RAT!

(picture from Google Images...it was just so perfect)

This is just one of the incidents that leaves you thinking ..."did that seriously just happen!?"

I saw a rat in Portland.  Maybe I should rephrase that as it might not be uncommon to see these rodents in Portland.  Better phrasing: I encountered a rat in Portland.
It wasn't just your average nod-as-you-pass-by encounter.  Oh no...it was worse.  It was more of a "hey, let's carry on a detailed conversation as we play the awkward game of chicken, and then, just to be safe....let's do it a couple more times" type of encounter.  Here's how it went down:

I had just crossed a busy intersection and was feeding my dog at the up curb.  The light had just changed and now cars were passing behind me.  Pedestrians were now crossing the other street towards me.
Suddenly screams erupted.  Out the corner of my eye, I saw the people walking in the crosswalk jump sideways.  Then I saw why.  I had never seen a rat in real life, other than the ones at Petsmart...those "domesticated" ones, if there is such a thing.  Kind of sounds like an oxymoron to me. "domesticated rat". hmm.
Anyways, I knew at once it was a rat.  It literally resembled the size a small gray cat.  I'm not joking...it was that big.  It's tail stretched out behind it at least 9 inches.
And there it was, scurrying across Alder street at Broadway like it owned the place; in the middle of the crosswalk in broad daylight dodging in and out of the pedestrians footfalls.  Baffling.
Time went into slow motion.
Here's my thought-conversation as my brain processed this sight.
"Ok, I need to get fully up onto the curb because this rat is going to want to go into the sewer grate I am almost standing over." Made logical sense.
With that I told my dog "forward".  My dog, (who had not yet had visual on oncoming rat) obliged and stepped up onto the sidewalk.
Not a step later, I realized with horror that this was no ordinary rat.  Of course he wasn't.  This rat was super rat.  He had planned to take the crosswalk when the light was in his favor, purposefully maintaining a straight line. I'm pretty sure this rat thought he was human as to my dismay he did NOT stay in the gutter and slink back into the sewer grate.  Rather, he jumped up onto the sidewalk heading RIGHT. TOWARDS. ME. 
That's when my dog saw it. Even though everything was in slow motion, I had no time to react as the rat passed under my dog's nose.
I momentarily lost sight of the rat as it traveled under the dog's head which was now lunging towards the rat.  I heard a snap of teeth, twice...in rapid fire...  At the same time, I also heard a little girl shrieking loudly in my ear.
The rat appeared on the other side of my dog's head, unharmed... obviously oblivious to how close he came to rat-heaven.  The rat trotted over to a nearby newspaper stand, hopped onto it, and sat on it's haunches surveying the chaotic scene.
People were scattering, running into each other, and pointing.  I realized the little girl shrieking in my ear was actually me squealing.  I also realized I was hopping along on one foot like a dufflepod.  My dog was staring at the rat but not advancing.
I collected myself and took a big breath.  "let's get outta here" I thought.  "Forward!"

This rat... I swear was Evel Knievel reincarnated.  Either that or was dared by his mousey friends or had a death wish.  As if waiting for my command as his cue, he jumped off his perch and made another pass towards my dog and I.

This time I was ready.  In the nick-of-time I pulled my dog away from the charging Evel Knievel rat with a death wish. Momentarily, I had envisions of me talking to the GDB veterinary, "Hey, so uh...Dr. Patti...My dog ate a rat today in Portland....is that a big deal?  Should I be worried?"

The rat passed under us again, this time deciding to jump off the sidewalk and into the street where it scurried in the gutter and slid down a drain out of sight.

"Hey, your dog is a guide dog AND a mouser!  Dually trained!" one guy laughed who had witnessed the whole escapade.

At this point, the whole ordeal seemed quite comical.  This stranger and I shared a laugh and a couple of amazed head shakes...and went on our separate ways.

Never. A. Dull. Moment.

Just for Kicks and Giggles

The other day I was reflecting with some fellow-apprentices on the funny moments that we have experienced particularly early into our apprenticeships as we all are awkward in the beginning.  I thought I'd list them bullet-point style...random as they may be.  And leave your mind to the imagination...

• I've been sat on by a very large man while in a public bus.  I don't think he realized I was even there until I squeaked.  The look on my mentor's face though....priceless.
• I dropped my leash probably 25-30 times each route my first string, about 20 times my second string, about 15 times by my second string....aaaand I still drop my dang leash at least once per route in the first couple of weeks of training.  There are just some things that become "your trademark".  Yup, I've found mine.
• A client and I have been "clothes-lined" by a daycare school (a bunch of toddlers hanging onto a rope) while attempting to cross a street together in downtown Portland.  
• While teaching my dog escalators, I've observed the negative effect that texting while attempting to board a "wrong way" escalator can have.  Definitely entertaining if you are not the participant.
• While working in downtown Portland, a VERY large rat ran under my dogs nose.  TWICE.  Causing me to squeal and my dog to think it was "game on!"  That day, he almost became a dully licensed guide dog AND a mouser.

Boston Terrier Guide Dogs?

I own two adorable short-nosed, snorty, bug-eyed Boston Terriers, affectionately referred to as “da boys”.  Everything about them would not be suitable for the job that a guide dog does.  They snort loudly (would not be good for an office-setting job), they fart (again, not good for an office job), they are under 25 lbs so clearly not suitable to effectively guide a  handler, and their fur does not provide adequate protection in the cold and they easily overheat on hot days.

I enjoy socializing them in the public and taking them to stores that allow dogs (Petco, Petsmart, Home Depot, Lowes, etc). 

While driving home from work one evening, I remembered I needed to make a quick stop at Home Depot for a painting project.  Still wearing my Guide Dog jacket and treat pouch, I decided to take my Bostons in with me for the socializing aspect.  Might as well.

Many shoppers would stop and pet the boys or make comments on how adorable “the twins” were.  Some saw my guide dog logo on my jacket and struck up a conversation about my  line of work.  As I cruised down one aisle, I passed a father with his approximately 3 year old daughter; she clearly couldn’t decide whether the dogs were exciting or a little bit scary to her, so he picked her up.  Just as I was almost out of ear-shot, I heard the father say, “Look, Sarah…she’s training those dogs to be Guide Dogs!”

Clearly he was putting two and two together.  Lady with a guide dog jacket on, with two dogs.  Totally makes sense right?  All I could do was turn the corner of the aisle before I doubled over laughing.

Boston Terrier Guide Dogs?  Dear Lord.

Dogs Reduce Stress

It's just a fact; dogs reduce stress.  Multiple studies have been conducted over how interactions with animals can decrease the production of stress homes cortisols in the body.
The past couple months have been particularly stressful due to some developing personal family issues.  My father had a past history of panic attacks before we moved to Oregon (some 22 years ago); I was aware of this but always just assumed it was a "mind-over-matter"type of thing.  I thought one could "stop" a panic attack mentally...but I found out I was wrong.  I experienced my first-ever panic attack.
My mom and I had talked earlier that morning on the way to work and I had just been told some particularly disturbing news that is effecting my family dynamics greatly.  All that day, I felt like I was in a murky cloud as my mind was trying to grasp and understand the news.

I was walking down Broadway in downtown with one of my dogs, clipping along at a nice pace, not even thinking about the developments in my family.
 
Then it hit me.

I felt like someone was pressing with all their might against my chest.  It was hard to take a full lung's worth of air.

I stopped the dog and pulled over to the side of the sidewalk, grabbing the wall of the building next to me. My hands were shaking.  I had to focus on breathing.  Breathe in, Breathe out.

Then I got really scared.  This overwhelming fear came over me.  I knew I was having a panic attack, but at the same time, I kept wondering, "What if this isn't just a panic attack, maybe this is something actually very medically wrong and I just keel over right here on the sidewalk and die?" (gotta love how the brain thinks of the worst case scenario at the worst time ever, right?)  I panicked a little more. (and that probably didn't help the situation)
I saw my little Yellow Lab was intently looking up at me.  I slid down the building wall, gathered her up into my lap and just held her tightly.  She willingly obliged and snuggled her head gently under me chin.  And there we stayed for a good 10 minutes.

People walked by me and smiled at the "seemingly picturesque moment" of a trainer and her dog, unknowing of what was really happening.

That little Yellow Lab got me through one of the scariest moments of my life so far.  Within a couple of minutes, I felt my heart rate slow down and return to normal.  I could take deep breaths and my hands were no longer shaking.

Thinking back on it, I'm glad the panic attack happened when it did, where I could safely just "pull over" and be with someone who wouldn't ask questions, wouldn't freak out, and wouldn't judge me, but would just be there with me to help get me through.  And she did just that.

I still get a little teary-eyed thinking about it.

Never Volunteer (Soft Stomach, Part 2)

My second vomiting incident occurred in the vet clinic directly following lunch hour.  Dr. P called for some assistance to hold a dog steady while she re-wrapped a dressing that had been covering a tumor removal sight on a dog’s wrist.  I thought it would be a great idea to face my fears, once and for all, and brave it.  Desensitize via exposure, at least that was my logic at the time.

So I did what any sensible, queasy-stomached, needle-phobic person would do…..I volunteered.

The moment Dr. P began explaining in detail how the surgery went and what was done to “pull the dog’s skin back together on the wrist”, I began to sense that this was a bad idea.  No matter, I was going to be brave and tough it out.  The dog was on the examining table, Dr. P was on one side, I was on other, slightly leaning over the dog while I helding the wrist steady for Dr. P to unwrap and then rewrap with new dressing. 

Then I decided to take a look; just a small little peek really. That's all.

Looking back, I'm not sure why I thought being brave in that moment of time was a good idea. 

OH GOSH!

I looked away pretty much instantly.  And then I waited….and waited.  Nothing happened. No fainting, no tunnel vision.  I was so proud of myself. 

I then made my third mistake (the first being, volunteering for this job, of course; the second being to look the first time)  I looked again, this time for longer. Wow, now that was an impressive sight.  I saw muscles and sinews.  I monitored myself closely.  Still no fainting, no tunnel vision…then I looked at my  fingernails…..
yup, they were green. 

Instantly, the tunnel vision began. My ears started ringing and then I lost sound in the right ear.

NO!  I began to get angry at myself. Come on, Rachel. Suck it up and snap out of it!  This is ridiculous!  It wasn’t even THAT nasty looking, I only saw muscle tissue, dried blood, tendons, and oh, goodness, was that white thing…a… BONE!! Oh my gosh, I saw a bone! I knew it...  It was a bone. Ew, ew…gross!!

Then my head began to get really heavy, and my vision was now in just a small pin light.  I focused.  I focused SO hard on what I could see.  I focused on the dog’s collar and ID.  I read the small numbers over and over again, trying desperately to get something else on my brain. But it was too late, and I knew it.   I was a goner.  A classic case.

So how can I recover this awkward situation so it doesn’t get out of control? Because passing out in front of Dr. P would just be so embarrassing I thought.

I knew the basics of how to prevent passing out, which is to lower the head to increase blood flow to the brain.  But that’s kind of a noticeable move to make, especially when stealthiness was the key to not alert Dr. P that I was struggling.  Not to mention the fact that I was STANDING by the table.

So what did I do? I casually lowered myself closer to the table, my head nearly touching the dogs back as I looked away.  In my mind, (at the time) it was a very subtle move. Riiiight.

But then it hit me.  That unmistakable tightening of the stomach.  I knew avoiding the inevitable was pointless. 

I was going to lose my lunch.....aaaaaand I thought I was still in the “stealth mode”.

I’m going to barf, but it’s going to be ok. I distinctly remember thinking the grossest thought ever....  I’m just going to hold it in my mouth until she is done, which has got to be soon.

Thinking back about it now .... that's really nasty.  But when you are about to pass out, your brain cleary doesn't think properly.  Obviously.

I felt pretty good about this plan of action and it worked perfectly as I quietly heaved into my mouth…However, my plan fell apart when my body told me, “I’m gonna heave again.”

Well, if you haven’t noticed, BODY, I have NO ROOM in my mouth for this shenanagins! 

Undeterred, my body heaved once more.  Time went into slow motion as I frantically searched for something to catch my lunch.

The trash can that Dr. P was using to drop the old wrappings into quickly became my target.  I flew around the table, grabbed the can and propelled my lunch, only inches away from Dr. P's leg.

I remember there being a half a moment of awkward silence as I finished and stood back up.  Then, while still calmly wrapping the dog’s bandage, Dr. P said, “”Oh, I didn’t realize you were at that point yet.”

YET!?  She had known all along, observed my pale face, green fingernails, and “casual attempts” to lower my head.  Afterwards, I sat on the floor of the vet clinic for a good 10 minutes with the dog’s head in my lap for comfort while Dr. P sat on a stool nearby to keep me company.

I learned my lesson.  I have never volunteered when assistance is needed in the vet clinic since then. This story still surfaces occasionally in the vet clinic.  Somehow it's legendary....

shake. my. head.

Never Read and Drive (Soft Stomach, part 1)

I could never have worked in the medical field. Well, maybe I could, but I would always be on the verge of passing out, complete with tunnel vision, and a pale/green face…. or vomiting, not necessarily all in that order. 

I can probably count on my hand the people have been privileged enough to witness this phenomenon that happens to me when I am around blood or needles, two of which would be GDB employees- the  resident veterinary of the campus) and one of GDB's long-time instructors of 20+ years.  

Reading in a moving vehicle has never bothered me.  However, reading medical books apparently DO bother me; so when you put the two together, you get a nasty mixture. (literally).

Being the oh-so-time-efficient-and-studious-apprentice that I am, I thought it would be a great use of time to read one of my apprentice books “Showdown with Diabetes” while in the training van during the 45 minute drive to Portland.  I took the passenger seat while Cindy hopped into the driver’s seat and took off.  The book started out as a biography, but quickly turned the corner when it started discussing in great detail how nasty Diabetes really is and how it physically effects the body.  I was ¼ through the book when I looked up out the window.  We were on the highway, traveling at a great speed, too fast for my overly-grossed-out brain to handle.  All I could think of were insulin shots, and swelling ankles, and black-outs due to sugar lows.

I closed the book, and got a glimpse of my fingers under the nails. They were green.  I looked at my face in the mirror.  You guessed it…Green. I looked at the palms of my shaking hands. Sweaty and…green.  Then the tunnel vision hit.  I tried to focus on the license plate of the car in front of us.  That’s literally all I could see. 

I am NOT going to pass out in front of Cindy because of a stupid BOOK about Diabetes!  Maybe if I DO pass out, I will pretend I’m taking a nap…great idea!!! With that, I reclined the seat. 

Well, that plan ended up just back-firing, because it made Cindy looked over at me.

“Hey! You ok?!

“Mhhh-hmm.” I said, trying to sound nonchalant as I placed my arm over my head  in a sleepy manner, also in attempts to cover my GREEN face..

“You’re green, man!” 

She was on to me, and I knew I was caught.  “Yeah, I don’t feel too good right now.” I admitted.

“Well, I can’t really pull over anywhere because there are no exits for a long time.”

“Yeah, I know.  I’ll be fine.  Just need to rest.

Trying to “rest” while on the verge of passing out is nearly impossible because your brain is working 10x’s harder to concentrate on NOT passing out. It totally defeats the purpose.

Then it hit me.  Not a thought.  No, much worse.  That desperate “I-gotta-puke” feeling that starts deep in your stomach as a tiny knot but turns into a full-on furr-ball in just seconds.  Once again, I tried to ignore said urges, and focused on breathing deeply. 

Breathe, Oxygen, FLOW! Work! I don’t need to puke, I’m Fine, Breathe, It’s nothing, barfing is NOT an option, everything’s ok, Breathe…

This mental prep-talk clearly didn’t work because my mind switched gears as I began to weigh my options. Ok, I can’t stick my head out the window to barf at 60 mph, that’ll just make an awful mess, I have my purse I can use, ew, no. Water bottle? Ew, no.  Then the most blessed and life-saving thought came to me.

Poop Baggies!

I sat up the chair abruptly and frantically grabbed for the closest poop bag hanging on the center console….and then waited. Poop bag poised by my mouth, ready for action.  Nothing. Now that's just embarrassing.

There comes a point where the body just screams for the sweet release of a thorough-stomach-cleansing that only a good barf can provide.  And that’s exactly what my body finally did.  I expertly tied the ends of the bag together, and quietly dropped it on the floorboard by the door and stared straight ahead like nothing ever happened.

Eyes on the road, Cyndi.  She kept right on driving, eyes on the road.  Atta girl.

Take Time to Smell the Roses...

Being blindfolded does weird stuff to your senses.

Because I am not “accustom” to being without sight on a daily basis, if must be odd for the brain to suddenly have to cope with the immediate and drastic change.  Every day noises such as a pedestrian’s footfalls on the sidewalk, the slight “ticking” that a bicycle makes when it is coasting, or the hum of a distant leaf blower down the street, seems to become magnified and “closer”. 

Ahhh, But SMELLS.  The smells get me every time!  When sighted, I normally don’t really pay attention to smells, unless I am passing a bakery…then I REALLY sniff the air.  But “every-day” smells, so to speak, never really grab my attention…until I am wearing a blindfold.  Then the world comes alive with them.  If someone is standing next to me at a curb while waiting for a light to change, I can sometimes determine whether it’s a guy or gal depending on their perfume, cologne or deodorant.  (I promise I’m not a weirdo that goes around sniffing everyone like a coon-hound).

Other times, I can use my sense of smell to determine my orientation.  There are several stores in downtown Portland that are distinct such as Victoria’s Secret very fragrant perfume, and Chipotle’s oil-fried chips and salsa.

A lot of times, I am right in my smell-predictions.  But other times, Maaaan, am I SO off!

This particular incident was during one of my early blindfold experiences a month into my apprenticeship.

There I was, blindfolded with my dog, standing on the curb edge. I was concentrating so hard on audibly reading my traffic; listening for the surge of the traffic to indicate it was safe to cross the street.  I’m pretty sure I missed a cycle because I felt we stood there for quite some time, my mentor right behind me.
I could hear that  a large truck was stopped directly in front of me, idling loudly.  But then my smell-senses kicked in.  I breathed in deeply.  Sniffed the air a couple of times.  Smells of freshly baked bread, pepperoni, and cheese wafted in the air.  Wafted quite strongly actually. Wow! I hadn’t realized I was hungry until then (I had not yet eaten lunch).   My mentor was watching me as I sniffed the air.

“Can you tell what type of truck that is?” She asked.

I sniffed the air again. There’s no doubt in my mind I thought.  I know what’s in that truck. And IT. IS. GOOOOD!  Mmmmh! “Yeah!!!!” I said.  “Isn’t It like a Subway truck or something!?” (I love Subway)

Immediately she started laughing….like, really hard. 

“Whaaat?!  What is it?!” I said.

Just then, the truck’s engine’s roared as it began to cross the intersection, sending a fresh new wave of deliciousness my way.  I breathed it all in.  My tummy growled.

“Well,” she said….”That was a DUMP TRUCK!!!”

“Whaaat!?  No way!  It smelled so GOOD!”

It’s a known fact that looks can be deceiving. I get that. But smells, why’d ya’ hafta turn on me too!?