Hi there! My name is Robbie. I'm almost 6 years old (middle aged for dogs), and think myself fairly awesome. If you haven't been reading up on me, I am a fully trained mobility service dog for my disabled partner, Sally. Her nervous system is wired wrong, and she needs my assistance daily to lead the best life she can with this disorder. I have magic powers, that allow me to open doors bigger than your average dog's door, with my face. I tug on ropes, push shiny buttons, and use my paws to open the way. She seems so grateful when it happens, and sort of like she did something... which I don't quite get, it's totally all me and my magic powers. That's a small part of my life though. I help her get back up when she falls down, I prevent the falls when I sense them about to happen, I pick up things she drops (even when she drops them on my head by accident, silly girl), find people to help her, and move heavy stuff for her, like the laundry basket and the heavy blocks of chew toys they use to feed the big iron dragon that keeps me warm in the winter. How thoughtful of them, right?? That's probably one of my favorite parts... I love pulling! The absolute best part of my job, though, is helping her. She takes amazing care of me, and she needs me. I am not your average dog. It sounds like we've got this disabled life figured out, but there's a problem. Sally needs me, and if I, a dog, can tell that she needs me and can't function without me, I don't get why others don't seem to see that. I want to do my best to change that, because I think she'd be a lot happier if she felt welcomed and accepted by more of the people in her life, and often it would seem that I'm the reason she isn't accepted.
It seems so insignificant, "I want you to come over, but can Robbie stay at home?" To her, it is wrenching to be asked to leave me behind. Not because she wants my presence, but because she needs my assistance to help her manage her medical condition. I'm not an accessory, I'm not a "fur baby (seriously please don't call me that)," I'm not a pet - I'm a vital partner to her. She needs me, the way you need your legs to walk. I haven't met as many of her friends and family as I'd like to, and I'd love to change that, too. She explains to me that people don't know that I'm different from most dogs, and that they can't understand that I shatter the stereotypical notion of how dogs act, unless someone can know me. I'd like to submit a resume to her friends and family, to prove that I would always be a welcome house guest.
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We are drowning in a plethora of misinformation about service dogs and emotional support animals. Every week a new article about a fake service dog or an ESA on an airline gone wrong finds its way into the media. These stories tell one side of the story, while the truth remains invisible, working in silence, working without drawing attention, because that's how trained dogs are supposed to behave. That's how real teams are supposed to operate. Up until last night, I thought the worst side effects to this plague of misinformation & entitlement were the actual risks of an untrained dog hurting a person or a real working team, the unintended damage done to a pet who isn't properly prepared for handling the stress of being in public, and the increase in frequency of real service dog teams or real ESAs being turned away from accommodations based on previous bad experiences with fakes. Last night, I realized there's one more piece that adds to this conversation. As the ridiculousness smothers the real, the real is being lumped alongside the fake, and everyone becomes a punchline. Real teams, real people who need their dogs for medical assistance are becoming jokes, and that's not ok. *For the purpose of this post my fiancé, who helped me write this post, will provide his concerns and frustrations for the “inside the home” viewpoint, but his thoughts and our eventual plan could be applied to anyone who lives with you and helps you out frequently.* A service dog will change the life of their new handler, and the lives of everyone close to the handler. You may be thinking, well that’s silly — the dog is for the handler, and only their life will change. It’s a reasonable thought. It’s a perfectly understandable thought. It’s exactly what we thought. And we were wrong. The focus of this post will be on how living with a service dog directly changes the life of our spouses, partners, and in some cases, parents. Just as you can’t throw a pebble into a pond without it making ripples, you cannot make the decision to get a service dog without realizing (and accepting) that your decision will impact others. I am in no way trying to discourage anyone from getting a service dog for their CRPS if they truly believe a service dog will be beneficial, but I do want to give a voice to our spouses/partners/parents because they will be a part of your service dog team, even if they don’t realize it yet.
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My Name is Sally...I have a condition called Complex Regional Pain Syndrome. This blog is about my journey training Robbie, a dog who helped me regain independence, confidence, and achieve the impossible in the face of my disability. It continues on with the training of Austin, Robbie's successor. Check Out... - "More than a Dog" was published on a site called The Mighty Categories
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