Blogcritics

Announcement: Short-content feeds

Phillip Winn — Sun, 26 Aug 2007 12:00:00 EDT

Sunday, August 26, 2007, marks the switch of all Blogcritics.org article feeds from full-content to short-content. This is the result of several converging factors, and is unfortunately a permanent decision (as permanent as any decision can be on the web, that is). We are aware of all of the reasons that this is a Bad Idea, and we are aware that some of you will be quite upset about having to click on something to read the free content, and we're sorry. Unfortunately, despite great effort, full-content feeds are not currently economically viable. Two other factors are involved: full-content feeds have resulted in an unprecedented level of content theft, with BC content appearing on many websites, usually spam sites, without attribution or permission. This duplicate content causes a cascading set of problems, not the least of which is that search engines generally aren't favorable to duplicate content, and don't always guess correctly. Finally, our RSS advertising partner is strongly in favor of short-content feeds. We hope that you'll continue to subscribe to BC via RSS, and when an article grabs your eye, it's only a click away, still free on the BC website. Thank you for your understanding.

Seeing Eye: No Harness Needed

Jared Wright — Thu, 24 Aug 2006 07:31:17 EDT

Jared is a vibrant, outspoken, extroverted, opinionated, and enthusiastic college student from central Indiana. He is extremely passionate about music and is an active musician specializing in drums and percussion. Other obsessions include sports, technology, and like any good college student, food. he is currently a sophomore studying media arts at Butler University, and really has no idea what method he'll use to take over the world. He happens to be blind and is accompanied in the corresponding photo by his faithful, friendly, and fantastic guide dog, Kerry. Read more of his work at his blog.

Seeing Eye: The End of the Beginning

Jared Wright — Sun, 20 Aug 2006 03:53:07 EDT

Jared Wright is a college student who is blind. He seeks greater independence through the use of a dog guide, and is currently attending The Seeing Eye in Morristown, New Jersey, to accomplish that. This feature details his experiences.The Seeing Eye really considers our training drawing to a close an event worthy of very little fanfare. I hear of other schools holding touching graduation ceremonies to send newly paired teams of dogs and people on their way. These surely are encouraging and mean well, but what they imply is the that the learning process is complete. In fact, it has not. It has only just begun.The fact that I am quite the rookie with this dog guide thing hit home this week. Hard. The training progressed in its usual manner. Perhaps it increased in intensity while I wasn't looking. Maybe The Seeing Eye was trying to pack in as much as they could before I was left to, for the most part, fend for myself. Training came to a close with a whimper as opposed to a final hurrah.One thing Kerry and I will have to work on is what we call "belligerent crossings." These are crossings that almost try to be inconvenient on the average pedestrian. This means they're terribly bothersome to blind pedestrians, with or without a canine companion. Common characteristics of belligerent crossings are offset curbs, inconsistent light cycles, down ramps blended to the point of absurdity, and oddly shaped intersections. The most awkward predicament is a crossing that requires a pedestrian to push a button in order to get any place in the queue through the intersection. This in itself isn't that big an annoyance, but consistency in the way these buttons are set up and where they're placed is totally nonexistent. There's no proven way to tell you should be looking for such a button unless you have previous experience with the intersection and are conscious of the need to interject yourself into the traffic pattern. I'm sure Kerry and I will many times make a crossing intended only for the one car waiting in our parallel street. I just hope that's long enough and that the drivers I cross in front of will be giving some of their attention to the road.Traffic engineers weren't completely at fault for the obstacles Kerry and I encountered this past week. For Kerry's part, he had a bit of trouble associating blatantly offset curbs going out of the street with the curbs we were standing at. He also was very hesitant to force me to go straight toward the curb if my shoulders were pointed slightly in the wrong direction. This is something he is expected to do, since it's very hard to align perfectly every time with only the sounds of traffic as a guide. This falls into the realm of intelligent disobedience, which may be the dog's greatest asset as a guide. Kerry will ideally refuse to guide me into any dangerous predicaments. I will always remember the time he stopped dead and refused to go forward. When I found out that I was on the edge of a train platform, I was quite grateful for his defiance.The biggest blow to my ego came one afternoon during our last structured training session. I was given a destination and told where I was starting at and was expected to find the destination. In my case, it was The Creamery, a renowned ice cream shop along South Street in Morristown. I did very well right up until I was on the block that The Creamery was on, but then things fell apart. My downfall was not being able to correctly determine where along the building line I needed to turn in at to find the entrance to The Creamery. I probably should have used more assistance from the public, but I was feeling rebelliously independent and tried to go with just the small amount of vague information I got from a single gentleman. The trouble hit when Kerry started to figure out that I was confused. Your temperament really does travel through that leash. Kerry knew I wasn't sure of myself, and how quick would anyone be to follow commands if they knew the person giving them was only somewhat certain that his directions were correct? The final result was Kerry losing focus, me losing patience, and both of us losing confidence in what we were doing.We eventually figured out where we were, but the entire experience served as a defined reminder of how much work I will need to put into Kerry. When I go back to college on Sunday, the real work will begin. Right now Kerry and I both exert a lot of mental energy when working. There's so much to keep on your mind, so many ways communication can be crossed. I'm told that in time constant strain becomes instinctive. The squeaks and clangs of a system only just now fired up for the first time fade away, leaving a well oiled machine in their wake. Whenever I profess to anyone with years of experience with dog guides how amazed I am after just a few weeks, the almost universal response is, "Kid, you ain't seen nothin' yet. Wait until you've worked with Kerry for years rather than weeks."My suitcase is just about packed. For once I didn't procrastinate. I've had my meeting with the veterinary staff from The Seeing Eye and have come away with some good advice on choosing the right vet for Kerry as well as a complete rundown of his medical history, which is thankfully brief. Just an ear infection that was nabbed quickly and a short bout with pneumonia last winter. I've been informed of all The Seeing Eye's exceptional follow-up services for graduates, the breadth of which I won't jump headlong into here. I've had a very pleasant discussion that all graduates have with the director of programs about feedback concerning the training process. The Seeing Eye has done everything it can to ease the transition for me, I will gladly grant them that. Either way, I'll be on a flight back home tomorrow. No instructors. No assurance a half a block away. Kerry and I will be out in the world amongst it all, yet completely alone in a way. Excited? Certainly. Nervous? Who wouldn't be?

Seeing Eye: The Big Apple

Jared Wright — Sat, 12 Aug 2006 16:02:33 EDT

Jared Wright is a college student who is blind. He seeks greater independence through the use of a dog guide, and is currently attending The Seeing Eye in Morristown, New Jersey, to accomplish that. This feature details his experiences and reflections throughout his training, which concludes on August 17. His dog is a male cross between a yellow Labrador and a golden retriever named Kerry. The big city. It is to date Kerry's largest testing ground. Not necessarily because it is the hardest training session done at The Seeing Eye. Many would tell you it isn't, and that in fact rural work with a dog is the most challenging. I consider it our most important training session because it is one that Kerry will find himself in a lot. I was never a country boy. The bustle of the city has always been comforting to me. And now with Kerry's help, I will be able to venture even further out into these hubs of loosely organized chaos. Few cities are as chaotic as New York City, so The Seeing Eye's close proximity to the Big Apple is one of its huge advantages. And this morning my primary instructor and I took Kerry into the city, specifically midtown, to allow him and I to get some work in together in such a high stress environment. I think I've let the drama go on long enough. Kerry was absolutely fantastic. So good that I got an adrenalin rush from the whole affair. Previous trips for yours truly into Chicago, New York, or other big cities were met with two annoyances. Firstly, I moved at a snail's pace. Poking around with a cane in such a convoluted environment simply doesn't allow one to get into a good flow of travel. Secondly, there were a lot of awkward moments with other pedestrians. Even with all the cane skill in the world, many pedestrians on any given block would take a tap on the ankle with the cane. I'm sorry to say that I've tripped a few people with the cane, not through any fault of mine or theirs, but just because that sort of thing happens with a cane. With Kerry everything changed. I passed seven out of ten people as we made our way from the Port Authority up through Central Park, if not more. I'm certain that a dog guide weaving through the crowd drew attention to us, so the observant ones in front of us helped in our navigation by giving us clearance, but even still. If you've ever walked through New York City you know there are as many pedestrians paying no attention to the rest of the traffic around them as those who are. I rubbed shoulders with no more people than most sighted travelers would, and only twice did I have to correct Kerry for trying to squeeze through the crowd where there just wasn't room. And best of all, the feeling of moving laterally and being apart of the swell of humanity was so different to what I am accustomed to. It really was a rush. One interesting aspect of Kerry's city travel was his lack of courtesy. Now, he did not stick his wet, doggie nose up some poor woman's dress. But he obviously can't be expected to have an understanding of social protocol. He gets me where I've indicated I want to go as fast as possible without jeopardizing either of our safety. I of course don't like being discourteous, but damn if Kerry doesn't cut through a crowd like a knife. He didn't demonstrate this tactic today, but some dogs have been known to gently push their snout against the leg of someone who's holding a team up, hopefully instigating them to allow us room to pass. This writing sounds like I'm all about cutting people off and selfishly inconveniencing others as Kerry and I make our way through life. Maybe, at the core that's essentially what it is. I am unashamedly excited about how much more efficient our travel in New York City was. After about three miles of traveling between 34th and 67th as well as between 5th and 8th, we figured it was time to find out how Kerry and I did on the subway. It mostly went well, although the turnstiles spooked him the first couple of times. And one time the subway was standing room only, so I got a crash course in how to position him best when that is the case. Much like traveling on airplanes, that is something that just probably will never be easy to do with the dog. Still, I doubt this is the last time I'll be in NYC, and I doubt it's the last time I'll have standing room only on a subway or other transit vehicle. The only criticism I can make of Kerry's performance is that he was somewhat cautious in spots. He was quite assertive with pedestrians, but vender carts, poles, and other nonmoving obstacles made him second-guess himself on occasion. This is easily explained by a dog guide's training process though. During the first week working with a new dog, the blind person is bound to give lots of correction. The dog needs to adjust to its new handler's dimensions, and the only way to do that is to correct him when he doesn't provide ample clearance. So from about two weeks to a couple months after getting a new dog, a blind person can expect even the most aggressive traveling dogs to grow somewhat timid, since they don't want to be corrected. Once they figure out the necessary level of clearance in even greater detail though, most dogs regain their assertiveness. Kerry started as a dog that didn't fear initiative, and I expect him to return to that after he figures out just where we will and won't fit. New York City provided an interesting look at the public's reaction to a dog guide team. One lady who was behind us for a couple blocks commented to her companion about how smart the dog was. Kerry of course was deemed adorable by any who looked twice. And I, of course, loved it. He's my boy after all. On the other side of the coin, I had my first real heavy concentration of people wanting to pet the dog and me having to refuse them. When working, Kerry's distractions need to be minimal, and people cooing directly at him are about as big a distraction as a dog could want. Remember, they're man's best friend. I was slightly irritated when my instructor told me that once throughout our jaunt someone had taken advantage of my not seeing them to discretely pet Kerry anyway. This is just as much a distraction as someone who asks permission to pet the dog. But I never would know when it happens, so when Kerry starts losing focus I have no idea it's because of the jerk who's trying to be sneaky. So, a word to you and yours. The dogs are friendly and great to be around. But if it's working, do not touch the dog without checking first. Too many blind people have been accused of being standoffish or rude for not letting people pet their dog when all they're trying to do is keep the dog focused. The other interesting incident occurred when I had to give Kerry a leash correction for running me up the back of a gentleman in front of me. As I talked about when I covered correction, disciplining Kerry isn't fun. Physical correction even less so. The common form of correction is to snap back with the leash. It looks a bit gritty, but in truth it only startles the dog into paying attention, so that I can point out to him what he did wrong. The dog's neck is formed far differently from ours, and the muscles there are capable of withstanding about 20 to 30 times as much pressure as the human neck. So it's not the same as if someone were to put a collar and leash on you and give a quick, sharp snap back with it. One crab of a woman didn't understand this, and after I corrected Kerry for his mistake, she berated me the rest of the block. "Don't abuse the dog! How dare you be so cruel to the loving animal that does so much for you! I should call the police!" Another notice. Were I to be abusing the dog, The Seeing Eye would be on my ass four times faster than any humane society personnel. They spend too many resources training just a single dog to have it poorly conditioned and unnecessarily disciplined. They've spent years figuring out the fine line between correcting the dog and being unfairly cruel to the dog. Should you ever see a Seeing Eye Dog handled in a manner that suggests abuse, inform The Seeing Eye. They will investigate, I promise you. Just don't be surprised when you find that the correction given was in line with what we are taught during our stay at the campus. On the whole, New York was a success. We're pondering taking another trip next week, but even without it, I'm confident Kerry will be very able even in the most stressful of environments. Not that I'd mind another go at New York. After all, I live for the lights and sounds and the unpredictability that such a place brings.

Seeing Eye: Buses, Trains, Planes, Oh My!

Jared Wright — Sat, 12 Aug 2006 07:42:03 EDT

Jared Wright is a college student who is blind. He seeks greater independence through the use of a dog guide, and is currently attending The Seeing Eye in Morristown, New Jersey. This feature details his experiences and reflections throughout his training, which concludes on August 17. His dog is a male cross between a yellow Labrador and a golden retriever named Kerry.With Kerry, I'll be capable of doing a lot more travel. My travel will be more independent. It will open up areas too difficult to navigate with a white cane. And very few of these areas will just be a few blocks away from home. After all, when so much of the world is newly unlocked to me, why spend all my time within a stone's throw of home base? So, of course, I was looking forward to the training sessions involving transporting the dog. These are often short drills, but a dog unsettled and uncontrolled means a more frustrating ride or flight.The first component of this was car travel. We'd been using some of The Seeing Eye's big, white vans to get from place to place before, and the dogs had plenty of room to sprawl out and were easily managed. The last few times, however, we've used a Subaru to get from place to place, which, especially for a dog like Kerry, will prove a much tighter fit. When riding in the back, I would have Kerry back into the car and have him lie down on the floor, so that he could be moving forward when exiting the vehicle. This strategy will be the one I use with cabs. He's still not a big fan of backing into the car or train (more on that in a minute) and likes to just try to turn around, but I'm trying to minimize the amount of contact he has with the seat. Not that I or any of my friends would be very bothered if his paws went across the seat on his turn, but some disagreeable cab driver might.The front seat was even a bigger challenge. I'd sit with my feet out of the car, let him get in the sit on the floor facing me, then bring my feet in on his left side. This is so the last things in the car are my feet. If I'm not shutting the door myself, I want to have part of me be the last thing going in to protect Kerry. Folks with good intentions are much less likely to shut the door on my feet than on Kerry's tail, which could more easily escape notice. And tail injuries are very slow in healing, since dogs wag them around and hit them against things so much. Once we get moving, I was informed that it is more comfortable and still acceptable for Kerry to put his head on the driving console, as long as the driver tells me when he needs me to lift Kerry's head so he can put the car into drive or something similar. I still can't quite get over that, really.The second part of the transit instruction involved buses and trains. The hardest thing about these is that time is limited to get the dog situated. Bus drivers especially like to pull away quickly so as to stay on schedule, so maneuvering a dog while the bus is moving is often necessary. Luckily Kerry seems all too willing to lie down as far under the seat as possible once my method of transport is in motion. Trains have the benefit of starting and stopping a little slower, but Kerry has to back into those also, which takes a bit of time and coaxing. If he goes into a train seat headfirst, it's far too easy for him to be sniffing and scavenging around the floor in the corner, which is highly discouraged behavior for a dog guide.I won't really get an opportunity to test Kerry on a plane until I fly home next Thursday, but an airline did donate some airline seats to The Seeing Eye, and a rough model of the interior of an aircraft has been erected in the basement. I'm not going to pull any punches. Squeezing Kerry into coach seats (which is usually what my cheapskate self buys), is not going to be a lot of fun. He seems to not mind curling up for me when space requires that he do so, but the truth is that Kerry simply is not a small dog. There are a few tricks I can work on to help conserve space, and I imagine he'll be flying almost all the time with his harness taken off just to give him a bit more flexibility and wiggle room, but I'm still a bit anxious about going home next Thursday with him. My plane tickets are already bought for the flight home, but in future I may pay a bit more attention to where the seats are. Bulkhead seating would be far easier on Kerry, and by consequence, me. Nonetheless, if we need to squeeze into typical coach, (which I'm sure we will do many times during Kerry's working life), I have the tools to get us by, even if I'm not having the most comfortable flights I could ask for.Big day today. New York City gets its first taste of the Jared and Kerry one-two punch. I emphasized my need for a dog that was capable of dealing with the high stress level of a New York or Chicago throughout the application process. I am confident that this request was taken into as much consideration as I wanted it to be when Kerry was matched with me, but I will be very eager to draw my own conclusions on the issue after today's trip into NYC. A full report will come tonight. For now, I have a hungry dog to attend to.

Seeing Eye: Breaking the Silence

Jared Wright — Tue, 8 Aug 2006 07:44:00 EDT

Seeing Eye: Praise and Discipline

Jared Wright — Fri, 28 Jul 2006 12:25:09 EDT

Jared Wright is a college student who is blind. He seeks greater independence through the use of a dog guide, and is currently attending The Seeing Eye in Morristown, New Jersey, to accomplish that. This feature details his experiences and reflections throughout his training, which concludes on August 17. His dog is a male cross between a yellow Labrador and a golden retriever named Kerry.As appears to be becoming the routine, training today with Kerry was a mix of frustration and enjoyment. The frustration was most prevalent when we were working on turns during the morning. I kept either turning my body too much, which Kerry took to mean I wanted to turn completely around, or I didn't turn enough, which just made him stand there in confusion when he was given the verbal command to turn right or left. The enjoyment came mostly in the evening. We were done with formal training, but working Kerry in harness during downtime to get around the campus is encouraged. We were doing this, and from about 7pm on, he made very few mistakes, none of them serious. Correction -- we made very few mistakes. The more we work together the more I'm finding that our problems are very rarely his fault. That's not to say he doesn't need work. What it does say is that I am not always properly interpreting the signals I get from him, and we'll have to compromise. I'll need to learn to read him better, and he'll have to start adjusting to the small ways I differ from his trainers when handling him.Usually Kerry does recognize that I'll collide with a shrub hanging out over the sidewalk or a wall's corner. The instructors are telling me he's trying to pull me away from the obstacle, but I don't always perceive his shift in direction and run into the offending object anyway. One really tricky aspect of the entire ordeal is separating his directional pull from the pull he generates when moving his head. If you've seen a dog guide at work, you'll know that the harness starts up on his neck, straps on around his chest, and the handle extends out across his back. Some information from his head turning to look at something is certainly perceptible, and sometimes I'll follow that. So I'll end up plowing into the mailbox he was looking at, probably to figure out how far around he needed to clear me so that I wouldn't hit it.That isn't to say the day didn't go well. Quite the opposite. We have our pacing problem pretty much resolved, and the approach of street crossings, stairs, and even barricades is now done with significantly more ease. At one point we approached a barricade that the instructors had set up to test us with. Instead of stopping, Kerry just moved to his right and went around it. It's almost as if he thought stopping to inquire about what way I wanted to go around was a waste of both of our time, so he took the initiative himself. I really liked that.Heavily emphasized today were the roles played by both praise and correction. Each has an important place in conditioning any dog to do anything, and dog guides are no exception. The motto kept in mind when training or handling a dog guide is, "Praise whenever possible, correct whenever necessary." The only immediate return a dog gets for successful guiding is praise. For that reason, it is important to praise Kerry for the smallest things, especially early on. Stopping properly at curbs. Making a successful crossing. Weaving around parking meters. Passing a slower pedestrian in front of us without disturbing them. Even commands like lying down, sitting, or going to his designated place in our room. All of these deserve praise. Perhaps not glowing, overly animated praise (there will be no hugging Kerry in the middle of a busy intersection) but a "Good boy," here or a pat on the head there to assure him that he's doing the right thing. If he does something and is praised for it, he'll be inclined to do it again.Correction, on the other hand, is viewed as a necessary evil. If Kerry runs a curb out into an intersection, he needs to know that is unacceptable. This afternoon he completely ignored another student and her dog in front of us, causing me to collide with both woman and dog. He needs to learn not to do that. So correction in the form of sharp reprimands backed up by physical correction for more serious infractions is something that just must be done. But overusing corrections can be very dangerous to the dog's training. Firstly, a timid dog is an unsatisfactory guide. The point of having him guide me is because I can't evaluate my environment and react accordingly. I trust Kerry to know the best way to navigate a narrow sidewalk with stores on one side and trees on the other without causing me to hit anything. I trust him to stop at street corners. I need him to be willing to tell me what is best for me to do, and constantly correcting him will only instill a fear of being wrong in him. Then he'd be unwilling to take action on the fly, and his ability to guide me safely and effectively would be greatly diminished.The second reason why corrections are discouraged is a very simple one. I need to have Kerry's approval, respect, and yes, that canine version of love. He is, in a way, protecting me from the surroundings that I can't see. I need to be someone he considers worth protecting. If I scold him for every small misstep, he may not be bothered about running me into a lamppost. Especially in the early stages of the game when as many of our setbacks are my fault as his, I must keep a cool hand when deciding when to correct him and how severely. If I brush a wall with my right hand, it slides. If I hit it with my right side, Kerry is mildly corrected. This is enough to make the point that he should make sure I avoid the wall, but not so much so that he thinks I'm a jerk worth running into a wall.In order to teach Kerry right from wrong, both praise and discipline need to be used in appropriate amounts. But with a dog guide, positive reinforcement is far more important than negative reinforcement. Kerry is only corrected in the hopes that when we try the drill again he will fix his mistake. When he does, he is given substantial praise, and this is what causes his improvement to become permanent. Training a dog guide really can be a labor of love, and it will be quite important for me to keep this in mind over the next two days. On Saturday morning Kerry and I will take on our first solo exercise, with an instructor only waiting in the wings in case of an emergency. Until then, onward and upward, as they say. After all, the sensation of trotting alongside my guide sort of does feel like flying when compared to the white cane that now seems so long ago.

Seeing Eye: An Introduction

Jared Wright — Thu, 27 Jul 2006 17:16:58 EDT

In the world of the blind, independence is one of those famous power words. It fits right in with motivated, determined, or inspired. Dependence isn't something too many people with vision actively pursue, but the blind especially feel the constant pressure of proving themselves capable of taking care of themselves. One venue that receives significant attention in this regard is travel. Walking around our visually oriented world with eyes closed is a challenge that all blind individuals strive to overcome.In my personal case, travel was always done with a white cane. Various techniques would be used to identify objects and environmental characteristics directly in front of me, and, armed with this information, I would navigate my surroundings as best I could. While I was as successful as could be expected of most travelers using the white cane, progress was often slow, information inaccurate, and independence in new or unfamiliar environments always out of reach.It was with this weighing heavily on my mind that I began to consider training with a dog guide. Since then many months have passed. I am now at The Seeing Eye, the oldest and most recognized organization devoted to the training of dog guides and the training of blind individuals in the utilization of their canine companion's vision. I will remain here until August 17, learning all there is to know about the dog in and out of travel. The process is complicated and intricate, and every minute detail couldn't possibly be written down and reflected on. Nevertheless, over the next few weeks I will chronicle the various stages of the training and perhaps permit a glimpse into what makes these dogs as amazing as they are.So, in order to give an account of the beginning relationship with a dog guide, we must have a dog, right? To my left is a dog, intrigued by the odd device sitting on my lap that looks like an ever changing window. I'm guessing he's always intrigued about why I keep hitting it randomly with my fingers. His name is Kerry, and he is a "yellow cross." That is to say, his parentage is half yellow Labrador Retriever and half Golden Retriever. And my masculine, 19-year-old self will readily admit that he is cute to the point of not being fair. He's quite a big, lively dog. His walking pace is brisk, his demeanor playful, and his nature leading him to always be on the go.All of these characteristics are fine on their own, but just such a dog being placed with me is the first incredible thing about the entire process. The personnel at The Seeing Eye over the last few months have gathered large quantities of data about me via applications, interviews, and personal references. My pace of movement, physical stature, lifestyle, and numerous other factors all were carefully fitted together. Then one of the many trained dogs was selected to complete the puzzle. For me, this means Kerry, a strapping young pup that is at his best when winging it in new places, deals well with crowds and potential chaos, and handles seeing new faces very well.I arrived at The Seeing Eye late Saturday evening, and the next two days were spent doing the final analysis of me and my personality in order to ensure the best match. On Monday afternoon, Kerry and I met and began working together. Over two days later, I am discovering that learning Kerry's nuances and teaching him mine in order to form an efficient tandem will be no easy task. It is a breathtaking experience, however, and the end result will make up for the work many, many times over. That doesn’t mean the next few weeks won’t be a roller coaster of emotion.The first day or so of training involved simple things, such as giving the dog fundamental commands, obtaining information from the dog, and being introduced to appropriate correction and discipline when the dog errs. The first challenge came this morning, when we began to put these basic building blocks together. Dogs rely very heavily on body language. Only a few commands are given without a visual accompaniment, and often times mixing signaled commands for spoken ones will result in either confusion or the spoken command being ignored. Even body language not intended for the dog can be interpreted as a suggestion. This alternate form of communicating proves very useful in confirming to the dog what it is you're telling him to do. For example: when I know a door I want to turn into is coming up on my right, I will begin to suggestively give the "right" command to tell Kerry that I would like to turn right at the next appropriate opening. More importantly, I convey this by turning my shoulders very slightly to the right and giving a subtle hand signal in the same direction, giving the dog a visual representation of what I want.Now that background information is out of the way (you will forgive me, but the first few entries in the Seeing Eye Blog are bound to contain plenty of background information), I can outline this morning's difficulty. Kerry is trained to slow as we approach stairs, curbs, and other obstacles that require I give a command before he can proceed. Kerry would begin to slow, and I would slow with him. However, I would slow to a greater extent than Kerry, causing him to feel a backward tug on the harness. This is his indication that I wish to stop. I then must coax him into realizing my overreaction and continuing to, say, a curb so we can continue in whatever direction I so choose. The eventual solution came in the form of me more closely paying attention to his pace and being careful to slow in sync with him. Small adjustments were even made to how I hold the harness to allow me to more quickly gauge his deceleration. The issue by the end of the day had improved enormously, but work will still have to be done to reach the point where he always brings me right to the edge of any street or flight of stairs, then waits for the command to continue.I did plenty of research before coming to The Seeing Eye, but never would I have thought that slowing down at a greater or lesser rate than Kerry would cause that substantial a decrease in our efficiency approaching street corners. And that is why potential dog guide handlers aren't given a list of commands, a dog, and a pat on the back for good luck. That is why a carefully coordinated program is established to teach every subtle tactic in handling the dog guide and getting the most information possible from him about your surroundings. The Seeing Eye places would-be dog guide handlers into as many hypothetical situations as possible. Staff will position themselves in cars in a driveway and cut the dog off as he approaches to ensure he heeds traffic and to demonstrate to me what his response would be should someone run a red light. There's even an old, grumpy cat roaming around the campus! He tries to distract Kerry, thus giving me practice at keeping him controlled if a squirrel or other distraction catches his eye. Even now, after having been on the campus four days and interacting extensively with The Seeing Eye before arriving, I am amazed at how methodical and calculated their training is. It won't be easy, but with a dog like Kerry, his companionship, and the increased independence he brings, it's worth each time he bumps me into a wall along the way. After all, he just needs some time to figure out how much clearence he needs to give me when going around such things. And that is why I'll be here for the next three weeks. And that is why you can read about them.