Copyright *c) 1996 Four Paws Productions
The day it began, you may not recall,
it was the day you said "I'm fed up with it all!"
You'd struggled and fumbled and sworn out in pain,
as you swung and you tapped and maneuvered your cane.
Or maybe you held fast to your sighted friends' arm,
feeling certain they'd guide you, safe from all harm.
Their intentions were good, they tried, and what's more,
it wasn't their fault you ran into that door.
They forgot to say whether steps led up or led down,
and didn't quite appreciate your disgruntled frown.
You couldn't quite yell, though you wanted to scream,
but then you'd realized just how bitter you'd seem.
Stabbing your side as your cane caught a crack, or running full speed
into somebody's back,
The only way out of this muddlesome, fuddlesome fog
came in the person of a creature known as a guide dog.
To some it was guide dog, to others, dog guide.
Regardless, this canine would open doors wide!
You'd heard about guide dogs, maybe even seen a few.
Their countless adventures you already knew.
You'd read of how buddy led Morris Frank's way,
tales of endless devotion, "wonder dogs" saving the day.
So now it was time to think hard and think long
could you handle the training, could you remain strong?
For you'd talked to some people who'd told you about
the riggers of working a dog, day in and day out.
They'd said there'd be tests, and it would be tough,
but the freedom and pride were reward enough.
Now it was time to decide where to go.
east coast, west coast or mid west, you'd know,
Just which of the many schools was right for you,
once you'd talked to the staff and a graduate or two.
Your hand on the receiver, your nerves quite on edge,
you'd made that phone call and jumped off a ledge,
Into a world of awaiting and watching the mail
for your application to arrive without fail.
Once those papers found you, the real fun began.
There were questions and details and visits to plan.
First you'd seen your doctor, turned your head and cough,
gathered references, reports, then the dreaded mass was off!
You'd been sure every paper'd been scrutinized and signed.
Yet something was missing. now you were feeling maligned.
Once the snafu had been cleared, the days turned to weeks,
while your anxiety and impatience went in valleys and peaks!
When would they call you! just when would you know!
This was growing ridiculous! you just wanted to go!
Then came the day and the call on the phone.
your plane tickets arrived, you were off on your own.
Or maybe your family drove you right up to the door,
Whatever the case, they weren't there anymore.
You stood in this new place, feeling quite blind,
hoping someone would show you the things that you needed to find.
Then came that moment you'd secretly feared.
With a smile and a handshake, your trainer appeared.
Maybe it was a woman, or "she" was a "he",
Which ever the case, that person could see.
Could he tell you were nervous, Did she know you were scared,
as you chatted quite normally about how you had fared.
Taking your luggage, your trainer explained
the layout of the building; apprehension remained.
There were hallways and doorways and furniture about,
steps up or steps down and at least 500 ways out.
Just when all those directions were dissolving to doom,
the trainer opened a door and said "here is your room."
You were left to explore every dresser and shelf.
Two beds soon confirmed you might not be by yourself.
As you thought *about this, more students had come.
you wondered, who were they? where did they come from?
the instructions your trainer had given to you
were being repeated, first to one and then two.
The building was filling with people and sound,
a happy confusion that rang all around.
Your roommate arrived with much luggage in tow
and you found yourself babbling; there was so much to know.
it turned out that your roommate had been here before.
this was the third time "he" or "she" had come through that door.
Your trainer appeared, from out of nowhere
and said "come with me you 2 and leave your canes there."
"Leave my what?" you heard yourself say in alarm.
caneless, you were certain to run into harm.
Your roommate was laughing. Wait! this wasn't a joke!
"put your hand out." the trainer's voice patiently spoke.
for the next hour or so you trailed walls with one hand.
Your feet too told you things about the lay of the land.
Had you learned to move like this when first using your cane,
you might have avoided countless episodes of pain.
The first meal was heralded with a very loud bell.
a seat was assigned you, no switching, "oh swell."
Over the course of the evening, the trainer told you
there were set times and ways for most everything they'd do.
Wait! was this the army? or elementary school?
you were an adult but at this point you felt like a fool.
"Trust me, you get used to it." your roommate assured,
as later that night you both quietly conferred.
Six a. m. came early that next fateful day.
Now began the real work! you'd soon be on your way!
with a lecture about something called a Juneau walk,
the trainers quieted the class's excitable talk.
dawning some sort of a harness contraption,
the trainer summoned you first for the action.
"Hold the harness like this and the leash just like that."
"try to keep your balance wherever you're at."
The trainer took off at a very good pace
leaving your head and your feet in a quite different space.
At first the movement seemed totally wrong
you tilted to one side or your strides were too long.
The trainer walked faster, and then very slow.
You swerved and you turned, first you'd stop, then you'd go.
Just when you'd gotten the pace down to a tee,
the trainer uttered the odd phrase "now correct me."
A correction, they'd told you, was a pull on the leash
"Make it hard, make it quick then be sure to release."
So you gave the correction the way you thought best
and wondered if killing your trainer meant passing the test.
"That walk helps us choose just the right dog for you."
The trainer assured, and you figured he or She knew.
the rest of the morning passed slowly enough
as the rest of the class did their Juneau walk stuff.
The afternoon's interview told the trainers much more,
where you lived, how you traveled, stuff you'd told them before.
you could hear them making notes from which to refer,
Then they asked you "what kind of dog do you prefer?"
female or male, and what type of breed,
did you want a large dog or one built for speed?
Now how were you supposed to know what kind of dog
could best get you through all the miles you'd log?
You stammered some answer you don't really recall,
then made your way nervously back down the hall.
what if they gave you exactly what you'd asked for?
And it wasn't the right dog? you didn't know anymore!
The tension was mounting through the rest of the night
speculation and guessing, which dog would be right.
For hours you and your roommate lie there wide awake
discussing and pondering "oh, give me a break!"
You couldn't remember just when but you knew you had dreamed
about labs, goldens and shepherds, for hours it seemed.
Finally morning had come and more walking'd begun,
an adjustment, a short conference, and the trainers were done.
The entire class sat very still, not a sound,
the anxiety was thicker than mud all around.
You were positive dogs had just seised to exist,
then the head trainer pulled out that most magical list.
Each person was matched with a sex and a breed,
then a name, some of which sounded quite silly indeed.
You found you were lucky; you liked your dog's name,
the breed and the sex you'd asked for were the same.
Comparing notes with your classmates, one question was clear,
"Just tell us, when will the canines be here!"
Then you sat in your room simply wringing your hands
while the time ticked by like those hour glass sands.
Soon a jingling sound could be heard at the door
and a prancing of dog's toe nails came over the floor.
There was licking and wagging and nosing about
as your new canine partner began checking you out.
At first the beast felt very odd to the touch,
for it wiggled and slobbered and sniffed you too much,
But it finally settled at your feet in a heap,
deciding you were now boring and going to sleep.
You were certain your dog was the most beautiful ever,
and hoped it was also the most skillful and clever.
That dog must be with you wherever you go
your constant companion, the trainer said so.
Soon you learned that most natural routine,
walk outside and stand there surveying the scene.
Some dogs would circle and some dogs would dance,
finally doing their business to return with a prance.
The trainer explained just the right thing to do,
"praise that dog!" for number 1 and number 2!
Then came that inevitable, unfortunate ordeal,
your "wonder dog" would accompany you to a meal.
There was pushing and shoving and scooting about,
the mutt would go "down and under" then squirm half way out.
At last it lay quiet, now you could relax,
till just 3 seconds later it was licking your slacks!
"This is really not working." you tried to implore,
imagining this scene on a restaurant floor.
That dreaded meal was soon enough over;
it was time to get going, as you climbed in the van, all your
nervousness showing.
You were gently reminded "that dog's still a bit of a pup."
as you struggled and fumbled to "harness him up."
For some of us, that first walk is natural and smooth,
while for others it is pure terror simply to move.
But you conquered your fear and found a comfortable stride
it seemed very natural, this dog at your side.
The following days were mostly the same,
getting on and off vans, trainers calling your name.
Soon you felt every muscle, every swelling and ache
and you were sure you'd made every possible mistake.
"Hold your head up! Walk straight! What's up with your hand?"
the trainer's comments were endless. "don't ask that dog! Command!"
There were days when the canine did everything wrong
and you fumbled and blundered and wondered how long,
How many more hours, how many routes left to roam,
till this whole mess was over and you both could go home.
One day toward the end still sticks out in your mind;
the whole place was grouchy, not one word was kind.
People were surly and cranky and stuff, while dogs acted up and you'd
all had enough!
That day behind you, the rest seemed to race,
with photos and health checks, and the real world to face.
One more walk was left, each of you alone, just you and your dog, out
there on your own.
You'd been over the route with the trainer right there,
your dog sensed you were nervous, but did that trainer care?
You could get hopelessly lost, or, if worse came to worst, become a
fatality, surely not this school's first,
But in spite of your fear and your dog's lunatic ways,
you ran the route smoothly, you both conquered the maze.
All tests had been passed, you'd been issued your gear,
it was time now for getting the heck out of here!
Despite your relief, there was a sad attitude as you said your goodbyes
and expressed gratitude,
To the raisers, the trainers, the staff and the board,
for your new found independence, no one could be ignored.
As you climbed into a plane or sped off in a car,
you and your guide dog were bound to go far.
Those first weeks were tough when you finally got home,
the dog wasn't perfect, you'd get lost when you'd roam.
No trainer was there with a comforting word
or a gentle reminder when you were being absurd.
But then came the day you will always recall,
maybe you crossed a busy highway or traversed a huge mall.
It was you and your dog, working like one, a real team, confident,
proud, fulfilling a dream.
Years would pass as they will with adventures and then,
one day you would know you must do it again.
Your first dog never forgotten, you returned to the school,
laughing at those old feelings, yes, you had been a fool!
For now you were the one who knew what was in store
and could tell that first-timeer behind the room door.
"Sure there'll be days full of peril and strife,
but don't miss it! This will be the ride of your life!"