<As of this date, August 3, 2019, I am without a Service Dog. Max,(see below) died of rapid onset cancer in November. I was shocked and devistated, to say the least. I train my own dogs which requires MUCH energy and focus toward that endeavor. Because my health has improved (and, therefore, my lyme life is busy with “life,”) I am wondering whether I “can make it” without a Service Dog. It’s scary, but I’ll try..>
This, in part, is the story of how I began to accept that I was disabled and decided to fight my way to freedom.
I think it was a Sunday morning, 2003, three years in this new, unfamiliar, frequently incapacitated body, when I called my friend and neighbor who runs the animal rescue near our home. She was a bit curious to hear of my interest in training my own Service Dog and surprised that I needed one. Good ole “Fibromyalgia,” the “invisible disability.” When I shared with my friend that I preferred a black cocker spaniel, she became euphoric! THAT was the kind of dog just picked up by Animal Control! I was so excited, she gave me the privilege of driving one hour to meet the officer and my Bitterman who was disenchanted to be stuffed in a crate in the back of the man’s truck!
I came straight home to introduce him to my husband, Bitterman strutting and carrying his name proudly. (The name came to me instantly: I would call my black friend and servant a “famous” name and one with a humorous “bounce” to it: Bitterman was the name of the black chauffeur in the movie Arthur with Dudley Moore. Anybody remember that comedy?)
The few days that my comrade had to reside at the rescue/see the vet for a physical and shots, etc. seemed like a year of waiting. When we finally got to bring him home permanently, his first rule was “indoor dogs must be clean.” Being very opinionated and outspoken, he announced at once that HE HATED BATHS, HATED BEING COMBED, HATED HAVING HIS EARS CLEANED, HATED HAVING TO WIPE HIS FEET, LOATHED BEING CLIPPED and DETESTED HAVING HIS TOENAILS CLIPPED. Yet, if I was the “doer” of the “evil deeds,” he would softly whine through the ordeal and that was that. Anybody else stepped in to offer assistance and the war was on!
Soon enough, we realized that this dog had plans to be my appendage (he was a “natural” at becoming my Service Dog.. or maybe I was HIS Service Person!?!?) He would totally freak out (chewed and clawed through a wooden door within 5 minutes of my leaving him behind) if I left his line of sight. He would only doze but never really “sleep” while I was awake. He had serious abandonment issues-- we think he must have belonged to people who loved and pampered him very much. They might have lost him during a stretch-stop somewhere along their (motorhome maybe ?) journey and when they tried to call him back, they didn’t realize that HE WAS DEAF! Yes, my Service Dog was a Behavior-Disordered, Food and Chemical sensitivitied, Visually-Impaired, Deaf Basketcase! Oh, but how God knew exactly what I needed.
As I have strength and a memory, I’ll explain what, exactly, Bitterman the Cocker did for me, how Lady Fanny of Omaha (a Cavalier King Charles Toy Spanie, named for another “famous” movie star!) assisted me for the brief while I had her, what “GoodOne,” my Wonder Service Dog, did to “keep me going” (while also wearing the “pet” hat for my husband) and how Max the Rotti/Pit/Lab accommodated me for over NINE YEARS in many new, exciting and hilarious ways.
