Working for the (wo)man

22 November 2017

Well, my girl Friday finally made it. Perfect Partners Assistance Dog Trust did their final assessment of team Friday on 10 November. It was a Friday – auspicious. Belinda and her team came to the Ministry where Friday and I work four days a week so they could see her in her element. Friday waited patiently at my desk while I went to get the assessors from Reception – down, stay while I’m out of sight; tick. Friday had to have a sniff of each new person, but was calm about it; tick. We went into a meeting room to have a chat and (without a lead) Friday walked along beside my chair and went straight under the meeting room table with hardly a hint from me – drop the lead and the dog stays with you; tick. We went into the kitchen and Friday dropped and stayed just at the entry (she’s not allowed in the kitchen at home or at work – this is not a Perfect Partners requirement, it’s a Claudia requirement) – down stay while I do something without her; tick. We went downstairs in the lift to get hot chocolate from the local cafe – Friday came into the cafe, didn’t eat off the floor (miracle), was placid, and relaxed next to my chair while we waited for our takeaway; tick, tick tick.

Passing doesn’t really change anything for Friday. While she was in training, she was allowed to go everywhere with me, and she had jobs to do. Now she goes everywhere with me and has jobs to do. The upside is that we don’t face assessments every couple of months, and we can confidently enter new situations with new people because we both know Friday can handle it.

People love her – they love seeing her at work and she is coming around to the idea that strangers are pretty good at giving pats or just being cool.

Lucky for us, most Wellingtonians understand about a working dog and they (usually) ask if it’s okay to pat her or say hello. Friday also opens up conversations, and people randomly show me pictures of their own dog or they open up about a friend or relative that has a working dog. She is an icebreaker without even knowing it.

In the shops, she walks along quietly and only lifts her nose to sniff when we’re in the meat aisle. I’m sure she would love to climb into the butcher’s window or have a red hot go in the cheese room, but she controls herself nicely.

I’m sure there are people who don’t like seeing her around the food they are about to purchase. No one ever says anything, but it would surprise me if a few people don’t like it. I try to control for those people by making sure Friday is always clean and tidy, she never jumps up on me or anyone else, she stands or sits quietly at the check out. I want people to experience the best of her so they aren’t frightened or worried or disgusted. She is my responsibility in addition to being my mate.

We look after each other. She can find my phone, pick up things that I drop (I can reach the floor, but if something rolls under a table or my desk, I’m sunk), open doors using a pull cord. If I call out to Steve and he doesn’t hear me, I call Friday and ask her to go get Steve. She lifts the mood. She makes people smile. She leans into my chair and rests her head on my lap and it makes me feel so happy that she’s in my life.

We’ve done this together – me and Steve and Friday. We achieved the goal we set while I was still in the spinal rehab unit and I feel a winning combination of loved, loving and unstoppable.