Ready to Fly!

Well, the dog switch went a lot better than I thought it would. Or, I should say, I did better with it than I thought I might. For the first ten to fifteen minutes after I first handed Chew over to Sam, he cried and moaned and whimpered, and looked over at me as if to say, “Why have you forsaken me?” This broke my heart into a thousand pieces. But then, Sam gave Chew some freeze-dried liver, and he pretty much forgot I was in the room. What a relief! Instead of feeling “sore” that he was then completely attentive to Sam, I was very thankful that he seemed comfortable with her, and that he wasn’t upset anymore.

That afternoon, the four of us with graduating dogs worked on behaviors in the training room (off-leash). I was so proud of Chew. Watching him do exactly what he was asked, following Sam’s instructions and being the mature, focused assistance dog he has grown up to be. He is definitely ready to branch out of school, and start his real career as a helpmate to someone who needs him.

In the meantime, I was paired with Daisy, who is as sweet and wonderful and loving as can be. She also turned out to be a great running partner, which was AWESOME!

Today is Sunday, and this is Chew’s and my last few days together. Last night, we snuggled up on the couch with a new afghan my friend made me for Christmas, rain pouring down outside, Christmas tree lighting up the living room like a rainbow, with bowl of popcorn to share, and watched the movie Winged Migration. Chew’s puppy parents had told me that this was Chew’s “favorite movie”, which I took with a grain of salt until I saw how he WATCHED it: with fascination and wonder and complete attention to every move and sound.

In HD, the flocks of migrating birds practically flew from the screen with ultra-vibrant realism. Not only is this documentary Chew’s favorite movie, (and one of mine), it is also the last movie my Mom and I ever watched together. On the evening before our joint liver transplant in June of 2004, we snuggled together on Mom’s futon, holding hands and preparing ourselves to embark on the profound journey of this surgery together. The Narrator’s first line in the movie is “The story of bird migration is the story of promise…a promise to return.” This New Year’s Eve, it will have been eight years since my Mom passed away. And while she hasn’t returned – and won’t ever return – to earth physically, she most certainly returns in moments, so strongly and with such vibrant realism that her flight into the present is entirely undeniable. Such was the case last night, as her love filled the room, enveloped me and Chew, blessed the journey he and I have shared…and also the new respective journeys which Chew and I will begin this week at Client Training. I couldn’t be prouder of Chew, or of the progress we’ve made together. And I am ready to LET HIM FLY!