WEIRD & WONKY WORLD WRITING CHALLENGE

In Need of Assistance

         As I understand it there are service canines roaming about this earth offering any number of practical aids to we mere mortals afflicted with something that is beyond our coping capabilities. They act as super heroes, yet wear no bright capes fluttering in the breeze. With their keen and somewhat heightened senses they operate with almost super strength, eye sight and hearing.

          They leap effortlessly over any obstacles, curbs of any configuration, stairs, water hazards, rocks and boulders, snowbanks, and more. I marvel at their lithe je ne sais quoi. I stumble. I trip. I tumble. Sometimes, I flip. Gravity and I have long ago agreed to disagree. We never leap together any more. Even doing so into a bed is fraught with danger.

         Dogs and I have co-habited for much of my life. I cherish memories of undying loyalty , support and acceptance especially from the numerous dogs. Not one ever judged me, or ignored me. Not one ever lectured me about my life choices, or shunned me because of them. They all shared their considerable capacity for love with me. Never did they deny me a cuddle or companionship. Whether we were reading a book, or attempting to walk the canines kept me company. Any adventure improved exponentially together.

         Car trips were excuses to let our hair stream in the wind with the windows down. We warbled off key to whatever music blared from the radio. I suspect most people described our efforts as howling. We squinted in the glare of the sun. We nodded to fellow travellers. We hiked newly discovered trails and splashed in refreshing lakes. Inside motel/hotel rooms or canvas tents we snuggled. Not always did we establish a set route, or itinerary.

         The breeds of my companions have varied. A few Heinz 57/ mixed breeds have roomed with me. Their particular lineage was not often clear. At one time German Shepherds accepted my advances. When my three children were youngsters Shetland Sheepdogs joined the chaos. My granddogs have ranged from hounds, shepherds and boxers to Boston Terriers and a Doberman. Each had energy to spare and the pre-requisite wagging tail.

         Despite this history I have never considered one of the dogs to be an assistance dog. I suppose the very idea of such a beast never occurred to me. Canines were members of the family. They lolled about. Infrequently, they whined. They didn't hide their appetites and seemed to be always on the dramatic verge of starvation. Often they galloped about and contributed to the noise levels. Not once did they volunteer to wash the dishes or fold the laundry. All of them possessed the uncanny ability to ignore a mess, yet magnify it. Very few ever developed an affinity for a bath. Most of them expelled great efforts to displace dirt. In short, they mimicked/mirrored the behaviour of the resident offspring.

         As both a natural klutz and a packaging impaired person, I am sure I would have accepted, if not gratefully appreciated, an assistance dog. Sigh, I suppose some sort of specific training would have been required above and beyond the basics, of sit, heel, stay and the important down.

          I could not swear to it, but the word no never was acknowledged. Not as a deterrent anyway. Like the kids, the dogs probably considered no to be a suggestion, an option. Sure, upon hearing this word a look of utter disbelief clouded their eyes and settled upon their facial features. The eyebrows would freeze in an exaggerated arch over unblinking eyes. The ears would fold and flatten themselves to the skull as if glued there. The mouth would gape and the tongue would flop. A nervous twitch electrified the body.

         I never doubted that the dogs heard me. Also like the children they opted to deploy selective hearing. This involved the practice of mind over matter. Basically, much of what is said to them may be disregarded and discarded. Oh, I don't need to mind that and I suspect that it doesn't really matter. Look. I'm wagging my tail. Isn't that enough?

         Upon reflection, I realize that I wish I had an assistance dog that was intuitive. He or she need only be perceptive. Would a regimen of exercises disguised as strict training have produced the results I aspire to enjoy? I am blessed not to need a seeing eye dog, or an animal able to detect seizures. I will admit to being sociable and keen to converse with others, so a dog for anxiety is not what I crave. As I mentioned, I am cursed with clumsiness and a frustrating inability to open/access packages. Tear here, pshaw. Pull along the dotted line. Sure. Easy opening. Ya, right. I'll accept that it's a fantasy, but a girl can dream, can't she?

         Far too many times I would have benefited from a dog that threw itself in front of me before my toe/shin/hip/hand/elbow collided with the nefarious and painful corners of a protruding wall or chair/table leg. Oh, the sprains, strains, bruises and fractures that could have been avoided. Is it too much to want a dog that would spring into action and nudge/roll a chair my way before I committed to the act of sitting without first verifying the availability of a receptive seat? Could said dog somehow anchor that chair only until I had landed upon it?

         The different dogs must have noticed my proclivity to wrangle with stairs. Stairs and I have yet to declare a truce. They are my continuing nemesis, my downfall. They never miss an opportunity to trip me. Ascending or descending doesn't matter. Tumble, slide, stub, flounder, bump, bounce I've experienced all a set of stairs can inflict. A quick-thinking canine could and would snatch at my pant leg or tug at my shirt hem pulling me from the abyss of impending danger. Of course, I am not suggesting that the same dog sacrifice itself to become my cushion. Something soft to land on would be wonderful, but unrealistic. The dog need not waste its breath barking at the stairs either. I've cursed them to no avail.

         The great outdoors is ,alas, a minefield of potential accidents. The uneven ground, the myriad rocks and pebbles, tree roots and branches, moisture that transforms every surface into a slippery mess, unyielding cement curbs, potholes and more join forces to upset me. Is it too much to ask for a canine that could keep me upright and standing, all be it wobbling, upon my own two feet? I chuckle to myself because I cannot envision a chihuahua doing this. I require a dog of muscular substance. Its size would not necessarily relegate it to a role of protector per se. It would be protecting me from any injury and pesky obstacles.

         The strength, power and agility of this same dog could assist me with my packaging ineptitude, too. It could tear its way into any form of wrapper be it aluminum, paper, plastic, or cardboard. Any efforts would be far superior to my feeble attempts and produce tangible results. Yes, I have heard of a device known as scissors, but my klutziness combined with the injurious, sharp blades spell disaster. A friendly, helpful dog seems better.

          Perhaps it's not too late to welcome my very own assistance dog. You never know. There may well be other persons such as myself struggling and searching for affable solutions. I shall refer to this endeavour as The Canine Anti-Klutziness Companion Consortium.

         1248 words

         Assistance Dog Day