Today my human had a doctor’s visit. I’ve been resting up and even though she wanted me to stay home and keep resting, I wasn’t having any of it. I /love/ my job, more than treats, more than car rides, more than anything! That’s because my job is taking care of my favorite person.
A question that sometimes comes up is “when” will I retire, when will I stop working? My human always makes sure my needs are met, and I’m not in pain, so when I will retire will be when /I/ don’t enjoy it anymore. My job isn’t physically taxing, I’m not there for physical stability, or to pull a chair. My job is alerting, and if I need a rest, I rest. If I need something, my girl takes care of it.
Yes, I do ride in the buggy seat of carts. No my bum isn’t touching it, I have a blanket, and a seat cover specially designed for shopping buggies for me to sit on. People might stare and make rude remarks, but really? What does it matter? My girl is taken care of, and isn’t putting herself at risk for syncope, allergy and asthma attacks… People stare because my girl has to wear an allergy mask due to her immune system being bad, she needs braces because her joints are worse, and don’t get me started on how many times she’s broken her fingers and toes. Seriously, it’s… ALOT.
One less stress, being me, cruising in the seat and providing alerts, really isn’t a big deal. Would anyone really want to be sick and in constant pain just to have a service dog? Dun’ think so.
Today was good for me, but not so much my girl. My knee injury has healed up well, and I don’t have any pain in the joint! I can even run around and sniff my heart out around my yard! My girl, though, not so much. With this “flu” thing going around, she’s gotta be more careful. A cold can turn into something lots worse, and her lungs aren’t so great to begin with. I know she worries about people thinking her as rude, like in waiting rooms… but she isn’t! Really!
Talking, leads to coughing, leads to asthma attacks, and /everybody/ that sees my cute self /talks/. They want to know my name, and every bit about me and what I do. It’s unnerving really, especially when they keep asking while she’s trying to get to her inhaler… Silly humans.
On the topic of my age, my human has invested in a somewhat… odd device to help us both. With her joint pain, having a buggy (such as when shopping) Is a huge assist, especially as she gets so dizzy very quickly. Lots of places don’t have buggies though, and since I hurt my knee in November, it became necessary to look for alternative means.
It’s how we ended getting a pram. Yes. Like for a baby. She actually found one that keeps me in contact with her hands (which is how I alert). It has room for a stool for her to sit on during dizzy spells, her purse, and my backpack. I know, a dog in a pram, how ridiculous is that? If asked, and people do ask, she tells them I’m a medical alert dog, and that I’m injured. Sometimes that’s satiates the questioners, just not all of them. At first glance, often there are sneers, giggles, and awful words, but that don’t matter. What matters is I am okay, my girl is OKAY.
As Grandma has said before, “You do you.”
Working Woof 