Guess where I’ll be this coming weekend – the National Arts Festival in Makhana, formerly Grahamstown. And I’ll be playing a gig while I’m there!
I’m one of the artists performing at the Blind Date Variety Show that’s part of the Fringe Festival – details are in the advert. You can book on the National Arts Festival website: www.nationalartsfestival.co.za
And Fiji will be there with me so no doubt both she and I will blog about our experiences in the coming weeks.
In the meantime, if you happen to be attending the National Arts Festival, it would be great to see you at our show…
As a guide dog, I know that, if there’s going to be a problem on a route, that it will always happen at the same spot. It’s almost an unwritten law amongst us guide dogs and our human partners. Well, in my case, if there’s going to be a problem it’ll happen at what mom and I have taken to calling That Corner.
To be honest, in our case it’s actually two corners, on both sides of the intersection of the road that crosses the railway line and the road we walk on to go to the train station or the local shopping centre. And maybe I’m over-exaggerating and maybe sometimes we face obstacles at other places on our route, but it really feels like it always happens there.
It was at That Corner where the Rottweiler escaped from her property and threatened us. Which made me adjust our route slightly to avoid stepping on her driveway, just in case. I don’t think she’d really manage to break out again, but it’s just easier to avoid her territory and walk on the road instead. Leaving her to throw herself at her gate and snarl at us as we trot past.
It was also on That Corner where the human owners decided they didn’t want people on their grass and covered the pavement with big stones. So we walk on the road on that segment as well. And it’s That Corner that’s now a crumbled ruin, which mom tells me is due to the fiber-optic installation, whatever that means.
As if that’s not enough, it’s on the other side of That Corner that we have to weave our way round two street signs, two mostly submerged concrete slabs that mom said are also for Fiber-optics, and a huge lavender bush. Oh, and there’s often a car parked there too so we have to navigate round that. It takes some fancy footwork on my part, I can tell you! A week or so back we even had to navigate a big plastic bin that appeared on That Corner as well, which made it even more of an adventure. Happily, that bin didn’t stay for long so we’re back to just the normal chaos for now.
Here’s the thing about That Corner: Even though both mom and I get a little anxious when we have to navigate past whatever obstacles there are on any given day, we always manage to do so and emerge on the other side wagging our tails like crazy. Well, I have to wag on mom’s behalf since she doesn’t have a tail. But I’m sure she would also be wagging like crazy if she did. Because we work so well as a team. And that’s what it’s all about.
I know mom’s writing about her recent trip to India, so I decided to keep to her theme. From my own perspective, of course!
Even though mom’s back now, I want to go back to the day before she left – to that moment when I first noticed that the dreaded suitcases had emerged from the cupboard…
I don’t automatically detest suitcases. It’s not a Pavlovian response, by any means. But I do get very suspicious when I see them lying open in the bedroom. Because that’s when the uncertainty and the hopefulness begins.
You see, I only hate suitcases if mom isn’t taking me with her on her travels. Otherwise they’re a symbol of excitement and new adventures. The thing is, I only discover if I’m going along much, much later– she packs all the same things regardless of whether or not I’m going with her. So that doesn’t help me know how to react.
I can’t even tell by looking at whether there’s one or two suitcases involved. Because sometimes mom takes me, dad or both of us with her and sometimes she leaves us both at home.
So, it’s very hard for me to figure out if I should glare at the suitcases or not.
This time it turned out mom and dad were going, and I was being left behind with my doggy sisters and Aunty Claire. Which was okay. Only I miss mom when she’s away and I miss taking her for her walks. I just hope dad remembers to take her for walks when I’m not there. I mean, I trust him and all that, but just wish I could always be there to be sure.
And that’s why I only detest suitcases some of the time.
PS: Mom told me she’s probably taking me on her next trip, which will be when she performs at the Grahamstown Festival this year. I really hope she does!
Walking on my own across the road to my neighbours house should be simple, right? I mean, it’s less than 10 metres. So, it should be easy.
Well yes, it should. But I’ve never done it
At least, not before my second Orientation and Mobility lesson with Golden Dzapasi, of the Cape Town Society for the Blind. Which is totally crazy, since we’ve always got on really well with the neighbours and I’ve visited the house tons of times. I’ve just never walked across the road entirely on my own. Someone’s always walked with me
Not that I’m going to bother the neighbours all the time just because I can – that’s not the point. Besides, it’s not very neighbourly. But at least now I can get there if I need to.
And it’s quite liberating.
Now, if I could just find a way to reassure my guide dog that learning to use my mobility cane doesn’t mean she’s going to be out of a job…
There I was, guiding mom through the busy crowds at the V&A Waterfront when I got such a fright I almost tripped over my own paws. Which never happens… well, apart from that time I got startled by a bicycle changing gears right behind me and landed up splayed on the floor completely unintentionally.
The reason for my shock? Out of the corner of my eye I saw a lion…. Standing there in the middle of the Waterfront!
Now, I admit I don’t know a lot about lions. I’ve never met one, so I don’t know what counts as normal behavior for them. But it certainly looked like a lion, so I wasn’t going to get up close and personal in case it gobbled me up.
I was relieved when mom told me to walk past, though I did find myself checking over my shoulder a time or two, just in case the lion started to follow us. I wanted a little warning if we suddenly had to run for it!
Then, on our way back from our trip on the Cape Wheel, which mom told you about last time,
there were fewer people standing around the lion and mom obviously thought I might like to make friends. I’ll admit I was hesitant, but I do trust mom, so I thought I’d give it a try. But I was going to be really mad with mom if the lion gobbled me up, I assure you!
As I got closer to the lion I sniffed – I mean, if I did get out of this alive, at least I’d know what a lion smells like. But the lion didn’t smell like an animal at all – more like a wall, or a rock I recently found in the garden. Nor did the lion move so much as a muscle. It just stood there. And I began to think that maybe the lion wouldn’t gobble me up after all.
So, I decided to try and make friends. The photo shows me reaching up and sniffing the lion on the nose. Even though I was pretty sure it wasn’t a real lion by this stage, I still think that was very brave of me, don’t you?
But the lion didn’t seem to want to make friends. Even after I sniffed it on the nose it just stood there, as if petrified. And I know that’s the right word, because mom explained to me that petrified actually means to be turned to stone. She told me that when she explained that it was a stone statue of a lion and that I was never in any danger of being gobbled up.
So, I didn’t actually get to meet a lion. Or to learn how a lion smells. Or how they behave. And maybe stone lion’ statues just aren’t cut out to play. I just don’t know. But at least I didn’t get gobbled up!
Sometimes I’d love to be able to read Fiji’s mind. Like when we were 40 metres above the ground on the Cape Wheel carousel in the V&A Waterfront.
I wasn’t sure how Fiji would react to being sealed into a fairly small compartment and then seeing the world disappear from beneath her paws. To be completely honest, I wasn’t entirely sure how I was going to react to being sealed into a fairly small compartment and knowing the world was going to disappear from beneath my paws… um, feet. Especially since I don’t have a great head for heights.
When all’s said and done, both Fiji and I were absolutely fine with the experience. Fiji peered out the window with interest while the carousel made its first circle, then lay down and went to sleep. As for me, I found the entire experience wasn’t too bad, although I did have a moment when Craig and Fiji decided to exchange places and the compartment started swaying wildly. At least, I felt like it was swaying wildly – it was probably only moving gently. Anyway, to get over my stab of panic that we were about to plunge 40 metres to the ground and be crushed in the first ever Cape Wheel accident I grabbed for a handhold and held my breath. And everything was fine.
I was impressed at how well Fiji dealt with the experience – far better than I did – and she stepped off the ride wagging her tail happily. I still think she was more excited when coming face-to-face with a stone lion a short time later… but I’ll leave that story for her to share with you herself.
I did want to note that the Cape Wheel has several compartments that can accommodate people in wheelchairs – I was impressed with how well they’re accommodating the needs of travellers and sightseers with disabilities. And guide dogs, too. Though I would have liked there to be the option of an audio description of the view as the carousel rose and fell – after all, since there are 4 rotations in each ride there’s plenty time to describe the sights.
A few days ago, I had two meetings at the V&A Waterfront in Cape Town. For various reasons that aren’t relevant to this post, I wasn’t able to take my guide dog Fiji with me. Instead I used my white mobility cane.
I have many blind and visually impaired friends who prefer to use a white cane as their primary mobility aid and they’re superb at it. But me, well… Let’s just say that because I generally use a guide dog, my cane skills aren’t that great.
Both rely on effective O&M skills – orientation and mobility for those who don’t know our jargon. Orientation is the ability to know your location using your other senses, and mobility is the ability to get from one place to another.
Here’s what I mean. I’m not used to walking into obstacles. Fiji usually walks me round things that are in our way. When using a white cane, I feel that life is much like a full body contact sport. I only know obstacles are there when I hit them with my cane tip, bounce off them, or fall over them. Also, I think I missed out when they were handing out senses of balance since I don’t have one. It’s okay when I’m with Fiji because she helps to balance me, especially when walking down stairs, which is probably my least favourite part of getting out and about. This absence of a sense of balance is magnified wen I’m using a white mobility cane – I simply don’t feel steady on my feet. And finally, I seem to battle to find straight. Again, that isn’t a problem with Fiji since I can leave it up to her. But when using a white cane, it’s up to me and I seem to spend my entire journey tacking from one side to the other.
I know my cane skills would improve significantly if I were to use them more often, especially when travelling on my own. Because traveling independently with a cane leaves me feeling anxious, incompetent and unable. Which I hate.
I recently decided I needed to do something about that.
I’ve already contacted the O&M Instructor from the Cape Town Society for the Blind to set up a lesson so I can brush up on my obviously rusty cane skills. I also want to get a new, longer white cane since I’ve started walking faster since working with Fiji and a longer cane will give me a slightly longer reaction time when I encounter obstacles. I’ve also set myself the goal of becoming braver about using my cane independently so I can practice the skills I need.
Does this mean I’m going to use Fiji less? Absolutely not. Fiji will always be my first choice as a mobility aid. But it will definitely be valuable for me to be more comfortable using a white cane for those times when I can’t have Fiji with me.
To go back to the start of the post and answer the question, I firmly believe the winner will be me…. Because any way I can improve my levels of independence will help me be more effective in what I do.
Considering what mom said in her last post it’s probably a good thing that it’s my turn to share an article with you – it gives mom just a little more time to re-gather her energy.
Today I want to tell you about an experiment I tried a few days ago.
A few days ago I took mom and dad to Peddlers on the Bend, a restaurant in Constantia that has an amazing beer garden. It was a beautiful, warm evening with little wind, so we sat outside under the majestic oak trees. A few other dogs were there and came across to chat and drink from the water bowl the friendly waitress brought me. Much to my joy the water bowl even had some ice blocks in it, which I crunched happily.
You know how they say you ought to walk a few miles in someone’s shoes before judging them? Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about squirrels and pondering the state of war that exists between me and them. I was quietly lying there in that beer garden, crunching away on my last ice block, when it suddenly occurred to me how I could try that whole walk in their shoes thing.
So I grabbed an acorn and started chewing it, just like a squirrel…
Then mom told me to stop. At least she seemed to understand the philosophical experiment because she asked me if I thought I was a squirrel and I tried to say yes. But I’m not sure she understood because she just laughed and patted me.
On the whole I’d say that I learned that acorns don’t taste very good. I also realized that squirrels and I are just different and that it’s unlikely I’ll ever understand the things they do and eat.
I have no idea whether that means my experiment was a success or not. Perhaps I’m just not cut out to be a philosopher.
Sometimes the only way to get over our fear is to face it. And that’s what I had to do on Friday…
Here’s the back story: two weeks ago, I fell while walking with my guide dog, Fiji. In truth, I wasn’t badly hurt but it’s taken me time to heal from the various scratches and grazes on my hand, arms and knees. And I haven’t walked with Fiji while healing. The other thing you need to know is that they’ve been digging up sidewalks and roads to install fiberoptic cables in our neighbourhood, a fact that may or may not have contributed to my fall. But that’s not what this post is about.
Fiji’s been remarkably patient while my knees healed enough to climb steps without pain. Thankfully, during my time off most of the fiberoptic installation has been done. So I knew we wouldn’t be dodging teams of workmen when we ventured out for our first cautious foray on Friday.
What I hadn’t expected was how nervous I’d be about walking. Don’t get me wrong – I trust Fiji and her impeccable training. And it’s not like my fall was in any way her fault – I did it all on my own! but I still had to confront the disturbing question that kept nagging at me – what if I fall again?
I decided to take it one step at a time. And everything was fine. Until we stepped up onto one specific sidewalk.
I don’t know if other blind people experience this, but if something’s changed on a route I know well I have a momentary panic that maybe, just maybe I’m not where I think I should be. Which is scary. But then sanity reasserts itself and I know it’s only the spot where I’m standing that’s changed a little.
So, when I stepped onto that sidewalk and found soft, slippery sand instead of the grass surface I was expecting I had one of those moments. Then, as I moved past that panic and continued on my route, I found the drainage gutter I use as a navigational aid was MIA… well, it was covered by that same soft, slippery sand. So that was another of those moments. And by the time I reached the end of that seemingly interminable block I was a nervous wreck. In utter relief I stepped towards the down kerb to cross the road and leave that now-alien landscape… only to discover the entire sidewalk had crumbled.
Of course I made it safely to the end of my walk. And, of course, Fiji and I navigated that piece of sidewalk perfectly fine on our return journey – perhaps not with as much confidence as we usually do, but we made it just fine. And next time we walk it, it’ll be even easier. As will the time after that. Right up to the point that the company doing the fiberoptic installation come back and fix all the sidewalks and then we’ll have to go through the process of panic and perseverance all over again.
That’s just part of life!
As a guide dog I get to have lots of fun that my doggy sisters, Emily and Allie, don’t. Working with mom is one of them and visiting places along with the South African Guide-Dog Association is another.
I love going to visit community groups, companies and schools as part of the marketing initiative to help raise funds and awareness about my special work as a guide dog. I’ve done lots of these visits in the time I’ve been working with mom and each one is different. I’d probably say that my favourite places to visit are schools because the learners make such a fuss of me, but I’ve also met some wonderful adults who are keen to make friends.
Best of all, mom and whoever we’re working with from the SA Guide-Dog Association get to do all the work. All I have to do is wag my tail and look pretty, which is easy for me. And yet, somehow, I land up being the star of the show – every single time!
This month mom and I are going with Teagan from the SA Guide-Dog Association to a number of different Probus Chapters. We start tomorrow in Milnerton and I can’t wait!
I swear, whoever came up with the saying that it’s a dog’s life, meaning something bad, was crazy. I’m a dog, it’s my life… and I absolutely love it!
If you’d like me and mom to come and visit your company, or your child’s school it’s probably best to contact mom and chat to her – I’d love to do so and am sure mom would too! XXXXX