Read Chicken Soup for the Dog Lover's Soul Online
Authors: Jack Canfield
Frisbee has continued to assist Angel during her seizures. I don’t know what Frisbee “tells” Angel when she holds her down. All I know is that if a seizure begins when my husband or I aren’t in the room, Frisbee leaps into action. Apparently she watched us hold Angel and decided she could help. We used to worry every time we left the house, not knowing if a seizure was imminent. Now Frisbee fills in.
Frisbee is also Angel’s “spare paws.” Our dogs don’t bark to go out or come back in. Instead they “tap” on the door. Angel loves her walk and does fine as long as all four paws are on the ground. However, her medications make her unsteady and she has trouble balancing on the back steps to tap on the door. If both dogs are outside, Frisbee taps on the door and then moves behind Angel, letting her go in first. If Frisbee is inside and sees Angel waiting outside, she taps as if she has to go out and then lies down when someone lets Angel in.
Frisbee isn’t perfect. She hates to have her feet wiped. She growls at dogs she doesn’t know. She pulls on her leash when we go for a walk. But that’s okay. Thanks to Frisbee, five years after her grim diagnosis, Angel is still a tail-wagging, snack-snitching, treasured family member. What Frisbee can’t do doesn’t matter. For what she does, she’s Angel’s angel.
Wendy Greenley
As I gave Perrier, my black Labrador guide dog, the command, “Forward, inside,” I could feel my heart thumping. Would he obey me and go up the three steps into the waiting train? Moments before, the commuter train had pulled into the station on its way from Philadelphia to Newark, New Jersey. As the brakes hissed and the train came to a halt near us, Perrier sat calmly beside me on the platform. But would he actually guide me on? Not to worry! Perrier conducted himself like a seasoned professional and smartly led me to the stairs and into the club car.
Four days earlier, we had returned home from the Seeing Eye in Morristown, New Jersey, after spending three and a half weeks learning to work as a team. At that time I was living with my wife, Phyllis, and daughter, Lori, in a suburb north of Philadelphia. Perrier quickly adapted to life in our apartment, and during the next few days we took frequent short walks around the neighborhood— a new experience without my long white cane. We visited some of the nearby stores and Perrier quickly learned to pause at an ice-cream parlor and see if this was one of those days when we would indulge my creamy passion. Now it was time to return to my job in New York, which would provide a true test of Perrier’s skill.
My favorite conductor, Bobby, was on duty that morning and greeted the two of us with enthusiasm. Like a good old-time railroad conductor, he knew all the regular commuters by name. As I positioned Perrier under one of the tables in the club car, Jim, the waiter, came over to check on whether I wanted my usual coffee and muffin. This initial commute began a routine that lasted for five years, until I moved to New York to live. My commute normally lasted about an hour because it was a typical “local” with many stops along the way. On this first trip, however, several surprises were in store for me. When the train pulled into the first stop, Perrier got up and began pulling me to the exit. Since I knew we had more than an hour to go, I firmly resisted his attempt to disembark and resettled him under my seat. At each of the next few stops the scene was repeated. It finally dawned on me that during our training, all the teams got on a commuter train, went one stop, got off, crossed the platform, got on another train and went back one stop to Morristown. For Perrier, commuting to work meant going one stop and one stop only!
Another surprise was the attention lavished on us by my fellow commuters, many of whom I had been traveling with for several years without exchanging a word. Dog talk abounded, with questions about Perrier and reminiscences about the dogs in their own lives.
Once I reached the Newark station, I had two options: I could catch an Amtrak train fromNewark intoManhattan, a fifteen-minute ride, or transfer to the Port Authority subway system. The advantage of the subway was I would be within easy walking distance of my office at Baruch College when I got off, but it took forty-five minutes. On this first day, as I left the commuter train in Newark, an Amtrak train was just pulling into the station across the platform. I decided to take it. With my “Forward” command, Perrier swiftly crossed, made his way through the crowd waiting to board and guaranteed we would be the first ones to enter the waiting train. During this transfer I realized my new partner was a dog ideally suited for working in New York City.
On arrival in Manhattan, I opted to walk to work, a distance of slightly more than a mile. After walking several blocks south on Eighth Avenue, Perrier veered to the right, and the next thing I knew, he attempted to board a northbound bus! He was giving me a clear signal, which was repeated many times during our eight years of partnership:
I’d rather ride than walk!
Unfortunately for Perrier, the bus was going in the wrong direction.
Arriving at my office twenty minutes later, I was exhilarated. This thrilling sense of emerging independence was reinforced every time Perrier stopped at a curb, avoided rushing pedestrians and smartly crossed a traffic-filled street. What had been a chore for the last few years was now an exciting adventure!
During our years of intercity travel, Perrier and I shared many unique experiences. Stopping at stairs, avoiding open cellar doors, handling the hustle and bustle of city life, and weaving in and out of cars intruding into pedestrian walkways were all in a day’s work for my magnificent canine partner. The one constant was that life was full of challenges.
One memorable occasion remains forever etched in my memory. On this particular day Perrier’s intuitive guiding skill went well beyond his routine duties. I left the office just as a major blizzard hit the Northeast, and by the time I arrived at the station near my home, more than ten inches of snow had fallen. Stepping off the train, a strange new world encompassed me. Snow is to a blind person what fog is to a sighted person. Accustomed to being met by Phyllis, I listened for the sound of her voice or the car motor. As the train departed, I realized I was alone, since I had been the only passenger to disembark. The suddenness and severity of the storm not only kept Phyllis from picking me up at the station, but also kept all other cars off the usually crowded road. I knew Phyllis was probably stuck at home and frantic, but the road was impassable, even by emergency vehicles. The tiny station was closed, offering no protection from the snow.
With a sinking feeling, I realized that Perrier and I were on our own. Descending the steps of the station platform, it was eerie not to hear a single car moving. Snow, like dense fog, deadens the sounds I rely on for cues about the environment. That suppression of sound combined with the lack of traffic was totally disorienting for me. It was not only eerie, it was downright scary. I realized that I could easily become lost and wander around for hours looking for help. I knew I had to turn right after exiting the station, but had no idea where the sidewalks and curbs were. All I could do was give Perrier the “Forward” command and hope he knew where he was going. I said, “Take me home, Perrier!”
The snow continued falling as I followed my guide’s slow but steady lead. As we walked along, the only sound I heard was the crunching of my shoes as we plodded on. I kept hoping a car would go by so I could determine if we were even on the sidewalk! No such luck. In the immense silence of the falling snow, it felt as if Perrier and I were the last two beings on Earth.
After walking for what seemed an interminable period, Perrier made a sharp right turn. At that point I said to him, “I sure hope you know where you are going.” About ten minutes later he made another short right turn and I followed him up two steps where he unhesitatingly placed his nose on the doorknob of my apartment! Flinging open the door, I was enveloped by the safety and warmth of my home. The tension ebbed from my body and was immediately replaced by an incredible surge of gratitude for the skill and confidence of my canine partner. Dropping to my knees, I buried my face in Perrier’s wet fur and whispered to him, “Thank you, buddy, for rescuing me!” His response was a warm tongue on my cheek.
Ed Eames, Ph.D.
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The stories in this book celebrate the loving relationships between people and their animal companions. Yet in spite of all this love, an estimated 4 to 6 million animals are brought to shelters throughout the United States every year! Contrary to popular belief, most animals in sheltersweren’t abused, nor did they do anything “wrong” that caused them to lose their homes. Most animals are abandoned for “people reasons” like allergies, divorce and moving, or because of behaviors that pet owners don’t understand and don’t know how to address. If these reasons, which break the bond between pets and their families, could be eliminated, just imagine how many animals could remain in their homes.
That’s the premise behind the Pets for Life program of the Humane Society of the United States (HSUS). Through Pets for Life, the HSUS provides information on the most common behavior problems and how to solve them, about dealing with allergies, tips on finding pet-friendly rental housing, and other issues affecting pets and their people. The HSUS also provides information on choosing the right pet,whether froma shelter or a reputable breeder. For information, go to
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The Humane Society of the United States is the nation’s largest animal protection organization with more than 8.5 million members and constituents. This nonprofit organization is amainstreamvoice for animals, with active programs in companion animal and equine protection, disaster preparedness and response, wildlife and habitat protection, research and farm animal advocacy and the development of sustainable agriculture. The HSUS protects all animals through legislation, litigation, investigation, education, advocacy and fieldwork. The group is based in Washington, D.C., and has numerous field representatives across the country.
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Jack Canfield is one of America’s leading experts in the development of human potential and personal effectiveness. He is both a dynamic, entertaining speaker and a highly sought-after trainer. Jack has a wonderful ability to inform and inspire audiences toward increased levels of self-esteem and peak performance. Jack most recently released a book for success titled
The Success Principles: How to
Get from Where You Are to Where You Want to Be.
He is the author and narrator of several bestselling audio- and videocassette programs, including
Self-Esteem and Peak Performance,
How to Build High Self-Esteem, Self-Esteem in the Classroom
and
Chicken
Soup for the Soul—Live.
He is regularly seen on television shows such as
Good Morning America, 20/20
and
NBC Nightly News.
Jack has coauthored numerous books, including the
Chicken Soup for the Soul
series,
Dare toWin
and
The Aladdin Factor
(all with Mark Victor Hansen),
100 Ways to Build Self-Concept in the Classroom
(with Harold C. Wells),
Heart at Work
(with Jacqueline Miller) and
The Power of Focus
(with Les Hewitt and Mark Victor Hansen).
Jack is a regularly featured speaker for professional associations, school districts, government agencies, churches, hospitals, sales organizations and corporations. His clients have included the American Dental Association, the American Management Association, AT&T, Campbell’s Soup, Clairol, Domino’s Pizza, GE, Hartford Insurance, ITT, Johnson & Johnson, the Million Dollar Roundtable, NCR, New England Telephone, Re/Max, Scott Paper, TRW and Virgin Records. Jack has taught on the faculty of Income Builders International, a school for entrepreneurs.
Jack conducts an annual seven-day training called Breakthrough to Success. It attracts entrepreneurs, educators, counselors, parenting trainers, corporate trainers, professional speakers, ministers and others interested in improving their lives and lives of others.