Don't get your kid a dog

When I was seven, like a lot of kids, I asked my parents for a dog. Like most (smart) parents, they said no. They told me I could have one when I turned nine.

I turned nine. They said I could have a dog when I was 13.

I used to be kind of bitter about this. Many of my friends' families had dogs, and they didn't have to be 13. How unfair!

But as I've gotten older, I realized that what my parents did was brilliant. And if they hadn't, I doubt I would be the type of dog person I am today.

Since I had to wait for what seemed like forever for my first dog, I researched. Well, as much as an elementary-school kid can. I went to after school care at the local Rec Center, where once a week or so they'd troop all of us off to the library down the street. Methodically, I managed to check out and read every single book in their dog section. Every week, I'd return the five or so books I'd taken the past week and get the next five on the shelf.

I learned about all the different breeds I could. My parents thought it was a hilarious trick that I could be walking down the street and immediately rattle off the breed of every dog we passed. I learned about what happened when you put time and effort into training a dog, and what happened when you didn't. I learned about The Seeing Eye, the oldest guide dog school in America, based in Morristown, New Jersey. I realized that my dream dog (at that time a German Shepherd) was probably not the best choice to have in a townhouse where it would have to amuse itself alone for six to eight hours.

By the time my parents and I seriously began our search for my first dog, I knew pretty well how to pick a dog suited to our lifestyle. We needed a young adult dog; nobody was ready or willing to take on the challenge of a puppy. We could offer about an hour of walking a day, so a high-energy large dog was out of the question. Short coat was a must, since extensive grooming wasn't and still isn't my favorite thing. We decided to adopt, and went through several shelters before arriving at Pets In Need, a rescue I'd done a report on in sixth grade. (When I was in school, if you gave me an open-ended project you could bet money that it would either be about Jackie Robinson or dogs.)

There, we found Buddy, a black Lab mix with some emotional baggage. I wanted him; the parents were less sure. Finally, I convinced them. My mom called Pets In Need and discovered that just that morning, someone had walked in and adopted this dog who had been in Pets In Need's care for more than twelve months.

I was devastated. But just a short time later, Pets In Need called to tell us that a two-year-old female Doberman mix had come in, and they thought she'd be perfect for us. She was gorgeous. She was sweet. She wasn't loud or pushy. She, like Buddy, had certain baggage; she had had at least one litter, and had a somewhat shy and reserved temperament. We brought her home and named her Angel (not because she was so lovely, oh no—because I was and still am obsessed with Buffy the Vampire Slayer and she had to be named for the vampire with a soul, Angel).

Lots of kids, when their parents get them dogs as soon as they ask for them, lose interest fairly quickly. To be honest, parents need to expect that on some level, and not turn the dog into some kind of life lesson where if the child forgets to walk him, the parent returns the dog to the shelter (yes, this happens). I, on the other hand, had been waiting six years for this dog. I was so ready. I had enrolled us in a training class, I was getting up early to walk her before school; if Angel needed something, I was going to do it. Except for walking her alone late at night, which became my dad's job.

Angel and me a few weeks after we got her.

I made a ton of mistakes with Angel, and she taught me a lot. I still cringe when I think about how often I walked her on a Flexi leash let out to its full length, or how I let other dogs get in her face to "say hi." I did not keep her nails nearly as short as they should have been. I also let her wear nylon collars her whole life (mea culpa!).

But Angel was a perfect first dog. Within three days of coming home, she was refusing to be confined in the dog-proof front hallway. So we let her have the run of the house, and she never destroyed a thing or stole a morsel of food. She was super food-motivated, so I had a fantastic time in training classes with her. She learned to be a lady in public, and everyone loved her. I was able to take her anywhere that dogs were welcome and know that she would behave properly. She wasn't a service dog, but looking at old photos, I realized that we did do a rudimentary type of deep pressure therapy together.

Angel did freak out during thunderstorms and when she heard fireworks, but otherwise, you couldn't have asked for more in a dog. I was heartbroken to leave her with my parents when I went to college, and crushed when she passed away while I was in Michigan in December of 2007, and not home with her.

Because of Angel, and how I had to work and wait for her, I was a much better dog person when I got Juno, my wild woman turned service dog. Angel taught me how great life with a dog is when you fulfill that dog's needs. I don't just mean food and shelter—I mean proper exercise, mental stimulation, and affection. She also taught me that Dobermans are the best. I'd known Dobermans most of my life, as my childhood best friend always had a rescue Dobe in the house, but being quite a short person, I was often intimidated by them. They were basically at eye level with me a lot of the time, after all. But once I got Angel, I knew I always wanted a Doberman or Doberman mix in my life.

Without the work and wait for Angel, and the rewards that followed, I wouldn't have become so passionate about dogs and dog training. It's not enough just to love dogs. I was and am constantly learning new things about dog body language, dog etiquette, dog training, the works. I am convinced that you cannot be a successful owner-trainer of a service dog unless you are devoted to learning constantly about dogs in general and training specifically, as well as doing all you can to improve your own training techniques. Training has to be something you think about every single day, something you're passionate about, something you want to talk with people about endlessly.

I doubt I would have developed my passion, and therefore my skills, if my parents hadn't made me wait six long years for a dog. So, Mom and Dad—thanks for NOT getting me a dog when I asked for one. It was a really good decision, and one I'll be grateful for the rest of my life.


Colt

Dobermans are service dogs, too!

As you might have guessed, my service dog, Kaline, is a Doberman. It's not a breed that is commonly used in the service dog world, although they are gaining some popularity. Working a Doberman can sometimes be a bit different than working a Lab or Golden.

Happily for me, Kaline generally does not get questioned as to his legitimacy due to his breed. We do get a ton of comments along the lines of: "I didn't know THEY used Dobermans as service dogs!" (No word yet on the identity of the mysterious "they.") The one major access challenge we've had as a team, oddly, was because of his custom-made, very professional-looking mobility harness. Apparently it looked like some sort of extreme control device. (Pro-tip: If you try to control a dog's movements with a mobility harness, you will fail. Spectacularly.)

Kaline in his big mobility harness.

Most of the public seems conditioned to think that dogs of a certain (read: medium to large) size wearing service dog gear are "real." This has worked out nicely for me with Juno, a big black mutt who does look a little Labby, and with Kaline. You will get a little more scrutiny with an uncommon breed, as far as behavior goes, but it's generally not extreme. Obviously this is not so handy for handlers of small service dogs, who regardless of breed or impeccable behavior, seem to be viewed largely with suspicion.

If you love taking advantage of photo opportunities, Dobermans will certainly help you there. Kaline, anyway, is a huge ham. He absolutely loves to pose for photos. Where some dogs (read: Juno) require high-value bribery like string cheese to put their ears up nicely for a picture, all Kaline needs to see is that camera. Once, while he was having an off-duty romp at a beach, Kaline galloped past a guy with a massive camera who was getting pictures of the scene. Kaline screeched to a stop, made a U-turn, and began cavorting in front of the camera, much to the photographer's delight. While I don't usually like to be in photos myself, I love few things more than taking photos of Kaline looking handsome.

This was a completely irresistible photo-op.

The big issue Kaline's breed can cause is some bizarre questions and assumptions from members of the public. If I had a dollar for every time someone tried to begin a conversation by asking, "Does he bite?" Kaline's collar collection would be twice the size it is now. This should go without saying but: 1) all creatures with teeth have the capability to bite, and 2) any dog who is likely to bite without provocation should not, and generally is not, working as a service dog.

Many children will ask if he's a police dog, which I find completely adorable. Less than adorable is when parents, though usually not on a regular basis, use Kaline's breed to frighten their children away from him. While I appreciate parents who educate their kids about why they shouldn't pet working dogs, it's quite unnecessary to tell the children that if they go up to Kaline he will bite them. Kaline's major failing with kids is he really loves to kiss them. And given that he's at face level with small children, sometimes that can surprise and startle them; this is why he only gets to greet kids taller than he is.

"Of course I would love to pose on this rock!"

And then there are what I like to call the storytellers. Every service dog handler can tell you about the innumerable times someone has interrupted an errand to tell them, "My dog at home looks just like yours! Only a different breed, size, color, and gender. ... She died last night." When you have a Doberman, or other perceived "scary" breed, you get a special kind of storyteller. These are the people who, after they've asked permission to pet your Doberman, will launch into a long and intensely uncomfortable story about how they, or their sister's boyfriend's second cousin once removed, was horribly mauled by a Doberman. That's when you smile and nod—and wish you could just disappear.

You might wonder why Dobermans are so uncommon, given how fantastic they can be as working dogs. Being taller than most Labs and Goldens, they can be a better choice for people who need mobility. They tend to be very in-tune with their handlers' emotions, a plus as long as you can keep that from becoming serious separation anxiety or overprotectiveness. They're incredibly snuggly and delightfully low-maintenance when it comes to grooming. They're also fun to train and quite intelligent, if not so very biddable as Labs and Goldens.

A love of snuggling means Kaline is great at deep-pressure therapy.

However, Dobes tend not to be the best choice for first-time owner-trainers or handlers. They're much more likely to give you the "Make me, why don't you" face than a Lab or a Golden. They can also become overprotective if their handler isn't careful to curb those tendencies. They are a guarding breed, after all, and if the handler allows it, a Doberman will take on the handling of a situation, which can end badly for everyone.

They're also well-known for health problems, despite the tireless work of ethical breeders. One of the major health issues that crops up in Dobermans, as well as the most devastating, is dilated cardiomyopathy (DCM), a heart disorder that is inevitably fatal. It generally crops up in older dogs, and there isn't yet a reliable genetic test for it. By the time a breeder learns that one of their dogs has the condition, the dog is likely to have been bred already.

Dobermans aren't the greatest candidates for service dog programs, in the sense that they tend to bond very strongly to their person, and may have major difficulties shifting that bond to a trainer or trainers, and then again to a new handler. While you can't go on autopilot with any dog and expect it to maintain its training without regular refreshers, doing this with a Doberman can be especially bad.

Then you have the diva aspect. Dobermans' shiny, beautiful coats are pretty much only for show. They get cold very easily, and aren't shy in the least about informing you about their distaste for the situation. If I take Kaline to a baseball game in Oakland in the summer, for example, and don't bring his various jackets and his cocoon-blankie, he will shiver dramatically, fix me with utterly miserable puppy dog eyes, and poke me every inning to see if it's finally time to go. Ask him to lie down on a marble floor without his mat, and he'll drop his head into your lap and stare at you mournfully: "But it's so cold on the floor. I couldn't possibly lie down here."

Kaline enjoying summertime at the ballpark.

There's also the fact that almost nothing pre-made will fit them. This works out pretty well for me, since I'm a complete gear-nut and have several friends who make high-quality custom harnesses and other equipment. Nonetheless, it does tend to get expensive, and it was quite sad when the PetJoy vest that I loved to use on Juno just would not fit Kaline, no matter how I adjusted it.

My favorite old vest. Alas.

The best part of working a Doberman, when it comes to the general public, is that you attract other Doberman people. I was somewhat prepared for this, having graduated from the University of Michigan. If you wear Michigan gear anywhere in the world, you will inevitably be greeted with cries of "Go Blue!" from perfect strangers who also went to Michigan (we're everywhere). It's very similar with a Doberman. Since Dobes are not terribly common, either as working dogs or pets, lovers of the breed tend to get delightfully enthusiastic when they see one out working as a service dog.

Sometimes we attract both fellow Wolverines and Doberman aficionados.

It's lovely being able to educate receptive people about the versatility and all-around greatness of the breed. Like any breed, they're not for every person. But many times, when someone who has been scared of Dobermans all their life sees one working calmly and quietly in public, that can be just the impetus they need to ask some questions and find out that Dobes aren't scary after all. Kaline, even though his breed as a whole is usually fairly aloof with strangers, loves getting to say hi to new friends, and is so sweet and goofy that he can usually change people's minds about his breed. There are few things more gratifying than opening someone's mind about Dobermans.

Kaline makes a new buddy.

Colt

New Year's Resolution

Part of being a service dog handler is transitioning from one dog to another. Unfortunately for us, service dogs can't work forever. Each dog has his or her own quirks, strengths, and weaknesses, and the transition can be hard.

You're with your service dog practically 24/7 for years on end, which means you both get used to each other's needs, signals, likes, and dislikes. Changing partners is a huge adjustment, and it's nearly impossible not to make comparisons between your previous and current dog (usually in the older dog's favor).

At Muir Woods with baby Kaline (then still in training) and Juno
(then still working mostly full-time).

Which brings me to my New Year's Resolution, which I'm going to do my best to keep: I want to stop (as much as I can) comparing my current partner, Kaline, to his predecessor, Juno. Well, except for right now, since I think it'll be interesting to do in a blog post!

Juno started service dog training when she was an adult, nearing middle age. Even when she was a pet, when we first adopted her, her general M.O. was to follow me around until I sat down somewhere, then curl up at my feet until I was ready to go somewhere else. You can see how that was a really handy tendency when she started working.

Juno during her training period at the San Francisco zoo with
her mentor, Jolanda (front), and SDIT pal, Hunter (left).

Though she was something of a hot mess as an under-socialized adolescent, by adulthood, Juno had grown to be an unflappably calm, solid presence. The only thing I can think of that ever fazed her during her working career was a performer cracking a whip on stage during a Cirque du Soleil show in Las Vegas.

Juno ignoring the festivities of Gay Pride in San Francisco
to pose for a photo.

Juno is also an extremely eager, creative learner. Not only will she do almost anything for food, she also took readily to clicker training. If she doesn't get rewarded for one behavior, she'll start running through a repertoire of behaviors and even think up new ones. Teaching her to do new things—like retrieve, carry objects around, and open and close drawers—was nearly always delightful and struggle-free. (Extinguishing bad behaviors, like her adolescent dog reactivity, was a struggle, though we eventually succeeded!)

With Juno in Las Vegas.

And another fabulous thing about Juno: Being part Lab, she has a basically Lab-shaped body, and thus every single piece of gear I ever got her fit her like it was custom-made for her. You don't appreciate that until you get a weird-shaped dog, let me tell you!

"Everything fits me, and I fit anywhere."

As you can see, Kaline had very big shoes to fill.

Kaline started training as a baby puppy. I like training dogs in general, but I especially love training puppies. They're a blast. But I'd never had my own puppy—Juno was adopted at 18 months, and my first dog, Angel, was about two when we got her. As a puppy, Kaline was a pretty quick learner, food-motivated like Juno, but it was exhausting being out and about with him. I thought I'd been pretty vigilant when working Juno—you're always on the lookout for possible distractions or threats to your service dog—but I didn't have to worry about her behavior. Not so with a puppy! Everything we encountered was a training opportunity: both a blessing and a curse. I quickly learned to wear a bait bag at all times so as not to miss one of these opportunities.

SDIT Kaline works on blocking (also known as covering).

He also wasn't, and isn't, nearly as creative about learning as Juno. Kaline does very well with luring (using a treat to help show him the desired behavior), but becomes easily bored and frustrated if he isn't getting hints. He won't just come up with new behaviors; he'll sit there and stare at you, then decide that your food isn't actually that enticing and go find something else to do.

Did I mention that nearly all of Kaline's gear beyond simple cape-vests has to be custom made? There's a reason he's lovingly known as the Princess Diva.

Where Juno is fairly aloof with strangers, Kaline is a social butterfly with both dogs and people. He just assumes that all new dogs and people are going to love him and be his new best friends. It was much harder for him to learn to ignore people trying to distract him, and it's something we are constantly working on. So many things that just came naturally to Juno, Kaline had to learn, sometimes laboriously over weeks. He had trouble learning to hold a long down-stay, so I began attending the "classic" movies religiously with him every Wednesday night. The ticket packages were cheap ($30 for six movies) and the movies sparsely attended—fewer people to notice if we had any trouble! I think we ended up getting three of those packages, and by the end his long down had improved markedly.

Teaching him to retrieve to hand seemed to take forever. What Juno picked up during one slow night at work, back when I had a job that wasn't dog-centric, Kaline took over a year to put together. Juno is very quick and doesn't need much amping up; once she realized there was a cookie in it for her if she picked things up and gave them to me, all I had to do was point, receive the object, and feed her. What Kaline needed was his Auntie Sonja, a soft zip-up pencil case full of high value treats, and for me to get SUPER EXCITED about everything to do with retrieving. Food just wasn't enough when it came to learning that. He needed me to be far more demonstrative than I'd ever been with Juno. Once Sonja helped me come to that realization, his retrieve improved swiftly and we're now to the point where I can use retrieving an object as Kaline's reward for doing something else.

During a long, boring airport wait, I can now
entertain Kaline with retrieving games.

Enough about Kaline's shortcomings. Now that we've had our own place for a year, I've come to realize anew just what a fantastic partner he is. For one, he is just about the most hilarious dog, service dog or pet, I've ever met. He makes me laugh every single day. Much of the time he falls asleep with all his feet in the air. Sometimes he finds tennis balls on our walks and, since he knows if he can get it home he can keep it, will doggedly carry the slimy object for a mile or so and then cuddle with it when we get back. He also has a huge obsession with sardines, and watching him struggle to contain himself while I make his dinner is endlessly entertaining. Kaline is quite a silly boy when he's not working, and he has no inhibitions about showing it!

Things that Juno does because I ask her, Kaline does because he absolutely loves to do it. Juno is not, in general, a cuddler. She would do deep pressure therapy for me, but she would get off whenever I told her and be very glad to be finished. Kaline will sometimes just do DPT, because he already knows I need it, and he will refuse to get off if he senses that I am still not calmed down enough. As an added bonus, he adores cuddling in bed and basically sleeps on me or pressed against me as tightly as possible. This might sound like annoying bed-hog behavior, but for me, it has improved my sleep tremendously.

Kaline delights in snuggling (off duty) and deep pressure therapy
(on duty).

Momentum pull, a task I use a lot and which Juno never found all that wonderful, is Kaline's calling. Where Juno never really got past needing a target person to follow, Kaline learned to pull in a straight line, follow directional commands, and seek out the path of least resistance in record time. He loves it. He's great at it. It's something you can end up taking for granted, since it seems so natural for him (much like holding long downs was natural for Juno).

Kaline in the early stages of his
momentum-pull training.

And while as a puppy, Kaline could be momentarily unnerved by random things—a fire in a fireplace, period costumes, large plastic figurines—as an adult, I think he's even more solid than Juno.

Kaline as an adult in front of the fireplace that scared him
as a SDIT.

His reaction (or lack thereof) to fireworks never fails to amaze me. We can be in the lower deck at a ballpark, with fireworks being set off on the field, and he just chills out on his mat, either watching the show or staring at me in hopes of getting rewards. I taught him early on that loud noises of all sorts mean he's probably going to get food, and have never regretted this!

Fireworks in Toledo—"Food now?"

He lay by my feet in the front row of Odysseo, a Cavalia show featuring about 30 horses performing each night, and had no problems (well, he didn't really like being splashed by cold water at the very end of the show, but can you blame him?). He still doesn't particularly like trucks rumbling by very close to us, but otherwise, nothing fazes him.

At Odysseo.

Learning to teach the way Kaline learns best—which is not always the way Juno learns best—was a really big part of us becoming a good working team. In some areas he needs more or different motivation than she does, while in others, where Juno needed a ton of encouragement, Kaline's got it, thank you very much, and please stop chattering, Mum. It took a long time, but for about a year and a half or so, we've been working smoothly as a team. It's become much less me showing him what to do and how to do it, and more both of us just knowing what needs to be done.

He now knows all my weird little signals, and I know his. For example, I taught him to shake off on cue because 1) I really don't like it when he does that inside restaurants and 2) even when he's out of gear, each shake off seems to last several minutes, like I just soaked him in water. Kaline knows he isn't supposed to shake in restaurants or when he's doing harness work, so he'll let me know if he needs a quick "shake break" by doing what looks like a head tremor. He'll just twitch his head a couple times, and then wait for me to take him to an appropriate place and give him his cue.

It takes a long time to reach the level of comfort and trust with your new dog that you had with your previous dog. And even though I've had that for a while now with Kaline, I still compare him to Juno (along with other friends' service dogs) far too often. Sometimes you forget that your previous partner had some things they struggled with, and some working quirks you found annoying. No dog is completely perfect, and even the ones you think can do no wrong have off days. It's important to appreciate everything that's wonderful about your current partner, and that's what I've set as a goal for 2016.

Because one day, I'm going to be training NextDog. (Hang out around service dog handlers enough, and you realize that we are constantly thinking about and tweaking plans for NextDog. It never stops.) And when that day comes, I know I'll be wishing I could just work with Kaline forever.

Colt

Holidays with a service dog

Kaline worked his first Christmas this year. It may seem a little odd, given that he's over three years old. But the holiday season can be a special kind of challenge for service dogs and their handlers.

Juno, my now-retired service dog, has been working Christmas since she became my partner in 2011. It's very different than working in public. You don't always take your dog "dressed," because you're with family and may want to allow more socializing than is normal for your dog when on duty. It's easier to tell strangers to leave your dog alone than well-meaning family members. You can also end up in close quarters for much longer than normal, with more tempting food in easily accessible places. For some dogs, the whole thing can be a little confusing.

Juno doing Serious Work Face even without her vest on.

All of the above assumes that your family and friends accept you and your partner at the holidays. Juno, Kaline, and I are very fortunate in that our family and extended family understand my need for a service dog and don't bar my dog from the festivities. For family events, you have no ADA protection. Family members who don't comprehend the importance and necessity of a service dog can put handlers in an uncomfortable position: Do you leave your crucial medical equipment at home and get to be with family/friends for the holidays? Or do you stand your ground and refuse to attend without your partner, missing out on the traditional family gathering? It's an awful decision to force someone to make at any time, but especially around the holidays.

Kaline's first Christmas was a lot of fun and probably the most hectic one I've experienced with a service dog. Four more people than usual came, and four young children were running around. Gift-opening was kind of chaotic and ended up being overwhelming for me. So in the midst of all the noise and excitement, Kaline calmly did deep pressure therapy on me, ignoring everything going on around him. He also did a great job resisting the tempting morsels all around during dinner.

I kept Kaline in his harness for most of the time we were there, since he has a harder time than Juno transitioning to working behavior while he's out of his gear. Especially at an event like a holiday celebration, it's important to know your dog's individual quirks and set him or her up to succeed as much as possible.

Juno is the kind of dog who doesn't much care about socializing and will dependably pad just behind you no matter what is going on or what she's wearing (or not wearing). The only thing you have to worry about is her wagging her long tail near low tables or children.

Kaline loves to socialize when he's not vested or harnessed. He also adores children, but doesn't quite realize how intimidating his size can be. Two of the kids at Christmas this year haven't had much exposure to dogs, especially big ones, so it was important for Kaline to make a good impression. Happily, his cute little Doberman nub isn't capable of knocking anyone over.

Another reason to keep Kaline geared up was that I just needed more help this year than last year. I have fibromyalgia—it's a problem all the time, but this year about a week before Christmas I began what most people with fibro call a "flareup." You get used to your usual level of pain, and can pretty much fake feeling fine most of the time (provided you still do good self-care). But when you get a flareup, the usual level of pain ratchets up dramatically.

Last year, even though Juno was retired from public work, I let her work Christmas because I knew I wouldn't need assistance that she was incapable of providing (like counterbalance). This year, there was just no way I could have had anything resembling a good time without Kaline's help. He did a lot of counterbalance, which would have hurt Juno.

In addition to his work, Kaline posed for silly photos with good grace.

Anytime I had to get up from a couch, he helped me. Walking around mingling, he provided stability. And with the added crowding, his deep pressure work was crucial. Don't get me wrong—these are people I love. I was so happy to see and catch up with everyone who was there. That many people in such a small space, however, especially when it gets loud, can just be too much for me to handle without either my dog's help, or flat out leaving the situation until I can get it back together again.

Kaline did an excellent job. I was really proud of him. Because of him—and my wonderful family—we had a fantastic Christmas. It wouldn't have been possible without his help.

Kaline got some cozy and well-deserved rest after the festivities.

Colt

Service dog retirement

When a service dog retires, it's different from washing out or being career changed. A dog who retires had, at one point, everything required to be a service dog. A dog who washes out is in one way or another unable to be a service dog.

Some service dogs retire themselves. One day, you realize your dog isn’t quite as excited as she used to be about getting “dressed.” Or that he isn’t as enthusiastic about doing his tasks. Maybe he’s even reluctant to do certain things. It’s very important to remember that no one forces a service dog to work, and sometimes they just decide that they’re done.

Some dogs have to be retired—they still want to work, but they are no longer able to do their job safely and comfortably. This happened to my first service dog, Juno. At age five, she was diagnosed with sudden acquired retinal degenerative syndrome (SARDS). This genetic defect causes blindness. Her vision was restored by an experimental treatment for about two years, but then I noticed her vision deteriorating again. She couldn't navigate as well in the dark and got startled if touched suddenly on the left. Around that time she was also diagnosed with spinal arthritis.

She still wanted to work. In fact she still wants to work—despite the fact that she's almost nine now, and completely blind in her left eye. Anytime she knows I'm getting Kaline ready to go, she bounces around us and sometimes hands me her leash. 

Juno knows how to pull on the old heartstrings.

But it's no longer safe or appropriate for her to work in public. Her spinal arthritis means that mobility tasks like counterbalance or momentum pull are painful, even if she doesn't show it. Due to her visual impairment, she can't help me navigate a crowd or find an exit. She also can't see surprises coming and would constantly be getting startled. It's just not right to put her in that position. Dogs are very stoic and dedicated creatures, Juno especially so. Just because she still wants to work doesn't mean it's okay to let her. As the person in the partnership, it's my responsibility to make decisions that are in her long-term best interest, even if those decisions make both me and Juno unhappy in the short-term.

Just because Juno can’t work in public doesn’t mean she can’t help at home. Helping at home—her favorite tasks have always been retrieving and opening the fridge, both of which she is still very capable of doing—is a big deal for her. She loves it and it makes her feel useful. Also, it gives Kaline a bit of a break, since he isn’t as excited about doing those tasks.

For an owner-trainer like me, it’s much easier when you can retire your service dog gradually. It gives both of you time to get used to the idea, for one. It also gives you time to get used to your up-and-coming partner. Thanks to the experimental treatment, I was able to do this with Juno. I freely admit that there were days when I was just not up to taking the puppy in public and having to deal with being in trainer-mode every minute. On those days, it was wonderful to just put Kaline in his crate and head out with my fully trained girl, who knew exactly what she was supposed to be doing without being told (most of the time). And by the time Juno had to stop working completely, it wasn’t as much of a sudden change for her—or me.

When a service dog retires, there’s always the question of where they will go. Many handlers keep their retired dogs as pets. When this isn’t possible, the dog is rehomed. Some handlers don’t have the funds or the space to care for a pet dog; some are in situations where they aren’t permitted a pet, even a retired service dog. If the dog came from a program, often she will be offered back to her original puppy raisers. There are also long waiting lists of people waiting to adopt these retired service dogs.

In Juno’s case, she’s in what I like to call joint custody. Kaline and I have our own apartment, which does not allow pets, so Juno officially lives with my parents. This is a win for everyone (with the possible exception of Kaline, who is filled with unrequited love for his big “sister”). 

Kaline and I still spend a lot of time hanging out with Juno.

Juno is still with me nearly all day during the week, since she is my trusty sidekick for walking my packs of dogs. 

Juno, Kaline, and our Boxer packmates.

She also comes to my training job with me, unless it’s cold and/or wet. But she also gets a nice break every night from her loving but sometimes very annoying little “brother.”

Juno loves retirement. When Kaline and I head off for a trip, she gets to go have “spa time” with her Auntie Sonja and her devoted suitor, Sonja’s service dog Chief. Instead of working, she gets to hike off leash and go running on the beach. 

She also clearly enjoys not having to be quite so professional. Juno is still the queen and not interested in paying any attention to strangers who lack food offerings. 

The patented feed-me face.

But she loves making sad puppy eyes at all meals (it usually works), and being able to greet her human friends with wounded-bear sounds, kisses, and tail thwacks any time she sees them. After all Juno's hard work, it's great to see her getting to enjoy her retirement to the fullest.

Colt

First flight

Flying with a service dog is a lot like traveling with a very obedient and helpful toddler. As long as you are well prepared, and anticipate pretty much any need that may arise, you'll be fine. You'll just be carrying a lot more stuff than usual, and most of it won't be yours. And you'll have a preoccupation with pottying that will be perplexing to anyone who has never traveled with a dog.

My service dog's gear always takes up at least one drawer in the hotel room.

That first flight though ... It can be a bit scary, especially if you've never flown with a service dog before. And even when you have, it can still be nerve-wracking to take your young, inexperienced partner on his or her first plane trip.

Experienced traveler Juno:
Unimpressed by all airplane-related things.

Juno, my first service dog, made her first flight when she was almost five years old. I was headed back to Ann Arbor, Michigan, so we flew Delta (the only airline that flies direct from San Francisco to Detroit). Delta is the only airline I've flown where I have never had a bad experience getting my tickets. Their disability hotline staff are impeccably well-versed in the Air Carrier Access Act (ACAA), which is the federal law covering service dog access on airplanes.

As ever, my girl was a pro, despite my nerves. At security, she got a pat down from TSA because I chose to call her through the metal detector wearing her service dog gear. Hilariously, when the first TSA agent discovered Juno was female, he immediately called for "female assist." (This has never happened with Kaline, my current—male—service dog, even if he's about to get a pat down from a female agent).

Juno just past security at SFO.

We got on the plane and Juno promptly curled up in the tiny bulkhead space at my feet (I have since learned to fly economy plus, where the dog usually has more room to stretch out under the seat in front) and went to sleep. Her powers of sleep and relaxation have always been fairly mind-blowing, but even so I couldn't quite believe that she slept through both the takeoff and the landing.

Juno on her first flight.
I always remove my dog's service dog gear
for the flight so s/he can fully relax.

Juno was also a very easy traveler because she has efficient relieving habits. You tell her to "get busy," and she does. Immediately. No. 1, No. 2, and done. She also seems to have an iron stomach (no matter what she eats, it almost never upsets her digestion) and an iron bladder. Her only requirement is that the pottying happen on something other than cement or asphalt.

I should note that airports legally must have a service dog relief area. However, that area does not have to be conveniently located or in any way appealing to dogs. San Francisco's area seems to be miles away from everything useful, and is slightly smelly and rather uncomfortable rocks dumped into a chain-link enclosed pen. They've tried to make it cute by having you follow little pawprints to get there, but after fifteen minutes of following said pawprints, you start to get a little annoyed.

Which brings me to one of the major perks of traveling with a male service dog who lifts his leg. Any vertical surface can be a potty spot! No need to wander about looking for grass, dirt, or gravel. Find a handy pole somewhere out of the way, and you're golden.

In that regard, Kaline has learned to do something Juno never had the opportunity to do: How to pee inside in the best service dog relief area ever. Just before Kaline's first flight, the Detroit airport put in a fabulous relief area inside security. The amount of anxiety this relieves can't really be overstated.

First of all, having to go through security twice due to needing a potty break is just a pain, especially if your disability affects your stamina and/or mobility. Trying to get out to the distant potty spot and then having to do security during a layover is even worse. Having a relief area inside security saves a handler innumerable amounts of stress and energy.

And you may have seen the story that made news of the service dog who had such a bad accident on a plane that they had to make an emergency landing ... That story features prominently in the nightmares of many handlers. The easier it is to potty your dog right before you fly, the better! The first time I asked Kaline to eliminate there, he looked at me like I was insane—"We don't PEE inside! What's the matter with you?" Now, when we get off the plane in Detroit, he books it straight to the area by Gate 34.

Can't beat the Detroit relief area.

Kaline's first flight was nerve-wracking in different ways from Juno's. With him, I had a good idea of what to expect at the airport and on the plane. I was able to prepare him more specifically for the ordeal. We practiced the stand for examination endlessly, since he is a far more stranger-social dog than Juno and would likely try to lick the TSA agent to death if allowed. He learned to curl up in a little ball at my feet and ride in the passenger foot-space of the car, getting comfortable in a small space and becoming accustomed to the rumbling feeling, as well as occasional "turbulence" if my dad was the driver.

Baby Kaline in the passenger foot space of my car.

We even did a practice run through security with my friend Sonja, whose service dog Chief is Kaline's best buddy. Practice runs are far more to settle any handler nerves than to settle the dog's. Kaline was completely fine, and once I saw him do it without the pressure of a flight to catch, I was able to be much more relaxed during the real thing!

Kaline waiting to board his first flight.

Kaline was only sixteen months old when he did his first flight. It worked out that both my parents were going on the trip, so we took up a whole row on the plane. This turned out to be really good, because Kaline did not sleep through takeoff or landing. I had armed myself with high value treats, expecting this to happen, so he got rewards all during the scary parts in addition to being cuddled by the whole family.

Kaline on his first flight, once the excitement of takeoff had ended.

Being a diva Doberman, Kaline was also more high maintenance in flight than Juno because he believes any temperature under 60 degrees to be extreme cold. Our last several flights have been so warm as to be nearly uncomfortable, but back then all the planes were very chilly. Where Juno just curled up on a thin mat and conked out, in "cold" Kaline requires: a thick Ruffwear pad to insulate him from the plane's cold floor, his Ruffwear Cloudchaser, his fleecy pajamas, and sometimes a Delta blankie from a kind flight attendant.

Though Kaline did well in the air, his apprehension during takeoff and landing was a bit worrying to me. However, with every flight he took, that diminished. Today, Kaline is a pretty experienced flyer and is unimpressed by all the strangeness of air travel.

All he needs is a comfy headrest, and he's good to go!

Colt