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Category Archives: Micron

Therapy work looks to be exciting

Posted on May 20, 2012 by Donna Black-Sword
Whaja mean I have a cliffhanger?

I mean it Micron, try not to embarrass me . . . EEP!  Micron spies his friend, Bubba’s Mom, from across the parking lot and rushes to greet her. I follow him, mostly because I’m still holding the leash. My goofy, silly, glorious dog never met a person he didn’t want to lick, but he does have his favorites. And Bubba’s Mom is right there at the top.

This is a evening of celebration for Micron and me as we prepare to graduate as a Therapy Dog Team with Miami Valley Pet Therapy Association.

Not only our friend, but Bubba’s Mom was also one of our instructors over the past ten weeks of training.  We cross the parking lot together to walk into the event with all the honor and dignity this occasion warrants.

Just kidding.  As the door is held open for us, Micron throws his furry body mass into the room and declares, All right, hoomans and dogs!  The party starts . . . NOW!

Yep, he’s excited to be here tonight.

You know what are the two most ineffective words in the English language are?

Calm down.

Think about that a sec when you’ve said that to someone in a tizzy fit. Or been the recipient of the ersatz advice. Has it ever worked?  Right, the answer is no.

And it didn’t work this time either. So as soon as I can stuff my hand in my pocket, I grab a dog biscuit and wave it in front of Micron’s nose like smelling salt.  Whew, he’s back.  Oh, Food Lady, he says, I didn’t know you were here.

We make it to our seat and Micron flings himself to the floor. Wow, he says suddenly I’m so exhausted. How ’bout you?  I begin to respond in kind, but goober dog sees another friend from class and here we go again.

In class, he was noted as “engaging.”  That’s such a nice word.  It’s so much more becoming of the big guy than when I use the term “the squirrel factor” for his love-of-life behavior.

We are recognized with nineteen other therapy teams. Many of our graduates were rescued from shelters. Even more amazing, one dog has risen above her humble beginnings as puppy abandoned on the side of the road in cardboard box. A couple of rather confident cats in the celebration as well.

Each pet’s brief bio was shared with all in attendance. Our task was to write a two to three sentence to describe our partner.  Was this a such a challenge for everyone else, I wonder.  How do I describe Micron in a mere three sentences?  A moment pondering, then came up with this.

The mighty Micron is a lab/golden cross; a lover of life and licker of people. Micron has been the go-to dog at P&G Pet Care for post-meeting de-stressing.  He’s completely jazzed to be graduating and is looking forward to expanding his client base outside of the office.

With the help of a semi-colon, we fit within the three sentence threshold. I would remain frustrated with so much more to say, but really, once we walked in the door it was pretty apparent who Micron is.

He’s engaging.

Oh, oops.  Covered up my photo badge. No matter, it looks just like me, ugh.

We send off our congratulations as well, to our classmates Harley, Kaylee, Suzy, Tully and their partners.  And a big Way-to-Go to new instructor, Janet, and evaluators Lisa and Angela.  Thanks for being there for us every week to help develop us into Therapy Teams.  And that Micron and I gave you some solid challenges to hone your skills upon. Well, you’re welcome.

What’s next, you ask.  Ah, that’s a good question.  We’ll be meeting with our esteemed mentor soon to find out.  New adventures coming up, the stuff of life.

Getting measured for his custom-made cape.

Um. That ain’t right, Micron.

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Wordless Wednesday: Happy campers

Posted on May 9, 2012 by Donna Black-Sword

Camping adventures in chocolatey Hershey, Pennsylvania in Autumn 2011.  There’s a new world to discover outside that RV screen door, but Micron is satisfied for now with getting a snootful of fresh cocoa-scented air.

While we’re on the topic, Jager the Hyperhound would like to make a public service announcement at this time.  He reminds his canine peers to Just Say No to chocolate goodness. A rather toxic substance for dogs and something to take serious if you find your pooch has, for example, crossed impossible barriers to get to the fancy chocolate box hidden in the kitchen.

Wasn’t as tasty coming back, Jager says.

It’s no fun getting your stomach pumped, Jager says. Especially when the vet tech strongly encourages you give up your fudgy treasure in the front yard of the clinic in sight of all passersby. Can’t a guy mantain a little dignity? he wonders. Maybe if you hold my ears so they don’t get sullied, Ms. Vet Tech.

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Test anxiety bites

Posted on May 6, 2012 by Donna Black-Sword

Ah, Test Anxiety, my old college friend, I say.  There you are, big guy. I kinda was expecting you to show up. But really thought I’d run into you on drive over here.  (Or perhaps drive over you, says the inside voice.)

Yeah, I was running late, he says, slipping into the passenger seat. Sorry about that. I know how much that freaks you out.

Yep, you know me well, I say. Hey TA, it’s nothing personal, of course, but I’ve trying to avoid you.  How did you know where to find me this morning?

I’m a savvy fella, he says with a wink. But you told just about everybody and their second cousin at work. And posting it on Facebook kinda cinched it.

Gotcha. That makes sense, I sigh, making a mental note to unfriend this guy. Oh man! You didn’t tell the Jinx about this, did you?

Test Anxiety laughs, Of course I did, you silly, quivering thing. What’s an event like this without a little Jinx? And you’ll love this!  I called Lack O’Grace as well.  We’re like a team of super heroes, the lot of us.  Glory cannot be won without a challenge or two, my girl.  Without us at your side, life is just an easy A, now isn’t it?

Right, I can always count on you guys to tie my shoelaces together. I say. Hey TA buddy, I’ll just be a few minutes here.  How ’bout you sit back and relax in my comfy Toyota. The Car Talk guys should be on NPR now, so I’ll turn the radio on for . . .

Oh ho! Not a chance, chickie. TA declares in his booming voice. You’ll need me at your elbow the whole way.  And oh, I nearly forgot to remind you that you shouldn’t have tanked up on that last cup of coffee. Oops, you didn’t notice how much you needed to go until I said that, right? Ha, ha, you should see your face! You always make me laugh.

Micron is in the back seat observing this exchange and is left wondering why I’m talking to myself. People are weird, he thinks. But I like how their toes taste.  

You know, I’ve always wanted to believe I would do well on the trivia game shows.  My sad little noggin is filled with so much useless knowledge that trying to have a deep thought requires an air hammer to pound through that concrete layer of trivial nonsense.

My brain cells are kicking around chunky detritus like daddy-long-legs are not spiders and the brontosaurus was a case of mistaken identity. You’ve heard of a murder of crows? How about a conspiracy of ravens?  It’s said that Paul McCartney referred to his muse as Martha and named his dog after her. Which led to the song Martha, My Dear.  Oh, this can go on and on. I’m damaged goods, to be sure.

Right, but put me in the hot seat of a trivia contest and then ask my middle name. Cue up Mr. Test Anxiety. I would stammer until the buzzer sounded and then shout out in panic something random like, Abby Normal!  Which would be helpful for Young Frankenstein trivia. By the way, did you know Aeromsith’s song Walk this Way was inspired by a line in this classic movie? No? Well, then tell your brain cells to move over and make room for this factoid. It’ll likely stick with you for awhile.

So anyway here we are, Micron and me. Walking up the ramp into Gem City Dog Obedience like the pirate’s plank over the great murky depths. You’re going to do great, I say a little too shrilly. [ahem] You’ll be just fine, my handsome fella.

And we’re ready for our certification test to be a Pet Therapy Team. Over the past ten weeks, we’ve trained and practiced and desensitized ourselves to the kryponite of stuffed toys.  Nothing left to do but take a deep breath and . . . ack!  can’t breathe . . . can’t breathe.

Holy cow, I gotta relax. What is the matter with me anyway?  This is a cake walk. Micron’s got it down cold.  Oh great, now I want some cold cake. mmm Chocolate cake with fudgy frosting.  Oh hi there, Miss Stress Eating, you’re back already. I thought we took care of our business this morning?

Got me a job!

We follow the directions as given by the evaluators. We demonstrate the walk on lead, sit, stays, downs, handling and then other challenges unique to a successful pet therapy team. A couple of burps along the way mostly involving me holding the leash too tight (relax, chick. . . ) and then that one heart-stopping moment as Micron does what he does best. He does a Micron.

That dog never met a stuffed toy he didn’t like.

But a quick verbal correction by me and . . .  we’re done.

Talk about the hot seat.  I’m directed to a metal folding chair to await the verdict of the evaluators.  A delightful lady takes the seat next to me and strikes up a conversation.  Micron? That’s an unusual name, she says to me. How did he come by that?  Is this part of the test, I wonder? I feel panicky.  Is there a wrong answer?  Relax, chowderhead, and breathe.  She’s just being friendly. So we pass the time of day until the decision is announced.

Donna?  Congratulations, you two passed.

We did? We did!  whoooot!  Micron, my love! mmmwah!

Take that,  Mr. Test Anxiety. Go lumber back to your dark cavern in the back of my noggin. I don’t want to see you again until, well, never.  But just so you can mark your hellish calendar, take note that we’ll need to take the re-certification test in two years.

Micron and I will be graduating at the Miami Valley Pet Therapy Association’s ceremony on Friday, May 18 at Delco Park in Kettering, OH.  Free and open to all.  Come celebrate with us if you can.

I hear there will be cake.

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Hello Mudder

Posted on April 29, 2012 by Donna Black-Sword
Hi Mom:
I juz wan let you no that I think im gonna like it here at camp Wagner.  There are lotz of cool things to smell an taste.  The other kidz here r pretty cool too.  There is this 1 gurl named Rosie that sort of looks like me but she has red hair.  There is another gurl that I think is chineez cuz they said she was a chow.

Your boy,

Micron

Aww, Micron’s first letter from camp. We just sent him off to Camp Wagner for a week of adventure. It’s not like the old days when moms were at the mailbox awaiting a hastily scrawled message to arrive, but instead now our young ones send warm thoughts back home across the WIFI airwaves.  Faster, cleaner and, frankly, easier to on the eyes to read.

And that the dog can text me without the advantage of opposable thumbs is pretty kinky cool too. I’ll just pause here while you work on the mental image.

Ok, so the camp director knows me well enough to recognize I’m just a rotor short of being a helicopter parent. It could be that I’m a bit overprotective of my charges. Or perhaps I’m a little worried that Micron will be an over excited seventy-five pound package of impending disaster. A big yellow tsunami roiling across all things valuable.

At that Camp Wagner has an inground swimming pool has my mom hormones in full alert. Not a bounty of shorelines here in landlocked Ohio, so Micron doesn’t have any experience with bodies of water larger than the bathtub. I ask the camp director to keep an eye out, because if fuzzhead goes into the pool, he may not have the presence of mind to know how to get back out.

But Micron’s letter to his mama brought some peace of mind.
[sigh] All is well.
Ruh roh, not so fast there. This showed up next.
Hi Mom:
Ooops my paw hit the rong button cuz I waznt done yet.  I waned 2 also let you no that I went swimmin within the first fu minuts of bein here.  I didn meen 2 cuz I thot I wuz steppin on a blue rug or sumpin, but ya no wat? There wuz a swimming hole under neeth.  The camp director, mr wagner got me out reel quik tho.  I don think I gonna do that agin.
Well, you guys have a good trip and also happee birf day Mom.
Your boy
Micron
Well, that little trip to the world of Warm & Fuzzy Land didn’t last long. Yeah, the goober dog tried to walk across the swimming pool cover. Within the first five minutes. Right. Sounds like my dog.

Now things feel normal and that, my friends, is the true peace of mind.

You know, it’s not often that I don’t have a four legged companion at my side. Most days two dogs, or even three, are riding off to another adventure in the backseat of my car. But earlier this month the Husband and I decided to take a week off to do some traveling.

And this time, we couldn’t take the dogs with us.

Before we catch our flight out to the fine state of California, I’ve got to find caregivers for everything in this house with an alimentary tract.

So the mighty Micron is off to West Chester to stay with a good friend. Yaxley will be enjoying his week with another CCI puppy raiser.  Jager requires a little extra care with his tendency towards freakiness, so is being taken in by a friend and professional pet sitter. Whew, that takes care of the dogs. Lucky for me the pet sitter will also stop by to feed the cats and Bob the Fish.

All are in good hands and comfy in home environments. I know we don’t need to give the pets’ welfare a second thought. But[sniffle] how am I going to go an entire week without their wet nosed company? It’s gonna be a weird few days.

There’s a lot of stuff in the middle that keeps Ohio pretty far away from California, so Saturday was simply lost to the inglorious nature of air travel.

Dog sightings on Saturday: 0

Saturday was just a day to endure so we could make it to Sunday when we would find ourselves in lovely Santa Rosa.  What do you want to do today?, asks the Husband on Sunday morning.  Ah, I say, I want to see stuff we don’t see in Ohio. We’re all supplied up with a map, a decent rental car, satellite radio, a full tank of $5 petrol, my fancy camera and dang I left my sunglasses back home. ‘Salright, we hit the road to see what treasures the goldmine state has to offer.

And . . . we are not off to a good start.

What the heck, coastal living people?  A NO DOGS sign?  On our way to the Sonoma State Beach, I made a whimsical decision to stop at a roadside flea market.  On the Good Idea scale, this knee jerk choice rates a three. We muck through a quarter mile of mud and return to the car with the scent of cheap sun-warmed plastic still stuck in our nostrils. And of course, no dog sightings.

Ok, movin’ on. Let’s hit the coast to see what’s happening there. We’re in sunny California so surely we’ll come across something to wondersmack our day.  Blue skies and puffy clouds abound above us. A trip to the Pacific is now topping the list.  Let’s catch some sunshine at Sonoma’s Goat Rock.

Hold your horses there, pardner. Not so fast. 

This is not a black & white photo, folks.

Is that fog? I ask, or did we just drive into a cloud?  Huh. Well, will you look at that? Honey, I say in my best Captain Obvious voice, this sure ain’t like Myrtle Beach.
 

But this one is.  Black & white, that is.

But still.  This is some fabulous scenery and I’m loving it. The weather is on the cool side, so I’ve opted for my best jeans to keep warm. A good idea, that.  Until I started with the kneeling down to take photos.  Speaking of Myrtle Beach, it’s been my experience that once salt water touches anything cotton, it doesn’t dry. Ever. Instead it just wicks into a larger area of uncomfortableness until you feel like your clothes have joined DNA with your skin. And just because I’m me, a wave comes from behind and socks me good.  Wet, cold and sandy up to the knees, I am.

Not black & white, but I geeked around with the contrast.

 
But I plod on.  Because there’s wonders here to discover.

Ok, this one is black & white, with a blue filter.

 

Not black & white, but taken at an angle to be all artsy and everything

Ugh. Nature why you so weird?

Ah, but things get even better. We got us a dog sighting!  Three dogs romping along another area of the beach.  Just one bit of a problem.  I pretty much goobered up my shoes in that last surfside attack of nature and there’s no getting them back on anytime soon.  My poor feet are still winterized and are delicate little size sevens. I won’t be sporting leathery hobbit feet until mid-summer or so.

I would have to cross this rocky nightmare to get to the beach. 

Barefoot.

You’re pretty savvy, right?  You noticed the photo is taken from the beach side?  Yeah, it wasn’t pretty, but I scaled over those babies. Just let loose a couple of eeps of momentarily painful missteps.

And just so I could ruffle the fur on someone else’s fishy smelling dogs.  Hi! Are your dogs friendly? Would you mind if I petted them? After my klutzy performance on the rocks, the hapless dog owner is giving me just one degree short of the hairy eyeball.  Yeah, ok sure, he says. He gives me a quick once over, probably figuring he could easily take me down if I get any weirder about his dogs.

I try to contain my happiness and act like a normal person as a happy pair bounce up to me for a greeting.  Hi, Hi, Hi! they say in dog talk. Hi right back atcha! says me, aren’t you a couple of pretty fellas?

Then they shake. Oh no, not shake paws. The other shake. Massive seawater removal by doing the doggie twist. Gah!, I cry, protecting the camera with my body. Ah, lovely. Now we all smell like dead seafood, boys.

But really, you ask, once you stopped whining about every little thing, was it worth it?

Oh yeah.  It was worth it.

Dog sightings on Sunday:  2 friendly, but stinky dogs. 1 non-friendly dog, but likely stinky.

Next blog post:  We’re back in Santa Rosa for dog sightings of the puppy kind.

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Licker license

Posted on April 28, 2012 by Donna Black-Sword

Hi there, I’m Donna from pet therapy. Do you like dogs? (patting the bed to allow Micron to put his front paws up) Yeah? Well, this handsome fella is Micron, who . . . AUGH! Micron! Drop it!  

It’s Wednesday evening and Micron and I are at the Dayton VA Medical Center. We’re on a test run with our pet therapy classmates to observe how our dogs react to folk in a medical environment.
 
And I watch with horror as my goober dog goes snout deep into a size 11 shoe sitting on the bed (snuffle snuffle) only to then grab it with his pearly whites. Lookit y’all. I gotcher sneaker!  His tail wagging heartily the whole time.

Micron’s just hard-wired to be weird with sneakers

Oh, Micron.

Over the past few weeks of our pet therapy classes, we’ve been absorbing a lot of info. Stuff we need to know to be a certified Pet Therapy Team. Recognizing calming signals and stress in our dogs, as a for instance.  

On this week’s visit to the VA, this may be the first time our dogs will experience this particular package of sensory load that is the medical environment. Will any of the unfamiliar sights, smells, sounds and that slick vinyl flooring bring pause to our dogs in training?

I understand that my dog is my first priority.  We’ve been told this by the trainers and of course I have total buy in.  At the first sign of overload, I am prepared to make a graceful exit and remove my beloved Micron from the situation.

In hindsight, it’s too bad Micron wasn’t told the same thing. Hey Micron, what about signs of stress in me, dude?

Oh, he’s doing fine. Wheelchairs, moving beds, beeping noises go past his notice without a glancing thought.  All he wants is to greet people and be petted.  Right after he smells you real good, that is.

His new friend, Harley the chocolate lab, is in front of us greeting a fellow. Micron is nearly quivering with anticipation (my turn-my turn-my turn-my turn).  Ok, Micron, I say, Let’s go, giving him permission to approach for a greeting.  Good grief.  He’s all hey hey my name’s Micron I’m a dog are you a dog no well let me smell you first yep you’re a person i like your shoes can i lick your hand do you have something in your other hand no ok can i lick it anyway ooh you had meatloaf for dinner didn’t you I like chickens but the food lady doesn’t can I hold your sock in my mouth for a minute.  And so it goes.

Yeah, I say, my dog can’t hold his licker. Ha Ha. heh. Sorry, we’ll just move along now. And so I shorten the leash and take the chowder head to look for the next dog appreciator.

Speaking of calming signals

I gotta say, I was really hoping he would have done just a little better on this trip. Micron’s visited family at a couple of different assisted living centers and has always done us proud.  On those visits, he’s able to bring up some past service dog training to walk in a perfect heel along a wheelchair.  Calm and gentle, he’s been a welcome sight.

So what had him so wound up last Wednesday at the VA? You know what? It was all on me. Three days into the workweek, I hit a level of stress that would lead a lesser woman to drink straight from the bottle. Then just starting into my sixty mile drive to get to the VA, I was delayed in a traffic jam. It’s a mandatory class tonight, I lamented to Micron, we really gotta show up.  All the things I had planned to prepare for the evening’s class (brush the dog, read today’s comic page, eat something) was lost to time. Finally pulling into the parking lot, I was on edge. Jittery.

Sensing all this, but not with full understanding, Micron went on Yellow Alert.  Something’s going down at this new place, thinks he,  Oh hey look! My friends are here!  Hey, Harley! Sup, dawg?

And I can mark this point in time as when his brains cells went on a coffee break.  Back in fifteen!, say the neurons.  Nothing to do now, but break out a couple of dog cookies to get his focus back. I wave the biscuit goodness past his nostrils aaaaand He’s Back!  There you are,big guy, I say, getting some eye contact, I missed you.

We’ll get better at this pet therapy thing, you know. When I say We, I really mean Me. Micron is, well, Micron.  I know that and there’s nobody more familiar with his eccentricities than I.  It’s my job to anticipate his misbehavior to keep the dog slobber off people’s tennies.  So, I’ll get better at this thing.

Micron and Harley take a well earned break

We’re nearly finished with the classes now.  One more week, then [gulp] the Certification Test.  I’m actually looking forward to the test, because I’m sick that way. But I think we’ll do just fine.

And by We, I mean Micron. Micron will do fine. I’m off now to practice deep breathing.

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