!

Dan: they help protect my feet from any number of hazards; it’s the same reason I try to get you to wear yours.

Casper: Anyway! You put shoes on. I got up, thinking it was time to go to work outside. We went outside for a “business break” then you went to the garage for your cane and told me to stay! It’s like you forgot the fact that I go where you go. Then you left the house without me and just said: “I’ll be back”. OK, Arnold, whatever! Where are you going? How long will you be? What am I supposed to do on my own? You didn’t even put Pit bulls and Parolees on TV for me.

Dan: I had to drop YOUR car off for a scheduled service, and they wouldn’t give me a loaner you’d fit in. I was home within a half hour, I didn’t even make any stops.

Casper: a Poor excuse. They’re all poor excuses!

Dan: Okay, Okay. I agree, and for the record, it’s weird for me too. I almost forgot I even needed to bring my cane. I didn’t even stop anywhere because I know how you are.

Casper: Whaaat? I was fine – just like you… always fine (but not really).

Dan: Funny, ‘cause Momma said you were “beside yourself” and pacing the house. And, your sister wouldn’t eat her breakfast until I got home and gave both of you pets and cuddles. I was greeted like I was away on a deployment or somethin’. Do you remember?

Casper: Of course I remember. I went to college! I have a smart bump to prove it. As a matter of fact, I was born AT A BOARDING SCHOOL and you had to be convinced you even needed me. Do YOU remember?

Dan: I remember.  That’s a story we told right here on the blog.

Casper: In summary. I’ll keep my job for the foreseeable future, thank you very much. I’ll try and be kind if I ever make the decision to retire. Just don’t send me upstate to a farm.

Dan: Never, buddy – Never

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Traveling Therapist

I shared this on Facebook first, but I know we have followers that opt out of social media (we totally get it!). This should be short and amusing (Danny DeVito?) at least we thought it was funny.

We have a sign posted on our door out front (I’ll do my best to include it in the post) that requests no knocking or ringing of the doorbell unless you NEED a person to sign for a delivery, or what have you… otherwise, we’re probably not interested. Honestly, it’s not 1987. Even if you want to drop by at a moment’s notice (I have no idea why you would? We’re horrible…) I’ll bet you have a phone in your hand and can text us.

Today, we get a knock at the door. Dad Looks through a kitchen window and sees a person we don’t know. They’re not a delivery person or a postal carrier; we’re sure they SAW the sign, right?

Dad decides to answer amidst Wednesday barking her fool head off. I’m sure we covered this, but she has limited sight. She gets anxious around new people, and for some reason, the front door is a trigger we’re working on eliminating. So, Dad stepped out to talk with her.

He came back in with a puzzled grin. He said, she introduces herself and announces that she is here to provide physical therapy. For most people, this is simple either you need a visiting therapist, or you don’t. Kind of like if someone shows up to fix a septic system you don’t have, you get to say “Sorry, dude, wrong house!”

Except!

A couple weeks ago I took Dad to the doctor’s office looking for recommendations for a new PT/Personal Trainer. So, this now gets a response of, “OK? But, why are you HERE?”

Now she looks as puzzled as Dad. See the Doctor’s office called Dad last week and said they found someone that may help us, and she was going to send along medical history and have the trainer contact Dad so we could schedule a meeting to see if we could work together.  Having a PT show up at the house looking to work with you is convenient, but odd. In our experience, mid-westerners are nice, but not nice enough to come to you unannounced expecting to fix ya right up! (We do have a lot of door to door salespeople here… that’s also odd to us, but another story altogether.) Did she just know there is someone in this house that desperately needs PT? If she did, that’s pretty cool!

She looks at her phone, looks at the house number on the wall, then to Dad and says, “Oh! I was looking for house number xx07, not xx01. Sorry, have a nice day!”

Uh, Yeah… you too! – BYE Felicia!