Peanut gallery

On one hand, I know from experience that people will make comments about my service dog, and try to let them go by. On the other, especially at museums and such, I have a mental tally of what is said just by habit. Interestingly, I pretty much tune things out, but family and friends not used to going out with a service dog comment on the comments people make.

When I had my teeth cleaned, a person asked if Keeper ever gets "loved on" or "time to be a dog," and that's not the first such questions I've got. She has a job, and she's very serious when she's working, but she's still a dog. She gets down time, toys, I have bruises from when we wrestle too hard, and she has the Setters (though the Setters don't always play on Keeper's schedule, that's also good so she keeps up her social skills.)

At a rough count, at the Nelson-Atkins there were two dozen comments on Keeper's looks, seven on her breed, one on if she was an art aficionado, and one volunteer double-checking that she was a service dog. (She was wearing a K9 Kool Coat and a PawPower Harness without markings.)
At the WW1 Museum as I was checking out a scooter, the volunteer asked what I was going to do with my service dog. I don't know if they thought I'd be checking her in like a coat, or leaving her in the car (too damn hot for that!), but I told them she still has many other jobs to do than keeping me on my feet, and that she'd be going with me.

I honestly lost count of the "pretty dog" comments after nine or ten, there were 4 people playing "guess the breed" who guessed Bernese Mt Dog correctly, one man who asked where her "alcohol flask" was (thinking she was a Saint Bernard), and a man who guessed she was a Great Dane.... (No. Not even close in coat, shape, or size, really. Keeper's ~26 inches at the shoulder. Dane bitches should be at least 28 inches at the shoulder.) A couple more who asked "Saint Bernard and....?" And there were 5 parents who did tell their kids not to pet the dog, she's working. Always nice when I overhear that!

Hit the gift shop just before we left. I bought a pinwheel, and the lady at checkout told me about her Bouvier des Flanders therapy dog. Which is much better than the dead dog stories, or the "my dog could totally be a service dog!" stories (with glaring holes, like "hates kids" or "nervous in crowds.") Actually kinda nice to hear that her dog really loves going to make new friends at the VA.

And so many, many comments at the library. From the new janitor who was afraid she'd bite (she was under my desk and never lifted her chin off the floor), to the people who are sure they got to pet her as part of the therapy dog program (and want to pet her again), to the steady stream of comments about her looks, or asking to pet her, it's all becoming kind of blurred together.

Two from the last several days stand out.

Kid, following their parents, stops to stare at Keeper. I get ready to fend the kid off. Kid looks at me, smiles, yells "CUTE!" and runs off to tell Mommy about the big pretty doggy in that super loud voice little kids use.

The other one's more a facepalm sort of moment.
Patron: Can I pet your dog?
Me: No, she's working.
P: How can a dog be working?
M: *sigh* *walks away to shelve more things*

Too hot to even try to explain. Also, Keeper would very much like me to turn the heat down on the whole world, and to stop dampening her ears, legs, and feet to help cool her off.

Hot times, family visit, recap

Our AC compressor died, and then it was super hot at work. A coworker referred to Keeper as a "puddle of dog." I wet down her ears, inside her legs and got a fan pointed at her and she perked back up. We're also about 20 degrees cooler, which helps. Thank goodness my window AC never died, or Keeper and I would have had to go to a hotel. Neither of us can handle the heat.

The last week has been a busy one. My brother, his lady love, and their 16 pound poodle came to visit my cousin's newborn. That also meant my aunt and uncle came down, and then the cousins and the toddler and the newborn came over. So many people. I was actually grateful to go to work on Saturday to give my brain a break. Keeper got caught up on her sleep there, to give an idea of how much busier it is in the house with family.

We went to the Nelson Atkins museum of art, the WW1 museum, out for food, and work on our usual schedule. Unfortunately, I managed to tweak my bad ankle, and ran over Keeper's toes with a scooter at both museums. She forgave me, I still feel guilty. (Also, the WW1 museum has much better scooters!)

I'm really pleased with how well Keeper rolls with the changes. It did take her a bit to warm up to my uncle (who is very tall) and the toddler (who had grown and moved differently than last time we saw her), and Keeper wants nothing at all to do with babies (strong instincts not to mess with "puppies" that are not her own), so it wasn't perfect. However, she was a rockstar in the museums, handled a whole new restaurant without a worry, and was reliable and there when I needed her.

By Saturday, though, her energy was pretty well tapped out. Usually I say "let's go to the computers" or "let's go find a book," pick up her bait bag, and she's up and ready to go. Not this Saturday. I had to bribe her with a cookie the first time. After she got some more sleep, we were back to our usual. The only other time she refused to stand up was the Sunday after we did a full day of work Saturday and then 6 hours in the ER.

I just checked, I never wrote about that, or my surgery, or her surgery, it looks like. It's been a crazy few months. Mom nearly choked to death, Dad did the Heimlich, and when that failed, stomach compressions that saved her life. We ended up in the ER for 6 hours as they did x-rays and gave her 3 liters of fluids and tried to get her heart to behave itself.

I went in for abdominal surgery where they kept me overnight. I would not have been able to walk Keeper, so Dad brought her the next morning. She looked like she was marching to a firing squad, but she behaved herself with him. Saw me, all the happy wags. We did the laps of the hallway needed, and I was released to go home.

Keeper had a bump on her head, and went in for surgery a week after I did. The lump was benign, and we were stitches sisters for a while.

2016 has been an overly eventful year, and I've been depressed for most of it. Medicated well enough to keep doing what needs doing, but just lacking in motivation to do anything fun without an outside spark. Keeper's making most things possible. She's not my ideal, nor is she perfect, but she is a very good dog. The more I get out and do, the more I am grateful for her help.

Wordful Wednesday.

It takes effort and a touch of energy to update this blog, and others that I have. Depression and grief sap my energy, and change my internet use from output to soothing/numbing. I sought out a lot of cute animal pictures, and spent a lot of time adjusting.

I'm still hurting, still miss him, still wish I could have done... anything. More. Saved him. Known I wasn't hurting him by making him wait to go to the vet clinic he loved. I have so many doubts.

With the information I had, I did the best that I could. I just wish I'd known more, sooner, and had more options.

I've put a lot of effort into trying to put what we had into words. Maybe I'll post that here, sometime. For now, it will have to be enough to say that just thinking of Duncan used to bring me comfort and a sense of peace. To have his memory be painful is a natural part of grieving, but it feels like I'm cut off from a part of myself.

Keeper has helped me get out of the house that no longer feels right without him in it. She's kept me on my feet when I've pushed too hard. She's kept me laughing. She's been what I've needed to get through the worst of it. And the worst of it was facing our 9 year anniversary without him. It'll be easier from here.

I wrote to someone else that he and I were so much a team that it was "we" and I don't really know how to be "me" without him. I wish I didn't have to learn. I had more faith in him than in my own body. He'll be in my heart, and I'll love him for always. So in a way, he can never fully be gone.