Through Lattice Windows: Life With Lulu
"She lies stretched out on the wooden floor, warm chin resting on my foot. When I say her name, her tail thumps but she doesn't look up. She is a working dog at rest.'' writes new columnist Leanne Hunt in a memorable tribute to a very special friend.
Lulu is my guide-dog and trusty protector on the streets of our suburb. It's not people that pose the danger though. It's all the uncovered manholes, rubbish bins and trenches that have been dug for optic fibre cables. My route from home to the shops measures less than a kilometer, but I often think it resembles an entire life's journey. Just when I think I know the positions of all the signposts, contractors go and put up a net barricade, blocking the pavement. Lulu is trained to pause and move cautiously into the road when I tell her to, but it's a risky business. Speeding traffic bears down on us and we feel our vulnerability.
Three years on into the relationship, though, we've learnt a few tricks. Between my tattered visual field and her simple devotion to duty, we manage to avoid the protruding branches and piles of bricks on the sidewalk. Though I sometimes trip and feel foolish, the adrenaline rush that comes with facing my fears makes it all worthwhile. Every safely crossed intersection is a victory. Every bruise is a mark of battle.
What's more, I get to witness some minor miracles. Soon after Lulu and I had completed our training together, we had a rare snowfall in the city. This is a once-in-a-decade event, so Lulu was getting her first feel of ice on the ground. I took her out in the middle of the morning to enjoy the chill air and the tangible excitement in the atmosphere. To my amazement, no less than three motorists stop and ask me if I needed a lift! In all my years of walking my dog, this has never happened. The sheer thrill of a winter wonderland simply brought out the best in everyone!
Taking Lulu shopping is an adventure of a different kind. People often stop to chat. It is a novelty to see a Labrador among the supermarket aisles and the looks she gives the old ladies are, I am told, quite irresistible. Mostly, I am happy to answer their questions and engage in conversation because it breaks the isolation that blindness often brings. However, the presence of Lulu at my side can give the mistaken impression that I am a fanatical dog lover. Many are the times when I've had to listen to rambling stories about peoples' cherished pets - most of them long deceased - and appear fascinated. I usually don't mind giving up a few minutes between chores to share someone's wistful memories, but even this unhurried shopper has her deadlines!
Then again, my relationship with Lulu has taught me how to draw the line and preserve my private space. It took a stern voice and assurance of my authority to order her canine bulk off the furniture and keep it off. When passers-by become obsequious, demanding or downright irritating, I apply my dog training skills and bid them a cheery but firm farewell.
Respect for my family and friends means I have to minimize the shedding of Lulu's hair on their clothes, carpets and car mats. I use a mobile dog-washing service to help in this. Labradors are supposed to love water, but it is not the favorite part of my furry friend's life. She doesn't even like swimming in the pool. On the occasions when my daughters have encouraged her in, she has clambered out at the first opportunity. As for going in on her own, it never happens.
At first, I found her apparent dislike of water surprising. Rain-water doesn't phase her at all. If, after a lengthy hair appointment or visit to the dentist, we are forced to walk home in a storm, she trots along quite unperturbed. In fact, the only thing that causes Lulu to falter is a flooded footpath - and then only because she has been trained not to take me through puddles.
Gradually it dawned on me that it's not so much the water that my lovable pooch dislikes, but the fact that she is in the hands of relative strangers. Not that they are cruel to her, or rough, or even that she objects to them being in our driveway. What she really hates - and this has been borne out in various situations, is being apart from me. A guide-dog's devotion to her owner is so extreme that separation is literally painful.
Still, she endures the washing without so much as a whimper. Afterwards, damp and fluffy from toweling, she greets me with ecstatic leaps. Released into the garden with our other dogs, she speeds like a rocket, around and around until her energy is all used up. Then, tongue lolling, she collapses at my feet in an attitude of sheer bliss. Oh, to know the wild abandonment of a dog after bath-time!
